#i know it’ll take time to not care. and distance and time away from her will help. and i should consider maybe

[noosayog]

gravitate ft. miya atsumu

wc: 4.1k, part 1 of 2

contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, fluff, heavy on angst, suggestive but sfw, reader uses she/her prns, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety

when i said this, i was referring to this

--

Of course it’d be the one time you say yes to the many invitations you get from Hinata to celebrate a post-game win with his teammates and other close friends. 

Even though you’ve met a handful of Hinata’s volleyball friends and teammates before, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with people you don’t know still makes you anxious. You pay a bit closer attention to your outfit before heading out. 

A 15-minute commute and one deep breath at the door later, you’re sat next to Hinata at the table as he introduces you to the rest of his current Black Jackals teammates. 

“You know Kageyama and my old high school teammates already. That’s Bokuto-”

“Hey!”

“That’s Sakusa-san,” 

A silent nod. 

“Hoshiumi-san,”

“Hello.”

“And Miya Atsumu-kun, our setter.” 

“Hi,” you nod shyly to everyone. The immediate halt in the conversation leaves you feeling like you need to bust out a joke or something. Luckily, everyone quickly turns their attention back to the menu, leaving you to catch your breath even though all you’ve done was say a one-syllable greeting. 

You spend much of the first half of dinner talking only to Hinata, racking your brain for topics for small talk, and speaking up only when you’ve been talked to first. 

A few drinks help loosen you up a bit and dinner ends without a hitch before the group decides to move to a nearby bar. 

You’re content to watch the group and their antics quietly, before excusing yourself to get another drink at the bar.

“‘Scuse me.” 

“”Oh,” you say, shying away from the voice. “I’ll move over.” 

“Thanks,” the unfamiliar voice responds. 

You stand awkwardly at the bar as you and the stranger try to flag down the bartender. You feel the prickly sensation of a stare at the side of your face and when you glance over, you find the stranger’s gaze on you. 

You give him an uncomfortable smile, before averting your eyes again. 

“Busy night, huh?” 

You glance at him again, giving him one nod of acknowledgement. 

“What’cha drinking?” 

“Oh, uh… just a beer, I think.” 

“Yeah? What kind?”

“Uh… I don’t know. Just whatever,” you say, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Can I make a suggestion then? What do you usually like to drink?” You glance back towards your group and accidentally make eye contact with Miya Atsumu, the setter you had met at dinner. He looks away just as quickly. 

You close your eyes in defeat before turning back to the bar, being careful not to make eye contact with the man beside you. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.” 

He inches closer, arm almost touching yours now. “Aww, c’mon. Just tell me. It’ll be on me.” 

You lean further away, the back of your thighs now pressing against the bar chair behind you. “I-” 

“Hey! Gettin’ another drink?” 

The said bar chair suddenly gets yanked away, leaving you stumbling back a few steps, but a hand comes up on your shoulder to steady you. You look up to see Miya Atsumu. He places one arm between you and the other man, angling his body to face you. 

“Oh! Atsumu. Yes, I am,” you can’t contain the relief in your exhale. 

You notice Atsumu inching backwards to give you more space and simultaneously box out the other guy. His back pushes into the other guy’s arm, who gives a weak protest. 

Atsumu looks behind him and offers a flippant, “sorry, buddy,” before flagging the bartender down with no issues.

“Another beer for me and…” Atsumu looks to you. 

“Make it two.” 

The two of you stand side by side while the bartender fills up the mugs and you rack your brain for things to say. 

“Sorry if I was bein’ a busybody,” Atsumu speaks first. “Just didn’t look like you were enjoyin’ it.” 

He juts a thumb behind his back to gesture at the guy, now a distance away. 

“Oh yeah- I mean, no. Uh, thanks. Yeah…” 

Atsumu laughs. “No worries and… there’s no need to be nervous around the guys. We’re a rowdy bunch, but all good people, I promise.” 

You pick at your fingers. “Was I that obvious?” 

“Little bit,” he chuckles. “Seems that the drinks are loosenin’ you up a bit though.” He gestures at the glass that the bartender dropped off in front of him and hands his card over. 

“I can pay…” 

“Nah, on me. You can take the next one if you feel bad.” 

You thank him and take the glass. 

Atsumu sits down on one of the bar chairs facing you. “So, how do you know Shoyo-kun?” 

Still standing, your eyes flicker to your group, still huddled around the same table where you left them. 

“Are…” we not going back? The question dies on your tongue when you turn back to Atsumu and see the way he stares, eyebrows raised as if he knows what you’re thinking and curious as to what decision you’ll make. 

You sit down in the bar chair next to him and he’s so easy to talk to and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you end up in his bed later that night.

– 

You wake up the next morning with foreign sheets tangled around your legs and an unfamiliar body warmth under your cheek. When you tilt your head up, you're met with Atsumu’s brown eyes. He’s awake and blinking lazily down at you, one arm still wrapped around your waist. 

It’s instinct, the way you look back down, embarrassed at having been caught and shy despite the state of your undress.

A raspy chuckle shakes from his chest where you have one palm flat against as your brain awakens its overthinking engine. 

You have no experience with hooking up with strangers, but he wouldn’t be looking for a no-strings attached type situation if he’s cuddling you in the morning, right? Or maybe you should’ve left last night?

But at the same time, isn’t poor etiquette to kick your partner out of bed the second you’re done? So maybe he’s just being polite by letting you crash here? And the cuddling, as comfortable as it is, is just him being a decent man? 

“Hey,” his gentle voice shakes you from your thoughts, one finger coming below your chin to meet his eyes. “Good mornin’” 

“Morning,” you mumble demurely, eyes desperately looking anywhere but him, even as he holds your face close. 

He drops a light kiss on your lips. “Last night was great. You feelin’ okay?” 

Your legs twitch in response. You belatedly realize that your legs are pushed between his. “A little sore, but I’m okay.” 

“Good. Wanna take a shower and we can talk over breakfast?” 

“‘Mkay.” 

You reluctantly take your legs back, relishing the last bit of his body heat, but Atsumu has other ideas. In one sweeping motion, he flips his duvet off and tosses you over his shoulder. 

“Atsumu!” 

He gives your thighs a pat before walking you over to the bathroom. You thank every god out there that you had some sense to pull your panties and one of his shirts on before passing out. 

He drops you off on the toilet seat. “Use anything you want. Fresh towels are in that drawer. There should be a new toothbrush under the sink.” 

“I could’ve walked myself.” 

He presses another kiss to your lips, the contact making you realize you’ve been pouting. “I know. Take your time, darlin’.” 

You make sure the door clicks shut behind him before you grab a fresh towel, hold it tight against your face and scream into the abyss. 

– 

A hot shower revives you. The ache between your legs stays but  the hot water helped, so you wobble your way to the kitchen. Two plates of toast and eggs sit on the dining table already as you watch Atsumu fill up a glass of water. When he sees you, he gestures for you to sit. 

“Hey, how was the shower?” 

You give your own body a once over before frowning at him. “I could’ve worn my clothes from yesterday.” 

A clean t-shirt was sitting folded for you on the toilet seat when you came out of the shower, so that’s all you were wearing over yesterday’s underwear. 

“And can you put on a shirt?” you add. 

He grins. You’re already getting used to seeing that expression on him. “Why? Am I distractin’ you? And in case you forgot, you spilled water all over yourself at the bar yesterday, so your clothes are still wet.”

“We should’ve put them in the dryer or at least hung them up last night…”

He walks over to you and pulls you towards the dining table. You let him coax you into a chair. “Well, we were a bit preoccupied when we got inside, yeah?” 

“Whatever…” you deflect, jabbing at the scrambled eggs on your plate. 

“So…” he starts, after putting the dishes in the sink and refusing your attempts to clean up. “About last night.” 

You tense up, clenching your fists. 

“I had a really good time and I really enjoyed talking to you.” 

Enjoyed, past tense. A part of you relaxes. At least you know the general direction he wanted to take this in. 

“Me too,” you respond. 

“And I don’t wanna give you the wrong idea, but I’m not looking for a committed relationship right now. I need to focus on volleyball and I mean, you’re Shoyo-kun’s friend, so I don’t want that to be weird either.” 

You nod. “I get it.” 

He looks startled at your easy response. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I really enjoyed talking to you too, but I’m not expecting us to start dating or anything.” 

He blinks. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you ask, wondering if you should be offended by the reaction. 

“It’s not that I’m surprised. Well,I guess I am a bit. You don’t really seem like the type who’s used to casual hook ups.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I just mean-”

You laugh. “I know what you mean. I’m just playing with you.” He relaxes a bit. “You’re right. I don’t really do this,” you gesture between the two of you, “often. But like you said, I think we both really enjoyed each others’ company and we can leave it at that.” 

“Okay, then.” 

“Yep.” 

An awkward breath passes before he speaks up again. “I hung your clothes up to dry earlier this morning. They should be good now.” 

You’re not positive that he means it this way, but you take the hint anyway. “Thanks. I’ll get changed and get going.” 

He gets up after you. “Can I walk you back?”

You put a hand out to keep some distance between you two. “Atsumu. I think I can manage.” 

He smiles, unsure, but nods anyway. 

At the door, he opens his arms and you file in robotically, giving him a loose hug before saying goodbye. 

You feel slightly bad at the obvious distance you were putting between the two of you, and you’re sure Atsumu can pick up on it, but it’d be far better to make things a little awkward than to let him get any closer than he already has in just one night. 

– 

It takes another afterparty hosted by Hinata for you to see him again. You had kind of figured that the unspoken rule was that if neither of you reached out, it really meant nothing. Even though the two of you never exchanged numbers or social media, you’d be lying if you didn’t have a little hope that he’d ask someone for your social and DM you. But days, weeks, went by with your messages and DMs dry, so you packed up your foolish hopes and chucked them to the furthest corner of your brain. 

This time, the gathering is hosted at Bokuto’s beautiful lofty apartment, fully furnished with a modern kitchen, balcony overlooking Tokyo, and massive living area. 

Even though you know pretty much all the attendees today, it doesn’t keep you from feeling a bit nauseous on the elevator ride up. Once again, at the front door, you raise your finger to press on the doorbell, pausing to take a deep breath before pushing the button. 

When the door swings open, the loud chatter of the inside makes it clear that this was not the small gathering you were expecting. The apartment is packed with people, many of whom you don’t recognize. 

“Hey! You made it!” 

“Welcome to my place!” 

Hinata and Bokuto, with one arm around each other, greet you loudly at the door. 

You awkwardly push your gift of red bean mochi in front of you. “I’m so sorry… I thought it was going to be a small thing, so I only brought a pack of 12.” 

Bokuto laughs heartily, plucking the gift from your hands. “This is great! Akaashi loves red bean mochi, so thanks! We’ll just keep it to our close friends instead of sharing it with the entire party,” he winks at you. 

Hinata grabs your arm and ushers you to the kitchen area, which is slightly less packed than the living room and balcony. “Are you drinking tonight?” 

“Yep, I’ll have something.” 

He produces a can of beer and pops the tab for you. 

“Lemme introduce you to some of the people here. You already know the usual Karasuno alum. You met most of my current BJ teammates last time. Oh, yeah,” he interrupts himself. “What happened to you last time by the way? We were all at the bar and then I don’t really remember seeing you go home at some point.” 

Not seeing any particular reason to keep it a secret, you tell him about going home with his setter. 

“Ah.” Hinata says. 

“What?” you ask warily. “Maybe… has Atsumu asked about me?”

Hinata shakes his head. “No, not really?” 

You scowl. “Then why’d you say ‘ah’ like that?” 

“Did I? My bad!” 

You roll your eyes, having momentarily forgotten that your friend hardly thinks about much else other than volleyball. 

He introduces you to some other people, mostly other volleyball players before dropping you off at the kitchen since you said you needed another drink. 

“You sure you’re going to be alright on your own?” 

You try to smile reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. Go have fun.” 

He leaves, so you busy yourself rummaging through the fridge for another drink. When you find nothing of interest, you look around the room, eyeing what people have in their drinks. The longer you spend looking around without a drink in your hand and in your own company in the crowded room, the more you feel out of place. With that, you grab the first unopened drink on the counter and snake your way through the crowd in search of a familiar face. 

And it just so happens that the first familiar face you find is Atsumu. 

“Hey, stranger,” he says easily to you. 

“I’m not the one who’s a stranger,” you blurt out the first quippy line you could think of. 

His eyes widen. “What-” 

“It’s just a joke.” you cut him off. “I didn’t mean it in any special way.” 

He doesn’t buy it, expression sobering up quickly. “Didn’t sound like a joke to me.” 

You scramble for words, your social anxiety not helping. “I really just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. You know I get really nervous at these group things…” 

He stares at you. A couple of seconds go by and you contemplate just turning around and walking away to mourn your social ineptitude somewhere private. But Atsumu breaks out in a small smile. 

“You were pretty nervous at that time, huh?” 

“Exactly!” you eagerly add on. “Atsumu, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I believe you. But…” 

You stiffen. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you meant it in a special way. I hear I’m pretty unforgettable.” 

You punch him in the arm. 

He laughs good-naturedly and offers a crooked arm. “Another drink?” 

You look down to see your bottle empty. You take his arm and let him lead you to another drink which turns into four. 

Atsumu’s presence is massive and it makes meeting new people easier. He introduces you (as Hinata’s childhood friend, of course) to new people, resting a heavy arm over your shoulder as he gets more drinks in his system. 

The gesture doesn’t alarm you. After all, men who are interested in someone would put an arm around your waist, right? Friends do shoulders, just like how Hintata and Bokuto had greeted you at the door. 

But just like last time, he melts your worries away and before long, the two of you are giggling into each others lips and sneaking out to go do something other than talk. 

–

And it happens again, and again, and again. Before you know it, every single dinner, afterparty, night out becomes an opportunity for the two of you to get together. You always somehow find yourselves all alone where you always talk for hours and enjoy each others’ company too much, and fail to resist the temptation of falling into bed together. And each morning, you wake up, act like lovers until breakfast, before parting ways to radio silence until the next time. 

Your mutual count of offenses gets into the double digits before you really realize you’re in hot water. 

–

The next time it happens, it’s when Hinata invites you to watch an official game. You show up wearing a plain black top to show your support for the Jackals. As you settle into the seats Hinata offers up to you and some ex-teammates, he spots your group and gives you his usual sunny smile. 

The rest of his team notices you and now that you’ve met them a couple of times, a natural smile comes easier when you meet each of their eyes. When your gaze finally falls upon Atsumu, he gives you a silly grin, not unlike the one you’re getting used to seeing over breakfast, and holds his fingers up in a corny heart. You roll your eyes playfully and he clutches his heart dramatically in response. 

A giggle escapes your lips, keeping a ghost of a smile on your lips until Tsukishima, who decided to join you to watch the game, catches you with one eyebrow raised. 

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Nothing.” 

From there, you make sure to keep your expressions reigned in. Sure, your eyes may follow him a bit more than any other player, but that’s not something to read into. He’s the setter, after all. They touch the ball the most so it only makes sense that anyone watching the game would watch him the most. 

The Jackals end up losing in the close third set. You meet the players outside afterwards to tell them it was a great game and when the group emerges, it’s sans the setter. Mustering up a reassuring smile, you give each one of them a hug before sneaking away back to the gym to check up on the one you’re most concerned about. 

After your first hookup with Atsumu, he had told you that volleyball was the reason he couldn’t be in a committed relationship at the moment. To anyone, that would have sounded like an excuse. But after getting to know him more, you could tell he really meant it. So it’s not a surprise to you when you find him still on the court, practicing serves even when his eyes are rimmed red. 

“Atsumu,” you call out. 

He jumps and slams another serve, as if he hadn’t heard you. 

“Atsumu,” you say a bit louder. 

You step closer and closer, taking tentative steps until you’re right behind him. As he picks up another ball, you put your hand on his arm to stop him. 

“Atsumu,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t shake you off so you take the chance to pry the ball out of his hand, letting it bounce to the ground as you circle around to face him. His eyes stayed glued to the floor, fists clenched. You bring your fingers to his, lightly uncurling them from where they make angry crescent imprints in his palm. When his hands relent, you let them fall limply back to his side before pulling him in for a hug. It only takes one second of hesitation before he returns the embrace fiercely, crushing you against him. You swear you can feel a dampness on your shoulder that isn’t sweat. 

“You need to rest,’ you whisper. 

He nods, letting you guide him home, where something in him seems to snap. His hands and lips are all over you even in the hallway of his buildings and it leaves you with barely enough sanity to dig  his keys out of his gym bag to unlock the door before he takes you against the door, on his couch, and one last time in bed. Maybe you imagined the “thank you” he whispers to you before you pass out cold. 

It’s sometime in the middle of the night when you come to, somewhere between awake and asleep. You stir to the sensation of Atsumu’s fingers brushing against the crown of your head. 

“Hey sleepy,” you hear him murmur. 

You hear yourself make some incoherent noise, curling your body closer into the warmth of his body. 

“You awake?” 

“No.” 

He chuckles. “Up for another round?” 

“‘Tsumu… I’m tired.” 

“I like you calling me that.” 

You open one eye. “‘Tsumu?” 

“Yeah,” he says before leaning down and kissing you. It’s not a close lipped, innocent kiss that he often gives you the morning after. It’s languid but still urgent. You can feel your reservations slipping away. He slips a warm palm under your shirt and as he ghosts over your stomach, ribcage, then higher. 

There’s something intensely intimate about the way he touches you tonight: his forehead pressed to yours, vocal in the way he insists that you keep your eyes open. That intimacy fills your insides with something warm, and at the same time, dangerously hot. It trips some sort of alarm in your mind, but all your reservations fly out the window as he starts to move. You can’t think. 

Definitely not when he keeps kissing you up until the moment you fall asleep and you fade away to the feeling of his lips pressed to yours. 

–

For one of the first times ever, you wake up dreading the morning-after routine with Atsumu. Because this one feels different. The way he says good morning with a lazy smile, the way he strokes your forehead, the way he stares when you stretch, the way he carries you like a princess to the bathroom. 

By the time it’s time for you to make your exit, you’re convinced he feels it too. His stares linger too long, too hot to be casual. He says goodbye with a longing that is hard for even you, in all your inexperience, to ignore. 

And you have to know. 

You turn back right as you’re leaving. “Atsumu.” 

“What happened to ‘Tsumu?” he teases. 

“Can I come watch your next game?” 

“Hm? ‘Course you can. Shoyo-kun usually gets you tickets right?” 

You test the waters: something subtle but gets the message across. 

“Would it be okay if I wore your jersey?” 

His laughing stops abruptly. 

If he laughs it off and makes a joke about you joining his army of fans, you’d take the hint. This would still be casual and you’d need to re-rectify your barriers. But if by chance… 

He looks at you for a long, excruciating moment, before offering a small, shuttered smile. 

You tense up. It’s not the answer you wanted, but you always knew there was a chance this would happen anyway. You’re just grateful you waited until it was time to leave before bringing it up. 

“No… I don’t think you should.” 

That takes you by surprise. 

“I mean, I don’t want our friends to think that-” 

“That what?” you bite back with a bit more aggression that you wanted. 

Atsumu stands up straight from where he was leaning lazily in the doorway. A quiet, but stern calling of your name snaps you out of whatever reverie you’ve been in for the past couple of months. “I thought we both agreed that this was a casual thing. It goes without saying that I don’t want our friends to think we’re together. That would only complicate things.” 

Complicate? You want to scoff. As if being the outlet for his frustration last night wasn’t complicating things already. As if every kiss and touch from just a couple hours ago wasn’t complicating everything. 

But, you take a breath, composing yourself. 

“Right, sorry. I just wanted to… let you know I’m here for you. Like last night.” you bite out. 

He winces slightly. 

“See you around, Atsumu.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you walk off. In fact, everything remains the same. No texts, no calls, no messages.

[munamania]

:( i looked her spotify again and she’s been listening to love songs. sorry for making myself miserable on purpose. again

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: Miscommunication

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: G

pairing: Alastor x Reader

Summary: Alastor and reader have been dancing around each other for quite sometime, but reader doesn’t believe that Alastor could care for her.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“What are we?” you ask standing in the room, trying to look at anything but him. The silence after the question felt suffocating, like it was choking you but not physically. Like the silence had nestled into your airways and started to bring them crashing upon each other in a supernova right in your chest. Your hands shake as you brush off your shirt, trying anything then to actually look at the man in front of you. If you did you’d know the answer you thought would be there. You’d see his disgust, and hatred and you couldn’t bare that. Not when he’s handled you so gently, smiled at you so gently, not when you’ve sought him out in crowded rooms. You could feel your tears in your eyes as you willed yourself not to cry, not yet.

“You know what we are. You just want me to say it.” Alastor’s voice carried across the room and you stiffened, his voice lacking the radio effect for the first time. Tears began to fall, as it was confirmed to you.

“I-I-“ you take in a shuddering breath and start again. “Can you please say it? Out loud? I need to hear you say it, so I can move on.” Tears stream down your face as you hit your lip to stop from sobbing. ‘Damn you heart for feeling so much’, you thought to yourself. You don’t hear Alastor make his way toward you, but suddenly his hand gently cups your chin and guides it to look at him. His eyes widen in shock and it makes you angry. He knew how you felt, he knew that he didn’t feel the same way, and he has the nerve to look shocked?

You rip away and put distance between you both, your breath ragged, not able to stop the sobs as they came and your brain too foggy to try and pull yourself together.

“DON’T!” You yell at him and his eyes widen further. You shrink into yourself after this outburst, all fight leaving you. “Please, stop toying with me Alastor. I understand that you get your kicks off shit like this but just be real with me and tell me you don’t see me… see me like I see you. So then, I can let you go.” You whisper, your arms wrapping around your body like you were trying to hold yourself together.

“Mon Coeur, oh, cher…” Alastor trailed off and approached slowly, raising his hand to your cheek, watching every movement of yours for even an ounce of discomfort. “I am…” Alastor pauses and takes a deep breath, readying himself to say a phrase he never thought he’d utter to anyone, “So sorry.” He whispers.

“I don’t want you to let me go, darling.” He murmurs. Your head whips up, eyes wide.

“What?” you managed to croak out. Alastor looks at you and a soft smile falls on his face.

“You are someone who is very dear to me. Someone who I think I can learn to love.” Alastor murmurs, bending down to you. “If you’ll allow me to.” His eyes meet yours, as you search through trying to find something other than earnestness and what could only be described as love in his eyes.

“You may.” the whisper of your consent weaving between you two, like vows. Your hand reaches up to his face as he leans down slowly, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. He moves so slowly giving you the chance to move away, and you stay still, giving him the opportunity to change his mind. That idea was thrown out when you felt your lips touch his, as your other hand reaches up and anchors yourself on his neck. A little whine coming from you as you feel his body meld against you. You both break away feeling like it was too soon and you nod.

“It’ll be hard to get rid of me you know?” You ask, fixing Alastor’s collar.

“Hmmmm, not as hard as it will be to get rid of me, cher.” Alastor smiles and you laugh as you pull him into your arms and feel him stiffen at first and then relax against you, pulling you closer and resting his head on top of yours. He starts gently humming, both of you basking in each other’s company and for the first time you were grateful you were so emotional.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 14: Hate Sex

Pairing: IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,294

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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Acquaintances, not even a dent but it’ll be hard to deal with but when you’re close with someone, you’re damn sure it won’t be ephemeral and will hold a grudge against you and that’s the last thing you want to see with someone you’re deeply close with.

Yet you eat your words and face that greatest fear of yours, on the verge of breaking apart and cutting connections yet you won’t let that happen even though everything’s falling apart, slowly…

“Gaeul—let me explain—”

“I fucking heard enough—get out of my place or I’ll do it myself!!” Gaeul’s grits her teeth as her words are laced with venom, aiming to faze you out yet it didn’t bother you to fight and to try and enlighten her with the right reasons and brush off the infuriating side that she involved herself into.

“Gaeul, please—it wasn’t much of a thing—we weren’t even close enough and it’s just a friendly approach—” 

“Yeah I know, dumbass—it’s just a friendly approach but it’s not that what makes me furious…” Gaeul clicks her tongue, faces you as she drops her bag onto the floor, giving you a cold stare that sends shivers down your spine and then inching closer towards you with her intimidating glare still painted on her face. “It’s the fact that you kept ignoring me all the time until t-this moment—why?”

You can see Gaeul getting melancholic as the emotions inside her are finally rising up within her veins, making her shed a tear because of all of the grudgeful events that have been happening until this day.

You weren’t ignoring her completely and you never did—it was just her sensitive and manipulative personality that you made yourself to distance away from her but not completely and it’s also the fact that you’ve been showing an interest to a girl that you’ve been captivated right from the start you met her and wanted a better connection but of course, Gaeul will make a hindrance because of her intense anger and jealousy over you. You love Gaeul, but in a way that’s maybe unorthodox and platonic for others but you didn’t care—you love her and you love the relationship you have with her for years, even though it’s not going over the limit but sometimes, she’s just being over the limit and you’re not liking it.

“Gaeul—just please, it’s not about that fact—”

“Then what?” Gaeul inches closer towards you, her eyes are now gleaming with her own tears due to the weightful emotions she’s experiencing, as it streaks down her cheeks and makes her makeup start to become a ruined mess. 

Your heart drops with her current gloomy state as you can feel the sincere sorrow in each of her words. In each word she expresses, it makes up for the poignant feelings she felt because of you and it’s breaking you slowly. You never wanted her to be like this, but here you are, locked with frustration and regret and there’s nowhere you can do to escape—technically, you can but you don’t want it to provoke her further and let this be the day to end your friendship with her.

You’d be with her until the end of time and you’ll let her know that yet this will be a challenge and you’re willing to endure and take it over.

“It’s about the fact of—” Silence ensues as she interrupts your further attempts of explanations as she latches her lips onto yours immediately and instantly, you became intoxicated with her scent that you fell under her spell, further reciprocating the kiss as she grips onto your collar tightly to further deepen the torrid kiss that she initiated. As much as you want to pull out and talk about the situation better, you can’t help but further need the taste of her luscious lips as your hands roamed around her back and played with her hair which tightens her grip onto your collar even more. Not so long after, the kiss came up to a close as she pushed you harshly and then glaring at you, starting daggers towards your heart.

“You know how much I hate you whenever you kiss me, right?”

“It w-wasn’t even—”

Gaeul chides you as she can sense the uneasiness in your eyes, and she took that as an opportunity to let you feel her wrath. Now pinned against the wall and frozen on the spot, Gaeul half-squinted her eyes as her voice tends to curse you and its tone is evidently made to faze you and all you can see is her small figure falling down on her knees, and gripping harshly onto the hem of your pants.

“Gaeul, c-can we just talk about this—”

“Shut the fuck up and just lean down on the wall.” Gaeul’s hands finds its way onto the buttons of your pants as she starts undressing your lower half and with that in mind, you know what Gaeul wants and further retaliation will just not work but rather put gasoline into the flames of anger. You just let her get what she wants as you will also derive pleasure from it but you know Gaeul’s going to put your life in misery within this given moment as you momentarily prepare for this.

“You know that I’ve been so fucking stressed lately and then you, added to that shit I’m going through—well, don’t worry, I’m going to use this delicious dick just for myself.”

Well, if this is how she’ll handle the situation, then so be it. With your defenses slowly becoming useless and deemed to be out of bounds, you take shallow breaths in order to prepare on what you’re about to tackle and ruthlessly, Gaeul yanks off your boxers out as she’s met with your erect length, constantly throbbing since the time she probably kissed you intimately. Unlike what you’ve fantasized or experienced with her, she eyes your cock like some sort of meal, not like something she’s been wanting for a long time as she spat all over your length, and stroked it starting from the base up to your engorged tip.

“Don’t call my name or touch me, because if you do, I’m going to really punch you, I swear to fucking god.”

She can’t be bothered with anymore foreplay as the hunger inside her took over and planted small kisses within your tip, and then sucking half of your length with already a ridiculous pace that inevitably lets out a series of ethereal moans coming out of your mouth, voicing your satisfaction. It’s obvious how deprived she is with your taste as the constant slurps on your shaft and her greedy pace of bobbing is a strong evidence, concluding to a fact she definitely wanted you yet anger and jealousy took over her that she became a different person.

Now, taking your whole length is each bob she does, more broken moans escape your lips as it forms symphonies for Gaeul to hear yet she doesn't care—all she wants is the taste of your cock and to fulfill her own needs. She didn’t mind the gags she does whenever your head hits the back of her throat as she continues to suck every inch of you like she’s been starving for weeks and with her current pace, you can’t help but writhe as you hands unable to find a leverage to fight the sudden peak of pleasure. You can’t help yourself and Gaeul know you can’t handle her properly, as she increases the quality of her oral expertise all over the length of your shaft and the inevitable comes, your hands finds its way onto Gaeul’s dark locks in which, she didn’t like and immediately, she pulled out of your length as the multiple connections of her saliva onto your shaft makes up the mess that made your arousal skyrocket.

Gaeul’s furious at what you’ve done and won’t let you get away from it as she snarls at you, her anger streaming over her like a hot kettle. “What the fuck did I just say? Are you that fucking stubborn??” 

Of course, the question is rhetorical and all you know is that you’ve fucked up with the wrong person. With Gaeul’s ice-cold glare towards you, it wasn’t going to long for a punishment to be ensued as her dainty fingers found its wall on your sensitive balls, and cups it gently. It was a rush of pleasure whenever she does that yet it was quickly changed when she wrapped her fingers around it, making it a makeshift cockring that definitely puts more salt onto the wounds—it’s a little painful yet it stimulates you even further as she continues her oral masterclass, slobbering all over your succulent shaft like there’s no tomorrow to see.

She maintains the ridiculous pace onto your whole length as her soft, warm cavern which is her mouth makes up for the constant pain she’s doing onto your sensitive balls, further unlocking your masochistic side. She shows no mercy and sympathy as she uses her mouth to further derive her wants as she can’t get enough and resist the taste of your length yet even with all of the great things that have been happening, it will all soon come to a halt as she pulls out and catches her breath desperately.

“God—you're glad your cock tastes fucking delicious and I can’t resist this—shit, be grateful because this could’ve ended worse.”

You’d want to argue with her on that scope, but you'd rather not, not when her rage is boiling hot and she wants not yet attended to its fullest. Further continuing her great expertise, she delivers such an incredible pace as her other hand grips onto your thighs for a leverage on a better job and sucking you off. Every thrust she does is genuinely making you brain being fried down into shambles and when forced herself onto deepthroating you, she crossed the line as you can’t help but cry on how great her throat feels, yourself getting weaker with her own spell. It didn’t take long before she ejected out due to her multiple gag reflexes and god, once you look down, you can’t help but feel more aroused with the sight of face sullied with her own makeup, saliva and her disheveled hair.

“I’m g-going to suck this dick until you cum deep down my throat, do you understand?” You nod eagerly as she smirks as strokes your saliva-sheathed length and mutters more commands, “Don’t you dare hold back and be a good boy for me.”

You won’t let her down and will deliver up to her finest desires as she latches her lips onto your engorged head, collecting the copious precum that has been leaking out and then eagerly shoved down your whole length for the umpteenth time in her throat and ensued with a rapid pace. It was breaknecking as the copious drool stained her hands still gripping onto your balls, onto your thighs and some dripping on the floor and it’s just a great element to further ignite the essence of an incredible oral session. She can sense how close you are due to you needy moans and the constant throbbing of your shaft and with profound knowledge, she further doubles her efforts as she needs to taste every drop of your succulent, creamy semen that she’s been addicted to and there’s no way you’re going to last long. Given the fact that she’s been giving you the euphoric experience you’ve had for an undeniably long time now, you’re not able to savor the moments you’d want to as you can feel your loins acting up and hell’s about to break loose for you.

“Gaeul—I’m g-gonna cum…”

Gaeul took this as an opportunity to show how she’s more deserving than anyone and how you could never find someone like her. She didn’t even bother responding by words, but rather, her own, frantic actions as she plunged her throat deep down as she gags and you finally, let out the pinnacle of paramount bliss—shooting streak of thick, creamy semen down her throat as she gags in every spurt, but fight through it because she wants to take it all and not waste a single drop. She successfully did it, given on how great she takes your cock and suddenly, your seed instantly disappeared and is now treasure down to her stomach as she hummed in satisfaction because of your delectable load.

“Can’t get enough of this cum of yours—fuck, it’s so delicious.” Gaeul shares her satisfaction with the flavorful taste of your semen as she averts her eyes towards you, still with a cold glare as she stands up and lets you know about something you’ll never forget. “I guess she can’t do it like I do, hm? Like I said, you’re not gonna find another one like me.” Gaeul, still fueled with her rage, stands up and commands you to lay down on the couch in which you find it puzzling as you’re genuinely confused on why she’s acting like this.

“Gaeul—please, can w-we just talk about this?” Your pleas doesn't let Gaeul distract herself onto her desired prize as she’s still not done with you and would rather hear your moans than your annoying voice pleading for something better.

“Maybe we’ll fucking talk if you dumped another load, now inside my cunt.” Gaeul retorts as she pushes you off the couch and you land with a thud, her not minding if you were alright or hurt because she’s feeling selfish due to her anger blinding her and her animalistic desires that unleashes the devilish side of her. With still your length being full-erect despite your already-impeding orgasmic trance, Gaeul eyes on it as she pounces on your lap like a bunny, hopping onto its favorite meal: your length, still wet with own saliva as she strokes it furiously in order to maintain the libido inside you. 

“Ga—Gaeul, I c-can’t take it anymore—I’m too sensitive!”

Well, she completely ignored your pleas and with that, she completely uses this as her own advantage as she toys with you, further pumping your throbbing length with feverish strokes in which you respond with whimpers due to your sensitivity.

“I don’t care—don’t tell me you don’t want this, asshole! Bet she can’t make you whimper like I do, hm?”

As much as you want to retaliate and stop this madness, you can’t help but feel utter pleasure and pain whenever she strokes your entire length as her touch is your kryptonite, and it will always be that way. Having enough of giving your shaft such pleasurable strokes, she strips her clothing one by one while still pouncing on your lap and with the sight of Gaeul’s slender body on display, your shaft can’t help but twitch because of how hot she is. Given her graceful and quick movements, she removed all of her clothes in quick succession yet she needed to hop off on your lap to strip her lower half and after removing it all, she quickly pounced and teases her lower lips onto your tip. The both of you moaned in unison because of such a great feeling coursing down your veins with your bodies clashing against each other yet Gaeul is growing impatient, opting for the climactic prize as she eagerly plunges herself onto your entire length. 

After she impales herself with your raging rod, such sultry and sexy moans escape her lips as she misses the feeling of your dick inside her tight, velvety walls. She ensued a moderate pace as she greedily grinds her hips onto your length, withdrawing with only the tip inside and then slamming her hips back, filling her up to the hilt which made her moaned incredibly loud and you, groaning your satisfaction out as your sensitivity slowly dissipates as time goes by and with her rapid thrusts on your shaft. 

You know how incredible it feels everytime Gaeul rides you as she always brings her best, hopping and clashing her hips in contact with your body harshly as she brings the peak pleasure that you’ve always loved. Even though you know how she’s becoming selfish and using your body just for her own gratification and her needs to be fulfilled, you can’t still help but notice how she’s reconsidering your own pleasure as her movements laced with finesse and the peak-quality of her thrusts against you is a strong evidence.

“Yeah—see? You can’t think about her right now, don’t you? Yeah—because you can’t help but get so fucking turned on with my pussy, hah—that’s why, you prick!”

Gaeul growls at you as she uses your shirt as the leverage to further ensure a breakneck pace and to further fight the intense pleasure that’s been coursing down her veins since the start she rode you. You could feel her wetness in every thrust she does on your shaft as rivulets of her own nectar overflow around your shaft and stain the couch—and here comes another event where the both of you will literally stain and destroy another couch because of both your filthiness. The wet squelching of her shaft sends your brain into a stimulation that further makes everything better yet it’s becoming way too pleasurable that you’re starting to have your mind clouded with only the gripping walls of pussy that puts you into a hypnotic trance.

“Gaeul—p-please, if w-we can just talk—”

A smack resonates around the room as she slapped your face with anger still boiling within her as you feel a sting yet it didn’t really hurt you because she didn’t bring much power onto that smack. As how your previous attempts of persuading her onto talking to you in a better way possible concluding onto a major fail as everything was deemed useless against her, you’d just keep your mouth shut and relive and cherish the pleasure that she’s been delivering as you totally succumb onto your own needs too, groaning in pleasure and moaning to voice out how good she’s riding you even though she doesn't acknowledge your sincere compliments towards her—even with her holding a deep grudge, you know that deep inside, she’s deeply flustered because she knows how your compliments literally fuel her do more and makes it more endearing.

The sight of Gaeul’s cunt constantly engulfing your entire length as she creams all over it, her perky mounds jiggling in every time she gyrates her hips and her expressions and moans that contains pure lust and wants—even though she’s suppressing the sounds that’s coming out of her mouth and trying her absolute best to make up a stern and intimidating look, she can’t help but let her true self out as the pleasure is making her give in to her true feelings and putting her hypocritical demeanor into its demise—is so arousing that you’d literally want to take a picture or a video just to save it and possibly even jerk off to it on your free time but of course, you’d probably just conceal everything and let both of your eyes only be the ones to see this filthy masterpiece.

With her given pace, Gaeul can’t help but just lure in to her own carnal desires as she’s coming near to her own promised land, drawing herself closer onto her rewarding trance as the constant pulsations of her pussy and her juices spilling out of it as the evidence of her nearing high. Knowing about this, you thrust yourself upwards as surprisingly, she didn’t bother to stop you but even encouraged you to do so and with her final oscillations, she’s going over to the line and all will break loose.

“God—I’m going to fucking cum all over this stupid cock—shit, it f-feels so—ahh—good—gonna cum!!”

It just took a single scream from Gaeul as she creams all over your throbbing shaft, her juices spilling out and making everything on its vicinity wet and it’s further worsen when she pulled out of your length, spraying her liquid nectar all over your abdomen, your shaft and on the sofa. She falls limp on the sofa as she catches her breath, regaining herself some energy from the enervating orgasm that sends shockwaves throughout her body as euphoria takes over her. Still having some of her energy left, she chides towards you to do something as she complains on how your cock can always make her cum hard.

“Gosh—glad I can only feel this cock ‘cause—fuck, this cock makes me cum so fucking hard I fucking love it… Now will you fuck me? Be sure to finish in me ‘cause I want that load deep inside my cunt.”

Her sinful words makes up for the sudden loss of tempo as you stood up from the couch and without any question, Gaeul positions herself where her freshly-fucked cunt is all on display, all for you to take with no-return and to end what she started a while ago. Your hands then grabbed her hips as her flexibility was tested, her legs now rested onto your shoulders as you immediately plunged your length back into her wet folds and then mustered a ridiculous pace in which she always loved. There was no more foreplay as it was out of the equation as both your needs should be attended as soon as possible yet Gaeul isn’t a fan of what your hips are capable of doing.

“Come on—fuck me harder, come o-on—oh fuck!”

Gripping her hips harshly enough for a bruise to form, you ensued more power in each of your thrusts as she moaned in need with your utter harshness, treating her body like a ragdoll as every plummet your hips do meant to break her in half and turn herself into a mess, uttering such lifeless syllables full of lust and greed. Even with your breakneck pace, Gaeul can’t seem to be impressed with the way you’re treating her as she complains again, fury taking over her and making her boil.

“I s-said—fuck m-me harder—oh shit, just like-fucking-that you stupid asshole!!”

You then fuck her with a pace imaginable, your hips mustering up a velocity that no one can comprehend as you let your pent-up anger inside fuel the rapid thrusts that’s bound to break her apart and possibly, to fuck out the anger she’s feeling and to succumb onto her wanton needs. 

It may seem impossible on this given moment but being derived to fulfill each other’s needs is the best way to end this even though her rage for you is still deep within her—you just hope you can fix this in a better way possible but for now, you’ll just dig yourself closer to the rabbit hole, a hole closer to your own lustful desires and to succumb onto it,

There’s no way Gaeul can’t tell how closer you are on reaching your own, long-awaited high as you gave her cunt the last, ruthless thrusts that made her cry due to the intense gratification she’s feeling as she close her eyes and lets her senses gave her the better stimulation than ever before. Without holding back, you announce your near orgasm to Gaeul and she took this as an opportunity to fulfill her needs as she sexily moans for you for further encouragement and it’s not going to be long before you reward both yourselves.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum inside y-you, Gaeul—shit, g-gonna cum!!”

Now with her legs repositioning to hug your waist and to further lock your whole length to be buried deep inside her, you groan with the tightness her walls are making as you bury your shaft more, filling her up to hilt and shooting down multiple spurts of your treasured seed right onto her womb. Your thighs quiver when you deliver her your semen as at her end, she became enervated due to the exhaustive session of sex and the mind-boggling stimulation that made her brain go haywire. You kept buried in her until your orgasm impeded, and then, you pulled out to admire the mess you’ve made between her legs and as expected, the both of you fell limp onto the couch. With enough courage, you asked her something and anticipated a better approach yet you’re still met with something else you didn’t like.

“Now, can we talk?”

Gaeul rolls her eyes as frustration is still embedded within her, but you can see it being lifted by a little due to the faint smile she did after receiving a warm load deep in her cunt. “I’ll go and clean up first.”

Having a little faith, you let her do what she wanted to do as she stood up and a visible struggle was evident when her legs became a little wobbly due to the intensity of your pace and hers earlier. You ensued on helping but she brushed it off and said that she’s fine and she can help herself up.

But there’s maybe a single thing that Gaeul can’t withstand nor do against it as it’s inevitable for her to resist and put a sleep onto…

“Hey…” Gaeul stopped as she called you, and you were fazed by it but you brushed it off as responded to her.

“What, Gaeul?”

Gaeul sighs as her stern glare still shoots daggers at you, but her tone is now softer than what it was before, “Come and join me in the shower, then we’ll talk right after.”

Yes, her weakness is literally you as you’re insatiable for her. Guess what? There’s maybe another chance to clot what has been wounded and fix what has been broken but you could never be so sure but that? That’s a sign of mending and that alone gives you hope for the better…

[hadersversion]

III. i can fix him (no really i can)

“good boy, that’s right. come close, i’ll show you heaven if you’ll be an angel all night.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent pogue! reader

word count: ?? (NOT PROOFREAD)

warnings: 18+ minors dni!! language, soft rafe cameron because my boy just needs some love, slow burn, fighting (m/m & f/m), toxic ex

masterlist!

the outer banks filled with people quickly over the past two nights.

the fourth of july was approaching and everyone wanted to spend their time off in a beach town as nice as the island.

i watched as cars filled in at the gas station, out of towners filling their car up and grabbing their essentials for their vacation.

“have a nice day.” i say, handing the bag over to the elderly man. i watched him hold the door open for someone and greet them with a smile.

“thank you.” kiara said sweetly, walking into the gas station. she came up to the counter, leaning against it. “how ya feeling, champ?” she hands me a paper cup of coffee.

“i love you, kiara carrera.” i take a big sip before putting it down, grabbing some candy no one bought but left at the register. “awful, haven’t had a break since i got here. i hate this. i hate how touristy this place becomes. and i hate how many people need gas for their cars. or snacks for their kids.” i rant, slamming down a bag of candy without knowing.

kie looks at me, trying to hold back her laugh. “you got this, you’re a trooper.” she pokes me. “and plus, you get to party tonight with your besties and watch the fireworks.”

“yay.” i say in a monotone voice, causing her to flip me the middle finger. “i’m just kidding, but i would much rather stay at home and watch a movie or something.”

“y/n, you have all summer to do that. one night, please. we haven’t done something like this since the last day of school.” she pleads.

“you remember the last day of school party?” i joke.

“yes, i do remember it. bits and pieces.” she admits, making us both laugh. “it’ll be fun, we got a keg and jj got some weed. it’ll be a chill night.”

“a chill night with a bunch of out of towners and kooks trying to crash.” i say.

kiara nodded. “not much we can do about that. but jj promised he won’t fight anyone tonight. just for you.”

“aw, how sweet.” i say sarcastically.

“such a gentleman.” she adds, grabbing a pack of gum and slipping me a dollar bill. “i’ll see you tonight, alright?” i nod as she walks out the door.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

all of our parties usually end the same. jj is too drunk and too rowdy that he gets into a fight. john b leaves with someone. kiara talks to anyone who will listen. pope, tries to sneak away early, but is caught up with jj in his shenanigans. and then there’s me. the one taking care of them. making sure that they get back to the chateau safe and sound. where would my friends be without me?

the more i think about the party, the more i just don’t want to go. i love my friends and our parties, but fourth of july always ends badly for us. it could be a curse or could be our inability to handle our alcohol.

the streets and beaches are packed as parties kick off to celebrate the holiday a day early.

just another excuse for people to get drunk.

jj already started the festivities off with a 6 pack of budweiser he’s been guzzling.

“hey, jj, no fair. you said you would give me some.” pope says, elbowing him.

“you snooze, you lose.” he smiles like the asshole he is.

i grab a beer from my bag and hand it to him. “i don’t know why you believe a word that comes out of that boys mouth when it involves alcohol and sharing.”

john b chimes in. “she has a point.” pope waves us off and sips the beer.

the beach fills up fast, john b and jj pulling their usual antics on the out of town crowd. charging the guys almost $10 to come in, but ladies get in free of course. some kooks make their appearances, keeping their distance from us. all is well.

until i see him.

rafe saunters onto the beach, head held high as he sips out of a red solo cup. once he sets his eyes on me, he doesn’t break it. it’s almost like i’m having deja vu to the last party he came to. especially with hearing my friends talk in disgust about him.

“here we go.” john b spits.

a pit forms in my stomach as i watch him part the crowd like the red sea. everyone just stares at him as he makes his way through. he’s like a celebrity to these people.

my body and my mind feels drawn to him, like i’m in some sort of trance. i want to reach out, talk to him, touch him. anything. but that’s risky right now with all of my friends scattered around.

i shake my beer can and sigh. “i’m empty, gonna go get another.” i make way over to the coolers, digging around the ice, waiting.

waiting for him.

“there’s my favorite pogue.” i hear from behind me.

i straighten myself up and smile, turning to look at him. “the kook prince himself. what brings you out to these parts?” i ask, putting my hand on my hip.

“had to make sure you were staying out of trouble.” he jokes, sipping his beer.

“very funny, coming from you.” i say and he shrugs. “just didn’t expect it.”

“why? cause your friends fucking hate me?” i look over at him. he’s wearing a light blue polo that shows his tone body off with a backwards cap. what a fucking kook.

“precisely.” i say, opening my beer. “most pogues do.”

“well i can think of one who doesn’t hate me.” he says, tapping my can with his cup to ‘cheers’ me.

“oh really? who might they be?” i say sarcastically.

“well, she’s pretty fucking cool. is always true to herself, doesn’t let what anyone thinks get in her way. let’s see, what else? she also has a weird obsession with dolphins.” i elbow him. “hey, hey. just telling the truth.”

“fuck off.” i take another sip.

a comfortable silence falls between us, fireworks start shooting off above us. the red, white and blue paints the sky as we both stare at it.

“not on such high alert with me right now. not worried about your friends looking at us?” he says in an almost teasing tone. i hate his stupid, beautiful face.

“should i?” i ask back.

“you always seem to.” he says back.

our eyes never leave the sky.

i sigh and sip my beer. “it’s complicated.”

“i’m sure.” he says shortly.

i look over at him. “how would your friends feel if you were off fraternizing with the enemy?”

he laughs and turns to me. “fraternizing?”

“shut up, you know what i mean.” i blush. “it’s just…complicated with them.”

“complicated how, exactly?” he asks. “you’re your own person, ya know?”

“i know. but they’re like my family. i don’t wanna let my family down.” i sigh.

he nods. “you’re too good for them.”

“stop.” i say with a chuckle.

“i mean it. you are. you have a big heart, you care for everyone. you second guess everything to make sure it won’t hurt them.” he says. “do they do that for you?”

my breathe hitches. “i-i-um.” i stammer.

“just what i thought.” he snaps back. “i’m just saying, you should prioritize yourself.” i can’t talk, overthinking everything he just said. how is he reading me like he’s known me his whole life. “did i lose you there?”

“n-no, just gave me a lot to think about right there, dude.” i chuckle awkwardly.

he opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted.

“hey y/n.” a voice says.

we both look up to see a boy. he’s one from around the cut. one that i used to talk to.

“hey brandon.” i say quietly.

brandon and i go way back, dating here and there throughout the years. we finally broke up because, according to him, i wouldn’t ‘put out’.

in simple terms, fuck this guy.

he looks over to rafe and back at me. “what are you doing over here?” his eyes rake over my body, making me shiver from being uncomfortable. he’s always been a bit of a…perv. to say the least.

“talking.” rafe says. “we’re just talking.” he steps up a bit, in a protective manner.

brandon closes his eyes in annoyance. “wasn’t talking to you, cameron.”

“well now you are.” rafe says with a smug smile. “so whatever you wanted to say to my friend, y/n, you can say to me.”

brandon let’s out a breathe. “why are you even here, bro? don’t you got some gala or something to go to?”

i roll my eyes. “he can be here, brandon. it’s a free beach.”

he turns to me. “wouldn’t have expected you to fuck a kook, y/n. didn’t peg you for the traitor type.”

my face turns red. “i’m not fucking anyone. and if i was, why does it concern you?”

he moves closer. “a little shocked that the virgin mary of the cut would be so easy to put out. especially for rafe fucking cameron. just a little shocked to say the least. seems a little easy.” brandon is so close, i’m looking up to him as he speaks to me.

this was brandon’s favorite thing to do. talk down to me when he’s the one that’s upset.

before i can defend myself, rafe puts himself in between us. “hey man, back the fuck up, will ya?” he says.

i peak my head up and look at him. “and get the fuck out of here.”

brandon’s eyes darken. “who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, bitch?” he almost yells.

“you, bitch.” i spit, anger taking over my body.

rafe turns around and gives me a smile like he’s proud of me. “you good?” he asks and i nod. when he gets the assurance he needs, he turns back to him. “you heard her, get the fuck out of here.”

“i’m not letting a kook tell me what to do, especially not rafe cameron.” he’s up close and personal in rafe’s face. “don’t get pussy whipped by her, bro. she won’t put out for shit.”

rafe tenses up and suddenly pushes him onto the ground. when brandon tries to get up, rafe steps onto his chest and holds him down. “apologize.”

“what the f-” he wheezes out as rafe steps down harder.

“apologize to her. now.” rafe grits his teeth.

“fuck no.” and with a swift movement, rafe’s on the ground and holding brandon by the collar of his shirt.

i stand there, unable to move. it’s not fear i’m feeling but my body feels like a rush is taking over.

“fucking apologize to her before i leave you unrecognizable.” rafe yells.

brandon’s eyes widen as he looks at rafe, like a prey looking at its predator. “i-i’m sorry, okay. jesus.”

rafe drops his body down and stands up, spitting down at him. “and stay the fuck away from her.” his voice sounds dark. it almost looks like he’s holding back.

if this is him holding back, how does he react when he’s really pushed over the edge?

he turns around, his face reflecting the anger his body has. i hate the reaction my body is having to him in this state. he’s like a magnet that i can’t help but get stuck on. his face softens as he looks at me. “you okay?” he lightly caresses my arm.

the touch has me feeling electric. “y-yeah.” i breathe out. i look into his eyes and i feel as though there’s physical hearts on them. i’m so lost in thoughts about rafe, i don’t notice the crowd of people form around us, looking at the two of us in confusion.

i know how this will look. rafe cameron came to the cut to fuck with the pogues and be a menace to society. but it wasn’t true. far from it.

“let’s go.” i say, grabbing his hand.

he instinctively squeezes it once we make contact. “where?”

“anywhere . c’mon.” i pull him through the crowd and we run across the beach. the fireworks light up the night sky and leave a ringing in our ears. the music from the beach gets quieter and quieter, signaling that we got far enough.

i finally stop our tracks, turning around to look at him. the wind blows my hair as the ocean waves come crashing near us. he’s looking down at me, still holding my hand. “you okay?”

“thank you.” i say, ignoring his question. “but you didn’t have to do that.”

“y/n, don’t thank me for that. i should thank you for letting me talk down to the little shit.” he laughs. “but of course i had to do that, no one talks to you that way and gets away with it.”

“just accept the gratitude, dammit.” we both chuckle and he nods. “brandon is such a dick but you didn’t have to almost kill him to defend me.”

“i handle all assholes the same way, y/n. he was the luckiest one of them all if i’m completely honest.” i sigh, not wanting to know the full backstory of what he means but i can already see it in my head. “how do you even know him?” he asks, pushing hair behind my ear as it blows around my face.

“we dated way back when. didn’t work out for obvious reasons.” i say.

rafe’s eyes are painted with jealousy. “you dated that jerkoff?”

“sadly.” i shrug.

rafe shakes his head and closes his eyes. “well, if he ever tries to pull some shit like that again. let me know and i’ll take care of it.”

take care of it. those four words shouldn’t have sent warmth right to my core but it did.

“even though you had him shaking in his boots when you called him a bitch.” i blush, closing my eyes, and he squeezes my hand. “hey, it was badass…and hot.” he adds.

i open my eyes and look back at him. “hot?”

“i mean you’re always hot but that was…that was very attractive.” he tells me.

we stare at each other in silence. we both don’t know where to go from there but we both know what we want to do.

i feel myself stand up on my tippy toes, slowly. my hands rest on his chest as i stare at him. his breathe shutters as i stand there. there’s a voice inside of my head telling me to back down. do not kiss him. if you do, things will go from bad to worse. but then there’s a different voice, the voice telling me how soft his lips would feel. how good this kiss would be. how happy it would make me. i battle with the angel and devil on my shoulder before ultimately giving into the desires i’ve been wanting since we started talking.

our lips connect and if the fireworks weren’t going off above us right now, there would be some from the way this kiss feels. it’s sweet and gentle, two words most people wouldn’t use to describe rafe cameron. his hands slowly find their way to my cheeks, cupping them as though he’d lose me if he let go. all the frustration we’ve been building up from each other now finding its way out in a satisfying ending. i deepen the kiss, my tongue slowly entering into his mouth. i can tell it takes him by surprise when his breathe stutters in my mouth. like he’s letting out a sigh of relief. my hands find their way to his cap, holding onto it. i could stay like this for eternity but i pull myself back unhurriedly.

we just stand there, looking into each others eyes. “took you long enough.” rafe jokes, making me punch his arm.

“don’t ruin this, asshole.” i say.

he pulls me into his body tighter. “alright, alright. i won’t. only because i’ve been waiting so long for this.”

his arms engulf me as we stand there. i don’t want to leave, i could make myself at home here. leave the entire outer banks and their class system behind. leave the whole damn world behind if i could. but i know the reality is slowly creeping outside of this bubble we created. but i want to relish this moment for as long as i can. i rest my head on his chest and sigh, taking in his expensive cologne and memorizing his breathing patterns. the fireworks continue on overhead as i smile to myself.

this. this is the moment i knew, i fell hard for rafe cameron. harden than i ever expected.

tag list: @readingsmuts @saranred @kikixdee @drewsdirtyslut @ephermally @personaswrld @ymnizuh @lillywildly @anaheimd101 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @thewitchesofart @ditzyzombiesblog @gothamgurl2024 @machersgirlie

[ariseur]

How do you think Arthur Morgan would react to a reader who has a great connection with animals? The reader knows how to calm animals, from horses to pigs and chickens, she also ensures that the animals have a good food and she will always be seen with a cat or a dog in her arms.

animal whisperer 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

arthur morgan x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this request was sooo cute!! sorry it took me a little while to complete it, i’ve been working on like fifteen different drafts at once !! 💗

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of animals ( dogs, cats, horses ), mentions of arthur getting bucked off of his horse 😭, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me start this off by saying that i think arthur would literally adore you and your presence. like, he already thinks you’re such a beautiful lady and that you’re amazing within your own, but seeing you so domestic with animals does something to him.

❥ arthur’s lived a hard life, he’s calloused and struggles with letting himself enjoy some of the nicer moments in life alone. but when he finds you, it feels like all of the toughness that everybody sees melts away. all he wants is you, and now that’s he’s experienced the feeling of you, he never wants to let that go

❥ if you have a more curt and blunt nature to yourself, but you just melt around animals? oh, man— he’ll do anything to see that side of you. whenever it slips out and he sees you care so much for the horses or actually supply them with hay bales and proper necessities, his eyes will always follow you curiously

❥ and even if you’re a super sweet and outwardly kind person, he’ll still adore you!! he thinks it’s cute how you care so much for animals even if he wont say it to you, he has a fondness for animals too— except it’s more so updating his compendium and hunting them rather than taking them under his wing and feeding them 😭

❥ if you have a dog, he will love that baby to death let me tell you. doesn’t matter if they’re mangy or a mutt or even purebred, he will love them regardless. if we’re going based off what dogs you can get in rdo, i think he’d get along with a chill bigger dog— but even if your dog was energetic or more on guard like a chesapeake bay retriever or a labrador retriever, he will still adore them. i can just imagine arthur with a little guard dog by his side walking through camp as it follows him everywhere. having a dog will probably make him remember his old dog copper as he tells you tales of his journeys with him at night while rubbing your dog behind the ear as it lays its head on his lap.

❥ arthur’s not really a cat person but he won’t mind if you have one!! cats are very independent and he understands that so he’ll give them their space until one day they just like.. drape themselves over his lap and he has no idea what to do. he feels bad if he stands up but like.. he doesn’t know what else to do 😭

❥ and while i’m writing this i’m thinking of how in the game, micah would literally kick the crap out of cain in rdr2 and would scold him for no reason :(((. let me just say that arthur would literally not stand for that ( and yes i only write for high honor arthur, but i feel like regardless of his honor he wouldn’t be okay with it either way ). also why am i imagining micah getting bit or scratched and arthur just like laughing at him— like even him and your animal share a look because do you see this utter buffoonery? micah’s more of an animal than anyone if we’re being honest

❥ if you don’t like seeing him hunt or watching him skin animals, then he’ll suggest you turn away or he’ll point out something in the distance ( probably another cute animal prancing around or something ), and if it’s something small like a rabbit or a bird then it’ll be done in no time and he’ll redirect your attention back to him, jumping back on his horse and saying you guys should continue on with your journey

❥ if you need him to stop by to get any necessities or food for the animals at camp, he’ll stop by on his way back and get them the proper things they need. if you thank him, he’ll just brush it off and say it’s no problem— ( he was like two counties away but he’d gladly go back if you needed him to do so ).

❥ in summary, i feel like arthur would do really great with a partner with pets or a love for animals in general. he doesn’t get the fascination too much but he’ll support you nonetheless, as long as you don’t get hurt trying to pet something that looks cute when it’s not lmfao.

❥ holy crap i need jelp whyisa rthjrorhajgan so fne

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“shh.. calm down, boy.” with your hands held out cautiously, you slowly approached ARTHUR’s bucking horse— the tennessee walker’s chestnut coat glimmering in the sun as it shone on its back. its alarmed neighs filled the air with only the distant rushing of water to accompany it, along with arthur’s huffs behind you as he caught his breath.

“‘s alright.” you cooed at the horse, waiting until its breaths slowed down slightly before you moved closer. your arms slowly extended out to reach his snout, his eyes widened and looking everywhere but you. you softly shushed as you halted your movements. your hand hovered over the white of his proboscis before finally placing a gentle hand on its nose, feeling its heavy breathing upon your arm.

“i still dont— fff.. get how you.. do ‘at.” arthur wheezed, bent over with his knees supporting him as he placed firm hands on them. he let out a breathy laugh, tipping his head up so you could catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat. “i dunno what he even gotten spooked over.” he shook his head, watching as you pulled out a small carrot from your pocket and carefully fed it to his horse who munched on it in delight.

you didn’t pay him a glance as you were enveloped in the tenessee walker instead, smiling as you replied, “probably just somethin’ in the grass.”

“fair ‘nuff.” he shrugged, brushing himself off before placing a hand on his back while he winced. arthur sucked some air between clenched teeth as he struggled to stand upright. “think he got somethin’ in my back, too.” with a string of muttered curses, he hunched over once again.

your head turned this time, still focused on giving small pats to the horse’s nose as you tilted your head. brows furrowed, you asked, “need me to get you something from outta town?”

“naw, ‘s fine—“

“arthur, i was heading out that way already,” you pointed a thumb behind you— leading his vision to your horse stationary in the distance, tapping its hooves against the ground as it waited. he looked back at you as you held a gentle smile on your face and continued, “i don’t mind stoppin’ for something.”

arthur sighed, his fingers still kneading his lower back as he let out an occasional groan.

he let the silence take hold on the situation for a second, contemplating his options. letting his fingers twist and grab at the grass beneath him— his eyes flickered between the two horses, and then finally back to you. realizing it wouldn’t make a difference and you’d probably get it anyway, he waved a dismissive hand around and finally nodded his head.

“yeah, sure.”

𐙚 taglist ; @maskedteaser

[wooahaes]

seeing you (for the first time)

pairing: non-idol!changbin x fem!reader

genre: fluff. long distance relationship.

warnings: reader gets picked up for a moment for a moment (spun around). food (brownie) mention.

word count: 1.1k~

daisy's notes: if u can name the musical song this title is taken from..... do u want a autumn wedding or-

Changbin tucked his hands into his pockets, and immediately took them back for maybe the fifth time in the past ten minutes. He couldn’t keep still, wandering from one spot to another, waiting as he watched people come out to the luggage claim. People came and went, and all he could do was be restless while Felix sat nearby, staring at his phone.

“She’ll be here,” Felix said. “She told you her flight took off. I checked—it landed here.” 

Maybe so, but… This was the first time the two of you were meeting face to face. It felt weird saying he’d  been dating you for almost two years now and never actually held you in his arms. Some people had doubts about the legitimacy of his relationship (none of his friends or family, thankfully), but Changbin knew how he felt about you. He knew how you felt about him, too. The two of you had plenty of long talks about it, always trying to be open about your feelings and figuring things out. Flights could be expensive, and taking off work wasn’t the easiest thing for either of you… But with enough time, the two of you managed to figure something out. He’d told you over and over that he’d come to you if you wanted, but you wanted to come see him. 

“Chances are, if one of us ends up moving… It’ll be me,” you  had said with this bittersweet smile on your face. At the time, Changbin didn’t know the full story. Since then? He agreed with you, but only if moving to be with him was what you wanted. 

Was it silly to be so worried for you? He knew your flight was here, even without Felix telling him—he’d checked himself a few times. He sighed, slowing to a stop as he turned to Felix. But what if she doesn’t like me when she sees me? You’d seen his face the same way he’d seen yours so many times by now, but the fear still remained. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find himself unable to. It felt silly to say it out loud.

But Felix knew. He’d had this conversation with Felix before. He stood up, hand resting on his bicep as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “She loves you.” He glanced at the little bag sitting on the bench beside him. “... Do you think she’ll like my present?”

Changbin reached out, just to brush his fingers over the tissue paper. “I told you, she’d like anything you get her,” he looked at Felix. “Didn’t you just bake her brownies?”

With a soft chuckle, Felix picked up the bag. “I promised her I would.”

Changbin lost count of how many video calls the two of you had that Felix popped in, announcing something he’d been cooking or baking. He’d promised to bring you something, and that something ended up being some of his brownies. It was a sweet gesture in Changbin’s eyes. Felix had always been fond of you and supportive of your relationship, and you liked when he’d pop into calls for a few minutes—usually as a result of Changbin having to step away for a few minutes. 

Felix tapped his arm a few times, nodding ahead of them. All at once, Changbin’s world changed as he turned and saw you. The two of you looked like polar opposites today: he’d been in all gray and black, while you were in softer pastels and light gray, dressed as comfortable as you could be. You slowed to a stop, staring at Changbin for a moment before taking off at a full force run. Should he run to you? Wouldn’t that cause a scene? With a hard shove from Felix and a firm “go to her!”, Changbin stopped caring and hurried to you. You threw your arms around him, and he lifted you up for just a moment, spinning you around happily before setting you down again.

“Binnie…” You stepped back, hands resting on his biceps as you took in the sight of him. 

For a moment, it was like you couldn’t believe your eyes. Changbin understood the feeling well: it felt surreal to have you right there in front of him, too. He wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to go places he’d been telling you about. Instead, he just stepped forward, taking your face in his hands.

“Happy birthday,” he said, smiling at you. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

You just wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight as you smiled harder than you’d ever smiled. He hugged you back, just content to hold you for a little longer. The moment Felix cleared his throat behind him, Changbin snapped back to reality. Airport. Public. Shit. He pulled away, turning to Felix.

“Sorry,” he said. “Felix—”

You just stepped toward Felix, opening your arms for a hug. Immediately, the joy was apparent on Felix’s face as he moved in to embrace you. He smiled, squeezing you tightly for a minute. 

“Hi, Felix,” you said with a giggle. “It’s nice to see you.”

When he pulled away, it was to push the bag toward you. “These are for you,” he said, and then he looked at Changbin. “I’m gonna go get the car.”

Changbin knew what this was: I’ll give you two a moment. So he turned to you, taking in the sight of you once more as he smiled. 

“You know…” You turned to face him. “I know how much you work out. But it’s definitely a different feeling, y’know, feeling it.” 

He chuckled, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair from your face. Yet he stopped for a moment, unsure if this was a little too much too soon. He went for it, watching your face to gauge your reaction… Only to find himself smiling back at you when you leaned against his touch. Then, all at once, you began to sniffle. The tears welled up, and he could feel it, too. His chest tightened as he fought against that urge.

All too quickly, you were back in his arms to try and hide how your emotions were overcoming you. “I’ve—I’ve been dreaming about this,” you sniffled, tears already streaming down your cheeks. “Binnie…” 

He let the tears run. No point in fighting it. Not when he was with you. He just pressed a kiss against the side of your head, squeezing you tight. “I love you,” he said, the easiest thing in the world to say. Second easiest next to loving you. 

You just laughed softly, so in love with him. “I love you, too.” 

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l eight

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel encourages you to leave Luke and live the life you deserve with him and Ellie; Luke confronts you about Joel; Ellie discovers your secret and tells Joel, leading you to make a heartbreaking decision for the good of everyone in Jackson.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. reader gets shoved and sustains an injury as a result (non life threatening). mentions of skin discoloration, the word bruise is used but no mentions of specific skin tone for reader, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. *other chapter warnings and tags include: soft Joel, domestic fluff between reader and Joel, Ellie is a little shit but we love her, death of two minor OCs, talk of grief, funeral and burial, confronation between Ellie and reader, confrontation between Joel and reader, ends with angst and a slight cliffhanger.

Word Count: 10k

News of the ambush attack spreads like a wildfire.

Jackson’s safety and security has been rattled.

One life lost and another life hangs in the balance.

People are anxious—and they’re terrified.

And who could blame anyone for feeling this way?

For the first time in a long time, their peace of mind had been completely shattered.

“Where the hell did the kid run off to?” Joel grumbles, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table.

Now that the adrenaline is beginning to wear off, he’s really starting to feel the pain in his shoulder. It had started throbbing something awful not long after you’d finished stitching him up, and the expired oxycodone tablets you had given him had very little potency left—they hadn’t done a goddamn thing to help ease his discomfort. Not that it really came as a surprise to either one of you that the two decades old painkillers hadn’t worked, but it’d been worth a shot to at least try and see if they would do him any good.

“She’s with Rose in the supply closet,” you reply, taping a piece of gauze over his wound in an effort to keep it protected until you could take him home and get him cleaned up—then you would bandage up his shoulder properly. “They’re gathering some supplies you’ll need and looking for a sling.” It’s quite foolish to be this close to Joel with Luke just mere feet away in the exam room down the hallway, but you can’t seem to help yourself. Offering him a look of empathy, you lift your hand and cup the side of his face, delicately cradling it in your palm. You softly graze your thumb over the scruff of his beard. “I know, I know. You’re itching to get out of here. I promise, as soon as Ellie comes back with the supplies you need, we’ll get you home, okay?”

Joel raises a questioning eyebrow. “We?”

You nod. “I want to help Ellie get you settled in for the night and make sure you’re comfortable.”

He lowers his voice. “But what ‘bout Luke?”

“He’s going to be tied up here at the clinic tonight. It’ll be a while before he heads home,” you assure him. Dropping your hand away from his face, it falls back down against your side as you step back, putting some distance between the both of you. It probably isn’t the wisest idea to spend the night looking after Joel considering you’re already treading on thin ice with your husband for tending to his injury earlier, but your desire to take care of the man you love simply can’t be suppressed. Sensing his unease about it, you quickly add, “But if you don’t want me to, then I completely understand.”

Holding your breath, you anxiously wait for his response. 

Part of you almost hopes he’ll say that he doesn’t. 

One of you needs to be the voice of reason, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you.

“No, that ain’t it—that ain’t it at all, sweet girl,” Joel says, shooting you a stern glare for even suggesting such a thing. “‘Course I want you to come home with me and Ellie. Just don’t want you riskin’ your neck for us. I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in some kinda trouble with Luke, that’s all.”

You flash him a small, wry smile. “I’ll be fine, Joel.”

That can’t be further from the truth.

But he doesn’t have to know that.

He doesn’t have to know you’ll be in for it when you’re finally home alone with Luke.

“We hit the fucking jackpot,” Ellie announces, walking into the room. She has an old, brown canvas bag slung over her shoulder and in her hands she holds a sling for Joel’s arm. “Well, sorta. Rose said this is the only adult size the clinic has in stock, so it’s more of a loaner. She said we’ll have to bring it back as soon as his shoulder heals. It’s seen better days,” she remarks, holding it out to you. “But it should do the job.”

Taking the sling from her, you start helping Joel into it. “What about the list I gave you?” you ask her over your shoulder as you adjust the thicker strap around his neck. “Did she get you everything that I wrote down?”

Clicking her tongue, Ellie double checks the bag.

“Uh, let’s see—saline, clean bandages, and a vial of penicillin.”

“And what about the syringes?”

“She could only give me three of them since stock is too low,” she replies. “That okay?”

You shrug. “We’ll have to make it work. We can always clean and boil the needles if we have to.” You tug the strap around Joel’s neck lightly making sure you’d fastened it securely, but not too tightly, either. You touch his arm. “That feel okay, honey?” The pet name slips out, falling from your lips before you even have the chance to catch it. Blood rushes to your face and your cheeks start to burn—even with your back turned to Ellie, you can feel the smirk that’s now plastered on her face. 

“Aww,” she teases. “Honey. How fucking cute is that?”

“Ellie,” Joel says her name warningly as you pick up his bloodied denim shirt and drape it over him in an effort to cover him up. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t start.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Ellie pauses, her smirk widening as she slyly adds under her breath, “Honey.”

“Jesus, it’s like this place turned into a fucking ghost town or something,” Ellie observes, glancing around as the three of you make your way down Main Street and head towards the residential side of town. “Where the hell did everybody fucking go? Did we miss something?”

“Maria must have sent out a message to call off all of today’s evening work duties,” you tell her. Even though there isn’t anyone else outside, you keep a healthy distance in between you and Joel as you walk beside him. “The last time that something like this happened, she let everyone take the night off so they could be with their families and mourn. She might even cancel tomorrow’s duties too, if she hasn’t already.”

Ellie lets out a small, understanding hum. “I see.”

“So someone dies and everythin’ just stops?” Joel asks, lightly shaking his head at the thought. “Just like that?”

“Jackson isn’t like the zones,” you remind him. “We’re a community. We all love and care for one another, and when we have a loss, it hits people hard. Peter was a husband and a friend who everyone adored. It’s not like he was some faceless number working himself to the bone to earn just enough rations to survive.” You look around the empty streets, shrugging lightly as you shove both of your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “Here in Jackson, we don’t toss bodies carelessly into a big fire pit and walk away without giving it a second thought. We bury our dead together—we grieve together. We’re still human, Joel. We can’t let the world outside these walls make us forget our humanity.”

“S’ppose you’re right,” he agrees, quietly.

The sun’s just starting to set by the time the three of you make it to Joel and Ellie’s.

“Careful, Joel,” Ellie fusses, looping her arm through his as she guides him up the steps of their front porch. “Careful, careful, careful—”

“Ellie!” he snaps irritably. “I got shot in the shoulder, not in the fuckin’ kneecap. I can fuckin’ walk just fine.” 

Ellie glances over her shoulder at you, scoffing. “It honestly blows my fucking mind that you have the hots for this.” She jerks her chin towards him and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, how does someone like him even manage to pull someone like you? Pretty sure it wasn’t his incredible personality or dashing good looks that reeled you in, so what kind of voodoo spell did my old man put your ass under, princess?”

Joel glares at her. “Now you listen here y’little shit—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you cut him off. “Knock it off, both of you.” Putting a hand on his lower back, you request, “Ellie can you get the door, please?”

She nods. Letting go of Joel’s arm, she reaches into one of the back pockets of her blue jeans. She digs out her single house key and quickly unlocks the front door, ushering you both inside. “His room’s upstairs,” Ellie informs you as she flips on the lights in the foyer and leads the way up the staircase. She beckons with her hand for you to follow her down the hallway and opens the door to Joel’s bedroom. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

“For you two to stop makin’ a huge fuss over me so I can lay down and get some fuckin’ rest?” Joel hopes. “M’exhausted.”

“Soon enough,” you promise him. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“S’that door there on the left.” He pauses, shooting you a quizzical look. “Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Run a bath to get you all cleaned up, of course.”

“Gross.” Ellie makes a face at you. “Sorry, but you’re gonna have to fly solo on that one, princess. I refuse to help you give the old man a sponge bath.”

You laugh lightly, not the slightest bit surprised by her reaction. “Fair enough. How about you go downstairs and fix him something to eat while I help him wash up?”

“Don’t have to fucking tell me twice!” Ellie whirls around on the heels of her sneakers, booking it for the door. She sings out over the shoulder, “Behave yourselves in there, you two! Don’t forget there’s an innocent child present under this roof and she doesn’t need to hear you guys bumping uglies!”

Flustered, you look down at your boots.

“Ellie!” Joel bellows her name, angrily. Before he has the chance to reprimand her, she scurries out of the room and flies down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Choking back a nervous chuckle, you pivot on your heel and walk into his bathroom. You make your way over to the porcelain tub and turn on the faucet. You kneel beside it as you wait for it to fill with water, occasionally dipping your hand into the water to check the temperature.

“M’real sorry ‘bout her,” Joel apologizes from the door. 

“It’s quite alright,” you assure him, despite the heat burning your face and neck from the teenager’s teasing. As soon as the tub is full, you shut off the faucet and stand up. You must have risen to your feet too quickly—a wave of dizziness sweeps over you and for a second, the room spins. Blinking furiously, you brush it off and beckon with a hand for Joel. “Bath’s ready. Come here.”

“Peach, you don’t gotta do this for me, y’know.”

“I know, Joel.”

“M’perfectly capable of cleanin’ myself up.”

“Yeah Joel, I know that too,” you say. “Now come here, please.”

Sighing, Joel slowly makes his way over towards you, taking your hand in his. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve done more than enough for me today, darlin’. I appreciate you for wantin’ to take care of me, but you don’t—”

You cut him off by tenderly pressing your mouth to his. “Then please, for the sake of what little sanity I have left tonight, just let me,” you murmur quietly against his lips. You reach up, pushing his soiled shirt off of his shoulders, letting the torn, bloodied denim fall to the floor behind him in a crumpled heap. You place your palm on his bare chest, right over his heart and feel it thrum strong and steady beneath your fingertips. Perring up at him, you ask, “Will you let me take care of you, Joel? Please?”

He sighs again, this time in defeat. “It really ain’t fair, y’know.”

“What’s not fair?”

Joel brushes a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“The fact that I can’t ever fuckin’ say no to you.”

With a satisfied smile, you start to help him out of the sling, setting it on the counter. You then take off his belt, unbutton his jeans, and pull down his zipper for him.

“Turn around,” he says, kicking off his boots. 

Amused, you cock an eyebrow at him. “Joel, are you kidding me?” He nods and you shake your head at him, reminding him, “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times before.”

“Never in the light,” he counters, sheepishly. “S’always in the dark.”

You lean forward and kiss his collarbone, eliciting a tiny groan from him. “Joel, please,” you mumble against his warm skin. “Don’t be silly. Now come on, let’s hurry before Ellie comes back upstairs with your dinner.” You take a step back and tug at his jeans, pulling them down his legs along with his boxer briefs. After dumping his dirty clothes into the woven laundry basket behind the door, you help him into the bathtub.

Joel hisses out in relief as he sinks into the water.

Once he’s settled in, you kneel beside it once again.

“How does it feel?”

“Feels good,” he remarks, the hot water easing the aches in his bones that have nothing to do with his injury and everything with his age. “Real fuckin’ good.”

Cupping your hands together, you dip them into the water and start wetting his hair. You can’t help but smile when you notice how it curls more so than usual when it’s wet. “Scoot forward and then lean back a little. I’m going to wash your hair—I don’t want to soak the gauze on your shoulder.” Reaching across him, you grab his bottle of shampoo, twisting the cap off. You pour some of the product into your palm and set the bottle back down. After lathering the shampoo between your hands, you start running the suds through his damp locks.

“Christ,” Joel’s eyes roll into the back of his head as soon as you start massaging his scalp. “Fuck, sweetheart. Y’know, I think I could get used to this,” he admits with a sigh of content. “Feels fuckin’ incredible.”

You smile again, opening your mouth to speak, but then immediately clamp it shut.

Suddenly, you’re feeling a little off—something doesn’t feel right.

Brows knitting together in confusion, your smile falters. 

Normally, you love the scent of Joel’s shampoo.

You can’t even begin to count all the nights you’d hold him in your arms, breathing in the earthiness of jojoba oil combined with calming lavender from his hair as he rested his head on your chest. It’s usually fairly subtle, however now, as you wash his hair, the scent seems heavier and much more potent than usual—it makes your stomach churn violently and you can taste the bile as it slowly creeps its way up your throat. Pausing, you take a brief moment to breathe your way through the wave of nausea and swallow back the bitterness, willing yourself not to be sick right there in his bath. Worried you actually might, you drop your hands from his hair, close your eyes, and sit back on your heels as you wait for the feeling to subside.

“Baby.” You hear the water slosh around him. He tries reaching out for you with his injured arm, but grimaces, unable to make it very far before a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

After a minute, it passes. You open your eyes only to meet Joel’s as he watches you with concern. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong, darlin’? You feelin’ alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Leaning forward, you lift your hands to continue washing his hair. Shrugging dismissively, you realize, “I think I just need to eat something. It’s been a while since my last meal.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Breakfast,” you reluctantly admit. “I had quite a bit of work to do at the stables, so I decided to skip lunch today, and before you scold me for it, I know I shouldn’t have worked through lunch.” You flash him a crooked little grin as he pins you with a disapproving frown. “I promise I’ll eat something as soon as I get home, Joel.”

“You’d better.”

After rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, you take his washcloth and lather it up using his bar of castile soap.

“How’s the water, honey? Does it still feel alright?” you ask him sweetly, running the wet, soapy washcloth over his chest and neck. You’re careful to keep it away from his injured shoulder. Leaning over the side of the bathtub, you start washing his side, being gentle as you sweep over the bruise he’d gotten from falling off of his horse during the attack. A lock of hair falls loose from your ponytail and into your face.

Joel lifts his hand out of the water, tucking it behind your ear. “S’perfect,” he murmurs, his hand grazing your cheek. Water drips off of his arm and lands on your camisole, soaking through the thin cotton. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take off your shirt, peach. Got’cha wet.” He chuckles at his own awful innuendo.

“You’re unbelievable, Joel! I just pulled a bullet out of your shoulder, and you’re already thinking of getting me naked,” you tease him with a giggle. “Oh, and by the way, I hope you know that there will be none of that for a while, not until you’re all healed up. Got it?”

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious.” His face falls when he realizes that you aren’t joking. “But you said it could be four to six weeks until I heal. How am I s’pposed to go that fuckin’ long without touchin’ you?”

Giggling again, you give his chest a gentle pat. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Rolling his eyes at you, Joel grumbles incoherently underneath his breath.

“Oh, come here, you big grump.” You lean forward and press a delicate kiss to his right temple. Your lips linger over the small, jagged scar near his hairline, causing him to shudder slightly.

Joel hasn’t vocalized it to you, but you know that of all the scars he possesses, the one on his temple is the scar he’s the most self-conscious about, especially now that you know how he’d gotten it.

“You know, you were right about Ellie,” you murmur softly against his skin. “About her knowing. You were right to warn me that night.”

He frowns. “She confronted you ‘bout us?”

Pulling away from him, you nod. “She sure did.”

“Well, I reckon that explains why she was givin’ us so much shit earlier,” he huffs, shaking his head. “When did this happen?”

“Earlier this afternoon, when we were alone at the stables,” you answer. “She offered to work through lunch with me and it was just the two of us. It happened just before Tommy showed up and told us you had been shot.”

Joel grimaces. “Might regret askin’ this, but what did she say?”

You chew nervously on your bottom lip.

“She said she wants me to leave Luke.”

His eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

He knew his kid was pretty bold, but to go as far as telling you to leave your husband was pretty ballsy, even for her. He should reprimand her for it, but he can’t fault her for being brave enough to do what he still hasn’t mustered up the courage to do himself. “She did? What else did she say to you?”

“That the three of us could be a family together. A real family.” You drop the washcloth into the water and rest both arms on the edge of the tub as you continue filling him in on the encounter between you and Ellie. “She said it wasn’t complicated—that all I had to do was take off the ring, pack up my things, and leave him. She also said that I could just move in here and live with you two.” Pausing, you let out a small, breathy laugh. “I told her I would love that more than anything, but I can’t. It just isn’t possible. I can’t leave my husband.”

His jaw clenches, teeth gritting together. “‘Cause he won’t fuckin’ let you.”

You can’t help yourself and you laugh again.

Now you’re absolutely sure of it. Joel and Ellie really are cut from the same cloth.

You breathe out a long, melancholic sigh. 

“Joel, I love you. And I’ve grown to love Ellie, too. You both make me happy,” you tell him, softly. “Ever since you two came into my life, something in me changed. It was almost like I’d forgotten what it felt like to love and to be loved in return. I thought I’d lost that part of me when I lost my father two years ago. I thought that part of me had died along with him. His loss left left me feeling so empty. It left a void inside of me—but you and Ellie have filled it. It’s kind of silly, but sometimes I honestly think he sent you two to me. It’s almost like he knew I needed you.”

His eyes soften. “Ain’t silly at all, darlin’.”

“You both mean so fucking much to me,” you confess. 

“And you mean so fuckin’ much to us—you belong with us, peach. Your place is with us. Your home, it ain’t with Luke. It’s here, with me and with Ellie.”

“I know, trust me, I know that Joel. But I can’t—”

Joel sits up straight in the tub, wincing slightly.

“Joel, stop. Come on, you need to take it easy.”

Placing both hands on his chest, you try to push him back against the tub, but Joel’s hand reaches up and catches one of your wrists. He lightly curls his fingers around it. “Don’t you think it’s what your dad would want?” he questions. “You think he’d want you to be livin’ a life of misery with Luke?”

“Of course he wouldn’t. But I can’t leave him, Joel.”

“Look, whatever it is that you’re afraid of—”

“Joel, please,” you whisper, thickly. “Don’t do this.”

“You ain’t gotta be afraid, baby. I can protect you. I can keep you safe.” His thumb lightly caresses the thin, delicate skin on the inside of your wrist as his eyes meet yours. “I mean it. I can keep you safe, my sweet girl. I would never let anythin’ bad happen. I swear it. I wouldn’t let anythin’ bad happen to you, and neither would the kid. She loves you too goddamn much.”

You swallow the emotional lump in your throat. 

Lifting your wrist, Joel feathers a gentle kiss on the inside of it. He feels your pulse racing against his lips. “You’d be alright with us, y’know.”

“I know I would.”

“Then what the hell’s stoppin’ you?” Joel challenges. “We’re your family, baby. We’ve got you. No matter what—me and Ellie, we’ve got you, peach.”

Joel makes it sound so simple, so fucking easy. 

But he doesn’t know Luke the way you know Luke.

He won’t let you go, not without some kind of fight.

And Joel Miller wouldn’t be afraid to fight back.

He would kill Luke, if it came down to it.

After a moment’s silence, you finally speak. 

“Just—just give me a little time so I can figure things out, okay?” you bargain with him. “I need some time to sort things out.” Before Joel can even ask you what you’re talking about, you cut him off and shoot him a pleading look. “Please, Joel. Please. I’m just asking for some time, that’s all. If I can have it my way, I’ll be living here with you and Ellie before winter comes around in a couple of months.”

Joel sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll give you time, but only on one condition.”

Apprehensive, you question, “What condition is that?”

“He does anythin’ to you, you come and tell me so I can handle it. Alright?”

“Joel, he’s not going to do anything to me.” The lie rolls off of your tongue with such ease that it actually takes you by surprise. “He’s not going to—”

He stops you. “Just promise me, baby. Promise that you’ll come to me if you need me. Please. S’all I’m askin’ of you.”

Knowing there is no other choice but to agree, you nod. “Of course I will.”

It’s a promise you can’t and won’t keep.

“That’s my girl.” Joel places another soft kiss onto your wrist. “I love you. I love you more than fuckin’ life itself.” He glances down and brushes his thumb over your wedding band. “Y’know, someday you’re gonna take this goddamn thing off for good and you ain’t gonna have to put it back on. You’ll be mine.”

Frowning, you counter, “But I’m already yours, Joel.”

“All mine,” he rephrases himself. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll find a ring to put on your finger myself some day.”

Worried you’ll break down, you gently tug your wrist out of his hand. “We should finish up in here. Ellie’s going to come upstairs soon.”

After you finish rinsing off the suds of soap from his body, you drain the tub and help him out of it and into a clean towel, wrapping it around his waist. You hand him a second towel which he uses to haphazardly dry off his chest and hair before walking back out into his bedroom. With his permission, you start searching through his drawers for some comfortable clothes. You pluck a pair of clean boxer briefs from one drawer and faded, navy blue sweatpants from another. Once you help him dress, you instruct, “Sit down. I’m going to bandage your shoulder.”

Obediently, Joel perches himself on the foot of his bed. 

You stand in front of him, unrolling the bandage.

“C’mere.” He grabs your hip, pulling you between his thighs. “Y’know, you make a real cute nurse.” He slides his hand up your shirt, his fingers gliding up the soft, smooth skin of your stomach.

“Joel, stop. Cut it out,” you scold him, playfully. “I need to make sure I do this right. Don’t distract me.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll behave,” Joel gruffs. He withdraws his hand from under your shirt and keeps it to himself.

You wrap the elastic, flesh toned bandage over his injured shoulder, pulling it behind his back before bringing it around across the front of his chest—after wrapping the excess material snugly around Joel’s bicep, you secure it, fastening the plastic clips at the end of it. “How does that feel? It’s not too tight, is it?”

“S’fine,” he answers. After you help him back into the sling, he wraps his opposite arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “So do I get a kiss or somethin’ for bein’ such a good patient for you, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I suppose you earned it.” Grinning, you carefully wrap an arm around his neck and lean down, swelling his lips with your own in a deep kiss. He swallows the soft moans that find their way from the back of your throat and into his mouth as his hand once again snakes its way up your shirt, touching each and every last inch of skin he can possibly reach.

“Oh fuck, my eyes!” Ellie’s voice cries behind you.

Startled, you rip yourself out of Joel’s grasp.

She stands at the door holding a steaming bowl in her hands, a horrified look on her face.

“Ellie,” you say her name, breathlessly. “We didn’t hear you coming up the stairs—”

“Obviously fucking not,” she huffs, rolling her eyes at you as she makes her way into his bedroom. “Well, now that I’m fucking scarred for life—” She pauses and sets the bowl down on Joel’s nightstand. “Here you go, Romeo. I made you some soup. And by made I really mean, I opened a can of twenty one year old chicken noodle soup and warmed it up on the stove.” Smirking, she adds, “So chow down. Unless you’re way too busy sucking her face off to eat, of course.”

Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Y’know I only need one hand to wring that little neck of yours, right?”

Before she has the opportunity to fire back, you step in. “I have to get going. It’s getting late and I need to make it home before Luke does.” You turn to Ellie. “He’s going to need a penicillin injection every six hours, okay? He’s pretty vulnerable to infection right now so he has to be on antibiotics for the next week or so.”

She nods, giving you a thumbs up. “You got it, doc.”

“Normally, you inject penicillin into the buttock—” You pause, holding back a laugh as a look of pure disgust flashes across the young girl’s face. “But, it can also be injected right into the thigh muscle. I’ll show you.” Pointing to the exact spot on the outer portion of his thigh, you instruct, “Five hundred milligrams, no more and no less. Easy enough?”

“Oh, okay. So that’s how you inject penicillin,” Ellie muses with a hum. After a moment, she mutters under her breath, “That would have been fucking useful to know about eight months ago.”

Your lips purse together tightly as you recall her story about what happened in Colorado with David and his group. 

“What’d you say, kid?” Joel asks, confused. 

“Nothing,” she replies, innocently.

Clearing your throat, you reach up, smoothing a hand over his damp curls, slicking them back. “I’m going to head home. Get plenty of rest, alright? I’ll come over and check up on you as often as I can. I promise.” You lean down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“Jesus, you two make me so fucking sick already,” Ellie remarks, making a loud gagging noise. However, when you look at her, she’s smiling.

You walk into the house, only to find it empty.

Luke must have still been caught up at the clinic.

It seems like a good sign that Carl might still be alive. 

After taking a quick, hot shower, you hastily put on some comfortable clothes and hurry downstairs to prepare a late dinner. You had just finished peeling some boiled russet potatoes you planned to mash up when the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut echoes throughout the house. You hear his footsteps approaching and a chill runs down the length of your spine just like back in the clinic—all you can think about is what he’d said to you as he was leaving the room. 

“We’ll talk about this at home.” 

Anxiously, you turn around just as Luke enters the kitchen. He’d changed his clothes at the clinic, trading his blood soaked scrubs for a pair of dark wash blue jeans and a plain black button up shirt. “Hey,” you greet him, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. “How’s, um—how’s Carl doing?”

“He didn’t make it either,” he replies curtly. He sets his black leather satchel down onto the kitchen table. “He lost too much blood during surgery. And without a machine for a transfusion—” He stops short. He hangs his head and even from you’re standing at the stove, you can see the way his jaw clenches.

Luke takes it hard whenever he loses someone—and he always takes it out on you.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to tell him. Despite trying to remain calm and collected, you’d started wringing your hands together out of habit.

“Well, at least there was one hero in that clinic today,” he scoffs out bitterly with a shake of his head.

You frown. “Luke, please don't do that. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Peter and Carl’s injuries were too severe. And besides, you said it yourself. We don’t have the proper equipment here in the commune.” You know there is no consoling him, not a single word of comfort could ease the blow of his failure, and yet, you find yourself trying anyway. “You did all you could do for them with what little we have. There’s nothing you could have done differently to change the outcome. Their wounds were fatal. Their fate was sealed long before they made it back to Jackson.”

Luke pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales a long, exasperated breath through his lips. It’s like watching a ticking time bomb.

“Look, it’s been a long day for everyone. Why don’t you go upstairs to take a shower, relax a bit, and then come back down for dinner?” you offer. “I’ve got a chicken baking in the oven, it shouldn’t be all that much longer now—”

Luke glares at you. “I just lost two fucking people today. Do you really think I’m fucking hungry right now?”

“You still need to eat,” you say, your voice small. 

“Are you really that fucking stupid?” He starts to walk over towards you. “What?” He asks when he notices you flinch, your body shrinking away from him. “What’s the matter, darling? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You answer him in the steadiest voice you can, but even you can hear the way it trembles with fear.

“Of course I’m not afraid of you, Luke.”

He lifts one of hands, prompting you to flinch again. “I’m not going to hit you,” he murmurs, touching your cheek before taking it in his palm. Knowing how uncomfortable he’s making you, his green eyes seek yours, only making it worse. “How is your boyfriend? Is he doing alright?”

The color drains from your face. “Excuse me?”

Luke cups your cheek harder. “Patching him up back at the clinic wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

You grab his wrist and try to tear his hand away from your face as you sputter, “What—what are you talking about, Luke?”

“Esther came into the clinic this evening with Martha and Lisa so they could say their goodbyes. While we were out in the hallway giving them a moment of privacy, Esther told me she saw you with Joel and Ellie. She said she watched you walk into their house with them—is that true?”

Left without another choice but to tell him the truth, you nod meekly. “It’s true,” you confess. “I walked them back to their place.” As soon as you see the anger flash in his eyes, you begin to ramble an explanation. “I went home with them so I could help Ellie get him settled. She’s fifteen years old, Luke. I needed to show her how to care for his wound and how to inject the penicillin he needs, that’s all—”

“Bullshit,” Luke seethes through his teeth. He grabs your shoulders, taking them harshly in his hands. “I’m going to ask you one more time—what the hell is going on between you and Joel Miller? And before you even think about giving me the same lie about his fucking brat of a kid, just know that I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Luke, let go of me—”

He starts shaking you as if it’ll somehow shake the answer out of you. “Fucking tell me the truth!”

You squirm in his grasp. “Luke, please! Let go of me!”

He shakes you harder, his violence escalating.

“Why were you at the fucking clinic in the first place, huh?”

“Luke, stop it! You’re hurting me!”

“What were you doing there in the first place?” He repeats, shouting the question into your face. “What were you fucking doing there? You heard your boyfriend got shot while he was out on patrol? You needed to make sure that he was okay? That he was still alive? Is that it?”

“Ellie asked me to go to the clinic with her! She was with me at the stables when Tommy showed up and told her Joel had been shot,” you try telling him. “She didn’t want to go alone!”

Finally, Luke stops rattling you. “And I suppose she asked you to tend to his injury, too?” He sneers. “She asked you to patch up his wound?”

Dizzy, you take a second to catch a quick breath, then respond, “Actually, she did. She and Tommy both asked me to take care of his shoulder and if you don’t believe me, then you can go find him and ask him yourself!”

“How fucking convenient,” Luke snorts. “Do you honestly take me for a fucking fool?”

“Luke—”

He shoves you back roughly.

Your side meets the sharp edge of the countertop in a loud, painful thud. Clutching at your ribcage, you sink down to the kitchen floor, curling yourself up into the fetal position as you brace yourself and wait for what’s undoubtedly coming next.

Luke steps towards you, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. But before he has the chance to lay another finger on you, the doorbell rings. 

You breathe out a small sigh of relief.

“Get up,” he hisses. “Go answer it. Now.”

Your side is throbbing, but you scramble up to your feet quickly and hurry to do as you’re told. “I’ll be right there,” you call out, wincing. You briefly stop in front of a mirror hanging in the hallway and check your reflection to make sure that you look—well, that you look normal. You fix up your hair a little, smooth your shirt, and put on a brave face before opening the door. “Tommy,” you say his name in surprise. Your eyes then flicker to his wife. “Maria. What are you two doing here?”

“Sorry, little lady. We know that it’s kinda late,” he apologizes, holding Maria's hand gently in his. “But we’re wonderin’ if we could come in for a minute to talk to you and Luke?”

Without hesitating, you step aside to allow the couple into the foyer of your home. “Of course you can,” you say, closing the door behind them. “I’ve got a late dinner in the oven. If you guys are hungry, then you’re more than welcome to join us. I made plenty.”

“That’s awful kind of you,” Tommy says with a grateful nod. “But it might have to wait for another time. We’ve still got a few more people to see tonight.”

Luke steps out of the kitchen. “Tommy? Maria? Is everything alright? It’s not the baby, is it?”

Maria places a hand on her swollen midsection.

At about five months, her belly had finally popped.

“The baby’s just fine,” she assures him. “Been kicking a storm up all day long.”

“Good.” Luke stands beside you. “I know today has been very difficult, but remember to take it easy, alright? You can’t stress too much, or it can put the baby in distress. I don’t want you going into preterm labor, Maria.”

She cradles her belly. “I know, Luke. I promise, I’m being very careful,” she swears. “We’re just going out door to door and checking in on everyone, offering support where it’s needed.”

Tommy nods, his face looking worn and tired as he pulls Maria close and tucks her into his side. “What happened today was a real fuckin’ tragedy. Two people gone, just like that,” he shakes his head, sadly. “We just wanna make sure everyone’s doin’ okay.”

“How’s Martha?” you ask, tentatively. “Lisa and her daughters, how are they holding up?”

“They’re devastated,” Maria replies, sighing. “Lisa can keep it all together for the sake of her girls. It’s a whole different story for Martha, though. Peter was the only person she had, you know?”

“I can check in on her,” you offer, kindly. “I can stop by on the way to the stables in the morning to see her. Make sure that she’s taking care of herself.”

“We actually canceled tomorrow’s work duties, so if you two need to take the day off, you can,” Maria informs you, her eyes flicking from you to Luke. 

“We’re holdin’ a memorial service tomorrow in the old church house,” Tommy states. “And the burial will take place right before sunset.”

“We’ll be there,” Luke nods, taking your hand in his. He squeezes it tightly. Harshly. “Won’t we, sweetheart?”

You wince a little. “Yes, of course we will.”

Tommy notices the way you squirm. “You alright there, little lady?”

Luke squeezes your hand even tighter. It’s a warning.

“Yes,” you lie to him. “I’m perfectly fine.”

The next morning, you stop by Martha’s place, just like you’d told Maria you would. While you had no words that could console the grieving widow or ease the pain of her loss, you sat with her for a good hour and simply let her cry into your shoulder. She tuckered herself out quickly, and just before she fell asleep on the couch in her living room, you made her a promise, telling her you would see her at the memorial later that evening.

“What do you even wear to a funeral?” Ellie asks, curiously. She sits comfortably in Shimmer’s black leather saddle, the mare’s reins clutched in one of her hands. Despite work duties being canceled for the entire day, the two of you met at the stables to tend to the horses—the animals had enough water and food to get by until the following day, but still needed to be exercised so you’d suggested a short ride in the field out behind the paddock.

“Well, people typically wear black to funerals,” you answer, leading the way across the vacant patch of land on Ranger’s back. “Ellie, how many times am I going to have to tell you to hold onto the reins with both hands?” you chastise her over your shoulder. “I’m serious. The last thing we need is for you to fall off and break a bone. Both hands, missy.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh, mom.” You can’t see it, but you hear the joking grin in her tone. “Why do people wear black to funerals? Was that always a thing?”

“Yeah. It’s the traditional color of mourning.”

“Why black? Why not like, green or something?”

“I don’t know, go ask the Ancient Romans.”

“The who?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

Clicking your tongue, you start steering Ranger, signaling him to turn back towards the paddock.

“I don’t even think I own anything that’s black,” Ellie says behind you. She gently squeezes Shimmer’s sides with her calves and the horse breaks out into a trot, catching up with you and Ranger. “Green it’ll have to be, then. Oh, by the way, Joel told me to tell you that he’ll see you at midnight. Your usual place.”

You frown. “He’s one day into his recovery. He needs to rest.”

“That’s what I fucking told him. But I guess he just can’t stay away from you, princess,” she teases as the horses arrive back into the paddock.

“Alright, let me hop off Ranger and I’ll help you—”

You stop short, watching as Ellie swings her leg over the back of Shimmer’s saddle and jumps off.

She grins. “Please. I’m practically a professional at dismounting horses now. Call me Seabiscuit.”

You snort. “Ellie, Seabiscuit was the horse.”

“Oh.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Well, you know what I fucking mean.”

Laughing, you roll your eyes at her. You pull a foot free from one of the stirrups then swing your leg over and start dismounting Ranger—but the second you start going down, your opposite leg still in the stirrup supporting your weight wobbles and you lose your balance. You fall forward against the horse, accidentally sliding down his saddle.

To add insult to injury, the horn catches your sleeve and hikes up your blouse as soon as you land your feet on the ground.

“That was real fucking graceful,” Ellie cackles as she watches you try to unsnag your shirt from the saddle. Walking around Ranger to get a better view of the mishap, her grin suddenly vanishes. Her brown eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of the discoloration that starts near your hip and goes up your entire length of your side. “What the hell? Is that a fucking bruise?”

Finally, you free yourself from the saddle. Feeling your heart pound, you tug your shirt down into place, but it’s too late.“Ellie—”

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me,” you fib. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?” Ellie repeats, incredulously. “There’s a fucking bruise the size of the state of Wyoming on you and you’re fucking fine? Really?”

“I fell,” you tell her, giving her the first excuse that you could think of. “I’m really clumsy, Ellie. Clearly I am.” You gesture to the saddle. “You saw it, just now. I almost fell off a damn horse.”

“You fell.” Ellie raises her eyebrow at you. “Or were you pushed?”

Staring at her helplessly, you reassure her, “Ellie, it’s nothing. I fell and I hit myself. Alright?”

She steps towards you and grabs the hem of your blouse, yanking it up. “That,” she points her index finger at your side, “That is not fucking nothing! That is fucking something.”

“Ellie!” Gasping, you harshly slap her hand away.

“Luke did that you, didn’t he?”

Her accusation comes without hesitation.

“Of course he didn’t,” you stammer. “I told you I fell—”

“Bullshit. I’m fucking telling Joel.”

She spins around on the heel of her sneaker.

“Ellie! No!” You catch her arm, stopping her. “No, please don’t do that! Don’t tell him. Please don’t tell Joel.”

“Then I’ll tell Tommy and Maria,” Ellie says, shrugging. “I’ll tell them about what their precious doctor is doing to you behind closed fucking doors—” She starts to leave the paddock and you’re quick to stop her once more.

“No! You cannot tell anyone! Not Tommy, not Maria, or anyone else. And you especially cannot tell Joel.”

“He’s fucking hurting you!” Ellie all but shouts at you.

“Ellie, I have it under control—”

She snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, clearly.” Sarcasm drips from her tone. “I can tell you have it under control.”

You take her hands, clasping them in yours. “I can handle Luke, Ellie. It’s all under control.” Your gaze meets hers. “Please. Do not tell anyone about this.”

“But—”

“Ellie, please. I’m begging you,” you plead with her. “Don’t tell anyone—and especially not Joel. Please.”

It pains you to see her look so fucking helpless.

Maybe it’s selfish of you to ask her, a child, to keep such a secret.

But it’s for the good of Jackson.  

“Swear to me that you won’t tell him about this. Swear it.”

Again, she looks helpless, helpless, helpless. 

Eventually, she sighs out in defeat. “Okay. Fine. I swear I won’t tell Joel.”

“Or anyone else,” you add.

Her eyes fall away from yours as she mumbles, “I swear I won’t tell Joel. Or anyone else.”

Later that evening, after the memorial service, everyone makes their way to Jackson Cemetery, a makeshift graveyard right outside the west wall that’s protected by a steel fence. With men and women armed and standing around the entire perimeter of the site, the burial carried on. Miles, a former pastor, reads verses from a bible out loud at the request of the men’s families who were people of faith. You stand at Martha’s side, holding her as Tommy and two other men lower her husband’s casket into the ground and begin to shovel in the dirt.

From the corner of your eye, you see Joel as he stands in the crowd with Ellie and Dina. The girls have their arms linked together. Ellie looks over at you, then glances away, sourly shaking her head as Luke puts a comforting hand on your back. She knows it’s just for show. He’s playing the role of a good husband when he’s anything but.

After the burial, the entire town is invited back to the commune mess hall for the traditional funeral repast. Food, drinks, and plenty of stories of the patrolmen are shared—fond memories are exchanged in efforts to lighten the somber mood.

Joel watches with jealousy as you stand by Luke’s side the entire evening, his arm secured around your waist. He’d been sitting at a table across the hall near the doors with Ellie. Forcing himself to look away from you, he turns his attention to her and notices she hasn’t scarfed down her food as usual. Joel would often have to tell her to slow down before she made herself sick, but tonight, he doesn’t have to. Instead of inhaling her potatoes like a human vacuum, she pushes them around on her plate with her fork.

“Is everythin’ alright, kiddo?” he asks her, worriedly.

She lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

He frowns. “Ellie, don’t lie to me.”

She sighs again. “Okay, everything’s not fine.”

“What’s goin’ on? The funeral bother you?”

Ellie looks over towards you and Luke, nervously biting down on her lower lip. She then glances back at Joel.

“Ellie? What is it?”

“She made me swear not to tell anyone. Especially not you.”

“Who?”

The second your name comes out of her mouth, he stiffens in his chair.

“I swore to her I wouldn’t say anything, but—”

“Ellie, what the hell’s goin’ on?”

“She’s going to be so mad at me if I tell you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. “No one’s gonna be mad, kiddo. I can promise you that. No one is gonna be mad at you, alright?” He promises her. “Just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Well, you see—” Ellie hesitates. “The thing is—”

She trails off, unsure of how to say it.

“Christ, Ellie. Just fuckin’ spit it out.”

“I think he’s hitting her,” she finally blurts out.

Joel freezes. “What?”

“Luke. I think he’s hitting her or something.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his voice rigid.

Ellie lowers her voice. “Today we were taking two of the horses out on a ride around the field behind the paddock. When we got back, she slipped while she was dismounting Ranger. Her sleeve got stuck on his saddle and her shirt pulled up.” She pauses, sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling it before saying, “I saw a huge bruise on her side. It was fucking massive. It looked fresh, too.”

His blood begins to boil. “You ask her ‘bout it?”

“Of course I did. When I asked her what happened, she told me that she fell. But I didn’t believe her. When I asked her if Luke did it—”

“She admitted he did.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Ellie’s face falls. “Well no, not exactly. But Luke did it, I know he fucking did it, Joel. He’s hurting her. It’s why she won’t leave him. She’s too fucking scared of him.”

Joel looks up, his lips pressed into a tight line.

His eyes meet Luke’s from across the room.

The man gives him a small, curt nod and takes your hand in his, pulling you towards where Martha and Lisa are sitting with a group of friends, among them, Tommy and Maria.

“Joel?” Ellie says his name, nervously.

“I’ll handle it, Ellie.”

“But—”

He cuts her off.

“I said I’ll fuckin’ handle it.”

Despite knowing that Joel needed to rest, the part of you that was incredibly selfish just couldn’t wait to see him—to be with him, to hold him in your arms and kiss him. Especially after such a long, gloomy and sorrowful evening.

When midnight rolls around, you find him already waiting behind the barn. Normally, it was you who would always arrive first, so when you see Joel standing there by the paddock fence, you can’t help but feel a little surprised.

“You beat me here,” you remark with a small laugh as you approach him.

“Yeah. I did.”

Excited to see him, you don’t even catch the tone of his voice at first.

Serious.

Upset.

You beam at him and say, “Hi, honey. I missed you.” Smiling, you lift an arm to throw it around Joel’s neck in a careful hug, but he catches your wrist in his hand and stops you, the creases in his brows deepening.

“Show me.” 

Your smile slowly falters. “What?”

“Show me,” he repeats, stiffly.

“What are you talking about?” Puzzled, you pull your wrist out of his grasp and step back. 

He’d never spoken to you like that. He’d never looked at you like that before, either. Angrily.

“Joel, what’s going on?”

“Ellie told me ‘bout the bruise.”

Your blood runs frigid in your veins. “What?”

“Earlier at the repast. She told me ‘bout the bruise she saw on your side today.”

“It’s nothing, Joel—” 

“Show. Me.” Joel bites the words out through gritted teeth.

You stare at him for a moment, then sigh.

With little choice in the matter, you lift the hem of your shirt.

“Here,” you say bitterly, turning your body. “Is this what you want to see?”

His stomach churns violently.

Ellie hadn’t been exaggerating about the size of it.

The painful mark starts at your hip, and it goes up the entire length of the side of your torso until it feathers out beneath your bustline.

“I fell.” Your voice is flat, emotionless. Because you don’t know how else to react now that he knows the truth.

You don’t know what to do or what to say. 

So, you turn the dial back to numb.

“The kid didn’t believe that bullshit lie and I fuckin’ don’t believe it either. We both fuckin’ know Luke did this to you.”

He almost expects you to deny it, but when you don’t, it’s all the confirmation he needs. He starts off towards the residential side of town, prepared to yank Luke out of bed and rip him to fucking shreds.

“Joel, where the hell are you going?” you huff as you start following behind him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill him,” Joel seethes. He lifts a hand and starts clawing at the strap of his sling to take it off. “For puttin’ his fuckin’ hands on you—”

You grab his arm. “Joel, please! Don’t!”

Refusing to stop, he drags you along behind him.

“Joel, stop! Please, can you just wait for one fucking minute?”

Digging your heels into the dirt, you yank at his arm, and plead for him to listen to you.

“Joel, just give me the chance to explain!”

Finally, he comes to a halt and whirls around, his nostrils flaring. With furiousness in his dark eyes, he faces you.

“You promised me! You fuckin’ promised me you’d come to me if he did somethin’ to you—” Realizing he’s shouting at you, Joel stops. Seeing your bottom lip quiver, he softens ever so slightly. He knows you’re not the person to take his anger out on. No, that person is fast asleep in his bed. “How long? How long has he been doin’ this to you? And don’t you lie to me.”

“Two years,” you admit in a whisper.

Joel’s face pales. 

Swallowing dryly, you shake your head. “Joel, he’s the only doctor in this town. There’s so much pressure that he carries on his back. He’s responsible for all of the people in this community,” you begin to explain. “It’s a lot to handle for one person, he’s always stressed—”

“And so beating you is the way he fuckin’ unwinds after a long day of work?” Joel, for the life of him, can’t fucking believe you’re attempting to defend Luke.

“He just loses his temper sometimes. It gets the best of him and then I’ll say something or so something to piss him off even more—”

Joel catches your hand in his. “Baby, fuckin’ stop that right now. Stop fuckin’ makin’ excuses for him. He’s fuckin’ hurtin’ you, and if something ain’t done, there’s a good chance he’s gonna wind up killin’ you.”

“I have everything under control, Joel.”

“No, you fuckin’ don’t. He’s fuckin’ hittin’ you.” Joel’s voice breaks as he speaks. “He’s hurtin’ you.”

“I can fix it,” you say, though you sound more helpless than anything else. “I just need time, but I can fix this, Joel.”

“No, peach. You can’t fix it. But I can—all you gotta do is let me.”

You look down at your shoes, feeling tears glaze over your eyes. “No. Jackson needs him, Joel.”

“But what ‘bout you?”

“I’m just one person,” you whisper. “You have to look at the bigger picture here. I’m just one fucking person.”

“One fuckin’ person who means everythin’ to me,” he says, squeezing your hand. “If you won’t let me handle him, then we go to Tommy and Maria—”

“If he gets locked up or thrown out, we won’t have a doctor, Joel. Don’t you fucking understand that?”

Joel’s beginning to lose his patience.

He knows you’re only trying to look out for the rest of the community, but at what fucking cost?

Your own life, possibly?

Maybe it’s selfish, but he doesn’t care about everybody else. He cares about you.

Dropping your hand, he steps back, shaking his head. “I ain’t gonna let him keep on hurtin’ you. I’m gonna put a stop to it.”

“Joel, you’re just going to make things fucking worse! I will handle it—I will fix it. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you stepping in trying to play the hero. It’s all under control, okay?”

“Like hell it fuckin’ is. First thing tomorrow, I’m gonna pay Luke a visit at the clinic. Have a little talk with him, man to man, or whatever he fuck he is—”

Your stomach sinks at the mere thought of it. “No! Don’t you fucking dare,” you warn him. “Don’t you even think about it, Joel.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Stand around with my fuckin’ hands behind my back and just let him keep on hurtin’ you? Ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen.” Realizing your stance on the matter is firm, Joel comes to his own decision. “Listen, sweet girl. If you ain’t gonna give me permission, then I’m just gonna have to ask for your forgiveness.”

You glare at him and left your chin. “Well, I won’t give it to you.”

He stares at you, completely taken aback by your sudden coldness.

“If you do anything to hurt him, or tell Tommy and Maria about this, I will never forgive you,” you threaten, a warm tear slipping down the side of your face as you prepare to shatter both his heart and yours. “I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

Before Joel can even think about uttering another word, you turn around and walk away.

You break down as soon as you make it home.

Sinking down onto the porch, you pull the collar of your shirt over your mouth and nose in an effort to muffle the sounds of your sobbing. That look of hurt on Joel’s face and in his eyes when you’d told him to stay away from you, it would be burned into your memory forever. It would haunt you for the rest of your damn life.

It wasn’t what you wanted.

This wasn’t what you wanted.

But there is no other choice.

There never has been another choice for you. 

The sound of gravel road crunching underneath a pair of old, tattered red low top sneakers fills the silent night air, prompting you to look up.

“Do you hate me?” Ellie questions you softly.

The remorseful expression on her face sends another sharp, stabbing pain through your chest.

“Oh, Ellie. Of course I don’t hate you.” You pat the empty spot beside you on the porch. “Come here.”

Ellie walks over and sits down beside you, pulling her knees up to her chest.

You wrap an arm around her, reassuring her, “I could never hate you, Ellie. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I know I swore to you I would keep my fucking mouth shut, but I had to tell Joel about Luke. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry.” She sniffs, dabbing at her eyes as they fill with frustrated tears.

“It’s okay. I would have done the same thing if I were you.”

“Really? You would have?”

You nod, wiping at your face with your opposite hand. “Absolutely.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel less like a big pile of dog shit, aren’t you?”

“Mostly no, but partially yes,” you joke dryly in an effort to cheer her up.

Ellie flashes you a small, watery smile. “I’ll fucking take it.”

She leans her head against your shoulder and for a while, the two of you sit there in melancholy silence.

“What’s going to happen with you and Joel?” Ellie finally asks, her voice small.

“I don’t know, Ellie,” you admit quietly. “I really don’t know.”

[arctickat2400]

Tornado Troubles ∞ Clark Kent

Clark Kent x F!Reader

Word Count: 1799

Disclaimer: This is not how I would react to a tornado. Actually I don’t know, since I’ve never been in direct contact with one. But in my head, I’m pretty sure I’d react differently. But this is just what I came up with and how the story played out. Hope you enjoy it!

A/N: This was a spontaneous story. Before I had written this, I hadn’t even planned to. I’ve had the idea in my notes, and another idea had popped into my head to go with it, so I was like, okay, let’s write. So I apologize if it’s not my best work. (Sorry for the dumb title too lol)

* * *

His heart began racing the second he heard the all too familiar siren. You and Clark had come to Kansas to visit Martha, which had started out well. It was always nice to see her. She was like a mother to you. Well, technically she was your mother - your mother-in-law, for that matter. But even before Clark, you’d known Martha and she had instantly become part of your family, followed by Clark (but that’s a story for another day). 

Martha was at work and there was a crime in the minute town of Smallville that had pulled Clark away from you that afternoon. You were left to your own devices and you’d decided to work on your art and listen to some music to take your mind off the fact that Clark was out dealing with some sort of danger. Yes, of course you know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself and that he’s Superman and deals with this stuff all the time, but that still doesn’t make the heaviness in your chest any less heavy when he’s not by your side.

Since no one was around, you had your music blasting to drown out your anxieties. You’d been half way through one of your drawings when you could have sworn you heard something apart from your music. However, your mind tended to play tricks on you, and even then, the music was too loud to even be sure. So you ignored it and continued with your work. 

Clark, having been flying home with a smile on his lips at the thought of seeing his love again, began to panic as he stopped mid air after having caught sight of the rotation of air and debris in the distance, passing by just outside of Smallville, right by his mother’s work, thankfully not having hit. 

Usually he wouldn’t be worried about tornadoes after having experienced several during his years in Kansas. But the tornado was, in fact, spinning straight toward the Kent Family Farm, straight toward his precious baby girl who has never experienced a tornado and who has always feared that the day would come where she would have to experience such devastation. What worried him more was that he was not with her, that she was all alone, and the tornado was coming in fast. 

Clark didn’t waste another second as he sped through the air towards his baby who, if she hasn’t heard it yet, will soon start to panic. He finally caught sight of his house and, using his x-ray vision to see inside, saw you sitting peacefully at the table only to be startled when you finally heard the sirens. Clark spotted the fear in your eyes instantly as you stepped up to the window, turned down the radio, and froze at the sight of the tornado.

You didn’t know what to do. You’d never been in this situation. You never thought you’d have to experience something like this since you live in the city. Your eyes were locked on the column of air spiraling towards you, your body frozen in place. 

“Y/N!” It wasn’t until you’d heard Clark’s booming voice that you finally snapped out of it. You watched as Clark made his way to you, tears stinging your eyes. 

“It’ll be okay, baby. Let’s go,” Clark assured you, taking your hand in his, his warmth providing the smallest bit of comfort in this terrifying moment. The phone rang as you hurried through the halls. Clark figured it was Martha calling to see if everything was alright, but there was no time. He had to get you to safety. 

Clark led you out of the house and towards the storm cellar, the wind whipping your hair around, blinding your view of where you were going. Luckily, you had Clark to lead you, but halfway there, you made the mistake of looking back, only to be met with the colossal tornado looming over you. You froze once again as Clark went to open the doors to the storm cellar, but even when he’d called out to you, you found yourself unable to move despite the swirling column coming closer and closer. 

Clark was quick to get to you, picking up your terrified body, holding you to his chest, your eyes locked on the tornado above as he rushed you underground, the doors slamming behind you. He sat on the old couch that was kept there for this exact situation, holding your trembling body on his lap. You clung onto him as he pulled his cape out from behind him and wrapped it around you before wrapping his own arms around you for extra protection, holding you close and rocking you soothingly in his arms. 

The sudden thunderous sounds of the tornado shredding through the surface above made you jump, tears streaming down your cheeks, causing Clark to hold you that much tighter.

“Shh, it’s okay, my love. Everything will be alright. You’re safe with me,” Clark comforted you, his fingers brushing through your hair as an act to calm you. You hid your face beneath his cape, against his chest, your mind telling you that you’d be safer there. 

It had felt like hours but was only minutes before Clark had told you it was finally safe to go outside. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have trusted their judgment. But Clark’s enhanced abilities provided you with the utmost comfort that always allowed you to feel as safe as ever (since he was able to sense what was and wasn’t going on outside). 

Slowly, you lifted your head from Clark’s chest, coming out from your red silk hiding spot as Clark’s protective hold on you just barely loosened. He looked down at your red, flushed features to gauge your reaction as you looked at your surroundings. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart? It’s over now. We’re okay,” Clark vowed softly as he lifted his hand to your cheek to brush away the tears, tucking your hair behind your ears. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and he gave you a sweet, reassuring smile. You nodded hesitantly in acknowledgment as Clark placed a loving kiss to your forehead.

Unwrapping his cape from around you, Clark kept you in his arms as you clung to him, standing and making his way up and out of the cellar. You whimpered as you watched the tornado continue its path away from the farm, away to destroy whatever else it could find. Then, you felt the hitch in Clark’s throat, causing you to pull away slightly to see the damage behind you - the Kent's home was destroyed. 

It was Clark’s turn to freeze in place. You dropped from his arms and turned to face the only home that Clark had ever known as a gasp escaped from your throat. Of course, he still has his apartment with you in Metropolis to go back to, but it’s his childhood home. And Martha, what about her? She’s going to be devastated. You turned back toward Clark, his body motionless, his face expressionless as he stared up at his house, or what was left of it.

 “Clark, I’m so sorry,” You didn’t know what to say. What could someone possibly say to make this better? You pulled him back into your arms, making it your turn to comfort him. His arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. Clark finally came to his senses, though, the senses he’d been accustomed to since he became Superman, the need to make sure everyone else is okay.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, darling. Just the thought of you having to go through that alone made me come home that much faster to get to you. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you, my sweet girl,” Clark professed. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. His house was gone and he was worried about you?

You pulled back to look him in the eyes, placing your hands on either side of his face, his hands on either side of your waist. “But, Clark, your home, it’s…” But you couldn’t finish when you both turned at the sound of a horn, the horn of the Kent’s truck. Martha was driving down the road towards the farm. But Clark wasn’t done with your conversation yet.

He guided his hand to hold yours against his cheek, gaining your attention back, your eyes locking with his as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand. “You’re my home, baby. This is just a house,” He gestured to his childhood house. “But you, my darling, I couldn’t live if something had happened to you. But you’re okay. We’re all okay, and that’s all that matters to me,” Clark declared, his eyes showing the immense love and adoration he felt for you. A smile lifted your lips as your forehead met with his, finally letting out the breath you’d been holding, knowing now that everything was going to be okay. 

“Are you guys okay?” Martha’s worried voice rang out after the sound of the truck door slammed closed. You both turned to her, Clark offering an encouraging smile to her.

“We’re okay, Ma,” Clark spoke first.

“Martha, I’m so sorry about your house,” You replied. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what Martha could be feeling after seeing the devastation that was her home. You met her in the middle and pulled her into a hug. It was the most motherly hug you’ve felt in a very long time. Clark had come up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your waist. Martha had noticed and pulled him into a hug of their own. 

“Oh, my boy,” Martha smiled, thankful that her son was okay, tears threatening to spill at the thought of almost losing the only family she had left. Unusual because Martha was not one to get emotional. She’s such a strong, independent woman, someone you looked up to. 

“It’s okay, Ma. You know it’ll take more than a tornado to take me down,” Clark joked in an attempt to make his mother feel better. 

“Yes, but not this one here,” Martha smiled pointedly at you, placing her hand gently against your cheek as you hold it there with a smile, her other hand holding onto Clark. “I’m just glad you both are okay,” She added.

“I’d never let anything happen to my girl,” Clark smiled at you, taking your hand and pulling you into his arms. That was what you loved about the Kent Family - it didn’t matter if they didn’t have much in the matter of the material things. As long as they had each other, they would be okay. 

[zuyoo]

linger, one-shot. ﹙ nagi & gn!reader ﹚ 비애

CONTENT WARNING — clueless nagi, (open-ended) angst, misleading actions, images used are not face claims but rather used as a reference to visualize a scenario. enjoy reading !!!! :D

SYNOPSIS — you’re in love with your best friend, nagi seishiro, who is oblivious of your feelings but treats you well more than just a friend

ZUYOO’S NOTES — noOOoO 10 images limit on tumblr mobile app ( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) word count is probably a little over 1000 if not more than that.. ok ily enjoy reading MWAAA

p.s. i love u, everyone who leaves feedback and/or reactions with all my life :DD it just makes me feel so motivated in writing, thank you all sm!!

it started with one message, which lead to another… then another… then more. you two instantly clicked right after being attending the same club in your university. you’ve seen him before, and thought that he looked hard to approach—since he’s always on his phone, barely talks, and is always either practicing, in class, or out of reach (in his dorm)

you two grew close after talking about similar interests, and it didn’t take too long for you to develop feelings for him. i mean… how could you not when he has treated you way better than any other man who’s walked out of you life?

he messages you on a daily basis, doesn’t hesitate to come over and take care of you when you tell him that you aren’t feeling well, treats you to meals, drives you home, tries new hobbies because you told him you like those.

nagi has the looks, the talent, the brain, the skill, the body that a girl could ask for. you’re simply lucky enough to be near his presence—and oh boy how all the girls that see you two together makes you feel it.

their glares and side glances sharp as a knife, it gave you goosebumps all over. but you eventually paid no mind to their stares, the only thing that mattered at the moment is how you’d spend your day with nagi!

it’s been three years since your first interaction with him, and you two haven’t changed a thing. take it with a grain of salt. yes, you two still treat each other the same way, and no, he is not your anything—just a friend.

he’s such a fish to catch that you’re surprised why he’s still not seeing anyone at this point. maybe there was some point that you’ve thought about how there could be possibility that he could like you the way you like him, which is stopping him from seeing anyone else.

or maybe his actions has raised your hopes up and made you delusional. how could you know? you’ve been friends for three whole years now, yet you still can’t read him.

he left you on delivered? that’s new. well- it was bound to happen. it’s not like he’s obligated to reply or at least leave a reaction… right? right. you’re his best friend. nothing more, nothing less.

but what could he be doing? it’s a sunday. he doesn’t have practice, and the term just started. he couldn’t have had any assessments he needed to finish.

your questions were quickly answered once you’ve opened up your twitter app and found someone unfamiliar in your timeline.

“pfft—this happens all the time.” you say. “and they’re always fake.”

and how you wished you were right.

“oh.” was everything you could let out, as if that one tweet didn’t break your heart into pieces. you were glad he’s finally seeing someone—but at the same time, you had hoped that it was just a misunderstanding, that he’s actually maggy’s cousin… or something! just not her suitor. even though the signs are as clear as day.

it was petty, and this- this will hurt you, and it’ll hurt bad. so you had no other choice but to try and distance yourself away from him as much as possible, to save yourself and to respect who he’s been seeing. it was for the better… but—he was making it hard.

nagi’s completely clueless!

you didn’t know whether to laugh it out because of how oblivious he is. does he not realize what he’s doing to you?

at this point, you start to realize how none of it was your fault in the first place. you couldn’t control you feelings, and it certainly didn’t help that nagi treats you way too well.

even so, you could never blame him. it could just be in his nature, to be kind, lovable, and to be the pinnacle of a girl’s dream. and you were the one at fault because you’re taking advantage of his kindness to satisfy your curiosity regarding what it felt like being handled with genuine care, only for it to backfire—seeing that you actually fell for him big time.

still, that wasn’t your first train of thought when you met him. you genuinely wanted to be friends because he seemed like a cool guy. it just so happens that your heart begun to agitate more and more everyday when you’re with him.

or maybe it was maggy’s fau—oh my god, make up your mind, yn!!

“let’s not put the blame on everyone. whatever happened, happened. none of it matters now. i just have to get myself out of this mess… then i’ll be back to same, old me. right.” you thought to yourself.

you have been ignoring nagi for the past three days, leaving him on delivered, and practically scrambling away when you see him in the hallways—or everywhere, actually.

did you tell him why you’re doing this? no, why would you?

does he care? a lot, as a friend, most likely.

he’s been trying to reach you for the past 3 days, while you were off running everywhere but to the places you and nagi went to together, which is hard because you’ve both been to every cafe, every movie theater, every arcade, every mall your city could offer.

there was this one place you two haven’t been in yet. it was perfect for admiring the view below, or simply a place to just clear your mind.

you planned on going there after classes were over, and it made you quite excited. you were supposed to go here with nagi but… you know, things happened. nonetheless, you wanted to enjoy this, even if it meant not being able to bring nagi with you.

after class ended, you bid your farewell to your friends before getting into a cab and going to the rooftop lounge that recently just opened.

you opened the door that leads to the lounge and was surprised by what greeted you at the door.

it was nagi, with maggy. their hands intertwined as they admire the city.

ouch. seeing them like that felt like ten thousand trains running me over.

you were about to leave when you heard her call for your name. you froze on the spot, a course of thoughts ran through your brain on whether to run for it, or play a good face and not ignore her calls.

“y/n! come join us.”

you made the decision to turn around and approach them instead… she waved and smiled at you. god—how can you make such a lovely woman?!

it was too late to run anyways, you felt their eyes on you when you froze by the door, it would be far too embarrassing to just leave with them knowing that you heard maggy call for you.

“hey, i couldn’t reach you.”

nagi greeted. you briefly glanced into his eyes and gave him a smile before breaking eye contact. you could barely look into his eyes—you might burst out crying if you stare any longer.

“i was busy.”

you replied, dryly. you really were busy; busy with assessments, busy distracting yourself from your feelings, busy doing whatever it takes to forget about nagi… but if you two keep meeting like this—and if he keeps trying to talk to you, it will pose a challenge for you to fully move on.

why do you have to let it linger? you ask him in your mind as if he could read it. his constant concern for your wellbeing, his actions towards you, his daily messages checking up on whether you’ve eaten your meals yet—why does he have to let your feelings for him linger?

unknowingly, sure. but has he have not a single clue on why you’ve been distancing yourself? on why you haven’t been hanging around much?

you missed him, really. but this was the perfect distance for you both. he can keep reaching out until the day he gets sick of it; but as much as you want to respond to him, you can’t—you shouldn’t.

the following months were practically the hell. you’ve completely cut off contact with him (you ghosted him, basically) and was buried in a never-ending cycle of homework and projects, leaving no time for anything else.

when the semester ended, your friend, bachira, invited you to his party. he noticed that you were completely restless and said that you needed to loosen up a little.

it was 12 in the evening but the party has just begun—you could consider yourself a fan of staying at home in my comfy pajamas and old indie movies, rather than a party ‘til sunrise & drink ‘til you drop type of person… which lead you to excusing yourself out of the room with flashing lights and booming music to find somewhere else more peaceful to drink.

you found yourself on a huge balcony with a red cup on your hand. thank the gods that the doors muffles out the noise coming from the inside.

this was just right. and honestly what you needed. all that workload from the past few weeks has been killing you.

what you didn’t expect was for someone to break the silence you gave yourself.

“it was about time i saw you again. and out of all the places i thought i would see you in, a party was not one of them.”

nagi spoke nonchalantly. his sudden interjection jolted you out of your own thoughts. it’s been about six months since you’ve broke off contact with him. hell, you could barely remember his voice.

“oh fuc-… ah. i’m sorry- i should find another place.”

“no. stay. you owe me an explanation.”

maybe it was just you, but given where this conversation is headed… he sounded intimidating. his voice didn’t change much, perhaps it didn’t change at all, but you heard the sharpness of his words and felt the need to comply to whatever he says.

“sorry.”

“sorry doesn’t cut it, y’know?”

he lightly chuckled before mixing his drink around his own red cup that he brought.

“right… sorry. but, how are you? how’s maggy?”

“ah. it didn’t work out. she’s nice but it really isn’t working out for us.”

“oh. sorry.”

that was a surprise. you thought they’d still be all lovey-dovey with each other. maggy is a lovely girl, what could’ve gotten wrong?

“another apology and i’ll keep bothering you. you wouldn’t like that won’t you? considering how you’ve completely ghosted me for 6 months without an explanation or even a subtle hint of why you did it? right?”

“hey-!”

okay… maybe he hasn’t changed that much. he still holds his grudges. nagi broke eye contact and looked up to the moon with this… yearning look on his face—he looked so pretty, it was pathetic!!

a sigh left your lips before nervously starting to explain you side, since you felt like he really needed to know why. plus, it was a good chance to let go of that burden.

maybe a confession was nagi’s needed closure, and your way of letting go of the guilt of knowing you’ve randomly disappeared in his life without him even knowing anything.

“i like… liked. you, nagi. more than a friend should’ve.”

“what?”

his actions came to a halt. oh, he was THAT clueless

“aha—yeah… but then there came maggy. she was such a lovely person, and i know you deserved to be loved like that. i should’ve been happy for you, but i really couldn’t bring myself to. it hurts seeing my best friend whom i’ve liked for the longest time smile because of a person they’re romantically involved with, y’know?”

you weren’t able to find the strength to look at him as you explained, but it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders after.

“i-”

“no, don’t say anything. i just really needed to let that out… for your sake, and mine. i also wanted to thank you. y’know—for everything. you’ve been a great best friend, nagi.”

“okay but-”

he didn’t get to say whatever he wanted to say because the door that leads to the party suddenly opened, revealing a tipsy bachira.

“y/n!! here you are~ and nagi too!!”

bachira gleefully said before dragging y/n back inside, leaving nagi alone in the balcony.

he watched your figure get lost in the crowd of people partying without end, saying:

“ah-… i liked you…too?”

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

[issacballsac]

“Being Mileena’s Girlfriend„

Saw someone say there isn’t enough MKfem characters x fem reader so here we are ! Fem Reader

Meeting | MKX

You’d def be from Outworld

From the time where she ruled Outworld; before Kotal Khan rebelled against her

Her being Khan obviously you adored her and you couldn’t rlly get close to someone of such high status

However! When she was overthrown it wasn’t too hard to get close to her seeing as she was stripped of her previous status

Just go and join her rebellion lmao

Bonding

Ngl I don’t think she’d care if you’re strong or not just if you’re loyal to her cause

Her multiple failures in trying to regain her throne put her in quite the sour mood

So she’d appreciate if you threw in any new ideas or if you’re dumb as hell like me comforting her is fine too

If you shared any of your food/supplies with her personally(rather than the whole group) she’d be kinda embarrassed to rely on you

Especially if she is physically stronger than you

If you talk about how untrustworthy Tanya is in the beginning she’d be upset with you and distance herself so just wait until ur closer with her/have tangible evidence

She doesn’t take her mask off often in daily passing; excluding during battle ofc

But if you do catch her with her mask down she’d be hasty to put it back up

“You’re really beautiful, Mileena. You know that right?”

“Of course I know that.”

She’d def play off your comment but she’s DYING on the inside of embarrassment

If you specifically pick out a gift for her she’ll be happy and smile under her mask

She’ll start to linger around you more and when planning she’ll always sit next to you

She’s really desperate for love and will grasp onto anything like Shao Khan and Tanya who obviously didn’t truly care for her

Light | End

Depending if you convince her to stop the rebellion/run away with you changes the outcome of your relationship during the original/MKX timeline

If you don’t and go along with her plan to use the amulet you’ll probably die protecting her

Of course the same events as MKX go down with her execution but it’ll be prolonged💀

Kiss one another, die for each other 😦 - Katy Perry or Demi Lovato I don’t remember Ngl

If you do convince her to call off the rebellion it’ll be great!

Of course you can’t just throw a rebellion and walk away unscathed

So you’re gonna have to go into hiding or just cross realms altogether

Methinks she likes physical touch

Think hugs, kisses, hand holding, etc.

You probably wouldn’t be able to stay in one place for long so you’re constantly on the move

Mileena is a big fan of sleeping together though she rlly jus needs comfort bro💀

She’d pick you up and carry you if your into that(totally wouldn’t start freaking out if she dropped you)

When/If you escape to another realm you’ll take on a more relaxing life

Of course you guys don’t stop training just in case but it’s better than being on the run constantly

Taking on a more domestic lifestyle

You’d do a lot of single person tasks together just because

Taking out trash? She’ll help

Washing clothes? She’ll hang them up to dry

She’s not a good cook by any means but she’ll help where she can

She’ll def match outfits with you especially if you guys are the same size she’ll just wear your shit

Depending if you live amongst a dense population she’ll keep her face hidden in case anyone were to recognize her

If you live in a secluded village she’ll take off her mask more often and when the people get used to you guys she’ll keep it off

She can’t sew/patch up clothes for shit so if anything rips she’ll just stand there and watch you do it

You’d never have an actual wedding but the people of your community would totally come over if you guys hosted an informal relationship confirmation

“I’m grateful to take you as my wife.”

“And you as mine.”

Raiden the nosy bitch would obviously notice your presence no matter how much you try

Being EarthRealm’s protector ‘n all

Seeing as you guys are peaceful living he would only tell Kotal if Kotal asked for additional information

Pre-Shinok Raiden ofc

Overall she’ll defend you against the world all at the expense of you loving her

[mrsnancywheeler]

invisible string // finnick odair x reader

based of this request:

congrats on 700 followers!! you deserve it sm!!💜 ahh i’m so indecisive, i wanted to send a 🪻 but i can’t choose between these songs: invisible string, delicate, or slut! so whichever inspires you the most! ik it’ll be great whichever you choose!

masterlist

1.7k words

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, arguments, past relationships which includes allusions to cheating and a wrist gets grabbed, soulmates, a slowburn for them but not for us, meant to be, very little dialogue, allusions to trafficking, mental health struggles, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When Finnick was younger he'd take every free moment he had to swim, usually with his friends, but now part of him craved to be alone with the waters. It let him drop the facade and be melancholy even if it was one of the few things that really brought him joy. So, he'd stopped inviting them to his favorite secluded beach area, that way he could finally be alone with his thoughts. He would be able to turn the thoughts in his brain of all of his regrets and all the secrets he'd have to die with.

The only company he ever had besides the waves and creatures below was the family that always set out their boat to fish and it had been that way for years. A persistent presence in the water that felt like part of the environment and it didn't bother him. No one had ever spoken to him except when he and his friends were younger, the adults would urge them to be careful when they passed by. Now though it was part of the peacefulness to hear a family muttering around in the back. A family that just so happened to contain you.

Before he'd grown up and became more withdrawn he'd always accompany his mom, adorning her signature royal blue skirt, to the markets, where he learned the only place she'd buy her lobsters from was your family. As a kid it gave him some sort of pride to know where the source came from, this little special area, and now he was just grateful that the routines stayed the same whenever he was able to just be at home. He'd arrive at the beach and your boat would be bobbing up and down in the distance, Finnick would fill his time swimming and lost in thought, then eventually your family would dock the boat, he'd get closer to the shore and you guys would leave with your catch, you'd always send him a smile that he'd send an acknowledging nod back to. The normalcy felt good to him which is why it put him off when everyone filed off the boat and you weren't there.

It shouldn't have unsettled him as much as it did, but this was the one part of his life that he felt like he had some expectations for, there was control. You could just not have felt well or had something come up, but it made his stomach knot regardless. So he tried to go about the rest of his evening, searching for something to make his brain feel like there was still control. His feet brought him to the bakery, maybe those familiar sea green stained, salty loaves of bread would make him nostalgic enough to take away the feeling. There was also the cup of hot, mint tea that it seemed like only they could make the way they did, just right.The bell rang and he went inside, overtaken by the comforting smell and warmth. When he'd gotten the loaves and turned back onto the dimly lit cobblestone streets his brain only felt normal again when he'd caught a glimpse of you.

There you were, stranding with your back to the wall of the shop as you argued with some guy in front of you. Wearing that same sea green the bread was. And it felt ridiculous to Finnick, but seeing you was part of his nightly routine and it made him feel calmer even if it hadn't been the same way. This time he smiled at you and you noticed him for a second, sending a nod back before you were drawn back into whatever the man was saying.

Besides that blip, for months life went on as normal. He'd go to swim, the boat would be on the water, the boat would dock, he'd swim to shore, you'd smile a goodbye, and life would go on. A few months in there was an addition to the family on the boat, a new guy, and a new face in his routine was just as difficult for him to adjust to. Not as much as the day your family passed by and you stayed at the dock with the man. He could hear you both arguing, the setting sun illuminating you in your royal blue, your hands moving around to illustrate whatever point you were making. Finnick didn't want to eavesdrop, he wanted to tear his eyes away, but he couldn't. Then he could no longer sit still when the man grabbed your wrist with a yell and you tried to pull it away.

“Hey!" Finnick heard himself shout as his feet pounded against the sand, both of you turned your heads towards him.

“Whoa, man, nothing to worry about here!" The man let go of your wrist and put his hands in the air as some kind of defense.

“Definitely didn't look like there was nothing to worry about." Finnick knew he was intimidating, you don't win the Hunger Games and come out without some form of fear attached to your name. The man scoffed as he took a step back, “You can go now.”

The man said what must have been your name,"You don't want me to go, do you?”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course I want you to go!” You were exasperated and with a huff of frustration the man walked off. There was a beat of silence, "Thank you.” You acknowledged, sitting down on the dock, taking off your sandals, so you could dip your feet into the waters. Finnick hummed a response and stood there behind you for a while in silence before you patted the area next to you, "If you want to sit down you can, I don't usually bite." You didn't look at him, eyes staring out at the horizon.

His routine was already so skewed that there was no possibility of fixing it now, so he did sit and the dock creaked as he moved. “Are you okay?"

“Yeah, I'll be fine." You said quickly.

Finnick didn't believe you, but was in no position to call you out on that. So you sat there in comforting silence as the moon began to shine and occasionally he'd look over at you through the corner of his eyes to see how radiant you looked. At some point you were suddenly sliding off the dock into the water, fully clothed as you did so. “What're you doing?"

Your head dipped under the water before you brought it back up, “Washing it off!" It made him feel understood for a second, that's what he always was trying so desperately to do.

Maybe if he was a smarter man, after that night he would've spoken to you more, made an effort. Instead he thought about things he could say, but stuck to what was normal. The only chance was the added smile to his nod when you passed by. So for months he continued on, fantasizing about things he could say to talk to you, but wouldn't and eventually there was another boyfriend on the boat. It shouldn't have hurt him, but it unexplainably did. Hurt with himself for not saying something to you, trying to be your friend. He'd gotten used to it though until the night where you were once again nowhere to be found when your family walked off the dock. Another knot in the depths of his stomach, like something as being twisted and tugged at. So he did what he had nearly a year before, the bakery, searching for something to rid the sensation. When he'd entered it though he instantly found you. Sitting in the corner, eyes red, sipping a cup of tea. He couldn't stop his feet from moving towards the booth. In silence he sat across from you

“What'd he do?" Finnick asked as softly as he could. You sniffed, wiping away a stray tear.

“Sometimes I just wonder why nothing clicks and the puzzle pieces never fit even if I do everything I can. It's like there's no one out there for me." Your voice was so quiet as you took another sip of your tea, without a clue on any it felt so natural to open up to this man who you'd known without knowing your whole life.

It was how he felt too, everyone looked at him like he was some sort of monetary gain that could be achieved, instead of wanting to really see him. “What'd he do?" Finnick reaffirmed and you looked at him for a second before getting a look in your eye that told him everything he needed to know before you were shaking your head, trying not to cry again. He didn't know what came over him, but he rose to sit on the side of the booth you were in and had his arms wrapped around you, letting you sob into him.

That's when he felt it, the surge of energy, the bliss when you touched and maybe you did too because you stopped to stare at him for a moment. Maybe he was delusional or maybe something felt like it had clicked deep inside of his soul. He smelled the mint from your tea, looked at your royal blue top, and something felt right, more right than anything had felt since the day he was reaped. Eventually you just laid your head on his chest and felt the energy surge back and forth between the two of you. “I'll walk you home, I know the area, I grew up two streets away." He eventually muttered, not wanting to move at all. Suddenly you shifted again, this time to stare in confusion.

“I grew up, I mean I still live, two streets away.”

Maybe it was really then that Finnick knew, and you knew, that something had tied you two together since the beginning. That even when he was just the boy on the beach and you on the boat, without a word spoken, the universe meant for this. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the string had pulled you from every man who would hurt you, and kept him living. It must have been worth it all to realize after all this time it had been you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, fluff isn't my strongest spot so I hope this makes up for all the pain I caused in the latest chapter of the river! as always if you enjoyed it likes, comments, reblogs, discussion is all very appreciated and my ask box plus requests are open. thank you again 💋

taglist: @wowzabowza69

[blueicequeen19]

Liars & Bonfires 🔥

Warnings: exes, oral, unprotected outdoor sex, jealousy

“It’ll be fine. We’re all friends. There’s no picking sides.” Sarah reassured you for the hundredth time as you huddle for warmth on the log by the fire. You nod, the knot in your throat and the tightness in your lungs not going away anytime soon.

You hear dirt bikes in the distance and you know the boys are back from their beer run. It’ll mark the first time in weeks since you’ve seen your ex. Your toxic, jealous, ex who only wanted to smoke weed and fight. Or fuck.

Your cheeks heat as images of the last time together flood your mind. He’d fucked your throat so hard that night, you didn’t have a voice the next day. Warmth coats your panties and you shudder as you push away the thoughts just as the guys approach. JJ takes one look at you and nods in acknowledgment before diverting his gaze for the rest of the night after handing out beers.

The tension is thick and you know the group can feel it. The usual carefree, funny, obnoxious Pogue was sitting in silence while drinking and smoking. His eyes watched the flames in the pit while every now and then he’d chuckle at something someone said. You hated it. You felt like you were to blame for his change in behavior.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Pope cheers, making everyone groan in unison.

“What are we fifteen?” Kie scoffs.

“It’ll be fun!” Sarah smiles.

The game starts with questions from an app and you start to tune everyone out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sulking blonde.

“Last person you had sex with?” Kie reads, making you look up when you realize she’s speaking to you. You swallow when heated blue eyes meet yours. The tension in the air makes it hard to breathe as you debate lying. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sarah and JB exchange a look of concern.

You were fairly certain JJ had already moved on. He was a flirt like that so there was no harm in lying. He’d never find out.

“Um, probably that cute Pogue Sean.” Your face heats with the lie and you hear the crunch of a beer can and boots as JJ stomps off.

“That was really shitty.” Kie says dryly, signaling the end of the game as she slumps back in her chair.

“On that note, I’m going to call it a night.” Pope jumps up to fist bump everyone and follows after JJ.

“Give me a ride?” Kie calls, jumping up to jog after him.

“I’m going to apologize.” You murmur to Sarah, her and John B watching as you wait for the sound of the dirt bike to get further away. Sarah gives you a weak smile before you pass and make your way down to the dock. That was his favorite spot. He wouldn’t go anywhere else to stew in his anger.

You stop opposite of him, keeping your distance as tension radiates off his body. Even from this distance you could smell him. That familiar JJ scent that makes your insides tighten.

“I lied. I’m sorry.” You say softly after a long pause of him not acknowledging your presence.

“I know you did.” JJ snaps, downing the last of his beer and slamming the bottle down almost hard enough to break.

“Then why are you mad?”

JJ spins around, eyes wide and angry as he advances on you. You stumble back a few steps but he’s quicker, wrapping his hand around your throat and shoving you against the wooden rails. His grip is firm but not tight enough to cut off air as he presses his firm body against yours, making your insides flood with heat and need.

“J—.”

“How would you like it if I told you I let some girl suck me off?” JJ growls, burying his face in your neck.

“We aren’t together—.”

“Or that I buried my cock in the neighbor?” Your body bristles with anger and jealousy, churning your stomach so hard your knees nearly buckle.

“Maybe I came inside someone else’s pussy.” JJ whispers, running his tongue up the side of your throat as his hands squeeze your ass hard.

“I don’t care.” You bite out, digging your nails into his chest through his shirt.

“Liar.” JJ hisses before fisting your hair and bringing you in for a punishing kiss. You whimper, opening your mouth to him and letting him claim you the way he always has. You can break up a hundred times but the fire he created in your blood never went away.

“God, I love you. You fucking know that. You think breaking up with me means you’re not mine?” JJ yanks your shorts and panties down in one go then bends you over the built in bench.

“JJ.” You moan, just as his hot tongue finds your slit, his nails biting into your hips. You grab onto the railing for support, his tongue only teasing it’s way around your clit and labia.

“Don’t ever say you’ve let someone else inside you.” He groans between your thighs, the warning clear. Suddenly his mouth is gone and his cock is ramming it’s way inside you. You moan loudly out into the marsh, his thrusts hard and fast.

“Shh, baby. Wouldn’t want our friends to think we’re back together again. We all know how weak you are for me.”

[waywardblazer]

Centuries

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, angst…but mostly fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Summary/Prompt: Hours before the curse is broken, you briefly bump into the infamous Klaus Mikaelson for the first time but you see something inside of him that’s unexpected.

A/N: Should there be a pt.2 where y/n reunites with Klaus??? 🤔

⋆ ━━━━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━━━━━ ⋆

Tonight was the full moon.

That meant that it was the night that Klaus would finally be able to break the curse. The curse that binded his werewolf side and stopped him from becoming a true hybrid.

Despite everyone’s attempts, there seemed to be no way around it.

Stefan had taken Elena away for the rest of the day after Damon force fed her his blood. You had also heard about Tyler rolling back into town meaning that Klaus would have everything he needed. The ritual was going to happen regardless of what anyone wanted.

In the Salvatore mansion, Elijah had just gone over the plan once more to ensure that it would work. You were there simply so he could be certain.

“If the plan does not succeed, my brother will become The Original Hybrid by the time the full moon completes its final phase.” Elijah informed, his gaze moving from you, down to where he was fixing the cuff of his sleeve.

You gave him a small nod. “It’ll work Elijah. I…I know it will.” You attempted to reassure him, but the uncertainty in your voice betrayed you. He studied you for a moment before exiting the room. You watched him leave, sighing quietly to yourself.

Much to The Salvatore’s dismay, you found the existence of the Originals to be rather intriguing and had spent the better part of the last month or so getting to know more about them. By them, you meant Elijah, since he had been the only Original the gang had encountered. That was not including Klaus when he had been in Alaric’s body. In return for your curiosity, Elijah seemed to have grown fond of you.

Right now however, you weren’t of any help to anyone. You needed to get out.

Even though the mansion was exceptionally large you felt too pent up. So you headed off to the lake. At least there you could have a brief moment to think alone.

It wasn’t far, so once you made it you took a seat on the bench, staring out at the lake as the afternoon sun slowly made its descent over the horizon. The remaining light seemed to bounce off the water’s surface, making it look as if it shimmered.

“Is this where you go to get away from the Salvatores?” An strangely familiar voice spoke from behind.

You stumbled off the bench with a gasp and spun around on your heels only to come face to face with a rather tall man. Your breath hitched and fear immediately swept through your body the second you realised who it was.

“Klaus.” You breathed out, taking a nervous step backwards.

“Relax, love, I am not of any threat to you.” He reassured with a gentle grin, hands raised briefly in surrender. “I am simply savouring the last moments before I become my true self.”

You watched him wearily. Part of you wanted to run, but you dreaded what he might do if you tried.

Klaus’ grin seemed to fade. He couldn’t just see the fear in your eyes but he could also hear your heart as it pounded within your chest. He dipped his head and stepped away, creating some distance between you both.

“It’s a beautiful sunset, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked in an attempt to spark some sort of conversation to break the tension.

Looking up, you couldn’t disagree that the mixture of red, orange and purple colours that lit up the sky was beautiful.

“Yeah…it is.” You mumbled quietly.

Klaus smiled to himself as you continued to study him from where you stood. He could feel your eyes on him.

He remained silent for a good few moments before letting out a sigh. “I know you think you should be scared of me, but I assure you that you do not.”

“You want to hurt the people I care about so I think I have every right to be afraid.” You reminded him, bravely holding his gaze. You were surprised when he nodded in agreement.

“Fair point.” He replied. Then carefully took a seat on the bench. His gaze shifted to the ground momentarily before returning back up to you. “Y/N, if…there was another way—” He began but faltered in finishing what he wanted to say.

Your brows creased slightly as you searched his eyes. Eyes that remained on you. There was some sort of emotion hidden behind those centuries old eyes that you wouldn’t have imagined possible to find in the proclaimed evil Klaus Mikaelson.

It was Pain. Deeply rooted pain.

You didn’t know his story and yet it broke your heart to see such pain in someone’s eyes.

It made you wonder whether there was more to him than just how everyone portrayed him. That being known worldwide to be a ruthless mass murder, a monster and big bad wolf with no remorse was simply a facade to hide the concealed truth that maybe, just maybe he had a heart.

Turning to look back out at the lake, you realised that you had finally let your body relax. You knew he wasn’t going to hurt you. He had no need too. You mustered up the courage to sit down beside him. With a quiet sigh, you looked up at him. There were no words needed to be exchanged. You both just sat in a strangely comfortable silence.

As the night arrived, a chill filled the air. You shivered.

“You’re cold, love.” Klaus softly noted, a gentle frown of concern passing across his face.

You huffed out a quiet chuckle. “I’m alright.” You insisted. The way he called you love had your stomach fluttering in a way that made you mentally scold yourself.

Klaus didn’t seem to take that as an answer because he took off his jacket, gently wrapping it around your shoulders. He gave you a gentle smile, his eyes appeared to sparkle under the moonlight.

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze. “Thank you Klaus.” You managed to whisper, pulling his coat around yourself for extra warmth.

He dipped his head. “Of course, love.” He uttered in a gentle tone before he stood up.

You tilted your head in confusion before spotting the moon high up in the sky. You looked back at him. You knew exactly where he was going.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

The soon to be hybrid nodded. “It is.”

You let out a deep sigh. There was absolutely no way you could stop him and…you didn’t really want to anyway. No one should be denied a part of themselves.

“Go.” You said.

Only for a split second but long enough for you to see, he hesitated. Like he was reconsidering. But the urge to take back what was lost outweighed anything else.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He murmured, “Hopefully we’ll meet again under better circumstances.”

He then vamp sped off with a whoosh, disappearing in a blink of an eye leaving you alone under the light of the full moon.

“Bye, Klaus.” You whispered. “And…good luck.”

[ravneski]

Desecration

Kokushibo x Fem!Reader

They take what they can't have and bathe in the sacrilege.

this has also been uploaded to ao3 (kudos and comments there would be appreciated <3) link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46981597

warnings: smut, cunnilingus, fingering, menstrual sex, dubcon nearing the second half of the fic, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, religious imagery, sexual violence, strangling/choking, fisting

word count: 5.4k

Fate was a cruel thing.

Dragging her eyes from the floor, she cursed herself for not staying alert, for not paying attention to which room she had mindlessly entered. The Upper Moon One’s aura pervaded, thick as well-trained metal. She stared and he stared back, six eyes unreadable but nostrils flared, shark in water detecting what slicked her fukusa.

“One day.”

Since she had started bleeding. She tensed. “What of it?”

“It will… be painful.” Kokushibo’s golden gaze bored into her.

“There are worse pains,” she dismissed, face blank. She made to turn.

“Are you going to Doma?”

She graced him a near unnoticeable nod.

“Will you… spread your legs for him?”

Centimetres away from him in a flash too quick to be perceived, her veins frosted. “Doma tells me you opened your own for Daki.”

Their gazes swept one another, rising and falling as the moon did, but nothing as renewing as moonlight enveloped either. “Mourning her?” she drawled.

“I utilised her for… what her job dictated she do…”

Her upper lip curled in disdain.

“And you,” Kokushibo continued, knuckles white from the clasp on his sword’s tsuka, “are no different… from me. Go… to your whore.”

She laughed at that, but the mirth was dry sand, rigid as though hardened by unremitting waves. “Doma isn’t my whore.”

“Then what… is he? Your lover?” he replied, derisiveness worn like armour.

“You tell me,” she said after a moment, gathering herself. “You know his body as well as I, do you not, fornicator?”

A vein throbbed at the side of his neck. “You never hesitated… to run to me when you were bleeding… yet now you spare… time for aimless ambling…”

“Say what you mean.”

Even in the gentle light of the Infinity Castle, Kokushibo was but a shadow. The dark side of the sun, she thought. He knew only his shadows, and she found herself drawn to be engulfed by the same fate. His expression held solemnity it was never without, but by now she saw the veneer. As he inched closer, the fractures in his mask seemed ardent.

“Can Doma not taste… your flow?” he asked, interest sincere. “The one that follows the moon’s cycle… is it beyond his reach?”

“He likens it to wisteria,” she admitted, reluctant as she was, “and talks of the mere touch burning him.”

“One man’s bane… is another man’s ichor.” The suggestion in his voice rang sharper than any demon slayer’s blade. She made up for his mishap, his nerve to close their distance and his barely veiled want, by widening the space between them again.

“It’ll be such ichor to him if I allow him to draw blood from my womb,” she pointed out.

“Will you?”

“Will our lord let me?”

“Mutinous thing,” sneered Kokushibo. “When have you cared… for our lord’s boundaries and laws?”

“No more than you.”

His hand, wrapped around his sword’s tsuka, twitched. “I remain constant.”

“Then leave.”

After a second of hesitation, one he tried with fervour to conceal but seeped through to his countenance, the constriction of his pupils and the scorch in his irises, Kokushibo stayed where he was. “You bleed heavier than… last time,” he noted. 

“Do you observe through your Transparent World every time I shed?”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand… I smell it. It permeates.”

And he was the only one who could detect her moonblood. Besides herself, and their master, but Kibutsuji Muzan was swamped in more crimson than she could ever spill.

She pivoted, but Kokushibo grabbed her wrist, iron and impetuous. “He’s angry,” she said as her excuse to leave, searching the old samurai’s face. “The boy who bears your brother’s mark and wears your brother’s earrings is making mincemeat of the lesser Moons.”

The mention of his twin left him cold. “That person will… not miss you,” he wagered. “You have time spare.”

He melded, still, to her wrist, unyielding; the shock of his skin pressing hers reignited what she had long assumed abandoned, a stinging ache that rippled between them as waves in storms devastated ships, naked and exposed. Ghosting the pallid paper of her flesh, his nails were a parody of humanity, short and plates plain. Kokushibo coveted what he could not have. For one to receive, one had to give. The human body had to be sacrificed to exceed its feeble limits, its brittle mortality. His façade was flimsy, and with the right amount of force it would shatter and out would come the demon that he had sold his soul to become.

His gaze drifted to her abdomen, which she had clutched in fruitless instinct, before once more locking with her. “Let me,” he said.

It took little time to think over her answer, as much as the sour wrath in her stirred. She acquiesced, and his hands wandered beneath the silk of her clothes.

She was undignified in this bestial position, but Kokushibo lacked the temerity to penetrate her through his cock. She could not bear to meet his face; ignoble though the stance of coitus more ferarum was, it provided sanctity, a way to avoid the intense blaze of those six unblinking eyes. Wooden floor scraped and pricked at her elbows as she used them to support herself. She focused on the crevices of the floorboards, the cracks resembling abysses with their infinite black hollows, wondering how much hot red had rolled into them and festered over the centuries.

Her robes were hoisted up, impudently close to the tender swell of her breasts but secure enough to not reveal them, welcoming him, exposing more than flesh when her heart jumped from the warmth of his invasively close breath. Kokushibo explored her, parting her like petals; when her folds had become so wet she didn’t know, nor wanted to, but his fingers trailed them, tentative as though she were made of glass and he feared breaking her. Sticky with her flow, his digits climbed up to the flushed bud and grazed it with their course tips. Betraying her, her hips gave an involuntary buck. This was decadence, she mused. For the both of them. They would consume the other in every way but literal, the same way he had. Muzan was a blight impossible to efface and stained them even now.

His tongue skimmed the plush of her inner thighs, scraping at the dark cardinal smearing them. The organ roused an acute jolt from deep inside her as it slid in, blood and arousal mixing and gliding to form an easy lubricant. The electric reaction of her body wasn’t quite arisen from satisfaction, but neither was it spawned from pain; it curled and coiled as an endless serpent, a visceral sensation of a latent guilt and a repressed thrill.

Heat unfurled within her, a spark of life, but it wasn’t enough. Grinding her teeth together, she turned herself around, lying on her back. Their gazes tangled, a flash of resentment shared between them; overwhelming the cramps of her womb convulsed something keener, a wretched desire too close to impalement. She raised her thighs for him anyway, as easily as the gates of hell would open for them both, and let the mongrel feast.

The flat of his tongue pressed against the nub at the top of her sex. Long fingers, svelte and elegant enough that they seemed unfitting for a sword-wielder, moved inside her in a focused rhythm, the squelch of sloughed tissue and blood resonating as her body relaxed, sucking him in deeper. Kokushibo’s tongue carded the lips of her quim, dragging down to near his fingers then slithering back to her clitoris, which rose like the opening flowers under sunlight’s grace. Her hips played and rutted to the tempo he dipped in and out of her with, stomach crawling as much as it flipped as she thought of how he had arrogated her with such facileness. Raking the tatami, she searched for a modicum of anchorage over herself, some dose of stability.

She was pitiful, but so was he, and equally deviant. They were deformed, her kind. Demons were death, but they dreaded finality so. She was no exception. Was that widespread fear, lurking in the caliginous heart of every demon, an innate one? Did each of them know there was no salvation in death for their forsaken souls, but only the expecting flames, searing and everlasting?

Once, she had encountered a god, beautiful and bright and unequalled, and underneath layers of false flesh the scars from the conflict, eternal in their retribution, still burned like the sun. If the fires of hell were real, she had felt their touch already, and her cells had never forgotten it.

They were monsters unspeakably damned. Hideous and acrimonious, most couldn’t give reason for why they continued to live other than base instinct, that primal hunger that gnawed and gnawed, impossible to sate. They were greedy to their finest fibre. It was why they were territorial beasts. Sometimes they mated, the odd few, those who dared, foolish and tainted, but it never lasted. Eventually they cannibalised each other, skewing bones and mangling flesh until there was nothing left. The hunger grew too great, too indomitable. Demons could not kill demons through any other means. She summoned the guts to look down at the one on his knees, submerged betwixt her thighs, lapping at nutrition, lifeblood, that which symbolised renewal and viability, and thought there was something poetic about fucking functioning as death.

“He’ll never find the amaryllis,” for those six eyes saw so much, what others could not; she waited to see who those eyes belonged to, the samurai or his lord. “He—” then she stumbled, his two fingers pressed against a hard edge inside her. Drowned into silence by the waves of venereal indulgence.  

“A woman’s hatred… is a sort of devotion,” mused Kokushibo from between her legs.

She lowered her gaze to him, gripping his dark mane to lift his head away from the hot throb of her cunt, though his fingers stayed encased. Pliable, he made a pretty picture painted in her. “Devoted to you?” she ridiculed.

“To him.” His tone was dull.

“I would rather kneel to Ubuyashiki’s Pillars,” she growled. “Your nonsense is bovine. Hold your tongue.”

“Many of our kind would sacrifice themselves to… see our lord live, but you would… throw away your life to see him die.” When Kokushibo tilted his head, the thick, ropelike tendrils of his hair swayed, midnight black percolating into glossy crimson. Strands stuck to the viscous gore around his mouth and he pulled them back. “Do you not… think that is a form of devotion?”

Her jaw clenched in indignant ire.

“Your enmity for him will never… be enough for him to kill you.”

“Does this come from one traitor to another?” The gumption of him to look inquisitive, as though he understood nothing, persuaded her to continue, treading on dangerous grounds. “He was your enemy. And I know you became a slayer to imitate your brother, not out of integrity or duty, but did you never once feel the slightest antagonism towards that person? How can you serve a remorseless man who has slaughtered and devoured thousands after once claiming you would put an end to him?”

“Do you revile him for… his carnage?”

Kokushibo was a mess of slick red, a deceitful embodiment of the rivers of Sanzu. Besmirched by her, flaunting thick fluids and stringy sombre clumps, with the gleam of something darkly holy when her blood caught in the fortress’ ochre illumination, but his features were peeled back into a snarl, teeth whetted and splenetic. Claret dressed between them dribbled past his mouth and down the strong, arrogant angle of his jaw; he was too monstrous to be divine, the beast vespers was sung to ward against than to revere, closer to a wolf than a deity as half a dozen eyes narrowed in synchrony and she recalled the time when he had been her sword, and wondered if this blood was of a wound from where he had turned his weapon on her.

“It’s pointless to wage war against a calamity,” she conceded, then groaned as he stroked that spongy bump at the top of her wall in repeated, lazy beckons, the flick of his wrist and the hook of his fingers.

Grotesquely prurient, ichor in the tiny cracks of them, his lips flitted upwards. “Have you… capitulated to him?”

The question gave her pause. Did she submit? After a millennium chained to her lord, she knew she would never be free of him, that his grasp was indefinite and all-consuming, larger than she could fathom. The gods, if any existed, had surely abandoned her long ago, deserted her to his clemency. But Kibutsuji Muzan was not merciful. Cruelty was in his very appellation and thrived in his every word and action; under his dominance, even those who escaped him through his noxious curse perished in agony, humiliating and revolting, when they uttered his name.

“No.” Her finger smudged scarlet as it traced his jaw.

Riled by her answer, Kokushibo tasted the watery flow that clung to his own fingers. “So learn your place,” he chastised. “Besides, where was your… guilt when you feasted on the defenceless child that… carried rare blood in its body, which now… rests in your gut?”

She smiled, despite his nerve. If she was wilful, she was not alone.

“You bleed a constant rage…”

Waning as the moon did, jilted by the inimitable sun, the smile faltered.

“It ebbs and flows… endlessly in your veins. Are you… not weary?”

His bones trembled as her nail lengthened and sliced into his gristle-coated skin, which split with the proficiency of soft carcass under the butcher’s carving knife. Close to his left bottom eye that it seemed like a rose tear trickling, his blood mixed with hers, finer and more lurid. She lifted a rouge fingertip to her lips and gave a languid lick. With the thorn and bristle of marechi, he withered her, but he lacked its lure. She swallowed him, “And you taste of the storm,” and his fury mingled with hers.

Eyes dark, Kokushibo pulled back. “Your contumacy will not… kill you,” he warned, as if he hoped repeating his admonition would cause her to change. Though he was not a man to indulge in delusions.

Her hand snared in his hair. “Then what do I do with this anger?”

“He is your master,” and she loathed the reprimand of his tone, smooth and ugly.

“He is yours,” she corrected, defiant against his caution anyway, claws pricking at his scalp as her lips thinned. “Is there fulfilment for you in being his lapdog?”

“Akaza retains… that responsibility,” he responded dryly.

“Then what are you?”

“His servant.” The kanji in his eyes, indurated sable that whispered of unfaltering centuries of loyalty, fealty cut regal by the blade, gleamed in the flickering flaxen light of the lanterns. So are you, it rebuked.

She shifted, threading his locks between her fingers. “His ever-faithful Upper Moon One. The strongest of his subordinates, staunchly dutiful to our master,” the word was spat, but eased as she continued with a malicious lilt, “spread for him. Taken by him. Ravaged by him.”

Kokushibo’s eyes flashed. “Why does he allow a woman like you… to roam untethered?”

Oozing furrows were dragged out across his roots. “When did questioning that person become your position?”

“I... am his associate.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when he’s wedging his cock down your throat?”

Rivulets of red ran from his scalp where his hair lay matted, his beautiful strands spoiled by the knots they were weaved into. She reached out, a hand around the thick trunk of his neck, and wrenched him forward until their noses were near touching. Releasing its tight grip around his oesophagus, her hand crawled upwards, spiderlike, stopping its pilgrimage at a flame which befouled his pale flesh. The mark stretched from the right of his sharp jaw, down the side of that strong neck to his collarbone, her fingers descending beneath the white rim of his relic kimono. She brought her lips to his ear, fingertips dancing over the crimson crest as she felt his pulse, faster than it ought to be for a being of tenacious stoicism. Against the shell of his ear, as all his eyes shifted right to follow her, she crooned in a whisper, “Samurai-sama.”

Kokushibo turned to stone, scarlet trickling down his chin and splashing her naked calves. Then he recoiled, swift as a blade sheathed, pulse spiking further and noble face hardening. Her gaze dropped to between his legs, to where the carnal ache of him protruded through the obsidian layers of his hakama.

“A woman like you ought to have her tongue cut,” he snapped.

“Well,” as she began to play with herself, Kokushibo traced every movement with captivated attentiveness, the arch of her back, the heave of her breasts under her robes—with his Transparent World her clothing could be no obstacle, but, whether principle or that men like him preferred the notion of undressing those they lay with, unwrapping their prize, he never indulged in perversion of that kind—the glisten of arousal garnishing her, the cruor dripping out to nestle in the creases of her lips, “I’m certainly glad your tongue is intact.”

While he regarded her with contempt under long lashes, the heat of his groin did not dissipate, a rapt need to slide between her. His breaths were heavy, chest she knew was bedecked with fierce muscle rising under the affluent fabric of his clothing. She paused. “Doma…” she started.

The moment that name was out of her mouth, her curiosity, storm’s gale she had never been able to overcome, was assuaged as his expression soured like fruit gone grossly rotten. Nobody in the Moons would pull out the false diviner from under the sun if he were to be struck by it.

Kokushibo rested his chin atop her imbrued mons. “What kind of slut lies with… a man and speaks of another… male she’s bedded?”

“Don’t insult me if you lack virility where your subordinate doesn’t,” she hummed. “At least I’ve never been reamed open by our master. How much honour did you have, mighty swordsman, when he sodomised you against your will?”

Tapered teeth glistened as Kokushibo glowered.

“You’ve always been undeserving of what I gave you.”

“Perhaps, but… our blood still call to each other.”

Such was devastation’s path. In fleeting wonder, she pondered how many had died to their hands over the distorting centuries. “Then you defile me. We are contaminated by the other. We are filth.”

Kokushibo healed, each gash she had carved into him during irascible delectation repaired by regenerating skin, his hair smoothing out the knots from heady red.

“Filth resonates with filth,” she told him as he pushed her to the floor and tore apart the rest of her kimono with insolent dare, for though her womb had quietened it was not yet silent. “Our blood endure a murky stream,” as he left cochineal fingerprints across her breasts, exposed to him as he lowered his lips to one and suckled with neither care nor violence, but with a rhythm that had her racked in a feverish shiver.

“In a just world, I’d see you… swell and distend with… the weight of my seed,” Kokushibo murmured against her teat, flicking his tongue against it and watching it erect. She blanched.

When his fingers entered her this time, they were not kind, but curled with purpose. They buried deep within her, pumped in and out in time to how he toyed with her nipples, one clasped between the serrated ends of his canine teeth and the other caressed by the hand not thrust within her, rolling it as he kneaded the fullness of her breast on his palm. Stuttered breaths seeped from her open mouth as she smarted from him, yearned in earthquake-like shaking, the coil in her stomach tightening as she clenched around him. 

“We bleed sacrilege,” she gasped, and soaked him in her exhilaration.

Sudden warmth ensconced her as he withdrew from her breast, a string of vermilion saliva snapping, and hid his face in the crook of her neck in a jarring imitation of affection, but it came not from the abrupt facet of affinity and nor was it born of the gratification that had just flown through her, a gentle current now turbulent with terror. Her gaze sidled over the steel thew of Kokushibo to the figure in the corner of the small room. His aura was as weak as it had been when their paths had first met, devoid of killing intent or bloodlust. A chilling resemblance to the Upper Moon demon marked him, but he was distinctly human—and distinctly dead, she reminded herself; yet here he was, defying the laws of the universe once again, and that scared her more than those sixty years after coming across him—with his hanafuda earrings and his soft maroon eyes, connecting with her own.

Cold terror dredged upwards like the pull of limbs from seaweed’s shackles, a fear that had never been conquered despite the centuries separating that night and now. Kokushibo took notice of her stiffened limbs, but in his fatalistic arrogance assumed it was his doing and continued rubbing at her clit in concentrated circles, still resting at her neck.

The Sun Breather stepped forward, face resolute in its emptiness. Vacant gaze, hollow expression. In life, he had never smiled, so Kokushibo had told her. She wondered if a person like Tsugikuni Yoriichi had ever had anything to smile about.

“Leave now,” she whispered to the apparition’s brother. “You’ve fulfilled your purpose.”

Kokushibo’s fangs left her neck and he frowned down at her, bemused. “Stay,” he said, moving his hands up to the slope of her shoulders as if in preparation to hold her in place.

“Stay?” Humouring the lingering note in his request.

“Beneath me.”

“Would you have me like that?”

His hakama rustled with his movement, the grind of his hips, the hardness of him taut and desperate to break free as it rubbed against swollen lips hidden under a thatch of raven hair. “How many men have… had that pleasure?”

“Not Doma,” she confessed.

“Not Doma,” he agreed in pride, then, embittered, “feminised by your wiles… Let me take you as… you should be taken. Under me.”

“Will he kill me then?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Yoriichi ventured another step, only a centimetre but enough to make her skin smoulder with memory. No, she would not die. Not to her master’s cells, not to the Sun Breather’s ruby sword. Across a thousand years, a single opportunity had come to her, a scalding escape, but Yoriichi had failed to take her head.

Years upon years later, here she lay, a man aneled in her blood looming over her with hungry eyes and hungrier cock while a universe beyond her comprehension played games with her.

Although the unworldly dimension of the Infinity Castle protected them from day’s influence, she and the other demon suddenly tensed in unison nonetheless. All Kibutsuji’s mutant creations felt the surface of dawn, a knell within the fibre of their bones to warn them of their only predator. It came with a hounding instinct to run, even if one was safe from the sun’s culling reach. To run and run until the blest recitals of matins was inundated with unfolding nightlight.

As daybreak erupted in another realm, Amaterasu’s sacred child faded, though not before his lips opened and moved with the motion of talk. Nothing audible departed from him. Her heart pounded against the confinement of her chest. Kokushibo finally realised she was glaring past him and turned to follow, greeted by a void corner. When he looked back at her, he discovered no one under him and muttered her name beneath a churlish breath.

“What reason have you to remain? Leave,” she repeated, by the fusuma. Sweat mellowed her body, throbbing from the aftermath of multiple climaxes, but a darker heat piqued within her as she scrutinised his ensanguined form, the wet mess of his face and hands. “You won’t send me to the gallows, Kokushibo, but something worse. Go.”

He towered over her in the blink of an eye. “I don’t… understand you. Women—”

“You don’t need to.”

Bold, he outstretched his hand and splayed his palm in the valley between her breasts, feeling the hammer of her heart. “Do not think me cunt-struck,” the fingers there decayed from paramour’s caress to the scuttling perfidy of insect legs, straining for prey as they made way down a breast and sullied it shimmering cardinal. He groped at her, the roughness men didn’t care enough to reign in. Their teeth nipped and nails scratched. Always squeezing and grabbing. “You will not treat me… like one of your whores, disregarded… once I’ve made you come,” and he placed emphasis on those final words, conceit blatant.

Kokushibo was an animal. The closest of the Moons to Kibutsuji in terms of power. It was only natural, in all the unnaturalness of demons, that he should be so mutant and repulsive, so it puzzled her that she found him beautiful. It, she supposed, was the beauty of a thing ethereal, or perhaps transient; a sacrificed animal, immolated by an unknown force. He was the bleeding lamb, the shot and limping cur, that which was so harrowing it could not be turned away from, the morbid fascination that stirred delight in the sickest minds.

Still, as the lamb bolted from the hand that reached to console it, and bodies withered and mortified from the undertaker’s embrace, his beauty spilled into evanescence. Butterfly wings broke when touched. He mouldered and came to fester a violent, disturbing darkness. While she dwelled on this, he made his move. Pushing her down, mounted above her with the full weight of his strapping form, shoving three virulent fingers inside her.

She pelted him with a livid glare. “I’ll defer when that man dies.” For she would not submit now. That went unspoken, but he heard it. Perhaps his samurai teachings to adhere to greater strength was the only reason his cock remained clothed. 

“Do you… crave death so badly?” Covering her body with his own, he slotted a fourth finger in. The delicate lining of her womanhood stung, his nails nicking as they danced inside her.

“Are you killing me?” she mused. Viridian claws slashed at his violet-ebony kimono, finding purchase in his broad shoulders. Mordancy dripped from her tone like how blood trickled down the hard ridges of his torso.

“Death will not give you peace.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t, but this life was far from pleasant. Though she shook her head at him, Kokushibo drove into her with vigour, the scourge of a whip. She shoved at his chest, his moonlight skin sickly pale, but he did not budge and, in some irreligious depth of her where she ached for this, the intemperate madness of sinners who trod the thin line of destruction and endurance, she was glad for it.

“Stop this,” but her words sounded empty to even herself. He didn’t, because he was a man who took what he wanted and obeyed the whims of only one other beside himself. Audacious, apathetic, awful, he inserted his thumb, then pushed the entirety of his fist inside her. A snarl tore from her throat, and his other hand came to close around that. He did not squeeze, but the mere presence of him around her neck was the potent pressure of a noose. Wet slaps rebounded in her ears as he twisted his fist, drawing his knuckles against her. She burned as if ablaze as she stretched to accommodate the violation.

Why was he here? What had he come for beside the sweet, metallic taste of cunt and the clench of red insides? It was something born of a selfish motivation, she figured that. No different or better than her. Though someone of his station should not act on self-serving wants.

Farther Kokushibo breached. To her unease, her body did little to prevent him. “I thought this was altruism?” she hissed.

His thumb pressed against her jugular, some vile punishment for opening her mouth. It marked her with a hue of cerise, an eager bruise blossoming under the skin. “This is not amity.” By the drag of a craven’s fingertips, veneration was rescinded. “It is… contrition. Yours.”

Bellicose blood smeared her, slewed down the inside of her thigh, not her moonblood, but thinner, of a greater, brighter constitution. Venous, drawn from a wounded and maimed creature, dismal and writhing like a worm on a hook. The hardness of her cervix turned friable. There was a knife—or a sword, she thought wryly, and wondered if he would fuck her with his disgusting katana if he could—in her cunt and it stabbed its way to where no foreign intrusion should have. She spasmed, wrenched out the arm of the hand clasping her smarting neck and suddenly they were both bathed in sticky red, tepid as it gushed from Kokushibo’s socket. It reeked. Not of them, but of him, the laden scent of Kibutsuji. Vessels for his violence, clawing at each other like rabid dogs, fuelled by the instinct to tarnish and impair, the need to rip apart with teeth and talons. They were nothing if not that man’s vestigial reflection; as Kokushibo hollowed her out and the sordid point of his nails pricked at the firm, barred organ of her cervix, it was not the samurai that penetrated, but his lord. A maggot burrowing away, carrying a corrosive disease. There was sin in their veins and it ate at them.  

“Warm my bed,” said Kokushibo, too frustrated to be a growl, too stark to be a plead. A demand, one which she spat at him for, all noble airs abandoned. He flinched as if her saliva cauterised. She hoped it did, hoped that his patience was a manacle and not frangible thread. She had seen what monstrosities cultivated within sullied wombs; the devils seized out of broken hellmouths in downpours of black ichor; the thousand deaths endured in pregnancy, in childbed, in motherhood. That was not a desirable end. It was not true death, but something beyond it, worse and unending, and men were baleful enough to inflict it on any wench they deemed deserving.

Depraved in the way ruby tainted rare moons, Kokushibo gouged her in repeated blows, battering the closed pale-pink neck of her uterus. She wept as his cursed touch shed more of her flesh than her own body could. A malevolent torrent of something she couldn’t put a name to raged within the leaking fissures of her. Here, raising a hand that trembled as it pressed his cool cheek, she was close enough to delve out his awful eyes, to slit his neck, to divaricate his limbs. Close enough to devour him.

But she wouldn’t. An insidious weakness.

When she yanked his savage fist out of her, she freed herself of her cage as well as gaoler. Torn from her insides, the pear shape of her womb, hot and rosy, and aperture of her cervix. Arteries and veins fell like tears, burst like shattered mosaic. She threw the poison in her system to the floor, where it soaked the wood with her diseased red, and relished the surprise on his face.

Kokushibo scanned the consecrated blood daubing him, then his gaze scraped her, fibrous sclera and aureate irises glowing, pupils blown. All they were was blood. They rotted with it, congealed and decayed until there was no trace of who they had been, only the stench of who they had slaughtered. They were their victims’ legacies, harbouring so many ghosts.

Crucifying agony dulled with each passing second. Already her body was repairing itself, working against her as it always had, cancer regenerating within her. Kokushibo rose and she stepped back, bare before him like an offering, though she was not sure what virgin oblation she could be when she had already been eaten; she could not consume him when he had consumed her, and from that she knew he was desecration. Vitiated in the spoils of him, she fled to ensconce herself within the umbrage of endless slanting corridors, praying they would guttle her too.

[iridescent-petrichor]

i'm not me without you

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Warnings: drinking mention

Words: 1.8K

You sat on the couch fiddling with a bracelet you stole from JJ years ago while your mom stood in front of you, in the middle of another lecture about you being friends with the pogues.

Coming from Figure Eight, you were introduced to the pogues through Kiara when you were kids, and it felt like your mom had something new to say about it every week.

“You should really stop seeing them.” Your mom continues, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks down at you.

You stay quiet, hoping she’ll get bored and find something else to complain about if you just sit there and take it long enough.

“I don’t believe they have your best interest at heart!” Her words make you frown, and you glare up at her.

“Are you kidding me? They’ve always had my best interest at heart!” You can’t help but argue. So much for staying quiet.

“Did they have your best interest at heart when they made you sneak out and I only found out you were gone when I got a call from the hospital that you sprained your ankle?”

You roll your eyes. She loves using that night against you.

The truth was you were the one that suggested sneaking out. You were bored all week, so you texted them to pick you up. It was all going perfectly fine until you jumped down a slight cliff, landing wrong and spraining your ankle. When you couldn’t walk, the pogues went into panic mode, and John B drove you to the hospital.

“We don’t mix with the pogues.” Your mom continues, clearly not letting up anytime soon.

“What about Kie? She’s friends with the pogues!” You try, but from the way your mom sighs, you realize you shouldn’t have said anything.

“And her parents are very disappointed in her. Is that what you want? To be a disappointment?” She says, making you freeze.

“Kie is-” You hesitate when you see the look on her face. Part of you wants to fight back, defend your friends like you know they’d defend you, but another part of you knows it’ll be easier to just back down.

“Well?” Your mom looks at you expectantly.

“…No, I don’t.” You mutter, staring hard at the ground.

“They don’t care about you.” She says, so casually that you have to blink a few times to even realize what she said.

“Yes, they do.” Despite how defeated you feel, you can’t help but speak up. “They care about me.”

Your mom rolls her eyes. “Oh please, I thought I raised you to be smarter than that.”

Without another word, she walks out of the room, leaving you frozen solid on the couch. Instinctively, you take off your bracelet to turn it over in your hands. It was a simple beaded bracelet, one you snatched from the guestroom at John B’s, which had unofficially become JJ’s room.

You couldn’t help but let her words sink in, the shred of insecurity within you building the more you stared down at the bracelet.

It wasn’t intentional, but you felt yourself distancing from the rest of the pogues. Your resolve was weak, and you let your mom drag you to every dumb kook party she found out about.

At first, JJ texted you every day. His texts started out asking when you were free, telling you about times to meet up with the rest of the group. Slowly, they transitioned into asking if the two of you could talk, or asking if you could make time to see the pogues. Then, the final text he sent you was one you stared at for hours.

I miss you.

You wanted to respond, but the guilt was overwhelming. Every part of you was convinced that they hated you, that you could never come crawling back to the pogues.

So you turned off your phone, shoving it into your purse as you continued to get ready for whatever event your mom was bringing you to this time.

You didn’t enjoy any of them, and you just spent the entire time standing in the corner. Every time, you’d start the night off by grabbing a drink, and the adults would look away. After all, a kook can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.

After being forced along to enough parties, there was a small group you’d become acquainted with. They were a trio of kook girls who would rather talk about their status and which boy they want to take to Midsummers rather than anything of substance, but you made do with what you could.

It took almost two months before JJ even saw you again.

Someone had thrown a party at the Boneyard, and of course, it was packed. There were kooks, tourons, and pogues all mingling. It was the kind of night that ended in a fight half the time, but it seemed to be smooth sailing for now.

JJ stood with Kiara, Pope, and John B with an untouched drink in his hand, turning when he heard a crowd of people cheering.

It was a circle of kooks, and he frowned when he noticed what they were all focused on.

In the middle of the crowd of people, you were stood, chugging a beer faster than the rich kid in front of you.

JJ’s grip on his drink tightens, and he can’t take his eyes off you. He couldn’t help but remember the way you used to be, and wonder what went wrong.

“Is that your first drink?” JJ asked, wrapping an arm around you.

You laughed, raising the still nearly full cup. “Yep.”

“Wow,” He drawled. “Look out, we got a party animal on our hands!”

You shoved him playfully, smiling from ear to ear when you heard JJ’s laughter. “Someone has to be sober enough to drive you idiots home!”

JJ nodded, looking over at John B who was shotgunning a beer, then to Kiara who had convinced Pope to smoke a joint with her.

“You’re probably right, princess.”

“What’s got you all riled up?” John B asked, noticing the way JJ’s jaw clenched.

Kiara and Pope turned their attention to him as well, the three of them all following his gaze to you.

“Oh.” Was all Kiara said, her heart dropping at the sight of you. The two of you had been best friends, and she was beyond hurt by the distance you put between them.

“Didn’t know she could drink like that,” Pope said quietly, glancing at Kie.

More than anything, JJ wanted to go back to the party, and hanging out with his friends, but once he took a few steps, he knew there was no turning back.

He barely got away from the group before Kiara grabbed his arm, pulling him back slightly. “JJ, she left for a reason. We shouldn’t meddle.”

He looked at her for a moment. The concern in her eyes mimicked his own, and he knew she was just as worried about your new drinking habits as he was. Still, she was stronger than him, and when he looked back at you and saw you losing your balance, he shook his head.

“There’s no world where I’m leaving her alone surrounded by kooks when she can barely stand.”

Kiara lets him go, knowing it was no use, and he shoves through the crowd, ignoring the glares and whispers from the kooks as he does. When he manages to get to the front of the circle they made around you, he sees you talking to a kid named Brian. JJ had only interacted with him a few times, back when he had a shitty waiter job at a fancy restaurant on Figure Eight. The kid never tipped, and always treated the waitstaff – especially JJ – like they were less than scum.

You took a step back, tripping over your own two feet and almost falling over.

JJ rushed forward, catching you just before you hit the sand.

“I got you.” He whispers, helping you stand back up.

The second his arms were around you, steadying you, he could feel you leaning on him for support. It took a moment for you to look up at him with tired eyes, brows furrowing when you saw his face.

“JJ?”

He nods, forcing a smile. He shifts so he has an arm around your waist, helping you along. “Let’s get you outta here.”

You want to protest, especially when you hear the kooks whispering as you walk past them, but you don’t have the strength as he walks you to the Twinkie.

When he opens the back, gently helping you onto the floor of the van, you feel tears sting your eyes. It had been so long since you’d been in John B’s car, and it was almost too much for you.

JJ searched the van quickly, grabbing his backpack off one of the seats and fishing through it until he found a water bottle, handing it to you.

“Here,” He watches you take it with a small smile on his face. “Let me help you.”

You take a long drink, gulping the water down before looking up at him, tears in your eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Is all you could say, eyelids heavy when you hand the water bottle back.

“I know.” He whispers, gently setting the water bottle down and climbing out of the van. “I’ll be right back.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, feeling warm and tired from the alcohol. A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying hard not to cry.

Just being back in John B’s van was enough for everything to come back to you. Everything you’d told yourself you’d be better off without was confronting you dead on now, and you couldn’t hold back.

By the time JJ got back, you couldn’t stop crying.

“Alright,” He climbed into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he froze. “Whoa, hey, are you okay?”

You barely nod, trying to wipe your tears away.

Quickly, he moves to the back of the van again, kneeling in front of you.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His voice was impossibly gentle, in a way you didn’t realize was reserved just for you.

“I missed you.” You say quietly, voice breaking painfully.

He reaches forward, wiping away the tears on your face. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes.

“I missed you too.” The crack in his voice makes you open your eyes, seeing a tear slip down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, sniffling.

In an instant, JJ’s pulling you close. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. When he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you were half convinced you’d hallucinated it.

“I shouldn’t have left.” You say, voice muffled by his embrace.

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispers back like his words are meant for you and you alone. “I know. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I promise.” You say, feeling a weight leave your chest. It feels like you can finally breathe again. “I promise.”