#i told myself i'd sleep by 11

[heartsoji]

my first day back from break and i've stayed up till 1:30

[peonyprophet]

Thank you to my therapist, for being the only voice of reason in my life. Mwah.

[loveharlow]

hi :)

i love your writing! could i request an ajax x reader fic where the reader gets hurt and ajax gets all protective over them and angry with the person who hurt them, sort of angsty

thank you!!

ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

PAIRING ‧₊˚ Ajax Petropolus x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS ‧₊˚ [1.7k] Ajax is bit protective of his girlfriend and wants to keep her safe. So when a recently erratic redhead catches her in the Nightshades archives, he isn't too pleased.

WARNING(S) ‧₊˚ swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild violence, Rowan loosing his shit, angry!ajax, mild angst

A/N ‧₊˚ I'm not tryna villainize Rowan , I just needed a conflict. RIP ma boy. PS - To all my gif makers, we need more Ajax gifs please, I will pay you 😭 (not literally I'm broke)

Hope this is good enough for you, anon!

˗ˏˋ ajax masterlist ˎˊ˗

I WAS IN THE NIGHTSHADES LIBRARY, SLUMPED AGAINST ONE OF THE SUPPORT BEAMS AS I READ THE BOOK I’D BEEN STUCK ON FOR THE PAST WEEK. A bowl of grapes on one side of me, occasionally dipping my hand in to grab a few and plop them in my mouth, eyes scanning word after word, paying no mind to my surroundings.

That was, until I heard the familiar screeching of the statue opening to the library. My face screwed in mild confusion, not expecting anyone to be coming. Especially at this hour — it was half past 11 and I should have very well been in my dorm, sleeping. But what Weems and the other staff didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

The footsteps that descended the curved staircases were heavy and frantic, tattered sneakers coming into view as they practically flew down the steps. Fully lifting my head from the worn pages of the novel I was reading, I waited to see who had entered the library — seeing as only a handful of people knew it existed.

However, the face that followed was unexpected. A head of red hair and glasses — what was Rowan doing here? He got kicked out weeks ago. 

He didn’t seem to notice me as he eagerly scanned the bookshelves for…whatever it was he was looking for.

He looked stressed…erratic. Almost like a wild animal, if I’m being honest. He’d been acting strange ever since the new girl showed up but he looked worse than he did when we told him we couldn’t keep him around a couple weeks back. He had deep, red bags under his eyes and his hair looked like he either hadn’t touched it in days or couldn’t stop touching it. 

I let the grape clenched between my fingers fall into the bowl and let the book fall shut, the sudden noise causing the boy to whip around until he set his eyes on me. His shaky gaze went wide before hardening into a glare that I chose to ignore.

Setting the book on the ground, I stood slowly, dusting off my pants as I did so. “Rowan, shouldn’t be in here. You’re not a Nightshade, anymore.” I stated, keeping my distance.

“Y/n…” He muttered my name as if he was scared, putting his hands palm-side down in front of him as he inched closer. “I just need one thing. You don’t have to tell anyone I was here. I’ll be in and out, ’kay? I-I swear.”

I shook my head with regret, hugging myself close with the sleeves of my sweater pulled over my hands. “Rowan, I can’t- It’s not up to me. And even if it was, I'd tell you the same thing. You’ve been off lately…” I spoke meekly, not wanting to set him off as it has been easy to do that lately. Too easy. Dangerously easy.

His eyes squinted, his motions to come closer halting in a heartbeat. A deep scowl formed on his face. “Off? I’ve been off?” He laughed bitterly, looking up at the library ceiling. “That’s really funny coming from one of the elitist assholes who kicked me out of their little secret society the second I didn’t fit your standards anymore.” He snapped, throwing his hand out at me.

My head fell to the side as he spoke, lips parting to speak. “We kicked you out, Rowan, because you were losing your shit and we got sick of your tantrums. It seems not much has changed.” I reprimanded sternly. He started to take slow, calculated steps towards me. So, I started to walk around him, my back going from facing the support beams to me standing in front of the bookshelf, Rowan never taking his eyes off of me. We circled one another, almost taking the others place, with him now standing close to my abandoned book and bowl of grapes. “You’re dangerous. To yourself and us. And we don’t want to get caught up with whatever theory you’re chasing.”

“It's not a theory! It’s-” He took a deep breath, pinching the skin between his brows. “Damn it! Why are all of you so oblivious?! You can’t see the real danger that’s right in front of you-”

He was becoming volatile and unpredictable, in his words and movements. Grasping at his hair as his face became a deep, angry shade of red. “Rowan, you should leave.”

“NO! No, I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for-” He spoke quickly, his words jumbling together. He started towards me, in long strides and I almost didn’t see him coming. I wasn’t thinking clearly and he was starting to scare me.

“Rowan!” I shouted, the sound echoing of the walls and halting his movements. “Just go! I don’t want to hurt you but you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I need the book…” He muttered, eyes glancing over the tiles on the floor frantically.

“What-”

“Just give me the damn book!” He shouted, finally snapping.

His right hand shot out and I could feel my body leave the floor as I flew back, my head hitting the wood of the bookshelves, disorienting me for a few moments. My head was spinning and the room was split into two as I tried to regain my consciousness. 

All of a sudden, what sounded like two pairs of footsteps were trampling down the steps, two blurry figures coming into view and shouting at Rowan. Inaudible statements I couldn’t make out. 

When my senses balanced back out, I could finally see the two people who’d entered the hidden library — Ajax and Bianca, shouting worriedly at Rowan.

“What the hell?! Stop!”

“Rowan, let her go!”

Rowan was simply shaking his head and squinting his eyes so tight, it had to have hurt. It looked like he was trying to block out his own thoughts and failing miserably. 

“Mmm.. shut up!” The angry boy shouted, causing his psychic hold on me to somehow put more pressure on my chest, constricting my airflow as I gasped for air — my chest was caving in. And if he didn't let me down, I knew I might die.

“You’re gonna kill her! Put her down!” Bianca pleaded. None of us were thinking straight. I looked ahead at my best friend and boyfriend, my eyes watering in struggle as my fists clenched at nothing. 

They spared a glance at one another before Ajax was reaching up at his beanie, going to tug it off before Bianca stopped him — shaking her head ‘no’ before she was marching up to Rowan and throwing his shoulder back.

Using her siren voice to force him into capitulation. “Put her down.”

Rowan's hands fell to his side limply, my lungs filling with air as my body slid rapidly down the wood of bookshelves and Ajax sped across the room as fast as he could to catch my frame before it collided with the hard floor.

His arms went under me, holding me bridal style before sitting down and lifting my head onto his lap, rubbing my cheek with one hand as I gripped the sleeve of his hoodie with mine.

“Breathe, it’s okay. You’re okay, it's alright. I got you...” he coaxed as I caught my breath.

Once I was breathing, shakily but breathing nonetheless, his head snapped to Rowan who was arguing to Bianca. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled. “You could have killed her!”

“Ajax, it’s fine.” His gaze whipped back down to me, his glare harsh and angry — frightened. 

“Fine?” He said incredulously. “That wasn’t fine! He isn’t even supposed to be here. This is why we kicked him to the curb in the first place.” He ranted, turning back to Rowan who looked regretful about his actions but not necessarily sorry. “Because we knew some shit like this was bound to happen!” 

“I didn’t mean to...She was-”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Ajax said lowly, his eyes hard and dark. 

“You need to leave.” Bianca said sternly, arms crossed and eyes dead-set on him. Rowan stood in his place, stuttering like a fish out of water before she spoke again, much more conviction in her tone. “Now.”

Then the boy was dipping his head down and rushing up the stairs and out of the library. “Next time I see you, I’ll kick your ass!” Ajax shouted after him. He wasn’t the type to make threats but stoners had a type of strength like no other, so it wasn't one to be taken lightly.

Bianca rushed over to me who was now sitting up slow out of Ajax’s lap.

“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. I nodded, coughing lightly once or twice. Ajax had a hand set on my back as I allowed my head to fall onto his chest, his free hand coming up to cradle my head.

“Thank you.” I muttered, voice still shaky. “But, why were you guys down here?”

Bianca smiled pitifully and rubbed her hand up and down my forearm. “I woke up and you weren't in the dorm, I got worried. I asked Ajax if you were with him and he said no, said he had an idea where you might be.”

“I told you to stop coming down here alone.” Ajax reminded firmly, looking down at me from where I was perched against his chest. I muttered an ‘I know’ and a ‘sorry’ before letting my arms go around his waist and hug him closer. Bianca let her hand fall from my arm, sending us both a look before bidding goodnight and leaving the library. 

Ajax and I sat like that for a while before he moved to stand, my arms falling from him as he rose. Dusting off his pajama pants, he outstretched a hand to help me stand. I wrapped both of my arms around one of his as we left the library together — my bowl of grapes and book abandoned and long forgotten.

When we got outside, I clung to him tighter as a chill swept by, my lungs thanking the breeze. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He didn’t stop walking as he leaned to kiss the top of my forehead. “‘Course you can.” He replied as we continued to walk together.

We made it to his room without being caught, going inside and getting comfortable under his covers. It wasn’t long before we clung to each so close, you couldn’t tell where he started and I ended.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. But I promise I won’t let it happen again.” He assured me sleepily.

“I know., but it wasn't your fault.” I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. “Love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He muttered, lifting my chin to peck my lips before allowing me to bury my face into his chest once more. His arms tugged me closer. I knew he was still fuming from what happened and I'd have to try and talk him down from potentially killing Rowan, or recruit Xavier to do it for me. In a weird way, I found it endearing to know he cared so much. But I don't like to see him upset.

And even though my chest still felt heavy and achy, and I’d have to sneak back to the girl’s dorm at the crack of dawn praying not to be spotted by Weems or the teachers — I knew it’d be okay.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[little-pissbaby]

@amazingphil @danielhowell just making extra sure these words gently caress your eyeballs. there's also a special message for viewers at the end.

That sense of impending doom is TERRIFYING. There is no feeling quite like knowing your life is very possibly about to end. It makes whatever pain you were feeling at the time forgettable, all that's left is every alarm bell going off at once saying something is deeply and dangerously wrong.

I had a heart attack when I was 21. I talk about it all the time, it was the catalyst for having genetic testing done and revealing that I have a brand new genetic variant causing Long QT Syndrome type 11. All I remember from that day was the feeling deep in my chest that something was wrong, but I was in a hospital so I was going to be fine. I'm terrified of overexerting myself and having a second one.

I had a stroke when I was 24, it was a stupidly rare complication of my wisdom teeth extraction. I know it was the worst headache I'd ever had up to that point, but all I remember is staring at florescent lights and screaming that I needed a hospital.

I've had several anaphylactic reactions before, once where I stopped breathing completely. It took two doses of epi to get me restarted. All I can hope is that my brother wasn't too traumatized by basically watching me die.

I've faced death countless times and it does not get easier. My partner couldn't sleep if I coughed even a little, it took three years for him to be okay sleeping as long as I was awake if he want. Three years for him to stop lurching upright in bed at the slightest hint of a cough or whispered "help me".

My point is that both sides of this are immensely traumatic. Tell your people you love them, hold them a little tighter, a little longer, give the homies extra goodnight kisses. Anything to help keep the trauma at bay while you fulfill non-reschedulable obligations like, for instance, an entire world tour.

I wish I could lend an ear to listen and a voice to commiserate with. I wish I could provide a comprehensive list of banger jokes relating to medical trauma and the lives led by both those of us who are sickly and not meant for this world, and our partners who live in a constant state of Hospital Time™.

Enjoy that olympian blood, philly 💪use it to win an athletic Dan vs Phil 🥇

p.s. Phil, if no one has told you yet, you should definitely see a rheumatologist about the possibility of you having Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. I think Dan will have lots of fun reading articles about it and going "SEE? I TOLD YOU THAT'S WEIRD", which is exactly how my partner reacted to my LQTS and EDS diagnoses

p.p.s. to everyone who listened to Dan and Phil tell a genuinely terrifying story that nearly ended in tragedy, it's okay and very normal for that to make you anxious and afraid of your own upcoming tests and procedures. my inbox is always open if anyone needs to talk, whether it's about upcoming medical things and the fear they bring or it's about literally anything else because you just need a distraction. love you guys 💙💜

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has a surprise of his own. And while you're already not feeling well, he hates to bring home some bad news for you.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, and swearing

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

When you heard Bradley pull the Bronco back into the driveway, it was well past noon, and you had finally managed to get up and get dressed for the day. The trip to Maryland had you exhausted, both mentally and physically. You felt like you could sleep for the rest of the day as you rubbed your eyes behind your glasses.

Tramp ran for the front door when he heard Bradley coming inside. "I'm glad you're back, Roo. He needs to go out for a walk," you called from the kitchen where you were making yourself some fresh coffee. "Do you want some coffee?"

He came in wearing jeans and a tank with his Hawaiian shirt draped over one shoulder. And he had a hesitant grin on his face.

"Why are you wearing that?" you asked as you stirred cream into your coffee. "I thought you went golfing. Jake even texted me and told me you were doing an abysmal job, and that you lost six balls on the fifteenth fairway."

"Last time I ask Jake for a favor," Bradley muttered under his breath. He pulled the Hawaiian shirt away from his body, and you saw that his right bicep had plastic wrap around it, taped in place against his skin.

Your lips parted but no sound came out. You instinctively knew he had a tattoo on his arm that wasn't there this morning when you were in bed together, but you couldn't turn those thoughts into words. He took a step closer to you, and you met his eyes.

"What did you do?" you asked softly as your heart pounded. 

Bradley held his arm out and flexed his bicep against the plastic wrap for you. You were looking at a brand new tattoo alright. On the inside of his bicep. A paper airplane nearly the size of your hand, with Baby Girl written across it in a pretty script.

Where your tattoo was a dainty, private ode to the love of your life, his was bigger, bolder, and out in the open for everyone to see. 

"I hope you like it, Baby Girl, because it's not going anywhere."

"You didn't have to do that," you whispered, but you knew you were smiling now as you ran your fingers across the plastic.

Bradley pulled you against him so suddenly you squeaked. 

"Never thought I'd fall in love. Never thought I'd settle down. Never thought I'd be with someone who makes everything better. I never thought I'd love someone or something enough to get it tattooed on myself, but here we are, Sweetheart."

You kissed him softly and whispered, "You must really love me. That's a big tattoo."

"I'm going to love you forever. And I want everyone to see it," he said, guiding you back against the island. When you opened your mouth to say something, he put his finger over your lips and shook his head. "Not your tattoo though. That one's just for me, right?" 

His voice was so deep and raspy, and his finger was still on your lips. You had to squeeze your thighs together, you were so turned on. Of course he noticed right away and wedged his thigh in between your legs as he started to devour your lips. 

You rocked your body against his leg and whimpered as Bradley started to undo his belt, but you pulled it through the loops and dropped it to the floor. Then you added his tank to the pile just before he dropped to the floor on his knees in front of you. 

"This one is just for me to see," he told you as he eased your sweatpants down. You weren't even wearing any underwear which made him grin up at you before he kissed you all over your tattoo. Just as you were getting used to his mustache against your hip, he moved his mouth to start licking your pussy, and you let your fingers drag through his hair before gabbing on. 

"You're really wet, Baby Girl," he remarked, licking it all up. 

"You got a tattoo for me! Of course I'm wet!"

He muttered, "Now you know how I felt yesterday," before getting you off with his mouth. 

While you were still enjoying the waves of your orgasm, Bradley was helping you step out of your sweatpants, and next thing you knew, he had you sitting on the very edge of the island. And he was fucking you with his jeans and underwear down around his knees with his shoes still on.

"That's so fucking hot," you mumbled when you looked at his arm. He slammed into you hard, and it felt like you were going to topple off the edge of the counter. "Bradley!" you screamed, wrapping your legs around him and digging your manicured nails into his back. 

He moaned so loudly next to your ear as he fucked you harder. "I got you, Baby Girl."

You were still so sensitive from your orgasm that everything he was doing felt overwhelming. You dragged your fingernails down lower on his back, and he groaned your name with his face tipped toward the ceiling. But he was fucking you so hard and pulling you toward the edge of the counter at the same time. 

"Bradley!" you screamed again, this time with a laugh. 

"I told you I got you, Baby Girl." He did have a vice-like grip on your body with his left arm, but you still dug your nails in again as he railed you until you were screaming. 

Bradley pulled himself out of your grasp, and you felt your nails dig along his back again as he was suddenly tipping you back against the island and pulled your shirt up. 

"Just for me," he groaned as he stroked himself three times and came all over your tattoo. You watched his cum coat the skin along your belly, hip and pussy, covering nearly all of the ink. 

As his cum dripped onto your thigh and the countertop, Bradley leaned down and reached for your face. "I love you. So much," he promised, kissing along your lips and cheeks as he stroked your jaw. "I was ready to tattoo myself with your name as soon as we met. I don't want you to think there's any other reason I got this today than the fact that I love you so much I want everyone to see it. Okay?"

"Okay, Roo," you told him as he rubbed your cheek with his nose. "You've never given me any reason to doubt you."

---------------------------

Bradley cleaned you up and carried you back to bed, because you told him you were still tired. But when he set you down in bed, you reached out and unwrapped his tattoo. 

"I just want to touch it for real," you whispered with a grin, tracing the black outline of the paper airplane and then tracing the letters with your index finger. "I really like it. It looks like it belongs on you."

Bradley kissed you and tucked you in before taking Tramp out for a walk. They walked for five miles along the beach, and he texted Nat and Jake a photo of his tattoo. 

Natasha Phoenix Trace: That looks permanent. Hope she never decides to leave your ass. 

Jake Hangman Seresin: You owe me a drink, because I covered for you in the most believable way. 

Bradley just sighed and tucked his phone away. Only forty eight more days until he was going to marry you. He wondered if you called Mav today or not. You were still so tired from being away, he figured you hadn't. After a moment of hesitation, Bradley decided to call Maverick on behalf of both of you.

"Bradley. What's up, kid?" he asked after one ring.

"Mav. I have a favor to ask of you. Actually, we have a favor to ask."

"What do you need?"

"What are you doing the day after Thanksgiving?" Bradley asked with a smile as Tramp pulled him up to the water's edge.

"Your bride-to-be invited us over for Thanksgiving dinner. Not doing anything the day after that I know of."

"Can you keep a secret?" Bradley asked, and his smile grew. 

Mav paused for a beat. "This sounds a little suspicious."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, Bradley. I can keep a secret." He was starting to sound exasperated, and Bradley was trying not to laugh. 

"It's apparently very easy to get ordained online. Feel like officiating my wedding?"

A longer pause. "Are you serious? Of course I will."

"Thanks, Mav. I appreciate this. I'll get you more details. But it's top secret for now."

When Bradley was finally heading back to the house, he was kind of sweaty, and his shirt was clinging uncomfortably to his back. He was hoping you were awake so he could tell you that he got something checked off of the wedding to-do list. And he was hungry and craving something homemade for dinner. He'd been eating cereal and oatmeal all week. 

But you were still sound asleep, so he crept quietly into the master bathroom and peeled his shirt off. He checked in the mirror to see why his back was stinging from the sweat.

"Oh, shit." You had really dug your nails into his back earlier, and there were a few long marks that you had made going up and down his back. Your pretty manicure was actually lethal. He decided to just skip a shirt while he went in search of some food. 

Pancakes. He could make you both some pancakes. But before he started on that task, he realized it was after 6:30 and you were still sleeping, so he went to check on you again. As he let his fingers trail across your face, he realized you felt warm. A palm to the forehead told him you had a fever. Your neck felt a little clammy when he touched you, and now he was pretty worried. 

"Sweetheart," he whispered, repeating himself until you started to stir.

"What?" you groaned, rolling fully onto your back and looking up at him. 

"Can you sit up? I want to take your temperature."

You just nodded and sat up with your eyes closed, and you let him take your temperature when he returned with the thermometer. 

You looked exhausted, and you let Bradley rub your back while you waited. His tee shirt that you were wearing was all sweaty, and now you were practically falling asleep again. 

"Almost 102. That's a pretty high fever," he told you, and you just nodded in agreement. Now Bradley felt kind of bad for working you over so hard in the kitchen earlier. You must have picked up some sort of bug while you were away. "You need to take the day off tomorrow. Let me get you some water and Tylenol."

You just kept going along with everything he said, which was so unlike you. When he offered to make you pancakes, you told him you weren't hungry. When he offered to make you tea, you agreed to have a mug along with a few crackers. 

"You need to text Bickel," he told you as he climbed in bed next to you. "Tell him you won't be in tomorrow."

"Can you do it for me?" you asked, your voice so small as you nibbled on a cracker. "My head hurts."

He kissed your ear and reached across you to get your phone from the nightstand. After he texted your boss, he got up and plugged your phone in. 

"I'm going to tell your parents you're not feeling well, and that they can contact me if they need something, okay?"

"Okay," you muttered, coughing a few times. Bradley was a little concerned that you might have the flu, but all you would tell him is that you were tired. 

When you had finished your tea and crackers, Bradley watched you stand and steady yourself before you went into the bathroom. He got you a new shirt to change into, but you even needed his help with that. He stripped you down completely and stroked your tattoo once, and then he pulled the clean shirt over your head. 

"Thanks," you mumbled. "Can you take Tramp out?"

"Baby Girl. I'm going to take care of everything. Get back in bed and relax."

He kissed your cheek as you burrowed into the blankets. Then he refilled your water, took Tramp out, made himself some pancakes, and cleaned the kitchen. When he came back to the bedroom, you were curled up reading on your phone. 

"Bickel told me not to worry about anything," you told Bradley.

"See? I'll take care of everything here, and he can take care of all your stuff at work." Bradley took off his jeans and made sure his tattoo was covered before he got in bed. 

When he snuggled up next to your side, you tried to squirm away. "I'm all sweaty and disgusting, Roo. Don't touch me. You're supposed to think I'm adorable if I'm going to be your wife."

"You are adorable," he informed you with a laugh. "But I think that's literally the opposite of how marriage is supposed to work, Baby Girl."

"I don't want to get you sick," you complained halfheartedly, now snuggling up against him. 

"We already had sex a few times since you got back. I had my tongue down your throat. I think it's a little too late to be worried about me. Let's get some sleep."

"Love you, Roo," you mumbled, already half asleep on his shoulder. 

---------------------

You woke up briefly as the sun was peeking in through your bedroom curtains. You were freezing cold. You tried to sit up, but your head was pounding. 

"Sweetheart, stay in bed. I'll bring you water and tylenol and some dry cereal."

"Okay, Roo," you managed to whisper, because now your throat was sore too. 

Bradley delivered everything to your nightstand and then took your temperature. "Try to sleep. If you're not feeling better by this afternoon, we'll call your doctor."

You just nodded at him, and he kissed your forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can get Mav to dismiss me."

You reached for Bradley's hand. "I forgot to call Mav yesterday!"

"Shh, just relax, Baby Girl. I called him," Bradley said with a grin. "We have our super secret wedding officiant."

You managed to smile up at him as you sank back into the pillows. "Thanks, Roo."

"Sleep. I love you."

So you dozed off and on for most of the day, only getting up to use the bathroom and get more to drink. You texted Bradley and told him you were fine, and that he shouldn't rush home. And then you picked Tramp up and took him back to bed with you.

------------------------

It was not a good day. First of all, you really did a number on Bradley's back with your nails in the kitchen, and his skin was irritated. Second, there was no way Mav was going to dismiss him early today, because Bradley had a flight simulation scheduled for the afternoon, unbeknownst to him. And third, now Mav was looking at him like he was ready to apologize for something.

"What's wrong? Just tell me," Bradley grumbled before he headed for his simulation. 

"Sorry, kid. I got deployment papers for you." 

"Fuck!" Bradley took the envelope and tore into it. "When?"

"I'm not sure of the exact dates. But it's next month," Maverick told him gently. "If I could change the dates or send someone else, you know I would, Bradley."

Bradley would never, ever forgive himself if he couldn't marry you next month. He'd quit the navy. Get a civilian job. Anything. Anything except miss out on marrying you in forty seven days. His hands were shaking as he read over the information. 

He needed to be in South Korea on November 5th. The special mission should last one to two weeks, depending on the weather requirements. 

He looked up at Maverick. "Don't make any plans for that day I told you about. I'll be back in time, even if I have to fucking swim home."

Maverick nodded. "I actually believe you, that's the crazy part. I won't make any plans. And I'm already filling out the form to get ordained."

"Thanks," Bradley said, shaking his hand before he went for his simulation. 

------------------------

Not only would he not be getting home early, but Bradley had to text you and let you know he would be home late. He promised to bring you some soup, and he told you to rest until he got there. 

"What's got you all pissed off?" Nat asked as they headed toward the locker rooms. Bradley reeked of jet fuel from earlier this morning, and he wanted to be able to climb in bed with you as soon as he got home. 

"Got papers," he growled. "Next month."

"So did Bagman," Nat replied. 

"Damn. I was hoping it would be me and you again," Bradley said, giving Nat a high five before she ducked into the ladies' room. 

"Looks like it's me and you, Bagman. Deployment together," Bradley said when he started getting undressed at his locker. 

Jake looked over at him as he stripped off his flight suit. "Who's going to look after Angel?"

Bradley had been so concerned about potentially missing his secret wedding, he hadn't even thought what it would mean to be deployed the same time as Jake.

"Shit," Bradley said, knowing full well that Jake would always have your back when he couldn't. "She'll have Nat and the guys. I'll talk to Bob and Fanboy tomorrow."

"Hey, Coyote! Payback!" Jake called, and both men poked their heads around from the next row of lockers.

"What's up?" Payback asked as he dried off from his shower. 

Bradley kept undressing, as he spoke, anxious to get home to you. "Can you two keep an eye on the love of my life while Jake and I are gone next month?"

"Aww, Tramp needs a sitter?" Payback asked, earning a glare from Bradley. "Yeah, man, of course we'll look out for your girl."

"No problem," Coyote added.

But Jake was suddenly cracking up. "What happened to your back, Rooster? Looks like your Hen scratched you up good!"

Bradley paused; he had forgotten about his back. And now Payback and Coyote were coming closer to look as well.

"Shit! What were you trying to do to her?" Payback asked while he wiggled his eyebrows. 

Coyote was just looking at him with wide eyes. 

Bradley wrapped his towel around his waist and headed for the showers while the guys catcalled. 

"At least I have a girl to maul my back apart, okay?" he said, giving them the finger. 

"Damn, I hate it when he's right," Jake replied. 

"Nice tattoo, by the way," Payback called after Bradley. "Ohhhh. He got a tattoo for her. That's what happened to his back."

Bradley listened to them all erupt into more laughter, and he couldn't help but smile himself. 

-----------------------

You were sitting up in bed reading when Bradley got home. He came running into the bedroom with his hands full of stuff.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling your forehead and kissing your hair before you could even answer. 

"I'm fine," you said, coughing a little bit. "I took my temperature, and it came down some." 

"Are you hungry?" he asked, running his thumb along your cheek and making you smile. 

"A little bit. You brought soup?" you asked, climbing out of bed. But Bradley scooped you up into his arms before your feet touched the floor. 

"I got four kinds of soup from that deli you like. Plus a salad in case that sounded better." He carried you gently into the dining room and got you settled in a chair. He opened all of the soup containers and brought out some spoons. You selected the chicken noodle soup, and almost instantly it started making you feel better. 

"Thanks, Roo."

Bradley ran around and got you water, orange juice and hot tea. He took Tramp out for a quick walk while you took a hot shower, and he was back in time to help you get dressed in clean sweats. 

"I'm hoping I can just sleep all day again tomorrow while you're at work," you told him as he helped you get the knots out of your hair. 

"I'm not going to work tomorrow," he informed you, kissing the back of your neck and making you shiver. "I'm staying home to make sure you get better." 

"Thanks," you whispered, but he was turning you around in his arms to face him, and he didn't look happy. "What?"

He sighed. "I got papers today. Special mission."

You gasped and reached for him. "When?" you asked, flinging your arms around his neck. You felt like you were going to cry. It was mid-October. His papers must be for November if it was a special mission.

"November 5th," he whispered, and you burst into tears. 

"I'm so sorry, Bradley. If I got my shit together sooner, we could be getting married this month. Now we'll have to wait longer," you sobbed against his neck.

"Shh, it's okay, Sweetheart." He was rubbing soft circles against your back. "It's just for two weeks, tops. I really should be back in time."

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. "You think so?"

"Baby Girl, I will hijack my own aircraft and fly it home to you if I need to."

You laughed through your tears, and he held you against him. "Okay. Let's keep planning then and hope for the best."

"The only thing I want you to do at the moment is rest and feel better. I'll take care of everything else."

Bradley snuggled with you in bed, running his fingers underneath your sweatshirt and soothing your skin. "You don't feel clammy anymore," he remarked. You just shook your head and told him to keep touching your skin. You could see his tattoo peeking out of his sleeve, and it made you smile so much.

He told you about his day, and you could feel yourself melting against him as he continued to work his fingers along your back.

Pretty soon you were falling asleep in his arms while Tramp had a puppy dream in his doggy bed. 

-------------------------

Bradley woke up early and had to peel you away from his body so he could get out of bed. It felt like your fever had broken overnight, but it was obvious you were exhausted and needed as much sleep as possible.  

He made coffee and started to finalize the honeymoon options. He had it narrowed down to two different resorts already, but now he had to determine which one was perfect for you. The one with the butler or the one with the private deck. 

Bradley decided to be selfish for a moment. You didn't really need a butler, since he was willing to wait on you hand and foot. But a private deck with a pool and a hot tub? You could sunbathe naked. You could swim naked. You could have sex with him on the deck under the stars with the Pacific Ocean as your soundtrack. 

As soon as he pulled his credit card out of his wallet, he was booking it. He couldn't wait. 

Next he started narrowing down caterers and florists based on what you and he had planned. There was no need for a huge menu or a ton of flowers. He found one caterer online that promised they could make any cake flavor, so he emailed them and asked if their confetti cake with strawberries was any good. Then he found a florist that had yellow and red roses as one of their gallery photos. 

He really had no idea if he was doing any of this research the way you would have, but he was too excited to stop now. 

"Roo?" 

He turned to face you and smiled. You looked so much better. "You're up."

"Yeah, it's almost noon," you said, rubbing your eyes. "I feel a lot better now." You kissed him, and he was shocked he had been working on this for four hours. 

Bradley let you sit on his lap with some reheated soup, and he showed you everything he found. Except for the honeymoon. Not yet.

"Oh! Those flowers are beautiful!" you gushed. "And I don't care what we feed everyone for dinner, as long as I have my confetti cake."

Bradley rolled his eyes; you were sassing him, so you were definitely feeling a lot better. 

"I found a caterer who will make a confetti cake. They also have miniature bottles of pink champagne on their bar menu."

You gasped. "We need to book them! Is it too late?" 

Bradley just sighed and kissed your shoulder. "I'll call them now and find out."

-------------------------

You were still feeling kind of tired, and your throat hurt a bit, but today had been so good, you didn't mind too much. 

Bradley sweet talked the caterer of your dreams into doing your wedding as long as you bumped dinner up to 5 o'clock. He also managed to get you a chance to sample their confetti cake next Wednesday night. Then he got the florist to agree to your modest bouquets and rose petals. He even reassured you he had booked the honeymoon. 

"You're the groom of my dreams," you whispered as you ran your fingers along his tattoo. "Also, you need to keep this wrapped for a few more days."

"I'll wrap it again after I take a shower," he replied, tipping you back along the couch and climbing on top of you. You had the perfect view of his handsome face, bare naked torso and his tattoo. 

"I'm always going to take care of you," he promised, kissing your cheek. "Now rest for the afternoon." He pushed himself off of the couch, covered you with a blanket, and started to leave the living room. 

"Yes, Daddy," you muttered, making him pause and turn to face you again. 

He smirked. "Daddy wants you feeling better by the weekend, Baby Girl. We've got new tattoos to show off on video."

You just groaned and rolled over onto your side, praying you were better by the weekend.  

-------------------------

Daddy Roo and his new tattoo. That's the real name of this chapter.

PART 12

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

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@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

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@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

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@heli991113

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@little-wiseone

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@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Low stakes, just need to know if I'm justified or just being a jerk.

AITAH for asking my mom to not do anything after 10:00pm?

I, (15F) try to start to go to bed around 9:30-10:00 at night, since I wake up at 5:45 for school. I don't technically have to leave for the bus until 6:40, but I like to have about an hour of time to myself before then and to care for my pets. Because of liking to wake up early, I managed to strike a deal with my mom (40s) that her shows had to be off by 10:00. Because her boyfriend (40s) is half-deaf from being a welder, her shows are always at an exceedingly high volume, so I found this a reasonable compromise so I'd be able to sleep.

Except she's started to have very loud conversations with her boyfriend in the kitchen whilst cooking meals past 10:00 to get around this agreement. This is equally disruptive to my sleep, and so after a few nights of not being able to go to bed past 11:00, I told her that I'd like her to not cook or have particularly loud conversations past 10:00 either. She snapped at me and told me that I'm not allowed to control everything she does and that I'm rude for telling her not to do anything past 10:00.

AITAH?

(Exta info: The food that they make past 10:00 is also largely uneaten right at that moment and typically spur-of-the-moment lunch ideas from either my mom or her boyfriend. Neither of them work particularly late and both eat dinner at a reasonable time. The loud conversations are also half-way to shouting because my mom insists on making sure that her boyfriend can hear at a "normal" volume. He can hear perfectly fine at a normal speaking level, just has problems with audio from digital speakers. The conversations and cooking last an hour at most. I don't need the time in the mornings and could easily wake up half an hour later, it's just a preference).

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

11 and 14 with David 🫶🙂 I love ur writing it’s amazing

11. "Star said you were out of town."

14. "Do you want me to kiss it better?"

I hope you'll like this!💜

---------------------------

I sighed deeply as I locked my door behind me. The past couple of days had been exhausting. Making calls, day in, and day out. Running errands. Making sure everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be - which none of them were even if they were told multiple times where to go. Sure, organising the event had been fun, but damn - I'd be kidding if I said I felt alive at this very moment.

I dropped my bags on the welcoming mat, kicking my shoes off, dropping my coat on the floor. Tomorrow, I'd probably regret doing that and force myself to tidy it all up, but now I couldn't care less.

I walked into my kitchen, searching the cabinets for a wineglass. I knew I had them somewhere, but - this I also knew - I probably hadn't cleaned them up since last time I used them. It had been last Sunday when David had come by to wish me luck on my gig. I'd dropped the wineglasses in the sink the following morning, which is where they were right now. I really didn't want to clean them, so I decided to just pick a normal glass - it would still fulfil its purpose.

I grinned as I saw that the bottle was still half full, and with both glass and wine bottle in hand, I walked up the stairs to my bedroom. I'd decided on my trip back that tonight I'd do some well-deserved selfcare, have a good night's sleep afterwards, and sleep the day away.

The bathtub filled itself with hot water, the air quickly taking on the smell of my rosemary soap. I poured some wine in the glass before looking at it. It'd be easier to just drink straight from the bottle... putting the glass aside, I stepped into the bath, taking a long sip from the bottle.

The water was hot against my skin, soothing the soreness I'd gotten over the past few days. I closed my eyes, washed my body and hair, and only thought about getting out of the tub when the water turned cold. Once out, I decided that I had enough time and energy to also shave my legs - it's not that I thought it was a necessity to look nice, it's just that the softness of the blankets was much better appreciated with freshly saved legs. I put my bathrobe on, gathering everything I needed.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub, one leg on the outside used to keep myself steady, the other stretched so I could reach everything. I began to shave, working quickly - only to pause when I heard a strange noise.

A sound as if glass was slowly being broken, wood being pulled apart - I frowned. I listened. But when it stopped, I continued to shave. The first leg was done, and I moved to get access to the second. I was way less steady this time, still sitting on the edge of the tub, but now really needing to balance myself - the bathtub was still slippery and I didn't feel like actually turning around so I could feel a bit more balanced. I began to shave, and once again stopped when I heard a noise.

"Hello?"

No answer. I waited. Still nothing. I continued to shave, being almost done when suddenly -

"Hello kitten."

I jumped, slipping - my limbs went everywhere, and before I fully realised I was halfway upside down in the bathtub, my leg bleeding from a small cut made.

"Jesus fucking shit! You can't just barge in on people like that!"

David chuckled, taking my hand as he helped me up. "Sorry love. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so."

He looked at me, kissing me softly, before I noticed his eyes taking on a slight hint of orange. "You're bleeding."

"You- have you fed?"

"I wouldn't endanger you." He grinned at me. "But you do smell divine."

"Awesome," I mumbled, looking at the cut. "It hurts, though."

"Do you want me to kiss it better?"

I bit my lip as I looked at him. "You just want to taste me."

"I think I've already done that many a time."

"Pervert."

He chuckled. Before I knew it, his mouth was on my leg, leaving soft wet kisses on the skin around the cut. I could have sworn I heard him moan when he actually licked up my blood.

"I- I eh think I'm okay now," I said softly, not trusting my voice.

"Come," he pulled me towards him, leading me to my bed. "How was your trip?"

I blinked - before telling him. How one of the bands had been running so late they'd missed their performance time, how angry they got when I told them that we could not switch around anymore, that they couldn't play. How two staged had happened to get the same name, and how every single artist got confused. How shitty the food was. But also about how wonderful it had been to see my vision come to live. How most of the artists had the time of their lives. Yeah, it had been great.

When I was done telling, I lay on his chest, smiling as he brushed his fingers through my hair. He'd taken the glass of wine I'd set aside taking a sip every now and then.

"Why did you step by? I mean, I wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow."

"I saw your lights were on."

"Ah, you were stalking me again," I said with a grin, causing him to chuckle.

"No. I was just checking up. Star said you were out of town. Still that is."

"You worry about me?" I asked with a soft smile.

"You know what I think of you."

"Remind me." I grinned, trying to hide a yawn behind my hands.

"You're a bloody gift from heaven itself."

I chuckled. "You only say that because I'm your mate."

"It must be true then, hm?"

I smiled, sighing softly. "Will you stay with me?"

"I'll stay till dawn." He kissed me gently, wrapping a blanket around me. "Sleep tight, kitten."

[mabelstone]

Boy Next Door

matt stone x fem reader

i'm back. mabel finish a fic before starting a new one challenge i don't want to write Y/N anymore so for now i will use [name] as a filler LOL is that even worse? this was one of the first ideas i ever had and i'm sure its widely overused on here but i really loved writing this. will probably turn it into a series lol we'll see but at least one or two more parts to come xx

*

The removal of the sold sign and the influx of moving vans this past week was a dead give away that I now had a new neighbour. I seriously prayed for someone cool to move in, as I have an almost certain suspicion that the previous owners were drug dealers. I hadn't actually seen them yet and I wasn't planning on going over and introducing myself as my neighbourhood was notorious for keeping to itself. Unless you count that awkward wave you give to the person across the street when you're taking out your bins at the same time. It was a quiet place, all the more reason to love it. We were all living in synchronous harmony in our quiet, private little bubbles.

I had a routine of hitting the hay around 9:30pm, 10pm on a bad night, which in itself was a luxury. Tonight, I'd already set myself up. Fed the dog, fed myself, showered, watched a bit of telly, then got cosy in bed around 9pm. I turned off my TV, and that's when I noticed the repetitious bumping of heavy bass brought to life by the speakers next door. It's okay, I told myself, closing my eyes and trying block out the sound best I could. Is it getting louder? I suspected I may be paranoid or hyper focused on the sound because I have work at 6am. I ended up dozing off, thankfully.

Then the next thing I knew, I was being awoken by a loud smash of glass, and an even louder, "aw, come on, man! You're paying for that!"

I couldn't have been imagining it, because now instead of a steady thump of bass, I could now hear loud and clear the lyrics to MAAD City by Kendrick Lamar as if he were performing a live concert in my bedroom. I rolled over to check my phone. 11:45pm. That's it.

I - a bit dramatically, I must admit - threw my blankets off and threw on my dressing gown, storming out my front door in my stupid bunny head slippers. Despite the great choice of music, I was absolutely furious, the bass bumping so hard as I approached the door, I could feel it in my chest. I knocked on the door so hard my knuckles stung. No answer. I waited a moment, then proceeded to bash on the door with all my might. A few moments later, my hands on my hips and a scowl on my face that screamed, 'I don't care if you think I'm lame, you've royally pissed me off,' the door opened.

A man with kind of short, kind of long, curly brown hair stood before me with ugly oval rimmed glasses, an aquiline nose, and a bottle of beer in his hand. "...hello?" The look on his face almost read, do I know you?

"Hello. I live next door," I huffed, arms now tightly crossed over my chest. Don't get angry, compose yourself. "It's almost midnight on a Sunday. Could you please... tone it down a bit?"

“Oh absolutely, sorry, miss…?”

“[Name]”

"Well, nice to meet you," he reached his hand out to shake mine, which I begrudgingly accepted, a little gap in his teeth on display. "I'll turn it down right now." He pulled out his phone and showed me him pressing the volume down button repeatedly, the music complying.

"Thank you." I wasn't interested in chatting, instead I stormed back into my house with an emphatic sigh, slamming the door behind me. I shucked off my gown and climbed back into bed, grateful that now I'd hopefully get an okay sleep.

Nope.

Less than ten minutes later, the music is cranked back up and now theres a ball repeatedly hitting my fence. "For God's sake," I yelled to nobody, charging for the neighbours house barefooted.

I was so angry at this point, I didn't even care that I was in skimpy little Victoria's Secret pyjamas I'd owned since high school.

As I shamelessly bashed on his door, I tried to block out the little voice in my head that pleaded, just let it go, and, your actions have consequences. Absolutely livid, I waited, and waited. My fist inches away from punching a hole through the door, it opened once more.

The same curly headed man from earlier, this time more noticeably inebriated. Or high. Please, for the love of God, just be an occasional user and not a dealer. “Well, what a pleasant surprise! Decided to come party?”

“No, I did not come to party!” I snapped, my anger seemingly unleashing itself in the form of a foot stomp, similarly to how a spoilt 5 year old would. “I want you to have some respect and turn this shit down! Or better yet, off!”

One of his friends appeared in the doorway, eyes half lidded and probably the same shade of red as my face currently. "That's not party attire," he snorted, being pulled away by someone in a... Spiderman costume? What kind of party is this?

I sighed deeply, pinching the upper bridge of my nose with eyes screwed shut as tightly as my fist. I was on the verge of tears, and I think he noticed by the way he quickly dropped his act.

“Okay, okay. I'm turning it off right now.” He must've realised how much of an inconsiderate dick he was being. He reached into his pocket and turned off the music, sighing down at me. I heard a few short lived groans from the other side of the door. An annoyed, “duuuude that was my song,” before the drunken chatter quickly resumed.

“Thanks,” I muttered, yawning into my hand (for dramatic effect, of course).

“Matt, bring the lady in,” one guy slurred against the door frame as if I wasn't even there. “Wanna play basketball with her,” he professed, before stumbling back into the house.

“Oh, yeah, if that ball hits my fence one more time I'll tear it down and beat you with the wood.” I walked away after this, feeling quite proud of myself, actually. We should normalise occasional temper tantrums in adults.

Thankfully, the music remained off as I got back in bed, almost immediately drifting off.

BANG. Then that fucking ball hit my fence again, followed by followed by my new neighbour scolding someone indistinguishably. Then, in a slightly louder voice intended for my ears, “sorry, [name].”

Due to my disrupted sleep last night, I nearly slept in. I confess, I am a bit of a princess with my sleep. I spent my morning racing around like a headless chicken, spilling coffee all over my white blouse, having to change, which pushed me back another minute. I rushed out to my car, only to find, to my demise, I've been blocked in. Some random vehicle, probably belonging to one of the degenerates next door, hanging 3/4 over my driveway.

Almost with a feeling synonymous with deja-vu, I flounced to the neighbours', determined to fuck his shit up, to put it plainly. I pounded on the door impatiently with both fists, tapping my foot while I waited. A random man clad in a t-shirt depicting a stick figure humping the word 'IT' answered the door.

“Excuse me, who’s car is this?” I pointed to the car blocking my driveway, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Fuck, dude, I was sleeping,” he groaned, and I didn't even try and hide my eye roll. Karma, I thought. “I don’t know,” he rubbed his eyes like a child, thinning my already impossibly thin patience.

“Where is Matt?”

“Probably sleeping, man, it’s like, barely even morning yet.”

I was painfully close to losing my temper. To avoid combusting on the spot, I sighed and pushed past the potentially still drunk guest. Or maybe other new neighbour. I sure hope not.

I scrunched my nose up at the state of his place - beer bottles strewn everywhere, the stale smell of cigarettes and weed clinging to the furniture, guests were passed out in each corner of the living room. I hugged my handbag close to me and stepped over the scattered limbs like a contortionist dodging laser beams, adamant on disrupting Matt's slumber like he had mine. I navigated his long hallway, pushing open every door, scoffing at the half naked bloke with two naked women clinging to either side of him. I near shuddered in disgust, wanting nothing more than to disinfect my entire body after being in the war zone of his house. Maybe I was only being so judgemental because I was irrevocably angry. Maybe.

I eventually found his room, which to my surprise, was almost compulsively clean and ordered with Patrick Bateman level precision. I stood before his bed with folded arms and wondered to myself if maybe he'd think I had some kind of bone disfigurement that kept my arms bent across me. I quickly relaxed them at my side.

"Matt," I spoke sternly. He didn't even stir. I bent down close to his face, raising my voice this time. "Matt."

Finally, his eyes flung open and he jumped, clamping a hand over his chest as if to stop it from bursting through his skin. “Fuck!” he panted softly. I rolled my eyes at him as he caught his breath and pulled away. As if deliberately oblivious, he stretched and spoke halfway through a groan, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Who’s car is parked over my driveway?”

“I have no clue,” he breathed as he smooshed his face into his pillow, voice still thick and croaky with sleep. His hair was unruly, but his glasses were neatly folded on his bedside table beside a glass of water and a packet of Advil.

“I’m going to be late for work,” I exclaimed as calmly as possible, though I was on the verge of a tantrum. I was oddly self conscious that he'd only seen me furious. “Whoever it belongs to, it needs to be moved. Like, five minutes ago.”

“Alright,” he sighed, groggily pushing the blanket from his body and sliding his glasses on, only clad in pyjama pants with m&m’s printed all over them.

He lead me through the dormant chaos of his house, even scrunching up his face from the mess. Or maybe the smell. He pushed a blind to the side and glanced out onto the street, seeing the culprit; a silver Mitsubishi Lancer. He then walked over to the supposed owner, kicking him softly in the side where he was laying on the floor. “Move your car, dude.”

The man just groaned and patted his jean pocket, face smushed into the little couch cushion beneath him, weakly handing the keys to Matt. He just rolled his eyes and trudged out the front, and I followed close enough behind that I almost nicked his heels with every step.

He clambered into the drivers seat with the air of a zombie, pulling the car onto the side of the road. I wasted no time getting into my car, reversing out of the driveway and rolling down my window, pulling up beside him. “Thank you,” I smiled with genuine appreciation, watching him run a hand through his hair in my rear view as I drove away.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

HEY WHO WANTS AN UPDATE ON MY VACATION THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR? Lmao well sucks for you this is a monarchy and I am Prince and you're getting it anyway:

1. My friends and I went down to eat breakfast. The waiter asked them what language their native tongue is, Kannada or Tulu or anything else, and before they could answer he pointed at me and said (in Kannada), "I knew this one speaks English as soon as I looked at them. With people like this I just go full butler and restrict myself to yes or no."

2. Yes I fucking got called out as a whitewashed piece of shit by a random waiter who took one look at me. The worst part is he's right. English is my first language.

3. I saw a lot of human kidneys and they were THE CUTEST THINGS EVER THERE WERE SO MANY I WAS SO HAPPY UNFORTUNATELY I COULDN'T HOLD ANY BUT AT LEAST I GOT TO LOOK AT THE CUTIES.

4. I made a lot of intense eye contact with dead babies to evade the Birds. To be fair, most of the babies had, um, closed eyes. Or no eyes. I promise I wouldn't have been making that much eye contact without the Birds. I'd have been looking at the kidneys instead. No i will not be elaborating for fear of freaking people out.

5. It was legal btw. Aside from the photo my friend took of me making the two fingered salute (like the dude smiling next to the grave meme) next to a foetus that was at least slightly demonic in origin.

6. Anyway so then I spoke to my other friend and told her how I felt (about being afraid that they didn't see me as a guy because they've known me since I was 11) and she said it wasn't that, she was just getting used to the new name and pronouns and that was all (since I only came out to her two days ago). And I hugged her.

7. My friends have all been using Asmi for me and correcting themselves with their pronouns. I love them and I want to cry.

8. I saw two men holding hands in front of me at the mall. A very careful holding of hands, delicately. But I think they saw me glance at them, because when they got on the escalator in front of me, they untangled their hands and when one reached for the other's hand again, he pulled it away, and they both carefully stayed on their phones. I don't know. Just something I'm thinking about.

9. Maybe I should take off the progress pride pin from my denim jacket and just wear it everywhere I go. Fuck blending in with the cishets I want the queers to know I exist and they're not alone.

And those were the highlights of my day <3 A totally normal vacation for real.

Have the loveliest of days my maggots I'll be back home in two days and then I'll have all my attention to annoy you with, my loves. And a social battery, which currently is dead by night because of irl interactions.

I'll sleep now. The Horrors will be occupied with me, I hope they leave you alone.

I love you 💕

[ariesmusingz]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱ saves the world sentence starters pt 2 ( created using lyrics from muna's saves the world album. feel free to adjust to fit your muse. )

so i let it happen again

i loved someone who's indifferent

that's why i can't sleep at night

that's why i keep sleeping in

so i started over again

i got back onto that medicine

i don't like when dreaming ends

there's a pink light in my apartment

it comes mid-morning as a reminder

at the right time, in the right surroundings, i will be lovely

i can't help thinking that maybe if you stayed for an hour or two

maybe if you'd seen the soft pink light i wouldn't be alone tonight

i'm living inside my mind

i keep retracting that storyline

thinking if i start again, i can change the way it ends

maybe i will always keep a little piece of this belief

if it isn't you who sees then there isn't any pink light in my apartment

waited a minute till you went in

we talked and then we stopped talking

put on a song and we listened

i know that i make you nervous

i do it half on purpose

you know i think you're precious

i think you're a good person

so why do i wanna blow up your life?

i'll be a very good girl

i won't even think about it

i'm just feeling like i can't help it

i know you said you had a girlfriend

i just want it if it's taken

dad left when i was 11

mom said it was cause he couldn't keep from tocuhing other women

some things have a way of sticking

now i'm standing in your kitchen

you said you told her you were leaving

i can't help thinking i hate you 'cause you're just like him

so why did i have to blow up your life?

i just thought that if i could take you from her, maybe then it would prove that i'm worth something

now i'm alone and i'm hurt

wishing i'd taken you at your word when you said you were taken

i know you said it

i just want it

i see you

it's been some time since i've seen you last

you know the night

i bet you know the night

i'm here

you're here

it's in the air like a firefly

it's june and july

i know you're bad for me

when you say you want me again

i can feel you up on me

it hits me all of the sudden

you can't touch

get your hands off me

there's no reason

i'm free

i get so high every time

happens every time

a damn idea

i focus then i hold that feeling inside

got this feeling inside

i want you

come closer

i feel like i've been here before

you want the power

you tell me it's now or never

you think i'm playing hard to get

this must be hard to get

you've got to get your hands off

you think i'm playing with your head

do you need me to do the chorus again?

i must be some great feeler

i must be really deep

i had a major crisis

when you stopped calling me i saw a psychic healer

she just turned 17

all that she said was to do what i want

like i'm supposed to know what that means

i'm gonna figure it out

i'm already here and i won't leave now

put a pot of coffee on

i'm just having a time

the good news is, if you don't like life, they say it doesn't last long

i was sad in the kitchen

tearing myself apart

trying to search for the piece that i'm missing

i didn't know where to start

i went to an art exhibit

there wasn't any art

all that there was, was a sink and some dishes

be where you are

i know it's not just me who thinks it is just me

got a bee sting on the way back from your house

it was crawing up my leg inside my car

something 'bout the way i had to pull it out

never healed quite right and now i've got a scar

i'm glad it left a mark

remind me what it was like seem i forget

when i'm drinking or i'm thinking with my heart

baby this is what you get when you're reckless and you're playing in the dark

you're gonna move to new york and experiment with communism

go down on a girl after reading her some frantz fanon

you'll go out of your way trying to find some place you can hide and get high

you're gonna call your mom

you're gonna cut off your hair with dull scissors from the desk in your dorm room

learn by trial and error that threesomes are more sad than fun

you're gonna move to la

guess you're running away from the patterns you have and the decisions you've made

yeah you're gonna sit in the sun

it's gonna be okay

you're gonna smoke cigarettes on the ground beside the pool at stardust

you're gonna get obsessed with a boy who's hooked on heroin

you'll have some all-time nights dancing outside with lcd on the speaker

you're drinking dark pink wine

you're gonna lose those friends

you're gonna fall in love with a girl which you were not expecting

you're gonna start a band

it's just her, another friend and you

then you get freaked out

you say something about how you just can't commit

you move into your aunt's house and all your dreams come true

you're going to come to depend on the sec of a sadistic stranger

you're gonna learn to pretend

you lie about it to save face

the morning you awake in the deepest of pain that you've ever been in

you admit you've got to quit him

you're gonna learn to pray

you're gonna start to call friends

you're gonna start to call yourself an addict

you finally read zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance

you're gonna clean out your drawers

you're gonna feel much more like god is a mystery and jesus is a metaphor

you're gonna tell your reflection

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (18/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~5k

Content warning for the aftermath of a massacre and preparation of bodies for burial in this chapter. Some dialogue is pulled directly from A Court of Mist and Fury, and the poem quoted in this chapter is Tithonus by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

On a lighter note, shout-out to @thesistersarcheron for beast Rhys tongue inspo and to @popjunkie42 for all her Feysand poetry thoughts <3

Read on AO3 or you can find the eighteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to | ch. 15 - even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open | ch. 16 - you drew stars around my scars | ch. 17 - do you remember all the city lights on the water? | ch. 18 - and it smells like me

Rhys halted, taking in Mor's news. "Who," he said, and I hadn't known such utter rage could be conveyed in a single word.

I set the paintbrush down and stepped closer, feeling sick. If the priestesses were anything like the ones I'd come to know at the library…

At that thought, both our anger surged down the mating bond, and it felt as if my chest had been set ablaze. There had already been too much senseless violence Under the Mountain.

"We don't know," Mor said. "Azriel is investigating now."

Rhys began to pace. He'd hidden his wings to avoid them dragging on the floor when he'd sat with me, but shadows rolled off his shoulders as they appeared again, almost involuntarily.

But his voice was still soft as he said, "Does he have any initial theories?"

"You know Azriel—he won't say until he has enough information in hand to be sure. Cassian is pissed, though. He’s convinced it must be one of the rogue Illyrian war-bands, intent on winning new territory."

The rest of the Inner Circle must have heard this news first, then. I watched Rhys carefully for a reaction, unsure if that was how things were typically done. He didn't seem any more agitated than before, and I took that as a positive sign.

"I'm worried he may be correct."

"What are your orders?"

"For tonight, there's nothing to be done in Illyria that we aren't already doing. I'll discuss everything with Cassian in the morning. Mor, you and Amren will assist Azriel with whatever information-gathering he needs done. Be ready to field questions from other courts as news spreads. I'll inform Clotho myself and handle incoming correspondence."

Mor's eyes slid to me, and I nearly jumped—she'd been so focused on Rhys that I'd assumed she'd forgotten I was there. "Cesere is within the Night Court's borders. It falls to us to handle this alongside the priestesses," she said, obviously for my benefit.

"How can I help?" I said, fully expecting to be told to stay out of the way.

"The priestesses at the library will need assistance. Our kind bury our dead as swiftly as possible and keep watch until funeral rites are complete. It will mean something to have you there, Feyre, even if you're only comfortable sitting through the service as a representative of my Inner Circle," Rhys said.

There had been no similar sense of urgency among the mortals. When my mother died, there had been a wake, and for several days before her burial, our house had been full of friends and family paying their last respects. I wasn't surprised to hear things the fae did things differently.

For a moment, my mind flashed back to the sight of Tamlin carrying the bloodied corpse of a Summer Court faerie out of the manor. Tonight would be more of the same. And Rhys was giving me an out to avoid the grisly work if I couldn't stomach it.

I didn't hesitate. "I'll do whatever's necessary," I said. If the priestesses needed me to spend the night digging graves, I would.

With one last promise to keep Rhys informed, Mor winnowed away, and there was nothing left to do but head to the library. Before long, Rhys had left to make arrangements for increased security at the other temples, and I made my way down to the spare rooms near the dormitories to help in whatever way I could.

Merrill, a silver-haired scholar I'd once overheard terrorizing a research assistant, was organizing the efforts and barked out orders at me. I rolled up the sleeves of my tunic and got to work.

The carnage turned out to be exactly as horrific as we'd feared. And in Prythian, a land of immortals, there were no morgues or funeral homes. The gore, the obvious evidence of violence…for many of the priestesses, it brought back too many dark memories for them to even approach the bodies.

I choked back bile as I wiped tear tracks from cold cheeks and scrubbed dried blood from every body part imaginable. Gently, I slid soiled nightgowns and torn robes from stiff limbs and replaced them with shrouds. It was difficult, with the extent of some of the injuries, to create any sort of illusion of peaceful repose; whoever had done this hadn't made these deaths quick or painless.

As we worked, the sisters took turns singing prayers. I didn't recognize the language, but I sensed that it was ancient, the tune slow and mournful and in a key I'd never heard before. Down here, surrounded by the red rock of the mountain and no windows, the repetition was the only thing marking the passage of time.

Eventually, all the bodies were laid out in neat rows—too many rows, the scale of the devastation laid painfully bare. Each was clean and covered in a white linen shroud, ready for burial. For a moment, I just sat with the heavy awareness that each one of the bundles was a life—a world, really—that had been snuffed out. So much loss, just to loot a trove.

Rhys hadn't exaggerated when he'd said the fae moved quickly—as soon as the work was finished, I followed the rest of the priestesses towards the sanctuary for the service. I hadn't expected it to be so soon; one of the sisters caught my look of surprise and gently explained that according to faerie traditions, the soul was in a state of confusion between death and burial, and it was cruel to let it linger like that any longer than absolutely necessary.

The sanctuary was a massive cavern, full of dark wood pews surrounding a plain dais at the center. Though about half of the mourners finding their seats were priestesses, all in their identical pale blue robes, faeries from Velaris were there as well. The news had spread, then.

There were more prayers and singing in that strange, ancient language. No instruments, only voices that echoed in the cavern, beautiful yet melancholy. A candle was lit for each slain priestess as their names we read out one by one.

Unable to follow it, I stood and sat in time with everyone else and allowed my mind to wander. The bond had been quiet—presumably, Rhys was busy but otherwise fine—so I took in the assortment of faeries who'd come to pay their respects.

Perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise, but I recognized a few of them. Evelyn, the priestess who'd been teaching me to read, had nodded hello, and I spotted faeries I'd seen a few times in the library or out in the city. I doubted every single one of them knew any of the victims; this was just the community coming together.

That thought made Velaris feel a bit more like…home.

And though Rhys hadn't said it outright—and seemed so intent on not pressuring me that I doubted he ever would—I wondered if attending a vigil like this was something expected of the Lady of the Night Court. Since we'd decided to keep it a secret, we hadn't spoken about my title at all. Or any obligations that came with it. My lack of understanding of the situation when I accepted the bond didn't make me any less of a High Lord's mate, though.

My family's money had run out when I'd turned eleven—my sisters had been the ones raised to be ladies. They'd been the ones expected to someday be the wife of a rich, powerful man, to run households and host balls and busy themselves with charity work that made their husbands look good. I was just the hopeless, half-wild heathen.

Rhys loved me, had confidence in me like no one else, and I doubted I could ever be a failure in his eyes. That wasn't true for the rest of Prythian. I didn't take representing him lightly, especially not for something like this.

Before my thoughts could spiral any further, the funeral ended. The bodies had been winnowed to the graveyard, and there was nothing left to do. It was the middle of the night when I headed towards the townhouse.

I reached down the bond for Rhys as I walked, careful not to startle him. The thread between us went taut anyway, and I could sense that he was instantly on alert.

I didn't even give him a chance to ask if something was wrong I'm fine, home soon. Do you need anything else from me?

Go rest while you can. I've sent Azriel, Mor, and Amren to do the same.

But you aren't? I wouldn't let him talk around it.

I am High Lord, and some things can't be delegated.

For once, he didn't sound arrogant, just matter-of-fact. There was no point in attempting to mother-hen him out of finishing whatever he was obligated to complete tonight, so I didn't bother. I sent a pulse of affection down the bond, assuming that was the end of the conversation.

But he added, None of us liked the thought of you in the townhouse alone. Mor is there.

I was so unused to being looked after that I almost asked why anyone would be concerned. But Mor had mentioned them all being duty-bound and overprotective on my first day here, so perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise.

And at least it wasn't Amren babysitting me.

Something pleasantly warm crossed the bond, along with the strange sensation of a soft kiss pressed to the back of my mind. Then Rhys's shields went back up, and the rest of my walk home was uneventful.

Mor was in the living room when I arrived. At first, I'd thought she must have just been waiting to make sure I'd gotten home safely, but before she'd turned around at the sound of my footsteps, I'd noticed the empty wineglass and the way she'd absentmindedly pressed a hand to her lower abdomen. And then I understood—I wasn't the only one who was better off with company tonight.

I'd never asked about the scar I'd seen peeking out from the waistband of Mor's pants on days she wore something that bared her midriff. She would have covered it if she'd been ashamed, but…it seemed private. Some of the priestesses laid to rest that night had been ripped open in the same place, and I could guess what weighed on Mor.

But still, she brightened immediately at the sight of me, the light coming back into her red-rimmed eyes. I sank into the chair next to her.

"It was good to finally see you painting earlier," she said, voice warm.

I shrugged. "It was just a decoration, not something on canvas or paper. It doesn't really count." Flowers on a table were a start, but it wasn't quite the same as capturing an image that had plagued my mind or using paint to express a feeling that words couldn't.

She nudged me with an elbow. "It was also the happiest I've ever seen you. That counts for something too, you know."

For a while, Mor and I talked about nothing consequential. We both needed it. After everything we'd witnessed, it helped to pretend for a while that nothing was wrong. It made the violence feel more distant, enough that I was able to fall asleep when we both went upstairs, even without Rhys back.

My sleep was fitful, but each time I woke, a caress of talons against my mind—and once, loud purring and a wet scrape against my shields that would have made me think I was being groomed by a cat if it weren't for the forked tongue and rustle of feathers—relaxed me enough to drift off again.

It was nearly midmorning when I got out of bed, the latest I ever managed to sleep. I sensed that Rhys was nearby, and I followed the bond down to the kitchen, where I found him sitting at the table, head in his hands and wings drooping. He didn't look up at me.

"How bad is it?" I said, lingering in the doorway. It was late enough that he must have already spoken with Cassian.

He rubbed at his temples. "No definitive answers. I'd hoped there would be proof that this was nothing more than rogue war-bands that can be put down. Whoever it was knew what they were doing and covered their tracks. It could still very well just be Illyrians…or an act of war."

My blood ran cold. I knew it was foolish to think that killing Amarantha had ended the danger—she had been connected to Hybern, and Rhys and the rest of the Inner Circle had already discussed the possibility of opportunists taking advantage of a weakened Prythian after fifty years of Amarantha's rule. But something about Rhys putting it so plainly suddenly made it hard to breathe.

Before I could say anything, Rhys continued, "This needs to be dealt with swiftly, so I've moved up my visit to the Court of Nightmares. I'll go tonight, take tomorrow to plan. Cassian, Azriel, and I will hunt down the war-bands that are hiding out in the forests."

I knew Rhys—the security of the Night Court was at stake, so he'd find a way to push through it, even though I doubted he was ready to face the very court Amarantha had modeled hers after and his wings were still weakened. He'd tear open as many wounds as he needed to keep his people safe.

But perhaps…I could make sure he didn't have to.

I crossed the room, standing next to the chair and looping an arm around his shoulders to pull him close. He curled a wing around me and hid his face in my shoulder.

"If war comes, we'll face it. Together," I whispered against his hair as plans formed in my mind.

He said nothing, too overwhelmed to do anything but tug on the bond. I held him like that for a while, and with my shields firmly in place, I considered how exactly I'd lighten those burdens for him. Neither one of us was alone anymore.

"Have you slept at all?" I said eventually.

He sat back, tipping his head up to look at me. "No. It's—"

"Then go rest, Rhys."

"Is that an order?" Something sparked in his eyes, and I could have sworn amusement had crept into his voice.

"The point of this visit is to show your face in the Hewn City again. You need all the beauty sleep you can get."

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close to it. My hand had been resting on his shoulder, and as he stood, I let it trail down his arm. He interlaced our fingers, and for a moment, just from the way his eyes went soft as he looked at me, I was sure he was about to ask me to come to bed with him, risk of slashing talons during a nightmare be damned.

I would have said yes. And even if he never asked, I still had half a mind to follow him upstairs anyway, just to give into the feral, protective instinct to keep watch while my mate slept.

But Rhys didn't ask. Instead he pressed a kiss to my knuckles and said, "Make sure you eat something."

I knew what that meant. "I love you, too."

He squeezed my hand once, then winnowed upstairs. For the next few hours, I could feel through the bond that he'd at least managed to catnap before he had to leave. I had things to do as well, but I wouldn't let Rhys sleep in an empty house, either. And I did need to eat. So I paced the townhouse restlessly with food in hand.

Then once Rhys left, my first order of business was making my way to the House of Wind.

I could have asked him to bring me there—and probably saved myself the trouble of climbing ten thousand steps again—but for now, I didn't want to tell him exactly why I wanted to go. As I climbed and climbed, I hoped my assumptions about who might be in the training ring were correct.

And they were. "Is everything alright, Feyre?" Azriel said, without turning from the target he was sinking a dagger into.

"I'm fine," I said, and at the very least it was true that I wasn't in danger. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Now?"

"Yes. While Rhys is busy." That finally got Azriel to drag his attention away from target practice. The way his gaze swept over me was an obvious assessment, as if he was cataloging all the information he found at the sight of me. I didn't mind. When Azriel didn't say anything, I added, "I think I should come with when you go to Illyria."

I'd half-expected him to immediately tell me no, that it was too dangerous. But Azriel tipped his head to the side and asked, "What makes you say that?"

I sat down at the edge of the ring, more grateful than ever that Rhys surrounded himself with the type of people who'd hear me out. Azriel sheathed the dagger and sat down beside me.

"I know I can't take on an Illyrian, and I'm not stupid enough to try," I said, choosing my words carefully, "but I'm concerned it will be difficult for him if we're separated again so soon after….everything. You and Cassian will need him to focus, and he can't afford to make a mistake and appear weak."

Azriel was silent again, clearly mulling it over, but I couldn't read much of a reaction from him beyond that. It was unsettling to consider much that impassive face could be hiding. If I didn't trust already him, I would have nervously blurted out all of my thoughts right then and there.

"It's an angle to consider. Is there…something you had in mind to do while you're there?"

It was a valid question, though I hadn't expected Azriel to ask how I intended to ensure I wasn't a deadweight so tactfully. And at least I had an answer prepared.

"Let me hunt so the three of you can focus on the task at hand instead of trying to feed yourselves or carry rations. You'll get done faster."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. I was ready to remind him that I was still a competent enough tracker to avoid anyone in the woods I might not want to run into. My muscles tensed almost involuntarily, my body preparing for a fight.

But instead he said, more gently than I'd ever heard him, "Tell me why you really want to go."

I stared out at the mountains in the distance and thought about what to say. Even though I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, it was still difficult to find the words. Azriel just waited, patient as ever.

"I need to be outside for a few days straight. After— After being stuck in that cell, I just want to be able to pick a direction and run, somewhere there's so much space that I'll tire myself out before I find a single building."

I almost told him that I didn't want to sit behind in Velaris and wait for Rhys to come back, but that seemed cruel, all things considered. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Az rub his thumb along the spot on his hand where the scarring was the most obvious.

"I know the feeling," he said quietly. I started to respond, but he added, "You can't scream in Velaris, at least not without scaring the neighbors. But if you ever need to…let it out, I'll show you the empty places in the Illyrian Steppes."

Azriel knew. Just like with Mor's scars, I'd never asked about his, but whatever had happened, he'd been confined in the dark once. I hadn't realized it—I'd come to him first because he'd supported me trapping the Suriel on my first day in the Night Court.

"Thank you."

"You haven't brought this up to your mate, have you?"

There was no accusation there. Azriel's voice was even, and I had the sense he was just…gathering more information.

"Not yet. I wanted to see what you and Cassian thought first."

A single nod. "Prudent."

"Do you think it's a good idea, then? For me to go?" I said, once the silence stretched on long enough that it was clear he wasn't going to elaborate.

"It's worth discussing. Even after the frenzy, mated males are…volatile."

Azriel shifted awkwardly, tucking his wings in tight. And I understood—I didn't particularly want to discuss the mating frenzy, either. Especially not with someone who was more or less family. But after the way Rhys had growled at Cassian over me, we were right to consider what those instincts might mean, whether being apart or potential danger in the woods was a bigger risk.

I thanked him again and got up to leave, but the sound of Azriel's voice, midnight-dark and more stern than I'd ever heard it, stopped me in my tracks. "Where do you think you're going?" I turned, and Azriel had already gotten up from where he was sitting and unsheathing another blade. "You climbed ten thousand steps to get up here, so make it worth your while and work on your knife skills."

Azriel had earned that reputation as a hard bastard. Even today, I wasn't going to get out of training.

And if war was coming, I'd need all the training I could get. I took the knife and got to work, if only for a short lesson.

When we finished, Azriel flew me to the townhouse, and Rhys wasn't back yet. That was fine—there was still more I needed to do. The chances of a nightmare were too high that he'd share a bed with me that night. But he needed sleep, and he'd said that I smelled like safety.

I was used to hiding my scent, not spreading it. With the glamour on me, I wasn't even sure my idea would work, but it seemed worth a try, even if it did make me feel faintly ridiculous.

I dug my clothes out of the laundry and tucked them in the corners of Rhys's room. When I'd hunted, I'd kept a specific set of clothes for the woods and washed them as infrequently as possible, minimizing the scent of laundry soap. If it worked in the forest…maybe it might work here.

Then I hesitated, just for a moment, to touch the bed. Before, I'd only ever ventured into his bedroom when Rhys had a nightmare, and I couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was somehow a violation, ridiculous as that was when there was an unbreakable thread connecting our souls and my bite marks made him preen.

I pushed those thoughts aside and crawled under the covers. Trying my best to be thorough, I rolled around and rubbed my hair against both sides of the pillow. I repeated the process under both the sheet and the duvet for good measure, then made the bed and spent some time on top of it.

I hoped it was enough. I doubted we'd take a sleeping draught tonight; being difficult to rouse if there was another emergency was too much of a risk.

By the time I finished, it was getting late, and I wasn't sure now was the time for Rhys to come home and find me waiting in his bed, even if it was…tempting. I filed that thought away for another time.

I was still restless—too long without anything to do, and I found myself thinking of the slain priestesses again, the sight of mutilated bodies flashing across my mind again. In search of another distraction, I wandered back to the living room and looked at the bookshelves lining the walls. I'd never paid much attention to them before. But apparently Rhys considered them mine too, and perhaps there was something worth copying for handwriting practice.

I pulled the book with the most cracks in the spine off the shelf, idly wondering if it was his favorite. I'd ask, but…misplaced shame still made it difficult to talk about reading. Still curious, I flipped it open to a random page and struggled through what appeared to be poetry.

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,

The vapours weep their burthen to the ground…

I scowled and put the book back. Years of hunting had been more than enough decaying woods for a lifetime, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what a burthen was.

I tried another book and found more poetry—Cauldron, how much of it did Rhys read? But the words were shorter, which I felt better about, so I found a pen and paper and brought the book to the roof with me. The full moon and the light of the stars and Velaris were enough to read by.

I didn't pay much attention to what the poem was about, just focused on copying the letters as neatly as possible. Something about the work and sitting under the stars was strangely meditative.

But I didn't relax completely until I heard a soft rustle of wings and turned to see Rhys landing a few feet away. Something inside me settled. Perhaps some of my restlessness had just been the mating bond railing at him being away, even for only a few hours.

Rhys nearly always looked elegant, but for the Hewn City, there wasn't a single speck of color on him. There was no sheen to the fine black fabric of his suit, no embroidery like he often favored, just cloth so dark it seemed to gobble the light, buttoned up to hide his tattoos. The night itself clung to him more tightly than usual.

His grip on his power was still a bit looser than usual, and though it was faint, I felt familiar darkness reaching for me.

I watched his feet touch the ground, the movement far more graceful than the last time I'd seen it. For a moment, I just savored it—the wingspan, the promise of death in just the way he carried himself, my blood singing in answer to the darkness rippling from him.

I almost didn't notice the ebony crown. He'd never worn one in front of me before.

"Is there magic keeping that on your head," I said, "or did you have to learn to fly without it falling off?"

He snorted. "Hello, Feyre."

A flick of his wrist as he sank into the chair next to mine, and the crown disappeared and the top button of his jacket loosened itself. His gaze landed on the open book and notepad in my lap. Before he could ask about it, I said, "How did it go?"

"I didn't have to make an example of anyone, so as well as could reasonably be expected," he said, rolling his shoulders with a pinched expression on his face.

No violence, then. It felt like the first respite in a while.

We sat on the roof and talked for a while about nothing in particular, a silent understanding passing between us that we both didn't want to feel enclosed or alone. I summoned up the courage to ask about the books downstairs; my visible relief at the lack of dirty limericks Tamlin favored made Rhys snicker and tell me the awful verses were still a mercy compared to fiddle music.

Until he'd spat those last two words like a curse, I hadn't realized I'd put enough distance between myself and the Spring Court to joke about it. Despite everything that had happened in the last day, I felt…lighter.

Exhaustion still settled over both of us as we'd talked, and in just the set of his shoulders and wings, I could see the way being underground had taken something out of him. It was an early night.

As I slid into bed, I was tired enough that I'd nearly forgotten what I'd done in Rhys's room earlier. But his voice floated into my mind, as if a night-kissed wind carried it through the crack in my shields I'd left for him.

Feyre darling…

"Yes?" I said aloud. He'd hear it from across the hall.

Do I want to know what you were doing that involved rolling around in my sheets and leaving your socks for me to find?

My cheeks heated, and even though couldn't see it, I rolled over and hid my face in the pillow anyway. "Tonight might be another bad night. I thought my scent might help. Because I can't…"

For the length of a heartbeat, the bond lit up with gratitude. Then there was a dip in the bed next to me, and Rhys's arms were banding around my chest and pulling me to him. He'd winnowed right to me.

"You are impossible to stay away from when you're being brilliant," he murmured against my hair.

I nearly asked him to stay. But I knew it was hard enough for him to let me in enough to see the aftermath of a nightmare, and that was when there was no risk to me. He didn't say it, but…I suspected he was only holding me until I fell asleep.

I twisted in his arms so we were face-to-face, then kissed him gently. "It won't always be like this. The bad nights will be behind us eventually."

He sighed and let his head tip forward until our foreheads were touching. I closed my eyes and let my breathing slow, warm and comfortable. We stayed like that for a long time, until he finally winnowed back to his room.

I scooted over to the warm spot he'd left, already aching for him. It would still be a while before my thoughts stopped racing enough for me to finally drift off, but Rhys didn't need to know that. I'd pretend anything at all to give him peace of mind.

Sleep finally claimed me as his side of the bed went cold again.

[amethystina]

For the ask game, this question please.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

This one is actually kind of tricky because it depends a lot on what character I'm writing and the circumstances they're in. Like, there are certain characters I feel closer to, or characters who have similar weaknesses and insecurities as I do, which means I'll react stronger whenever those are addressed.

But, overall, I'd say moments that involve a feeling of not being good enough, especially not being a good enough person or not being good enough for a relationship. And it doesn't have to be a romantic relationship — platonic or familial works too. Sometimes, that's even worse, in all honesty.

And that's probably because that's something I've struggled with myself. I had a couple of years during my mid-twenties when I was convinced I was an incredibly selfish and unkind person, simply because that was what I was being told by some of the people around me. We're talking full-on emotional abuse along the lines of: "you're a heartless, selfish bully and you're lucky I put up with you since you're such a terrible person."

And since it was from more than one person — and the people who disagreed didn't know about the abuse and therefore couldn't tell me it was bullshit — I believed them. Clearly, if more than one person tells you that you're not good enough — and those people don't actually know each other and can coordinate an attack — then it must be true, right?

So that kind of storyline always hits very close to home for me, because I know what it's like to genuinely think you're a terrible person who has nothing to contribute to the people around you. And I also know how difficult it can be to overcome, especially if you've lived with it for years. It's rough.

Fun fact: This abuse led to an existential crisis when I joined a Winteriron server on Discord (of all things) and I started talking to new people who, within literal days started challenging my perception of myself. I spent the first couple of weeks terrified of the moment people would stop talking to me because they'd figured out I was a bad person. But, spoiler alert — it never happened. Instead, they did the opposite, turning to me for advice and comfort, and telling me how kind I was.

And the whole thing came crumbling down, rather inconveniently, at 2 AM on my wedding night. Like, I legit asked my newly minted wife — who was trying to sleep — if I was a terrible person because, if I was, I figured she'd know. Or at least deserved to know, considering that she was now married to me. And her reaction was, to my confusion, not a confirmation but something along the lines of: "What the actual fuck? You're one of the kindest, most generous people I know. Why do you think I married you?"

It was, as they say, A Ride.

And my wife has now decided that any future existential crises must be scheduled between 7 AM and 11 PM because she needs her sleep, dammit.

(She's obviously lying — she'd listen even if it happened at 2 AM again)

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

[garden-of-zinnia]

Cato H. ~ The Seam

We got a Cato Hadley imagine, ya'll.

TW: Swearing, canon-typical violence

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

    .Y/N's POV.

    Wow. The Hunger Games. Never thought I'd end up here. But then again, I also never thought I'd befriend a boy who gained muscle from baking and was named after bread.

    Everyone here (The capital people, the president, the game maker, the careers, and our capital escort, Effie) made it seem like it was such an honor to be a part of the games, but honestly, I just want to go home. I have my family, Katniss, Primrose, and Gale, waiting for me at home. Plus, my mom. I don't want to be here for pretty obvious reasons. Yet, here I am, in The Hunger Games, in a training center, shooting arrows at the heart of a bright colored dummy.

-.-.-.-

        I was, standing on a pedestal, heart pounding wildly in my chest, waiting for the signal to run.

    I already knew Peeta would try to grab a bag and weapons, but I really didn't care and bolted straight for the woods. Once I was far enough away, I grabbed a bunch of tree branches and sharpened them into make-shift spears.

     But then I heard it.

    The terrifying Ariana-Grande-Like screams of the I-Can't-Climb-A-Tree people.

    Otherwise known as Marvel, Glimmer, Cato, and Clove. The careers.

    I mean, not gonna lie here, Cato is kind of fine, but that's besides the point. They're trying to kill me. So I did the first thing that any normal human would do when encountering the careers and climbed the nearest tree. I got at least thirty feet up before the careers got to me, and when I looked down, I saw... PEETA?! WHAT THE HELL MAN?! I THOUGHT WE WERE BREAD BUDDIES?! Whatever.

    Before I knew it, Glimmer was trying, and miserably failing, to shoot me with her goddamn arrows, and Cato was climbing after me.

    Obviously, these are the I-Can't-Climb-A-Tree people were talking about, so he obviously fell only about 10 feet up, but I still climbed farther.

     And, obviously, Peeta, being the back-stabbing asshole that he is, told them to wait for me to come down.

    You know what?! FUCK YOU, PEETA. We were supposed to be bREAD BUDDIes!

    Eventually, the careers went to sleep, and I soon followed their actions and layed down, but I couldn't seem to close my eyes for more than ten seconds.

-.-.-.-.

When the sun came up, I noticed three things.

1.) There was a little girl, Rue, from district 11, staring at me from another tree. She pointed at something. A tracker-jacker nest just above the careers for me to cut down. Thanks, Rue. She can replace Peeta, now :).

2.) I had a sponsor gift on the branch above me, which looked like just a small metal tin.

3.) Cato was staring into my soul from the tree next to mine.

    I almost screamed when I saw Cato  but quickly stopped myself. He looked into my eyes and, without hesitation, stuck his hand out to me. He was holding three small knives.

    I stared at him for a second before he spoke.

    "You want 'em or not, Seam?" He said, sticking his hand out farther towards me and motioning up to the tracker-jacker nest.

    I slowly grabbed them, I began to cut away at the top of the hive while Cato and Rue watched from their respective places.

    I got a few stings around my neck, but I eventually cut through the top of the hive, which fell onto the careers and Peeta. They all managed to get away, though.

    All except one, at least.

    Glimmer, the girl from district one, was almost instantly killed by the stings, and she went limp on the ground as a cannon sounded, and the tracker-jackers began to fly away.

    I jumped down the tree and grabbed the nearest rock.

    I began to smash at Glimmer's hand with the smooth stone and crack after crack her fingers snapped. After a few seconds, they were all broken, but the stings must have gotten to me because the last thing I was was the bow in my hand, and Cato shaking me.

    Peeta ran at us and shouted. "Y/N! Y/N, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LEAVE! Y/N?!"

    Then... I went limp.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

(A/N) Well, that sucked :D! Not proofread, because��I hated this one. Also, Y/N, Gale, Katniss, and Primrose aren't related, just really close. But this one was like actually really shitty.

Love ya'll to bits,

♡Graysin♡Zinnia♡

Word Count: 798

[c0ffee-gh0ul]

I'd like to request some Stephen x reader fluff of helping him rest after a gig. Sorry if this is too vague, this is my first time requesting anything ever

I really enjoyed this request! I hope you enjoy it too :D

ONESHOT: STEPHEN STILLS X READER, AFTER-GIG REST

“Did we suck? Was that totally suckish?” Stephen asked Y/N as the two left the venue where Sex Bob-Omb just played.

“No, dear! That was awesome, you totally rocked,” Y/N replied. “Let’s just go home and chill, okay? Don’t you have another gig tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Stephen sighed.

The two arrived home and immediately Stephen kicked off his shoes and slumped into the sofa.

“Do you want anything? Water? Something to eat?” Y/N asked, approaching the kitchen.

“Water, please,” Stephen replied, reaching for the TV remote. Y/N came back with a glass of ice water and sat criss-cross next to him. 

“What are you thinking of watching?” Y/N asked.

“I dunno,” Stephen answered. “What about that one movie Scott told us about? What was it called again?”

“Um… I honestly can’t remember myself,” Y/N chuckled. “You should get some sleep, though, to rest up for tomorrow’s gig!”

“It’s not until 7PM,” Stephen said.

“So? You still need a good night’s sleep!”

“Who said I can’t sleep all day?”

“Don’t you work in the morning?”

“Do I?” He sprung himself off the sofa and ran over to the calendar on the wall. “Shit, I do! 11 to 5? Come on…”

“Which is exactly why you should get a full night’s sleep!” Y/N pointed out.

“Fine,” Stephen sighed. The two of them went up to bed and neither could fall asleep.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow’s gig?” Y/N asked.

“A little bit,” Stephen responded. 

“If I give you a shoulder massage, would that help?” Y/N offered.

“Yeah, I think it would,” He agreed.

Y/N sat behind Stephen and gently massaged his shoulders. This was one of his favorite things, as he was usually tense, especially having a guitar strap over him all the time.

Soon enough, Stephen grew tired, and he leaned into Y/N’s chest to fall asleep.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 10 - I Would Wait For Him

Summary

You're seperated by a horde of infected, finding shelter in an unexpected place.

CW // Fear, Anxiety, violence, Fluff. (let me know if i miss any)

WC // 11, 892

Now

Four Days Later

"How long would you wait for someone?" You ask, your eyes straying towards the wall that stands crumbling before you. The bottom half of the wall seems to have been destroyed years prior and it's remained abandoned upon the concrete floor ever since. The only remnant of its former self being the upper part of the wall that stands covered with tally marks with "I waited" painted upon the middle. The question hangs in the air, your words heavy with the implications of a previous attachment and experience that holds significant meaning and importance to you.

A gentle breeze washes over you from the holes in the wall, creating a chill and sending shivers up your spine that you cannot differentiate between whether it's from the wind or the ominous scene that sprawls out in front of you.

"I wouldn't wait," Joel gruffly states behind you as he sets up camp in the small shelter you’ve found here. His hands lay on his hips as he decides on a suitable spot to lay out the bedrolls, his body language indicative of a man well-versed in survival and accustomed to the harsh realities of life. The dust settling upon the floor is stirred up from his foot and a cough escapes his mouth, his body reacting negatively to the poor conditions that this place has unfortunately fallen to.

You turn at the sound of his cough, your body instinctively rushing to his side before you are halted by his dismissive wave of his hand that he uses to signal you that he is alright. You watch him carefully and turn back towards the wall once he has recovered, your thoughts consumed with concern and worry for his condition yet again. "You wouldn't wait?" You ask as you turn to face him once again, your frown reflecting the confusion and disapproval for his answer.

"I'd go find them myself." He answers with a rough voice, his words carrying a sense of impatience and a subtle edge as he strains from the coughing spell that the dust created. He lifts his bandana from his neck and ties it tightly around his face as he continues to move the rubble to clear a spot to sleep.

"Yeah, but what if they told you to wait for them?" You ask as you watch him work. He is able to efficiently clear up the space without showing any signs of exhaustion or exertion despite the heavy lifting he has to do. You cross your arms over your chest and continue to gaze over him, and you repeat the question with a curious undertone. "How long would you wait?"

Joel stops midway through picking up a piece of rubble and faces you as he crouches, his body language and actions carrying an air of impatience as he stops his work. He drops the rubble piece back to the ground and straightens up on his legs once again, dusting the dust from his hands and sighing in exasperation. He looks up to you and asks, "I'm guessing this is more than just a question?"

You shrug and look down at the ground as you give a gentle kick to the small rock, pushing it into the pile of rubble that Joel has created. He glances over at you and softly says your name in a gentle tone, taking a small step towards you in an attempt to get your attention.

"I waited a week for Dean. He said he would be back in two days but I waited a week before I looked for him. Maybe I should have left sooner? Maybe he'd still be alive." Your words trail off as you speak, your gaze remaining fixed on the ground and unable to meet his eyes directly as you talk about it. The thoughts of lost opportunity and missed chances weigh heavily in your mind, and you find yourself dwelling on it as you speak of it.

You haven’t thought about the day Dean left in years, pushing it to the back of your mind. However the tally marks and the painted sign are bringing back old memories you wish to forget, just as you’ve forgotten his face.

Joel nods and crouches back down, picking up the rubble and tossing it onto the pile he had already established. “Did you like your brother?” He gazes over at you with curiosity as he asks, the question catches you off-guard and the surprise of it is evident on your face as your mouth drops. The thought of whether you actually liked your brother also surprises you deeply, as you hadn't allowed yourself to truly consider it until now. You hesitate and struggle to find an appropriate answer, unable to formulate your thoughts properly due to the new realisation.

You feel a sense of realisation as the thoughts and memories flood back to you. You did love him, he was family and you had to trust he knew what was best. Even as things got worse between you two, the arguments and disagreements that tore at your relationship, you still loved him. Even when he left you for days on end to look after Annabel by yourself despite you being a child yourself. You loved him. Right?

“I loved him.” You finally answer. 

"But did you like him?" He asks again, a subtle hint of uncertainty in his tone as he seeks to probe you further for an answer. You find yourself at a loss for words as you cannot fathom where Joel is going with this line of questioning, and you are unable to determine whether you truly liked your brother or not. You have always loved him, but you had not given much thought to truly liking him until this moment.

He stands from the pile of rubble and moves towards the bags as you remain frozen in thought, your body language stiff and rigid as you grapple with the thoughts that he has provoked. He begins to set up the bedrolls on the dust-covered floor in preparation for sleeping, before placing a few sticks of wood on the floor for a fire to heat up a meal. You cannot decide whether to watch him work or to continue to ruminate on your internal thoughts.

"I only ask because I met him the once and I fuckin' hated him." He mumbles as he tries to light the fire, the words immediately pulling your attention from your thoughts as his admission catches you by surprise. You look over to meet his eyes with a small look of shock and surprise.

“You did?” 

He curses under his breath as the fire refuses to catch, the wind pushing the flames out before it has a chance to start. He hums in a frustrated manner as he retrieves a large piece of plywood and wedges it between two rocks for protection against the wind. Your eyes glance towards the plywood and the makeshift barrier that he has created, noticing that his attention is not on you or the conversation that is taking place between the two of you.

"Why is that?" You push the conversation along and move closer to him, kneeling down beside him and helping him to place rocks to keep the wood stable and protect the fire until it catches, your words carrying a subtle edge as you ask this question. There is a pause as he considers your question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he decides whether he actually wants to tell you or not.

"I was about to kill him before he told Tommy and I he had children hidden a few miles down the coastline. I was still going to kill him before Tommy made me go looking for you," he finally responds as he starts the fire, the flames now flickering and spreading. He leans back and sighs, pulling down his bandana to rest at his neck as he removes a cooking pot from his bag, his eyes and body showing signs of weariness after a long and tiring day of travelling and struggling to find shelter. He takes a deep breath and looks over at you.

"And then I heard the men in that bookstore and saw you with a toddler strapped to you, and I couldn't believe he left you behind like that. You were a kid, and he left you vulnerable and defenceless," he continues as he spills the contents of a can of beans into the pot and rests his arms on his knees, your full attention drawn to him as he speaks. Your thoughts drift towards the events at the bookstore and having Annabel strapped against your chest as you ran in the snow, completely vulnerable and on your own. "I hadn't seen a kid since the outbreak. You let me hold her — It took everything in me not to kill him and take the two of you with us. I thought for sure that you’d be better off with us than to be left alone. But we couldn't look after kids, we were as bad as him back then," he continues to ramble as he stares at the wall in tally marks, his words carrying an air of sorrow and regret.

You watch carefully as he seems lost in thought, his voice carrying a sense of grief and sadness within it as he reflects on the past and what could have been. He seems to have been torn between the desire to protect and care for you and Annabel and the need to survive.

"You were the one that shot him, weren’t you?" You question him in a calm and collected tone, your voice still showing no sign of anger or rage. He nods once he realises that you are not angry with him for hurting your brother. 

A few years ago when Dean was alive, you know that you would have screamed and raged at Joel for causing harm to your brother. The bond between you and him was fierce and unbreakable, and no one could have told you otherwise during the moment. But after all that has happened, everything that he put you through and caused, you can no longer find the energy within you to care or even feel a hint of anger towards Joel.

Hell, you’re kind of grateful that Joel shot him as you managed to stay in the same spot for a few days instead of the constant movement. 

The laugh that escapes your lips is only soft and gentle, breaking into light chuckles that gradually turn into full and uncontrollable laughter. Joel's eyebrow raises in response, the look on his face curious due to your unanticipated reaction. As your laugh turns to full-blown laughter, he starts to crack a smile as the situation plays out and he notices that you seem to find the whole ordeal quite humorous.

"I'm not sure if you laughin’ is a good or bad sign?" He asks curiously through a slight smile as you lay down laughing and struggling to gain control of yourself. Your laughter is contagious and it spreads to him as you hear his soft and amused chuckle. The two of you continue laughing together as you try to gain control of your breath, your sides starting to ache from the uncontrollable laughter you are experiencing.

"I.. I just find.. It funny.." Your breaths come in short and sharp gasps as you try to regain control of your breathing and composure, your laughter slowly dying down and turning into snorts and chuckles of amusement. “That you shot him and I don’t care.” Your head slowly turns on the ground to face him and his smile sends a shiver up your spine despite the warmth of the fire beside you. You quickly look away and up at a hole in the ceiling, unable to meet his eyes directly. 

After the laughter had died down, and the quiet and comfortable silence fell between you both as you ate your meal, Joel offers to take the first watch. It’s been a few days since you left Jackson and each night Joel offered to take the first watch, purely to wake you up later than agreed so you get more sleep. He knows that you need rest and have been pushing yourself for a while already, and wants to make sure you get enough rest each night despite the fact that it is taking a toll on him. The bags forming under his eyes indicate that the strain of missing some sleep and watching over you so that you could rest is beginning to catch up with him.

You shake your head and stand up from the fire, your response quick and decisive as you show no allowance for argument. "Nope, I'm taking first watch tonight. You need to sleep, we'll be reaching the next town soon and I need you at your best," you order. When he starts to open his mouth in response, you point a finger at him and he frowns slightly but says no more. 

He lets out a grumble as he settles into his bedroll, shifting until his back is turned towards you as he settles. You are thankful that his back is turned away so that he is unable to notice your smile, as you shift towards a wall that isn't broken to lean against and enjoy the chance to quietly observe him. You gaze at him curiously and observe him as he lays on his bedroll.

He's been on edge ever since you left the safety of Jackson, showing a more reserved and cautious side to him as he leaves the comfort and shelter of town behind. He’s different out here than his typical behaviour while on patrol with you. Even though your route is outside the boundaries of the safety of the town, it is still close enough that if anything were to go wrong you could quickly return to the town for assistance. Everything out here is unpredictable and uncertain, and any wrong moves or moments of carelessness could result in major consequences for both of you. Every sound has him flinching, his hands on at least one weapon at all times. 

He sits back up and looks over at you, a deep frown settling on his face. “Your brother, he was lucky enough that his kids survived and he just fucking left you two alone. I wanted to kill him for it. I could have been some sick fuck and he just let me go get you like he didn’t care. If Sarah-” He closes his eyes and grits his teeth as he roughly scrubs his face. “If I had Sarah with me, she would have never left my sight. I wouldn’t have just left her alone like that to look after a baby on her own.” He rants, anger at your brother's actions laced in his tone. 

You nod from your spot against the wall, a soft smile forming at your lips. “I didn’t know any better. I was always left alone even before the outbreak. It was only the two of us for years and he worked long hours since he was a park ranger. I spent a lot of time in the parks with him but I was always left to play alone while he worked or left at home. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that he finally started dating and he accidentally got his girlfriend pregnant. I wasn’t alone then. I had Annabel.” 

“But who was looking out for you?” 

“I was.”

He nods as he lays back down, turning his back to you once more.

So you watch him as he slowly begins to drift off to sleep, this being the only time that he allows himself to truly let down his guards and relax properly out here. He lifts up onto his elbows at the sound of an animal rushing by, his instincts kicking in and causing him to alert immediately. However, soon these reactions slow as the minutes pass. He slowly but surely falls asleep, the only sound is the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in his slumber. 

It's another day before you begin to see a resemblance of what past life used to be, the broken houses and buildings that are shattered and destroyed from the bombs dropped to try and quell the outbreak but failed to succeed. It appears that they attempted to blow this town to the ground, the devastation of destruction all around you. You notice no movement or signs of life as you move deeper into town, the sight of death all around you still sending shivers down your spine and a feeling of unease settling deep inside you.

Joel is silent beside you, not uttering a word as the only sound you hear is the gentle hoof beats of the horses with each step they take. There are no signs of animals around and you can feel an uneasy atmosphere settle around you like a blanket as you ride forth through the town. Your gaze shifts over towards a row of flattened houses to your left. "I don't like this Joel," you murmur to him quietly, your words carrying a hint of trepidation in your tone.

He grunts in agreement as his eyes quickly and efficiently scan the surrounding area for any dangers or threats. Your heart skips a beat as he suddenly stops his horse and raises a hand to signal you to stop. You frown at him and move to question him, only to be met with a raised finger over his lips as he silences you. You are left unsure of why he has come to a standstill and why he has instructed you to keep quiet.

Then, you hear it. Your ears quickly pick up the sound of a car in the distance. The ground beneath you begins to shake, and you look down at the rocks on the ground as your horse reacts to the rumbling with a nervous whicker. 

A horde.

Your fear and worry grow as you sense a growing danger in the air, your mind processing the situation quickly and beginning to consider potential outcomes and potential threats. You turn your head sidewards and look at Joel with a worried expression, ready if he should give you any instruction to move or act.

"Joel," you begin to say, but before you can finish, your attention is swiftly thrown by the sound of a row of trucks screeching around the corner at the end of the long street. You tilt your head at the sound of the laughter coming from the trucks, and catch sight of men standing on the backs of the vehicles. 

"Yeehaw motherfuckers!" A man on the back of the truck yells loudly, as they quickly open fire with their guns at the clickers that begin sprinting around the corner. The sound of the shots fill the air, echoing loudly around the quiet and seemingly vacant town that has remained untouched for so long.  

"Move!" Joel shouts suddenly as he quickly turns his horse, setting off into a gallop and you follow right on his heels. You feel a slight jolt as you begin to pick up speed and gallop after him through the town, trying your best to keep close by and avoid losing him in the chaos.

You snap a quick look back as you settle onto a straight road, only to spot a group of clickers sprinting after you. "Fuck," you swear under your breath as you quickly draw the handgun from its holster on your thigh. You open fire behind you, the bullets straying from your aim due to the movement caused by your horse but still finding a target within the group chasing after you both.

"We gotta shake ‘em!" Joel yells from up front, turning a sharp corner with ease but leaving you with no choice but to continue straight as you are unable to make a sharp turn without the risk of your horse stumbling or tumbling. You swear again under your breath as you realise the possibility of you and Joel being split up, aware and nervous at the thought of facing the horde of clickers alone without his support and backing you up. 

You take a few more shots before running out of ammo in the magazine, swearing sharply as the clip empties. You put the gun back into its holster and quickly turn into the side street, hoping to thin out the group by breaking away and taking a different route. However, as you move into this other street, you groan as you notice a different truck at the end of the road.

"Come to daddy!" Another man on the back of the truck laughs as he continues to rain down bullets on the hordes of clickers, the sound of his gun filling the air once more and sending chills up and down your spine. You turn to continue down the street, only to be stopped suddenly by the sight of a new group of clickers in front of you. Your horse screeches as they grab onto the horse and bite into its flesh, causing you to pull on the reins to try to move away but the creatures will not let go of their grip and teeth rip into your horse's flesh.

"No!" you yell, your tone of voice filled with a combination of panic and desperation as you watch your horse begin to fall. You quickly and frantically jump off the horse, landing against the blunt and hard concrete with a grunt. As you take only a moment to regain your composure, you see the infected distracted by your horse that they are devouring, and you sprint across the street without wasting any time. As you move, you see the initial group of infected spill out from the side street you just came from, causing you to continue moving quickly and urgently.

You tighten the straps of your bag as you run and climb across the ruins and rubble of old houses, your goal and focus set solely on escaping and your own survival. Your mind is blank apart from maintaining this pace, desperate to outrun the infected that tail behind you. You feel a burning sensation in your muscles from the continuous running and your lungs feel as though they are tight and restricting from how much air you are sucking in with each breath.  

You pause for just a moment as you reach another street, your body already reaching its limit and growing exhausted from the strain of constantly running and breathing heavily. You place a hand on your heart and are worried it might beat through your skin at the rate it’s beating. Your head snaps around suddenly as you hear another truck turn the corner, but this time the man who is riding on the back of the truck is holding out his hand towards you. "Gimme your hand darl'!” he yells out and the world seems to slow down around you. You move to run, but you’re exhausted and know you can’t unrun the infected forever.

You look behind you and watch as the infected begin to spill out and stumble around the rubble behind you. "Oh, fuck me." you curse in frustration and despair as you realise the inevitable situation, the infected getting closer and closer behind you. You reach your hand out in response to the man in the truck and he grabs your hand firmly. Your body is hauled into the bed of the truck with a jolt, the momentum causing you to stumble a bit but manage to grab onto the side.

You roll over onto your side and manage to get yourself into a crouching position, one hand firmly on the metal railing to keep yourself stable as the truck drives over the various cracks and potholes on the road. You stare at the man with a look of intense anger and irritation on your face, the rage growing with each passing moment.

"We going to have a problem?" you ask through gritted and tightened teeth, your expression hardening into a deep frown the longer you look at him. The man who looks to be in his mid twenties laughs as he stands up on the back of the truck, beginning to open fire once more with his weapon at the horde of infected in pursuit of you both.

"Grab a gun, sweet thang!" the man yells out with a distinct and noticeable drawl, his voice breaking through the sound of the gunfire.

Fucking hillbillies.

You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you should follow his instruction or not but realising the necessity of at least having the means to defend yourself in this situation so you quickly grab a gun lying on the truck bed and grip it tightly in your hands.

You take aim and take out a few of the infected that are chasing after the truck with each shot, your aim becoming more accurate and steady with each moment as you get used to the truck's movement and the opportunity to hone in and focus on the target. The man beside you laughs heartily and shouts out to the infected that follow behind you both, seemingly taking a great deal of pleasure in the chase and the game of cat and mouse that he is playing with them. You on the other hand grow irritated and frustrated with the man's behaviour, taking your aim with more intention with each second that passes.

"Ought you were a goner back der!" the man chuckles as he finishes off the small group of infected that were still trailing closely behind the truck. The vehicle continues to rumble and grind over down the dirt road they turned down, the bumpy and rough ride only serving to make the situation that much more uncomfortable as you feel both the gun in your hand and the ground beneath your feet shifting with the movement of the truck.

"You can drop me off now." you order him firmly, glaring at him as your grip on the gun tightens. Despite the man saving your life, you don't trust him one bit. The man driving doesn't seem to want to engage in any sort of conversation or dialogue with either of you, which sets off a multitude of warning signs in your mind and heightens the feeling of tension and unease in your stomach.

The man leans back onto his arse as he leans against the railing, a smile etched across his face towards you. "Name's Billy," he sighs, disregarding your request to be dropped off and choosing to talk about himself instead. You stare at him, your eyes narrowing as you remain tense and on guard. 

You raise your gun with a determined expression on your face and a steady, sure grip on the weapon. The sudden screeching of the brakes catches you off guard, and as the truck comes to a sudden stop you are thrown off of your feet and slam your head against the side bed. The man takes the weapon from your hands with an ease, and before you get a chance to even register the situation the truck starts moving again. 

"Name's Billy," he mentions again before pointing to the man driving and adding, "That there's Ales. Well not really his name, but I can't say his real one so I just call him Ales." He seems to have a bit of a strange and awkward sense of humour, but you slowly find yourself slowly nodding at the explanation he provided. 

He leans closer and gestures for you to do the same, which you hesitate to do but eventually you sigh and sit up to lean in closer to him with a slightly disgusted look on your face. He pauses mid-way across the bed of the truck and stares at you with an expectant expression. You raise an eyebrow at the sudden pause, but you remain quiet.

“He can’t speak no english. Well no, he can,” He frowns and tilts his head in thought before continuing. “He know a few words that I teached him but that it.” He smiles proudly and you offer the awkward reply of a smile back, not really knowing what else to do in this situation. His lack of proper English definitely indicates that he might not have taught the other man anything, and that makes you wonder just how much they both actually know and understand each other.

What the fuck have you stumbled across.

The truck comes to another sudden stop in front of an old and dilapidated two story farmstead, and Billy's expression immediately lights up with excitement and enthusiasm as he leaps over the side railing and grabs the gun from the bed as he lands on the ground. He turns back to you and beckons you to follow him. 

"Come on, sweet thang!" he orders, pulling the tailgate down and reaching out his hands to help you down. You grit your teeth and narrow your eyes, the anger building and growing within you as he continues to grin in a stupid manner. He doesn't take your anger or obvious frustration seriously, just looking at you with that same stupid expression that is only causing you more irritation. “The kids’ll love ya!” He adds in a sing-song voice as he wiggles his fingers and you raise your eyebrows at him in question.  

What the fuck.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you scoot towards him, letting him help you down from the truck. “I’m sure one of ma brothers will ‘ave picked up ya mate too.” He says as he pushes the tailgate back up. He moves to walk in front of you but quickly turns, the dust on the ground forming into a cloud around his feet. “‘M sorry bout your horse by da way.” He offers with a frown before turning and walking towards the house.  

Surely he’s harmless, right?

You’re not going to get murdered here, right?

You stop momentarily as you stare up at the farmstead, taking in the sights and the details that make up this place of dwelling. The old weathered red rusted timber coats the house, as do the overgrown vines and plants that coat the walls and the exterior of the building. The front garden is fenced in with an off white picket fence and filled with various children's toys littering and scattered around the yard. 

To the right is a barn, just as weathered and worn as the main house itself and featuring a gaping hole in the roof that has been poorly patched yet is just enough to keep the rain from pouring in. 

To the left you see the garden beds of fruits and vegetables, ready for picking and tending as several women work within the garden. They kneel amongst the crops and tend to their main source of food, quietly carrying out their duties and work without any sign of discomfort or dissatisfaction. You notice the quiet and tranquil vibes emanating from them, as they seem to be at ease and comfortable within this environment of the farmstead.

This would almost remind you of home if it were for the animals.

As you look towards the old and weathered red rusted timber house, you are instantly taken back to a place of comfort and safety when you were a child. You picture yourself as a child working on your swing in the yard of your grandparents farm that they left to your brother in their will once they passed. You can see your brother Dean throwing you baseballs to practise hitting with your baseball bat, and the exciting and joyful expression on his face as you smash the ball so far he has to run to catch it. You also remember his girlfriend Grace lying in a hammock as she sleeps, heavily pregnant with Annabel. 

You hadn't wanted to be on the baseball team, and instead desired to join the ice skating team with the other girls. Dean, however, thought that baseball would have been better for your anger issues and explosive outbursts. He was right about that, but you still feel a deep sense of regret whenever you see a frozen-over lake, recalling the beautiful sights of the other kids skating across the ice with graceful and elegant steps and movements.

You were happy back then. Dean was happy back then.       

Before you even have a chance to make your way towards the house, a horde of children of all different ages come rushing out of the front door, all at once screaming Billy's name in joy. They swarm around him and are instantly attached to him as they continue to shout and scream his name, jumping all over and around him as he chuckles and greets each and every one of them with excitement.

As you take a step back, the children's attention shifts suddenly from Billy to you, all of their eyes focused on you as they turn in tandem to face you. It's as though something from out of a horror movie, all of the children staring at you with an intense focus and an eerie silence and stillness in the air.

"A Ninja!" one of them yells out suddenly, and the rest of them begin running towards you as they all begin to laugh and giggle with amusement. You stare at them as they approach you, a hint of fear and dread creeping up on you as they get closer and closer by the second.

Where the fuck is Joel. 

Their bodies collide upon you and knock you backwards, forcing you to the ground as they push against and scramble on top of you laughing and wiggling around. You let out a puff of air as you are struck on the ground, but suddenly find yourself laughing involuntarily as the children start tickling you fiercely and relentlessly. Their fingers are quick and agile as they tickle your sides and stomach area, making you squirm helplessly as you are unable to get away from the relentless attacks.

"Let the poor girl go." the young woman laughs out as she steps in between you and the children, and in an instant the children back up and away from you. You are left gasping for breath and panting heavily, an unexpected smile on your face. You lean up on your elbows in the dirt and are met with a young woman offering you her hand and help off of the ground.

Her hair is long and braided into two plaits that drape over her shoulders, with bows tied lovingly at the ends. She smiles down at you with a sweet and gentle expression, her kindness and tenderness filling your body with a sense of calm and tranquillity. As you take her hand, she gently pulls you back up to your feet with a tender touch. 

"My name is Ashley,and I hope my husband introduced himself?" she says with a warm and friendly smile, looking back toward her husband as the children continue to swarm around him. You are taken aback a little bit by her sudden introduction and friendly and compassionate demeanour, and you look over at Billy to see him laughing and playing along with the children as they all pile on him and crawl over him with their wild energy and playful antics.

“He, uh.. Yeah he did.” You nod, frowning as you take in the house. 

"Oh! Sorry!" she suddenly apologises with a slightly frantic look on her face, though her concerned and considerate expression quickly returns as she sees your confused and perplexed expression. "Are you injured? Hungry?" she asks. 

You smile and gently shake your head, holding her hand in yours and squeezing it lightly in reassurance that you are uninjured and unharmed. "My horse didn't make it though," you explain, "she had a lot of my things on her."

Her facial expression immediately falters as she hears about the loss of your horse, and immediately you see a look of genuine and heartfelt sympathy on her face. She gently squeezes your hand as an act of comradery and understanding, and then offers a solution with a sympathetic grin. "I'll get someone out to see if they can recover any of the belongings you lost."

You quickly extend your gratitude towards her with a thankful expression, and she gently lets go of your hand before waving you off with a dismissive and humble demeanour. "It's nothing," she says with a gentle wave, "we do what we can to help those who pass through." She appears to be a truly compassionate and generous person, offering assistance and support to anyone and everyone who may need it without any expectations or expectations in return.

Ashley leads you inside the house, and the sound of children laughing, yelling, and playing a game of tag fills the air as they run through the rooms and halls of the old house. She moves quickly and nimbly as she quickly ushers the children away from you as soon as one of them nearly runs into you and knocks you to the ground. The child apologises with an apologetic look on their face and then runs outside with the other kids in the group to continue playing, leaving only you and Ashley alone in the kitchen.

She pulls a stool out from the kitchen counter and offers for you to sit down on it. You gladly accept as you climb up onto the stool, and watch as she pulls a bucket of fresh fruit from the counter. The smell of the freshly picked fruits fills the air, and you wonder what type of fruits she has gathered from the garden beds that you had seen out in the yard.

As you are about to ask her about the children who have been running amok around the house, she explains that only one of the children belongs to her and Billy, with the rest of the house being home to Billy's three brothers, his sister, two of his cousins along with all their partners, children and Ales who they found wandering in the woods a few years back. The house is filled with life and family, as is apparently the norm for this old, weathered, red-rusted homestead.

“Do you have children?” She asks innocently as she cuts the strawberries in half and places them into a bowl. 

You stare blankly down at the sharp knife in her hand, every sound and noise hitting the chopping board as she cuts and slices into the berries. But instead of a chopping board, you hear Annabel’s skin being torn into with a knife. 

You stare down from your position on the stool as the juice from the strawberries stains the chopping board and makes it glow with a vivid red, the red liquid dripping down and covering the various slices and pieces of strawberry that she is cutting and preparing. However, in place of the strawberries is Annabel's blood oozing and seeping closer to you, the warm and hot crimson liquid trickling down and slowly making its way towards you as you are left frozen and unable to move.  

You jump as you are suddenly jolted back to reality by her hand touching you, your body twitching and you frantically wiping away the unnoticed tears that had been flowing down your cheeks involuntarily. You are left speechless as you are overcome with the feelings and the memory that you had been consumed by and lost within. The vision is so vivid and powerful, the scene of blood oozing and trickling towards you being forever ingrained into your memory as you are left trembling in fear and shock.

She pauses and her voice suddenly trails off as you notice the sympathetic look in her eyes, her hand finding a firm grip on your own. She swallows and takes a deep breath, her voice becoming suddenly soft and kind as she squeezes your hand back and starts to speak. "I'm so sorry," she says with empathy and compassion, "I shouldn't have asked such a stupid question." She lets out a small sigh as she stares up at you, smiling softly as she gazes at you in reassurance. "I used to have two children but Frankie got sick in the winter."  

You nod in comprehension and understanding of her loss, your thoughts and feelings of sympathy only growing as a young girl runs into the kitchen and tugs on your shirt. You look down at the child with an expression of surprise and amusement as she holds her arms up and offers you a poorly-made flower frown. At the same time, she asks "You help us?" with a cute pouty expression on her face, her voice sounding like a charming plea to assist her in whatever she requires.

Ashley softly laughs and lets go of your hand once more in a gentle and reassuring manner with a gentle and loving kindness as she rises from the counter. She gestures with a wave of her hand towards the various doors and entrances out of the house, "You're more than welcome to play with the children if you like. All I ask is that you put all your weapons inside the cupboard in the barn". 

At the sight of your frown, she smiles and reassures you. “The cupboard will not be locked and you can take them out whenever you please. The children are not allowed in the barn. I trust you, I would just rather the kids not be near weapons. They try to kill each other enough as it is.” She explains with a laugh and you reluctantly nod your head in agreement, slightly uncomfortable with the idea of being separated from your weapons, especially now that you are in a completely new and unfamiliar place.

Billy walks in through the front door, his entire face and body covered in a thick layer of dirt from the day's work and activities. The child who had tugged on your shirt smiles and laughs excitedly as she shows her broken flower crown to Billy, who immediately shows his approval and adoration. He praises the child and picks her up softly before spinning her around quickly, allowing her to let out more laughter and happiness in response to his playful and loving behaviour towards her. 

"That's our daughter Milly," Ashley explains with a hint of parental love and affection in her tone, causing your heart to ache a little bit in remembering the love and bond you shared with Annabel at the same age. “Oh and there’s a spare bed in the barn. You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you need to.” She offers.

Ashley politely asks her husband, Billy, to show you to the barn where you'll be able to securely stow your weapons, and he agrees with a quick nod and wave of the hand asking that you follow him. You nod back at Ashley in acknowledgment and turn away to walk beside Billy as he heads outside. He places Milly down in the grass and she immediately runs and tackles a boy to the ground, laughing as they roll onto the grass. 

“Your ‘usband oughta be given’ my brothers a fight, with how long they be gone.” He laughs heartily as he finishes sliding the barn doors open with a deep and strong grunt of effort.

"Oh, Joel isn't my husband," you clarify with a slight and playful smile, enjoying how the situation became somewhat awkward for him when he was under the mistaken assumption that you were together. Billy nods his head with a chuckle while he follows you into the barn. He leads you to a small and cosy little room with a double-bed in the corner and the floor covered in old hay. The wall has a broken ladder which leads to a loft and you guess it hasn't been used in quite some time.

"Don't mean no harm," he apologises, offering a light and friendly tone with an apologetic and slightly embarrassed look on his face after you correct him. He opens the cupboard and gestures for you to store your weapons in it, as you feel somewhat uncomfortable leaving them out of your sight and in someone else's vicinity. 

He sighs as you pause, staring at the cupboard. “None of us carry weapons in da house or round da kids.” You sense the friendly and empathetic tone of Billy as he attempts to comfort you and reassure you, his gentle and disarming demeanour easing your anxiety slightly. You give in to him and proceed to dispel yourself of the various weapons you've been carrying around your body, placing them carefully inside the cupboard. You feel slightly uneasy in leaving this man alone with all of your weapons, but you also understand the reasoning and need to keep them locked away in a safe and secure space.

What does comfort you in the situation is that you are aware that you are fully capable of defending yourself, and you know that you could easily kill any one of them with the various items you could improvise as weapons within the house if it came down to it. They may outnumber you, but you have the upper hand overall in terms of mental agility and your ability to adapt quickly to situations as they arise in order to ensure your survival.

You spend your afternoon outside, sitting in the thick and healthy grass as children surround you and crowd around you, attempting to learn how to properly make flower crowns. Their bright and imaginative little minds seem to absorb the information like sponges as you teach them the correct way to make flower crowns, just like how Annabel taught you years back when she was studying from her books on the different types of flowers and their usage in various fields and activities.

The sun's warmth starts to fade as it slowly sets, and you remain in the small garden with the children by the edge of the dirt road waiting for Joel to either show up by himself or for Billy's brothers to bring him back to you.

A child rests their head on your lap and you look down and smile at Milly as she closes her eyes. You push the hair from her face before looking back up at the road, hoping – praying to whatever entity is left that Joel Miller walks down that road. 

Your mind begins to wander and you entertain the horrifying notion that he might not have made it, and your heart twists with worry at the thought, even despite trying your best to avoid such thoughts and quell all concern from your heart. However, in spite of all of these worries and fears and anxieties, you still have faith that he indeed did make it, that he is Joel, and you cling to this hope and optimism as you await for him to find you. 

You would wait for him. You would write tally marks on walls to remind yourself of what you’re waiting for. Who you’re waiting for. You would wait for him, you would search the town for him as you waited.  

You start to feel your anxiety levels rising in the back of your mind during the afternoon as you are immersed in a playful and educational session of flower crown-making with the children. You start to slightly worry about Joel before you hear the sound of tires rolling over the dirt road in the distant distance behind you. Your heartbeat quickens and you sense your body getting ready to act or react in case of danger.

The trucks park behind you, and your body tenses and stands up from the grass as Joel is dragged out and thrown onto the ground, his hands tied behind his back. You can feel the tension in the air, the cold and sharp rage radiating from Joel, his voice dark. Furious. Demanding . "If you don't take me to her right now!" he threatens in a seething rage, his words being soaked with darkness and bitterness.

"Relax my dude, we're just trying to help." The man who looks similar to Billy, and is most likely his brother, attempts to speak in a calming and soothing tone while attempting to move in to restrain Joel from his aggressive and violent behavior. However, Joel seems to have a hair-trigger temper, as he immediately gets back up and violently headbuts the man to the ground, refusing to listen to anyone or anything.

"Joel!" you immediately yell at him with an impassioned and urgent tone, as your feet begin to rapidly sprint forward in his direction, the flowers the children had carefully constructed for you tumbling from your hair and onto the ground around you as you run to him. The tension is palpable in the air from the explosive anger being shown by Joel, and you don't know whether to stop him if you even could, but the desire to calm things down and prevent further conflict is burning within you.

You notice the shift in Joel's posture as soon as he hears you yelling his name, his face softening and the rage and anger instantly dropping out of his expression as he's focused solely on you now and he turns to face you with concern and worry. You see another man grabbing Joel's arms and holding him back from further confrontation, while the man he had just injured is slowly rising back up onto his feet.

Your hands hastily grab onto his jacket and pull him close to you, frantically searching for any immediate signs of injuries or harm that he might have sustained. "You split, I thought you were fucking dead Joel." Your voice is harsh and your fists continue to tighten their grip on his jacket as you glare up at him.

"Thought you were behind me." Joel's voice is filled with annoyance and resentment, the anger and rage simmering just below the surface as he turns his head and stares down at you with a frown. He then turns his focus towards the group of men who are beginning to surround the two of you. You follow his gaze as you see the women beginning to shepherd the children back inside to get them away from any potential danger. “Did they hurt you?” He asks you as he shrugs the man's hands from his arms behind him, his voice dark yet oddly comforting as his eyes trail over you, assessing you for any visible injury just as you had done to him.

You give a quick shake of your head as you smooth down the wrinkled jacket that you had been gripping onto him for dear life. One can only imagine how tight your grip must have been as your entire body was running on pure adrenaline when you thought you had lost him. "They're just people, just a family. They're okay." You try to speak with a reassuring tone to keep the peace, but your words fall on deaf ears as Joel remains stern and unmoved by your words as he surveys the men and their hands hovering near their weapons.

He looks back down at you and tilts his head in confusion at your hair. You follow his questioning gaze with your hand. It lands on a flower still stuck in your hair and you smile as you stick it back in firmly so it doesn’t fall. “I was teaching the kids how to make flower crowns while I waited for you.” You explain and he slowly nods his head, the frown slowly softening.  

“Right…” He grunts.  

"Listen, we don't have to stay the night but they offered us a place in the barn." You explain, trying to come to a compromise and not anger or further aggravate him even more than he already is. However, you can still see that his facial expression is beginning to gradually harden again as he considers your words and his options, and you also get the feeling that if there is even the faintest hint of trouble he'll immediately want to leave and not stay a moment longer than necessary. 

"I don't like this." He says in a voice just within the threshold of your hearing, the words so carefully chosen and spoken in such a quiet volume that only you are able to hear the statement. His eyes continue to dart rapidly from one man to the next, the intense energy of his gaze scanning the nearby bodies with a level of distrust and uneasiness that is almost palpable in the surrounding air.

A man lets out a whiny and irritating sound that draws your attention, causing your head to rapidly snap towards the source of the noise which ends up being Billy. He looks up at the sky and utters, “Can we jus go drinkin now?” One of his brothers then nudges him on the side, causing him to slightly stumble and lose his balance, and you feel a brief chuckle escape your lips at his humorous reaction to the unexpected action.

You quickly look back and see Joel with a look of judgmental and harsh disgust at the interaction between Billy and his brothers as they begin to wrestle on the dirt, apparently not finding it amusing in the slightest. Your brief and light nudge on Joel's arm catches his attention immediately, and he lets out a soft and quiet "Fine" in agreement. He grumbles under his breath, "But I kill any fucker that touches you." 

“Deal.” 

The brothers had already disarmed Joel when he pulled a gun on them after telling Joel that you were back at their house. Joel had shaken off the infected successfully and had begun tracking back to find you. He had found your horse when the truck pulled up and apparently all hell broke loose. 

One of the cousins finally arrives back at the farm on the back of Joel’s horse, and ties the reins of the animal firmly to a nearby pole outside, just in the vicinity of the entrance. You look on as the children spill back outside as one of the men lifts the kids one-by-one in order to let them carefully pat the animal as another feeds it an apple. 

Joel's gaze remains stuck in a fixed and almost trance-like state as he gazes into the dancing flames of the bonfire, his attention fully focused and intent on observing the entire scene playing out before him. It is evident that his discomfort has only grown exponentially with each passing moment, the overwhelming and ever-growing sounds of celebration and joy surrounding him and drowning out whatever thoughts he might be trying to process.

He had wanted to immediately take you and run as soon as he had been untied and freed from the grasp of these strangers. But he saw the slight hint of contentment and joy in your voice as you talked about the children and how you were helping them earlier with the flower crowns. This slight glimpse of your contentment was enough to halt his decision to immediately flee and escape.

As he stares into the flames of the bonfire, he begins to feel more frustrated and angry with each passing second.

He thought you were behind him. He was certain about it. So when he looked back after he yelled out to you and you weren’t there, everything in his body tensed with fear. His lungs tightened, he couldn't breathe. He felt like he was having a heart attack. His hands gripped the reins so hard he thought he would break them. 

You weren’t there.  

What frightened him more, was the infected weren’t behind him either. He had screamed your name, not caring if it brought him unwanted attention. He couldn’t see you. Couldn’t hear you. 

You weren’t there.

He retraced his steps, killing any stray infected he came across in case they were the one that kills you. Killed you.  

When he finds your horse dead and ripped apart, his blood goes cold. He vomits over the side of his horse, emptying his stomach over the blood that seeps into the ground. 

He hoped it wasn’t your blood. 

So when the trucks pulled up, he was ready to kill everyone.

Joel sees you dancing happily with the group of kids in a circle, twirling them around as they giggle and laugh in a show of innocent joy and excitement. He can't help but marvel at this sight, seeing you this full of life and enjoying yourself so much, something which he has rarely, if ever, seen you do before this. He realises that he's always enjoyed seeing you happy, that's the whole reason he has stayed by your side, even after a full patrol as you lay by the lake together, because he wants you to be happy. 

And right now, you’re happy with these children.  

“You look like ya gonna kill someone.” Joel slowly turns his head and glares at the man as he attempts conversion with him. He sits down beside Joel on the wooden bench, and Joel looks down at the beer he offers him and then back up to his face where the man is now smiling at him. Joel's expression doesn't seem to change one bit, nor his hard and intimidating stare as it remains fixed right onto the man's face in full display of an almost primal sense of warning and potential violence.

Joel replies with a simple, almost menacing and threatening, blunt statement of “I might.” The man laughs and slaps his knee as if what Joel had just said was one of the most amusing things he's ever heard, completely unbothered by the potentially looming threat or danger of violence that was subtly and thinly veiled behind Joel's tone and words. Joel's face remains firmly fixed to the man, and he offers no sign of letting up or softening that hard gaze.

"That very funny." Billy points at Joel and chuckles slightly. He then offers his hand to shake, attempting to establish a bit of familiarity between them and hopefully diffuse the tension that was built up by Joel's earlier threat of violence. “Name’s Billy”

Joel however remains unamused by this gesture, and he turns his head away from Billy and his extended hand, remaining cold and uninviting in his interaction with the man.

"Listen." Billy sighs as he once again tries to reach out for any sense of understanding and cooperation. Joel grunts in answer at the attempt, his glare now shifted towards you as you lift a small child up onto your shoulders with a look of pure delight, happiness, and joy on both of your faces. Joel's eyes are once again focused and transfixed on you, leaving Billy out of the equation entirely. “I just-”

“No.” Joel snaps, not bothering to look at Billy. 

"You ask him yet?" A second man sits down next to Billy, who scoots over a little bit to make room but also forcefully bumps into Joel which nudges him over by the edge of the seat. Joel's attention is suddenly ripped away from you and your interaction with the children, and he turns his intense gaze towards the two men trying to get his attention, his glare becoming increasingly more ominous and threatening with each second that passes and neither of the men take the hint to back off and leave Joel alone. He recognises the other man to be the one he headbutted earlier. 

“I was tryna,” Billy sighs and shrugs his shoulders. 

The other man rolls his eyes before leaning over Billy. “We need some help.” The other man attempts to explain, trying his best to make the situation seem urgent and important enough that Joel will be willing to lend his assistance. Joel however remains unfazed and unmoved by the man's pleas, instead he shakes his head dismissively while turning his attention back into the direction of you. Your laughter and the laughter of the other children can still be heard loudly and loudly coming from your side, and Joel takes in the sights and sounds as you lay near the fire with the children climbing and crawling over you.

"No." Joel delivers this one word answer with a tinge of frustration and annoyance, the severity and sternness of his tone only intensifying the word with even more authority and finality. He leans his elbows on his knees and keeps a close eye on you to ensure that you remain safe, and with your body currently occupied by the children crawling all over you, he decides to shift his gaze momentarily to watch from afar and keep a look out for any threats or potential dangers that might come your way.

“Oh come on, please.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even-”

“No.” 

“There's a cult.” Billy interrupts in a sing-song voice, breaking Joel from his gaze towards you and redirecting it towards the two men. His head snapping in the direction of the men as their faces light up with excitement at the reaction they drew out of him with Billy's words. Joel realises that he fell for the trap that they had set for him, and he lets out an annoyed and exasperated sigh as Billy continues to shake the other man excitedly to emphasise the breakthrough he had just made.

“What about a cult?” Joel tiredly asks, his head tilted to the ground between the two men. 

The other man pushes Billy out of the way and takes his spot next to Joel. “There’s this psycho cult giving us grief, trying to recruit us and bullshit-”

“Bullshit!” Billy adds and Joel looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“They sacrifice people!” The other man whispers in shock and Joel nods in understanding. 

"And you want our help? For what?" Joel asks gruffly, cutting straight to the point of this conversation without wasting more time and words which he feels are unnecessary and unneeded.   

“They threatened to take the kids if we don’t join them.” He explains and Joel glares at him, wanting him to get to the point. “Right– Right! Sorry.” He waves his hands before continuing. “This is our home and they’re threatening the peace.” He explains and Joel continues to glare at him, still not getting to the point. 

“We wanna kill ‘em” Billy adds and Joel sighs, finally getting the information he wants

Joel chews on the inside of his cheek as he leans on his knees, his hands clasped together between his legs. He softly tilts his head back and forth as he considers the information. They could definitely use the help, but would they even be helpful? Sure they had disarmed Joel before but they seemed so… disorganised. 

He gets halfway through explaining that he will have to talk to you first before Billy jumps from the bench in excitement, running over to a group of men drinking by the fire. The men shout in excitement and beer sloshes to the ground as they congratulate Billy for convincing Joel to help. 

The other man pats Joel's back in thanks before standing from the bench. “I’m Ben by the way.” Ben nods in greeting and Joel nods back, muttering his own name. 

As you replace the spot beside Joel which Ben had filled up previously, he turns his head to look in the direction you had previously been and sees that the area has become void of the children and women who were previously there and enjoying themselves by the fire. Joel frowns at first, unsure of where they had gone so suddenly and so quickly without a word. You sit beside him comfortably and peacefully, both of you now watching the group of men and their celebrations from afar.

You curl up and bring your knees to your chest, your body's movement bringing your body closer to Joel and your eyes softly closing as you allow yourself to feel comfortable and cosy in his presence. Joel wraps his arm around your body and pulls you into his side, keeping you safe and secure with his protective embrace and you lean into his side muttering "They all went to bed." 

Joel chuckles softly as he hears you speak, finding an adorable tenderness in your words and the slight tiredness which seemed to currently be overtaking your body.

Joel leans down and gently plants his forehead on the top of your head, a gentle and caring gesture which you welcome. "You wanna head to sleep?" You let out a deep yawn in response, your eyes starting to become heavy and tired from the long day. "Come on then," Joel says as he stands from the bench, reaching to take your hand to help you up and lead you towards the barn.

Once inside the barn, Joel quickly gets to work securing the doors by blocking them with a broken heavy table that would make noise if anyone attempted to enter. He then moves on to where his weapons are kept, opening the cupboard with relief and thankfulness as the weapons aren't locked behind secure doors or something else which would prevent him from getting them immediately, allowing him to arm himself properly just in case any trouble or danger should arise during the night.

Your pulling on his arm catches Joel's attention, as he looks down at you with a curious look in response to your tug. He quickly shuts the cupboard as you lead him in the direction of the bed, his expression quickly shifting toward a frown of confusion as you sit on the bed and look up at him. "I gotta keep watch, we can't both sleep," he states with confusion in his voice. You should know this.

Joel stares down at you as you let go of his arm and begin to loosen the knots on the shoelaces of your boots. As you look up at him, you simply state, "I don't care if you don't sleep, you can keep watch from right here." His look of confusion only grows more intense and prominent as you look up at him and seemingly hint at him to join you on the bed, and he makes no move to do so.

You shuffle into the bed and smoothly slide underneath the covers on the side pushed up against the wall, making yourself comfortable with the warmth and comfort that the blanket and pillow provide. 

“I don’t-”

Joel gives in to your request, his stoic and cold attitude that he’s held onto tightly tonight softening when confronted with your plea and the genuine and heartfelt tone with which you had asked so beautifully for him to sit with you. He slowly turns away from you, his eyes fixed briefly on the barn door before he makes his decision.

“Yeah, alright darl’” He agrees and he sits on the bed, taking his boots off and placing them besides yours, discarded on the floor. He moves until he’s beside you under the covers with his back on the headboard, his fingers laced on his lap. 

You continue to move and reposition yourself until you've managed to get pressed right up to his side, your body and his practically one right together. Joel freezes for a bit as this sudden movement occurs, his eyes shooting up to the wall in front of him as if searching for something to distract himself with. You then surprise him by tugging him forcefully down, causing him to let out a yelp of surprise as his back hits the bed. Your leg now rests on top of his and your arm wraps around his middle, your head coming to rest peacefully and comfortably on his chest.

“This okay?” You mumble as you wiggle into his side trying to get comfortable. 

He grunts in agreement, not trusting his voice to break. Because this was very much okay. This is better than okay. 

Your body is pressing closely up against his as your chest moves and expands and contracts with each breath you take. Your weight and overall presence is grounding for him and acts like a calming force which helps him feel relaxed and at ease in this unfamiliar environment. With you pressed up so close to him, Joel can feel your breathing and your heartbeat against his thin shirt, which is an additional source of grounding and comfort as he finally begins to feel like this weight that has been lingering on his shoulders has finally started to lessen and become more bearable.

He had wanted this back when he laid you in his bed. When you had asked him to sleep beside you after your bad night. He didn’t want a pillow separating you, he wanted you wrapped around him – or better he wanted to wrap himself around you as you slept. Comforting you as you comforted him. 

And then he woke up to you wrapped around that pillow and he wanted to burn it. 

Joel Miller was jealous of a fucking pillow . 

Right now however, there’s no pillow separating you from him. 

You hum as you pull him closer and it takes everything not to wrap his arms around you. If he was back in Jackson, he would. But he can’t, not here. Right now he’s protecting you. If he lets himself get distracted in your embrace he could miss something that ends up getting you killed and he would lose you too. 

He can’t lose you too. 

Instead of his hands coming up to touch and trace and explore your body like his mind is screaming for him to do as he is pressed up right against yours, his hands remain firmly and tightly away from you as he keeps them pressed firmly flat against the bed. His eyes remain fixed on the barn doors, staring at them in anticipation and preparedness to act.

He listens to your light and even breath as you begin to fall asleep on him. He continues to stare, watch, listen, and remain alert while your body falls asleep against his, your head resting in peace and your heart's beat becoming more and more steady and peaceful with every passing moment that you lay there and rest in his presence.

He doesn’t know what this is, but he wants more. 

Even if that makes him a greedy man.

Chapter 11

Notes

listen - Billy must be protected at all costs. We love Billy and his family. I had so much fun writing this chapter. YEEHAW MOTHERFUCKERS!

There is also a bit of a language barrier as I'm Australian and we call trucks, utes. And the truck bed, tbh i just call that "Back of the ute" So let me know if i used any wrong phrases when talking about the trucks/vehicles/cars idk.

I really hope y'all are enjoying this fic as much as I am enjoying writing it. I've now finally written ten chapters & around 90k words and I'm nowhere near even the middle of the fic. y'all in for a treat.

This fic has also been lowkey therapy for me in a weird way. I started writing this fic after the death of my dog and just wanted to thank you for reading and following this story as I write it. I have so many ideas and I get so excited when I put them to paper.

Thank you

Divider by the beautiful saradika

[kaaaaaaarf]

Welsh Moony - a playlist

So from the first day I met them, @wdcmaxy has impressed upon me their Welsh Remus agenda. I decided to make a playlist to celebrate Welsh Moony in all his glory.

All songs are by Welsh artists (some of them in Welsh), and I tried to select songs that I thought fit Remus well where I could.

Full tracklist with lyrics underneath the cut!

1. Hello Sunshine // Super Furry Animals

I'm a minger You're a minger too So, come on, minger I want to ming with you In honesty It's been a while Since we had reason Left to smile Hello, Sunshine Come into my life

2. Peeled Apples // Manic Street Preachers

You know so little about me What if I turn into a werewolf or something?

3. Y Bluen Eira // The Joy Formidable

Be sy'n digwydd dywed be ddoth o'r cudd-le Pwy sy'n codi o'r geg Sy'n brathu nôl yn anheg Yn hollti y dymuniad

4. Don't Be Scared, I Love You // Bill Ryder-Jones

Those scars All those senseless scars My worst parts were when you're gone And the endless screaming dark ... Don't be scared, don't be scared I love you, I love you

5. Have A Nice Day // Stereophonics

It started straight off, "coming here is Hell" That's his first words, we asked what he meant He said, "Where you from?" we told him a lot We take a holiday, is this what you want? To have a nice day Have a nice day Have a nice day Have a nice day

6. Ysbeidiau Heulog // Super Furry Animals

Ond ar y cyfan roedd y camau yn weigion Y swigod coch yn llosgi fel gwreichion Um cam ymlaen am ddwy aneffeithlon Ysbeidiau heulog Heulog oedd ein oariad ni Heulog tan ddaeth glaw yn lliff

7. Romance Is Boring // Los Campesinos!

You're pouting in your sleep I'm waking still yawning We're proving to each other That romance is boring Still there are things I could do If I was half prepared to Prove to each other that romance is boring

8. Thank God I'm Not You // HIMALAYAS

I'm a coward, I'm a freak The scum of the Earth A liar and a cheat But I could be so much worse You could call me narcissistic You could say I'm of no worth You could call me the scorn of Satan But I could be so much worse I thank God that I'm not you

9. Fel i Fod // Adwaith

Sai'n siwr fel i fod Beth o ni moyn bod Yn y dyfodol Fy hun sidd ar top y list Pethau nai byth ffeindio Gobeithio bod pawb yn gwybod Sai'n siwr fel i fod Falle fi moyn mynd yn willt Falle fi moyn mynd i gysgu Âa-ŵŵ

10. Sexbomb // Tom Jones (ft. Mousse T)

Make me explode although you know The route to go to sex me slow And yes, I must react to claims of those Who say that you are not all that. Sexbomb Sexbomb you're a Sexbomb You can give it to me, when I need to come along Sexbomb sexbomb you're my sexbomb And baby you can turn me on

11. Suckers! // Super Furry Animals

Tell me you're a phoenix Rising far above All the Suckers in the mainstream Suckers in their slipstream Suckers in the underground Suckers on the benches Suckers in the trenches Suckers in the lost and found

12. Pure Pleasure // Drowners

It hurts like hell But I'd given myself into thinking You'd settle down Now I'm holding my eyes and blinking And I almost choked When you offered me a smoke on your cigarette Dry your eyes This is only the first death Well it took me by surprise When you held me to your chest and said I could love you in secret I could love you in secret I could love you in secret But no one can know

13. Are You Satisfied? // MARINA

High achiever, don't you see? Baby, nothing comes for free They say I'm a control freak Driven by a greed to succeed Nobody can stop me 'Cause it's my problem if I want to pack up and run away It's my business if I feel the need to smoke and drink and sway It's my problem, it's my problem if I feel the need to hide And it's my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die

14. Dim Bendith // Super Furry Animals

Arswyd mae dy ddyddiau mor faith Does wybod lle i sbio pan fod pawb mor ddauwynebog Cysgu di heno febyn annwyl dy fam Mae'n anodd treulio mil pan fo'r ddinas mor ddi hafant Paid dyfaru byth Na, dwi'm yn chwerthin ar dy ben di

15. Cave Song // Pretty Vicious

We are children of the streets Don't listen to a word about tomorrow 'Cause the world is at our feet It's mad, so try and just relax Smoke another fag and ease your sorrows 'Cause you lads are all I need Singing, drinking in the caves All night, yeah

16. Conversations With Myself // Drowners

Where you going and how long until you're back To forget what what I just lost track I go to places where we used to go The empty bedroom has been feeling cold You must be busy, I've not heard from you for a while Feeling lonely? No I'll be alright My one track mind isn't treating me Quite as kindly as I'd have liked But conversations with myself Conversations with myself When I find the words I wanna say The door is locked and I can't find a way out

17. Torra Fy Ngwallt Yn Hir // Super Furry Animals

Nei di dorri fy ngwallt yn hir? Reit i lawr at fy nhin Nei di dorri fy ngwallt yn hir? Reit i lawr at fy nhin Fydd neb yn eistedd wrth fy ymyl Pan dwi ar y bws Nei di dorri fy ngwallt yn hir? A paid a geund dim ffys!

18. 9669 // The Joy Formidable

We don't ride, we don't ride to sunset We just ride off to our last breath This time it's over Unless I under miss my Nothing miss my number

19. 9669 (Welsh Language Version) // The Joy Formidable - Bonus Track