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un-fwuit-un-fwog · 26 days ago

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Goodnight and sleep tight.

Part nine of The Rain series

Synopsis: Silver comes to visit the Ramshackle Prefect in the infirmary after the collapse of the dorm and that night, Lilia pops in for a visit as well.

TW: Some mentions of the reader being in a rough state, Silver is DISTRAUGHT, Lilia may or may not shed a tear (could be a figment of our imagination)

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I'm back!!! (I lied. I posted TODAY instead of TOMORROW mwahahaha)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (here), Part 10 (coming soon), . . .

A soft, familiar groan came from the door to the infirmary as it slowly drifted open.

As far as you knew, Silver was supposed to be visiting next. However, an unfamiliar form hobbled through the door like some corpse barely holding on to its last sliver of vitality. The only thing that tipped you off to who it was you were looking at was the silver hair.

His teetering body stumbled into the room and collapsed on the floor next to the bed with his head resting on the edge of the mattress.

"How are you?" a croak like voice came from his throat.

"Better than you from the looks of it." Your voice is soft: partially because of the state of your throat and partially because you worried that talking even a bit louder would shatter the boy's fragile form.

Your first thought is to ask if he's okay but decide that would be a stupid question as he clearly isn't. "You. . .look like you haven't slept." is what you opt for.

A soft groan reverberates from his throat "I have. . ." He softly lifts a hand onto the bed that ghosts over yours before finally letting it rest on your, now only lightly, bandaged appendage. ". . .just not well."

You aren't entirely sure what to say to that so you try to lighten the atmosphere a bit: "I'd offer to sing you a lullaby, but I think my voice would be too raspy to calm you at all."

There's a short silence before: "I'd be more worried about your throat hurting" the statement leaves his lips in a barely audible murmur.

"My throat would be fine" you reassure with a soft smile "Almost fully healed in that aspect. I just need to get used to using my voice again after all those surgeries."

Silence again. A quiet rustling is heard as he shifts his heads on the sheets to look at you, his dreary eyes meeting yours "Then. . .I don't mind if you sound bad."

"Huh?"

"I think. . .just hearing your voice and knowing you're okay. . .will be enough to let me rest peacefully."

And like that' you're roped into singing (if it can even be called that) him a lullaby. To your surprise, it actually coaxes him into a seemingly peaceful slumber.

You can't help but observe his face as he rests by your side, hand resting on yours almost like an anchor to keep him grounded in his dreams. Dark circles cave under his eyes, his hair is a disheveled mess, and his lips that usually appear so soft are chapped. A hand unconsciously brushes through his hair.

"Sleep well. I'm sorry for worrying you."

You drift off alongside him.

When you wake up, it appears to be late into the night. The infirmary is lit only by a few softly glowing lamps and the gentle light of the moon shining through the windows.

Silver is still sleeping next to you on the ground in a position you can't imagine is comfortable. His soft, steady breaths are a comfort you didn't realize you craved.

"Up late I see"

Before you can jolt in surprise, a familiar face appears in your line of sight.

"Silver hadn't returned so I came to fetch him."

"Ah"

"He hasn't been sleeping well, you know?"

"I notic-"

"When he heard the news, he was terribly distraught! All the boys were. I made sure I got them all to the signup sheet promptly so they could see you post haste and check on your condition."

"I see-"

"I considered coming first to make sure your condition wasn't too gruesome for them to see, but I figured they're old enough to handle whatever condition you were in. They need to learn some time."

You watch on somewhat dazed from sleep as Lilia incessantly rambles on. After a while of his chattering, you finally reach out and softly grab his sleeve, giving him a tired look.

"Oh, dear! My apologies. You must be tired. Worry not! I'll take Silver and be out of your hair so you can sleep-"

This time you cut him off "Sit."

Your voice isn't stern, and your face is far from commanding, but Lilia finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed the moment you utter the word.

"What about you?"

Lilia's smile remains on his face as he tilts his head "Whatever do you mean?"

You sigh "Lilia, what about you? You've been talking about the others but haven't uttered a word about yourself."

His face twitches but he recovers quickly "You're the one all wrapped up and stuck in the infirmary, shouldn't I be the one asking you if you're okay?"

"I think you already know my condition." you argue. Before he can brush your concern off again you add "Please, don't make me worry."

His face falls noticeably, his smile nearly fully gone.

"Worrying isn't good for my already poor health cough cough" you add for dramatic effect.

He sighs but chuckles bitterly as he runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I get if you don't-"

He cuts you off by holding a glass of water to your lips. You're momentarily confused before remembering your fake coughing.

"Loss is an unfortunate reality you have to face with increasing frequency as you age, and I'm rather old."

You try to take the cup from his hands to hold it yourself as you sip its contents, but he keeps a firm grip on it, so you eventually give up.

"I thought I had gotten desensitized to it, but it seems all I really did was distance myself so that I was never too attached to anyone I could lose."

He finally sets the cup back on the nightstand before he turns to look at you. "When I thought I lost you. . ."

You aren't sure if it was a figment of your sleepy mind, but for a moment, you could have sworn you saw the glitter of a tear in the dim light as it rolled down his face.

Before you can respond, an intense wave of drowsiness hits you. As you drift off, you think you can feel a soft sensation on your forehead before hearing muffled words that sound like "Goodnight, Beastie."

The next morning, you're left to wonder if the events of last night even happened or if they were all a dream.

However, the fact Silver is no longer there and that Lilia doesn't come to visit, having told the teachers he'd "sacrifice his scheduled day so you could get some much-needed rest" lead you to believe it's the former.

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@fancyhawk45 , @chloemari-e , @jester-party , @dykyun , @chidorichild , @kaiofechos , @arie2faced , @darling-5yndrome , @pebble-bb , @entidy13, @owl778 , @phoenixiaxia , @blvdmrcnry , @twistedcece , @lunatheroyal , @heartz4aqours , @yukixies , @sugarxrt , @noncreativepage-blog , @sheepchansstuff , @lucky-whispers , @mc-cos-charm , @bluedmonsst , @kyxmlii , @nilladrawsstuff , @abeltownshipslittlebitch , @pro-cat-stination , @creativecupcake , @wishicouldart , @gloomikaze , @marsinrain , @thesarcasticpersonwhoneedss-blog , @pinkytoxichearts , @avalordream , @shatiyuh , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa , @boredselkie , @savanaclaw1996 , @furioussharkcat , @nightshade-clown , @tsxukikami , @itspeanutlove , @mysterypotatoink , @hieratic9 , @91062854-ka , @paintbrushofanimeuniverse , @m1lly69 , @error-raccoon-404 , @the-annie-clark , @madilynnylidam , @losingmybrain

#twst #twisted wonderland #fanfiction #fanfic #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fanfiction #silver vanrouge #silver vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #un-fwuit-un-fwog #un-fwuit-un-fwog The Rain Series

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pshbites · 11 months ago

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LOVE ON AiR

SYNOPSiS » two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.

PAiRiNG » sunghoon x fem!reader

FEAUTRiNG » all of enha, giselle of aespa, txt briefly mentioned

GENRE » smau (social media au), fluff, angst, enemies to lovers (barely), chronically online humor, romance, podcast au, influencer au, HEAVILY inspired from suburb talks and under the influence podcasts, SLOWBURNN

WARNiNGS » profanity, suggestive humor, kys/kms jokes, lots of pop culture references (im chronically online im sorry), drinking, drugs, fanwars, yn haters (BOOOOO), stalking (sorta?) manipulation (NOT FROM SUNGHOON OR Y/N) changes every chapter.

STATUS » completed — (08/03/24) to (10/26/24)

PLAYLiST » your eyes only - enha, after midnight - chappell roan, ex factor - lauryn hill, kiss me - dpr live, read your mind - sabrina carpenter, 3005 - childish gambino, poison poison - renee rapp, thirst - dpr live, just a little bit - enha, daisy - wave to earth, nouvelle vague - wave to earth, thinkin about you - frank ocean. (got carried away .. 😁)

AUTHORS NOTE » BIGGG thanks to my bestest friend ever, my fav british person, @lqfiles , ily so so much and thank you so much for helping me with this process. teaching me how to work tumblr like i was a grandma even tho im only 2 years older than u and making this AMAZING cover (isnt she talented), i love u sooo much more than words can describe, you annoying brit (endearing) 🫶

TAGLIST CLOSED!

written chaps in blue

🔴 RECORDING..

teaser (read first for context!!)

profiles i & profiles ii

1) call my phone a vibrator the way it keeps buzzing

2) YAP CENTRAL EP.135: alpha male podcasts?!

3) first hate thread. feeling nervous

4) pussy slay queen!

5) okay alpha

6) ROUND TABLE EP.149: perfect pitch :o

7) 1 down 3 to go

8) what the fuck is a ynhoon

9) YNXOXO VLOG: night out w/ won and riki

10) wet and bothered

11) just a normal tuesday

12) jungwons evil arc

13) YNXOXO VLOG: cafe date with my girls <3

14) the battle of thirst traps

15) twitch streaming era

16) YAP CENTRAL EP.136: did social media ruin relationships?

17) second interaction: kinda scared

18) fuck skater boys

19) park sunghoon v. round table

20) riki emo era: OVER

21) sunghoons side hoes

22) ROUND TABLE EP.150: we traded phones?!

23) bro define: friend

24) spidey sense

25) on my cellular plan i pay for?

26) YNXOXO VLOG: night time routine + surprise!!

27) a face i would kiss

28) collab of the century

29) YAP CENTRAL EP.137: has love lost its meaning?

30) eyes don’t lie

31) operation: ynhoon (postponed)

32) crybaby

33) operation: ynhoon (BACK ON)

34) chat is this a date yes or no?

35) boss baby jay

36) boyfriend

37) soft or hard?

38) what da heck *tyla voice*

39) YNXOXO VLOG: ice skating! | vlog w/ a special guest!!

40) love is on air

UNCUTS

1) operation: get riki ip banned on twt

2) try not to blow up challenge: FAILED

3) JAYS KITCHEN: my friends trying to help me make food blindfolded. (spoiler: it’s a fail)

4) YNXOXO VLOG: my boyfriend does my makeup voiceover !

5) YAP CENTRAL BLOOPERS: riki kat and yn patreon ad

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angelyuji · 10 months ago

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SOME MOREEE YANDERE PINES TWINS THOUGHTS

stan pines thoughts and professor ford pines??? HOLD ON LET ME COOK

18+!!!!

tw // yandere themes, gaslighting, manipulation, power imbalance, pervy uncle lowkey, also lowkey bimboification, noncon (not explicit)

professor ford pines!!!!!!!! known to be the eccentric professor who goes on tangents about trans-dimensional physics and other science junk, but also superrr lenient grader like no possible way anyone could fail his class. you’re def teacher’s pet type and he’s definitely aiming to make you a TA. always getting you involved in weird experiments, but you’re always down cuz ur there to learn! ford invites you to his house, you guys hang out outside of class and research, you’ve met his brother!! like u knew it was getting weird, but at the same time…. you need a good rec letter. so one day you guys are in his office at his home, grading papers…

“(y/n).” ford calls your name, sternly. the lights were dim and quiet classical music played in the office. you hum and turn to him. before you know it, his chapped lips press against yours. you push him away, scared and surprised.

“professor, what the hell are you doing?” you try back away, but ford grabs your hand.

“i think you are one of the most brilliant minds i know and i want to be with you, (y/n).” ford stands, pulling you into a hug. you push back, stumbling away from him.

“no, i-i never thought that! i thought we were just friends!”

“but, i invited you to my home.” ford’s face saddens, “you met my family…”

“i never… i never realized…” you felt embarrassed for the old professor. you take a step back. you can’t see his face, but you watch his fists clench.

“i suppose that means you’re okay with losing your job, as well as any opportunities in this field.” his voice was low, words drenched in anger.

“no…. no, no, no, professor you can’t do this to me.” your heart feels like it was being ripped out of your chest.

“no, i can’t, but who will you tell? who will believe you? i am a respected scientist in our field, (y/n). think once more on your decision.” ford looks at you, a smug smirk laying on his face. you don’t respond, knowing that you had no other choice. you step back to him and he pulls you into a soft, loving kiss. his 5 o’clock shadow scratches your face. “now, please (y/n), call me ford.”

stan pines who had known your dad when he lived in texas and saw him again in gravity falls. stan pines who gets invited over to meet his friend’s family for dinner and sees you. a cute, little thing in their early 20s. stan’s instantlyyy enamored. you’re so cute and respectful, explaining how you’re living at home while you work and save money for a house, blushing when stan compliments you, serving him food first. you were acting like a perfect homemaker and stan was instantly obsessed. your dad’s gonna tell stan before he leaves that you’re all moving somewhere cheaper:

“yeah, pines, we’re moving some time soon. you know how it is with retirement and the market going down.” your dad sighs, wearily. stan nods, trying to listen to your voice in the house. “can’t move till (y/n) finds a job though. its gonna be tough on them especially with how hard it is to find jobs these days.” stan perks up at his words.

“y’know, (y/n) don’t have to quit…” your dad looks at the older man in confusion. “my grandkids have gone back to california, shermie’s grandkids technically, so my attic is open for them to stay in. they can stay at their job and you guys can move.” stan offers, fighting a giddy smile.

your dad clasps stan’s hands, “stan pines, you are the kindest man i know.”

stan for sure acts like a feeble old man around you to get you to take care of him. like cooking dinner, doing laundry, and more. he conditions you into acting like his stay at home partner. he starts making advances, subtle at first, to see what you would tolerate. soon he’s dictating what you wear and bending you over on the kitchen counter to make sure you stay full :) (dont get me started on somnophilia cuz i have thoughts on those but idk if u guys are ready for the things im gonna say)

here are those thoughts i was talking abt… :))))

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tenshx · 17 days ago

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❦ the red means i love you ❦

(chap. 1)

➪ chap. 2 • chap 3 • chap 4 • chap 5

𓃟 read it on ao3

❦ pairing: jackson hillwalker/cottonwood x fem!reader

❦ word count: 4.5k+ words

❦ summary: moving into a small village near cottonwood mountains was the best decision you’ve made for your peace. everything fell into place just as you expected. all except for the fact that you had caught someone’s attention since you began working at the local diner. meeting jackson cottonwood was definitely something you weren’t expecting, but you soon find out that he’s more than what meets the eye. somehow, you wish you never left home.

❦ authors note: haha,, guess what guys. i’ve fallen down the butchery rabbit hole & now i am plagued by thoughts of this game. can’t wait to see more of my boys on june 8. reader doesn’t play as the character in the game & is a completely different individual btw!! i’ll revise my summary later 🤠 im just rlly tired and wanted to post this before i exploded.

❦ possible triggers: A JOB!!, blood, mentions of weapons, injuries, kidnapping and implied stalking,

Living in a small village was your dream. It always has been, especially after being influenced at a terribly young age to chase a peaceful life.

The place you moved into was definitely what you had expected— tranquil, slow-paced with a family-driven community, and full of greenery and beautiful scenery you would’ve never imagined seeing a year ago in person.

It was everything you had seen in movies, an exact replication of the several years of research you put into move, but there was only one problem— boredom.

It was something that often caught up with you on the slower days once you began to settle down, the air still and time passing and dragging all at once. Ironic enough, you felt a bit homesick, missing the hustle and bustle of your previous living situation, the silence of the village far more deafening than the noises that bombarded the busy streets.

But you figured it was the process of settling. After all, a slow life is a peaceful one and you couldn’t deny that you were rarely stressed these days.

Today was mostly quiet in the diner you worked at. Old, dingy with a bit of wear and tear, but a classic nonetheless. Despite its age coming around, locals returned often and newcomers loved the restaurant, always posting a good review somewhere in the deep corners of social media.

At this rate, you could’ve clocked out early with how dead the place was and even at that, it wasn’t enough to describe the emptiness of your shift. Maybe you could convince your boss or ask your coworker to cover you for the time being. After all, she did owe you a solid for saving her ass last week, nearly begging on her knees to cover her shift because “her boyfriend had made plans and she was sure it was a proposal this time.” (It wasn’t.)

It was convincing and you almost warmed up to the idea until a sharp gasp from your coworker ripped your attention away from your cell phone. She clutched the newspaper with one hand, her other one covering her mouth dramatically.

“Another person missing?” Her voice was hushed and devastated as her and your boss huddled around the folded piece of paper. “Isn’t this the nineteenth person this year?”

Your boss scoffs, shaking her head in disapproval, “The village is becomin’ dangerous, I tell ya. These damn cops ain’t doing shit to keep us safe. Back then, I could walk another village down and still come back in one piece—“

Her words seemed to meld as you stepped closer to them, slowly drawn into their conversation, eyes falling on the bold letters.

“MALE, 27 YEARS, REPORTED MISSING.”

The rest was a bit more difficult to read, but the portrait of the individual sent a shiver down your spine as you observed his features. He looked relatively young; a bright smile, youthful features, and a kind look on his face.

Your coworker noticed your wandering eyes, moving closer as she shared the newspaper with you, hands crumpling the edges of it. “Nineteen and none of them were found! How is that possible?”

The missing persons cases have been the talk of the village recently, someone always related to each person that disappeared. At first, everyone assumed it was their loved ones having a change of heart and leaving the village to start a new life, but as more cases began to pile, the panic began to unfold.

Maybe that’s why the diner was so empty.

You’re not sure how to respond and your boss obviously felt the same way as the three of you read the paper, eyes glued to it. Only the sound of the music playing in the background filled the silence.

꧁

Somehow on the second to the last hour of your shift, you managed to build up the courage to ask your coworker to cover you. Luckily, despite the creepy ambience the place held an hour ago, she gladly agreed, more than willing to return the favor.

So with a smile and gracious thanks, you began to pack up your belongings, ensuring everything was in place before leaving the back room towards the front door of the diner, checking your phone.

However, you heard the sound of the bell chiming before you could reach the door, head rising as your gaze met with one of your usuals— the infamous Jackson Cottonwood. He was the town's heartthrob, all the girls fawning over him and everyone’s mother trying to set their daughter with him.

“Hey sweetheart, leavin’ so soon?” His voice sweet as honey and with that familiar joyful kick, called out to you. He was dressed in his usual plaid, suspended flannel along with dark jeans and his dirtied boots. His hair was parted, kissed by the wind as strands fell over his eyes in a crooked manner.

You offered him a smile, a bit awkward and shy as you nodded, “Yeah, decided to hit the hay early tonight. Slow shift.”

He hummed disapprovingly as this, hands on his hips and you let out a low snicker.

“What a shame. Thought I’d catch up with my favorite girl, but it seems like I missed the window,” He said in a sulky manner, a defeated look on his face. “Suppose the lord isn’t on my side today.”

He was always such a sweetheart, one of the customers you found yourself naturally attracted to. With a mouth like that, it was no wonder why he had so many girls wrapped around his finger. You’d be lying if you had told yourself you weren’t falling victim to the same syndrome.

“It is such a shame. Had you been here an hour earlier, maybe we would’ve had time,” you teased a bit.

“We got all the time in the world as long as you keep workin’ in this diner.”

You laugh at his words and he lets out a prideful and satisfied grin, brightening up his features. Before you could say anything more, you noticed Jackson's eyes travel towards the bar, your gaze following his and soon noticing both your boss and coworker whispering to each other. They both immediately separated from each other, realizing they had been caught red handed.

Jackson leaned down, whispering something under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, “Seems like we got an audience. Let me let ya go for the night, yeah? Shouldn’t keep you back more than I need to.”

You lock eyes with him as he straightens himself out and he spares you a warm smile, sending you off with a squeeze of your shoulder as he breezes past you to sit in one of the booths nearby. You stare at the back of his head for a moment before you shrug it off, deciding to go home. You were bound to encounter him eventually.

꧁

“So what’s the deal with you and Cottonwood?”

You look up from your receipts, your coworker folding her arms as she leaned against the bar. There was a shiteating grin on her face along with a devious twinkle in her eye that made you a bit anxious.

You shrug nonchalantly at her instigating question, continuing to sort receipts, “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

She rolled her eyes at your words, grabbing it from your hands. You shoot her a glare, reaching for the pieces of papers as she held it out of reach.

“Hey—!”

“C’mon. He’s not sweet-talking you for no reason. You’re the only server he butters up, maybe the only girl—“

“He does that for everyone! Please, just give me back—“

With a groan, she gently shoved the receipts back to you, unconvinced by your reasoning, “Uh-huh. That’s why you’re his “favorite girl”.”

There’s a teasing tone in her voice and you can’t help but feel embarrassed. She noticed the slight flush on your cheeks at her evidence, letting out an amused laugh.

“It’s really not like that,” you say, trying to organize the little pieces of paper on the table. “I barely know anything about him.”

It was the truth. Jackson Cottonwood was the biggest mystery of the town despite his popularity. No one knew anything of him besides his name and his mother who once sold meat in the market.

There were several rumors about his status that circulated around town: a farm boy who lived off of the grid, a mafia boss working undercover, an undercover FBI agent collecting data on the village or residing here to keep his name low and much more you couldn’t care to remember. Despite his years of living here (assumingly), nothing was ever truly confirmed. Everything that everyone thought they knew was merely speculation.

He was simply known as the handsome man who often dropped by in town three times a week. Nothing more and nothing less.

She was skeptical, but had no denial to it, “I guess, but still, he's all over you. As a taken women, I know when a man—“

Suddenly, your conversation was cut short by the familiar sound of the bells chiming, both your gazes falling on Jackson, who looked around for a moment before locking eyes with you, nodding towards your direction and heading towards the same booth he always sat at.

Your coworker let out a giggle, nudging your side almost playfully. In response, you shot her a look, eyes pleading for her to behave before she leaned towards you, murmuring something in your ear secretly.

“Speak of the devil. I would continue this conversation but loverboy is waving you down. Get to him before he forgets your tip, yeah?”

At this, you turn your head, finally noticing the smile on his face, his cheek resting on his hand as he looked straight at you. Before you could ask your coworker to take over, feeling suddenly shy and nervous at her accusations, she was already past the doors of the kitchen, leaving you alone to stand dumbly behind the counter.

With nowhere to run, you begrudgingly made your way to Jackson, trying to shake off the nerves.

“There she is,” his voice filled the silence of the diner, muffling out the music playing. “Prayed to the lord I’d catch you today and it seems like they were generous. Lucky me.”

He was always so flirtatious, knowing the right words to get into someone’s heart, and it usually didn’t affect you. Up until this point, at least. You suppose you could blame your coworker for planting nonsense into your head, now hyper aware of his words.

“It isn’t hard to miss me,” you attempt to reply casually, hoping your voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt. “I work here almost everyday.”

“Yeah, but after what happened last time, I assumed praying for our next encounter wouldn’t hurt. It’s always a blessing to be graced with your presence.”

Such a strange compliment. You didn’t think anyone liked you enough to pray for your company. Maybe you’d expect it from the local gas station crackhead, but here you were, receiving it from the village’s heartthrob.

“Maybe you would see me more if you came into town more often,” you fought back the redness creeping up your skin, feeling hot under your collar as you attempted to keep up.

A little smirk replaced the usual smile adorning his cheeks, “Oh? Since you’re askin’ so nicely, sweetheart, I might make an exception.”

With no one else in the diner but you and him, his words felt a little more intimate, voice low and inviting. You could be reading the room wrong, but it definitely felt tense in a way that left you choked up.

You wanted to run away, battling the urge to clock out and hopefully wash the nerves out of your system after taking a hot shower. Somehow, some higher entity out there seemed to grant your wishes. You almost think about kissing your boss’ feet as she walked from the back into the diner, speaking loudly on the phone as she processed a take-out order.

With the conversation now interrupted, you found a way to redirect it, fumbling for the notepad in your pocket as you spoke,”S-Sorry, let me take your order.”

Jackson didn’t seem to mind it much, humming under his breath before answering.

“Sure.”

꧁

The diner had gotten busy within the next thirty minutes, a group of loud college students walking into the establishment for a quick bite. Their boisterous laughs and voices reverberated against the walls of the diner and while it was rather deafening, you were somewhat thankful for the distraction. With the emotions storming in your mind, you figured you needed away time from Jackson.

Unfortunately, he didn’t share the same idea. He seemed to take his time with his meal, taking small bites and reading whatever worn out book he’s pulled out of his pocket as you tended to other customers. You assumed that it might’ve been a slow day for him.

“How was your meal?” You ask as you rack up his bill, eyes glancing at him before back at the paper.

“Good,” he simply replied, hand, leaning forward against the bar. “But the service was better.”

You let out a nervous laugh under your breath, unsure of how to respond. You were hoping that he wouldn’t talk to you for the rest of the night, wanting to rid of the tense feeling in your body, so you settle for that simple act of acknowledgment.

Then you tell him his total, always the same, his order never changing since he’s dined here half a year ago. At this point, you’d expect him to pay without asking. Your boss had even offered him the convenient option of leaving his payment by the table to save him from the trouble of walking over to the register, claiming he was a “loyal” and “truthful” customer.

But he doesn’t do that. Even with the offer, he never does.

He slides the bills over and you reach to grab them, looking up from the receipt. Finally, you seem to freeze, hand stopping midway as you notice his hands, a bit irritated looking as if it had been scratched or scrubbed relentlessly.

Then you notice the dirt trapped under his fingernails along with faint reddening hue along the edges. You can hear him talking, saying something about the boys who had come in earlier, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away.

It isn’t until he moves to brush his hand against yours on the counter, you’re grounded back to reality, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth as you quickly pull your hand away.

His eyes seemed to widen at this, both of you staring at each other in awkward silence. You attempt to muster up an excuse, mouth opening and closing, but he beat you to it, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, breaking the silence. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You just seemed out of it, so I was just checking on ya.”

It takes you a moment to process his words before you shake your head, grabbing the bills from the counter.

“No, it’s fine. I’m…”

There’s an odd feeling in your chest, unsettling in a way that heightened your anxiety. Something didn’t sit right and you’re not sure what, feeling almost silly at your emotions. Then you realize that maybe you should lay off the horror documentaries, the paranoia finally catching up to you. So you decide to shake it off, letting out a breath that was trapped in your throat.

“..I’m fine. I think I’m just really tired,” you finish your sentence, offering him a tense smile.

He doesn’t seem convinced for a moment but lets it go (much to your relief).

“Well sweetheart, grab a coffee before you go home, yeah? Dangerous for you to walk alone in that state. Nights are always unpredictable.”

There’s a hint of concern in his voice and you try to wave it off, not wanting to pester him with such trivial scenarios. With your pepper spray and taser you bought half-off from the store four blocks down, you were sure you’d make it home mostly safe.

“I should be fine.”

“Just wanna make sure my girl is safe is all. I’d offer to walk you home but I haven’t finished running my errands,” he says casually, the nickname constant in his mouth. “Maybe next time I’ll pray hard enough to have the opportunity.”

You let out an airy giggle at his words, forgetting about the uneasy feeling almost immediately. You’re not even sure why you assumed the worst in him, chiding yourself a bit for believing he’d commit any heinous acts. He’s been nothing but kind to you from the start and truth be told, if he wanted to do something to you by now, he would’ve.

“Fat chance, but you can keep praying,” you tease and he lets out an amused laugh.

“Best believe I will. My lord hasn’t failed me yet.”

With that, you both catch up for a bit before another set of customers come in, cutting your session short. He nods at you, moving to push himself off of the counter.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he straightens out his shirt, shoving the receipt in his pocket before looking back at you. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Remember what I told you.”

You roll your eyes, shooing him away, “Yes, I know. You’ll see me in one piece next time.”

He reacts to your answer, a prideful smirk forming on his face as he hums in approval, “Good girl.”

Your cheeks redden at his praise and thankfully, he's already turned away, heading out the front door when it happens. As much as you hated to admit it, you figured that maybe you did like Jackson more than you let on.

But only time could tell.

꧁

Time was definitely not on your side.

You hadn’t talked to Jackson since your last encounter with him a week and a half ago. It was out of the ordinary and sudden, his absence obvious as you found yourself waiting for his arrival. The more you waited, the more you wondered.

You did miss him in a sense. Whether it was because he established a routine for you, provided excitement in your life, or welcomed you with blossoming feelings for your relationship with him, you’d never know.

It didn’t make it easier that you hardly knew anything about him. Creating scenarios for his absence felt almost impossible, forcing yourself to dumb it down to simple reasonings. Maybe he was busy with whatever job he had or he got caught up in family business. After all, he was an adult man with adult responsibilities. Visiting his “favorite” girl in a diner shouldn’t be one of them.

In a blink of an eye, two weeks passed without his usual visits and the villagers began speculating. Considering the low population of the village, it wasn’t a surprise that people had caught on quickly, rumors spreading like uncontrollable wildfire.

“Maybe he found a purpose somewhere else. This place can only provide so much,” one woman gosipped, buying fresh eggs from a farmer in the market.

“Told you he was working for the government! Was always suspicious of that one,” Another man had claimed on a different day, hitting his rolled up newspaper against the arm of his friend. “Cottonwood is shady! It’s weird how we don't know anything about this fool when everyone knows everyone here!”

“Do you think he was the twentieth victim?” Your coworker theorizes one day, the diner slowing down after the dinner rush. You shudder at that, not wanting to think about that possibility.

The air is suddenly eerie, a sense of unease surrounding the area.

You just hope he hadn’t gotten hurt or abruptly moved away without saying goodbye.

꧁

You finally finish closing up, finalizing and straightening everything out before parting ways with your coworker who blew you a kiss, reminding you to call her before your shift tomorrow so you both could hit up the farmers market.

You spare her a tired smile, nodding at her words before walking towards the opposite direction and into the quiet streets of the village. With the recent news lately, the nights have been emptier, markets shutting down early in fear of the loose kidnapper. You did miss the liveliness of the night life here, but who could blame them? Nineteen people missing and not one body had been recovered.

The incident was easily labeled as the Cottonwood Mountain’s biggest case and probably its only one of its kind.

It had made big news on social media, several of your friends and family members calling you with warnings and concerns for your well-being. Despite the crimes occurring, you were much happier here than you were back home. So with a flash of your pepper spray and taser, you left them with the comfort that you were protected.

While scrolling through your phone, catching up on several messages, you were unexpectedly stopped by the blinding lights of police sirens, noticing the street you usually took blocked off by yellow caution tape and several police cars. There are a handful of officers around along with a few villagers scattered throughout the small, finite area.

You don’t have time to process what was happening before an officer approaches you, his voice hushed but authoritative.

“Sorry ma’am, the area is blocked off right now due to a distressed call. I know its an inconvenience but it’s currently prohibited to pass through the area at the moment.”

Truth be told, you were a bit annoyed at the inconvenience, wanting nothing but to be home after a long day at work, but you bite your tongue in hopes of ending your day on a good note.

“Do you know when everything will clear up?”

You were hoping he’d say soon or within the next thirty minutes, but the look on his face told you everything you needed to know. Defeated, you began to map out other routes you’ve taken once or twice whenever you wanted to take the scenic way home before he could give you a response.

“I don't have an ETA on it yet, ma’am. Is there any detour you could take?”

“Yeah,” is all you say and thank the officer, moving to reroute your path, already dreaming of the hot bath you’d take once you get home.

The alternative path was usually beautiful during the afternoon or the peak of sunrise and sunset, but right now, it felt dreadful as you navigated through the dark of the woods with nothing but your flashlight and the map in the back of your mind. It was an arguably faster way to get home, but also the more sketchy route which was why you avoided it at night.

You’re hyper aware and paranoid now, pepper spray in one hand and phone in the other as you treaded carefully along the dirt road. Every noise and odd gust of wind forced you to hold your breath, body trembling a bit at the silence of the area.

Regret began to weigh on your mind.

Maybe you should’ve waited for them to clear things out or call your coworker to crash at her place until everything settled, but you were already near your apartment, already too far into it to turn back. It would only be more trouble to track back. Only a few more turns and—

Speaking of turns, you rounded the corner of a tree, soon stopping in your tracks as your body paralyzed at the sight of red on the ground. The thick, viscous liquid stood out against the dark of the ground, splattered and smeared, taunting you as your heart dropped.

Your body seemed to move on its own as you redirected your flashlight along the dirt, the light providing you a better picture of streaks of a deep red stretching across the path, almost as if someone had been dragged.

Slowly, you look up, light flashing towards the direction and before you know it, you feel dizzy and nauseous at the sight of a body on the ground, lifeless and obviously, still very fresh, There’s a cleaver sliced through his neck, lodged deep into it, and then you see a pair of feet right next to the corpse, your breathing picking up as you come to the dreading realization that you had been caught red-handed.

Out of instinct, you shine your light on the perpetrator, wanting to at least get a good look of him before you booked it, but found your feet glued to the ground once you met with the familiar face of the villages heartthrob, staring back at you with a smile on his face. It doesn’t feel real and you’re almost convinced you're dreaming until he speaks, his voice unsettling, his usual jovial tone absent.

“I know I prayed to my lord I’d see you again soon, but I didn’t expect it in such an exciting way,” he let out an empty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. He bent down to rip the cleaver out of the man's throat, the blood gushing out of his wound, pooling on the ground beneath him. Jackson stepped over his body carelessly before making his way to you. “I was hoping under some better circumstances, but who am I to complain? Seeing your pretty face is always such a privilege.”

Horrified, you slowly step back, trying to create distance between you both, knees weak as you try to gather the strength to run. It was a miracle you could even stand after such a gruesome sight.

“J-Jackson—“ your voice whimpers, shaky and mortified, but he immediately cuts you off, a wicked grin plastered over his usual handsome features.

“I like it when you say my name like that,” he comments gleefully, clearly enjoying the state you were in. “If I knew you’d sound as sweet as you do right now, I would’ve hoped you caught me sooner.”

You don’t hear the rest, your heart beating through your ears and your breathing speeding up as you continue to step backwards. Eventually, your hearing picks up, him closing the empty space despite you not being able to make out anything but his silhouette in the darkness.

“.. I told you nights were unpredictable, sweetheart. You should’ve listened.”

You feel your back hit something firm and for a moment, you believe it’s a tree, but once you register its body heat, you slowly come to the realization that Jackson didn’t come alone. Suddenly, you feel a blunt object strike the back of your head.

For a few moments, you’re barely conscious, feeling an arm wrap around your middle as your body gives out, limp and out of your control. There’s an echo of laughter, menacing and mocking, before you slip out of reality, your life in the hands of the infamous serial killers of Cottonwood Mountains

tags: @delfinadolphin

#the butchery roblox #the butchery #roblox #jackson hillwalker x reader #jackson x reader #jackson cottonwood x reader #jackson cottonwood #jackson hillwalker #william cottonwood #william hillwalker #william x reader #william cottonwood x reader #william hillwalker x reader #roblox horror game #the butchery x reader

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whitechocolate355 · 2 months ago

Text

time out

oneshot

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 2k

warnings - language

synopsis: after a heated argument during a scrimmage, Paige and Azzi are both benched for “unsportsmanlike behaviour.” Forced to sit in silence while their teammates play, the tension between them begins boils over — and neither of them can hold back what they really want to say (or do).

one shot request from a lovely anon!! getting around to everyone’s requests so bear w/ me… also chap 5 for full court press will be uploaded tmr morning

The gym was blisteringly loud. Sneakers screeched. Whistles pierced. Coaches yelled in a flurry of clipped commands and clipboard slaps.

And Paige was about two seconds from completely losing her shit.

“I SAID SWITCH!” she yelled, throwing her arms up as Azzi jogged past her, completely ignoring the rotation.

Azzi didn’t even spare her a glance. Just caught the rebound like it was hers by divine right and launched the ball effortlessly into the net.

Swish.

Paige’s blood boiled. “You’re seriously not gonna talk to me now?”

Azzi brushed past her again, the faint scent of musky vanilla clinging to her skin, her face stoic, as if carved in stone. “I didn’t realise I had anything left to say.”

“Oh, cut the cold act,” Paige hissed, stepping into her space. “You’re playing selfish. This is a team scrimmage, not your personal Steph Curry highlight reel.”

Azzi stopped. Turned. Her hair whipping around like a blade.

“You want to talk about selfish?” she snapped. “Maybe look in a mirror before you start throwing around words you don’t understand.”

And that was it. All it took. Paige shoved her shoulder into Azzi’s, and Azzi shoved right back.

“HEY!” Coach blew the whistle like it was a goddamn siren. “You two—BENCH. NOW. You wanna act like children? You’ll sit like them too.”

Paige stormed to the bench, jaw clenched, heart clawing at her ribs. Azzi followed, expression unreadable.

But this had been building for weeks.

Paige could feel it in the way Azzi always passed to someone else when she was open. In the glances they shared that lingered too long. In the breathless moments after every scrimmage where she half expected Azzi to say something—anything—that might make sense of the way her heart pounded after every brush of their hands.

And now, with them both benched and pissed and sitting shoulder to shoulder, Paige couldn’t take it anymore.

They sat on opposite ends of the same metal seat, separated by maybe three feet and about a mile of heat.

The game continued. Shouts echoed. The scoreboard buzzed. But in their corner, time held its breath.

Paige bounced her knee. She could feel Azzi’s presence like a gravity field.

Neither of them spoke.

Not until the fourth whistle of the quarter blew and the gym momentarily dulled into ambient chatter.

"You always do this," she muttered without turning her head.

Azzi’s brow ticked. “Do what?”

“You push until I snap, and then you act like I’m the problem.”

Azzi finally turned to face her, eyes sharp. “Maybe you are.”

Paige laughed bitterly. “God, you’re exhausting.”

“Right back at you.”

Their teammates were across the court, deep in the scrimmage, too far to hear. Too far to care. Paige felt something inside her break loose—something reckless.

“You don’t have to hate me, you know.”

Azzi’s expression flickered. “I don’t hate you.”

“No?” Paige turned now, fully. “Then what is this, Azzi? Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, it turns into a fight?”

Azzi exhaled slowly, then said, “Because if I don’t fight you, Paige, I might actually—”

But she didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. Paige felt the unspoken words hang in the air between them like a thread about to snap.

Might actually what?

Their breath tangled somewhere in the air between them. The game raged on, but the court felt impossibly small now, the air between them thick with tension.

Flashback: The First Game

The first time Paige had seen Azzi play, it was more than just basketball. That girl was a display of effortless grace, precision, and an undeniable swagger that drew Paige’s eye from the beginning.

They had met at a youth basketball camp, and Paige hadn’t been able to forget the way Azzi dominated the court, effortlessly gliding from one play to the next. Paige had never felt the need to be jealous, or scared for her spot on the team. But for the very first time, she was. And the culprit: Azzi fucking Fudd. It wasn’t just the way she played—it was the way she carried herself. Confidence radiated from her every movement. It pissed Paige off.

But at the same time, she was drawn to it. The two were the first off the court.

Azzi wasn’t like anyone Paige had met before, which made her feel unsettled. It was as if she could read Paige’s movements, and every one of her thoughts because before Azzi even knew where she was, Paige had kicked it to her in the corner in one, smooth movement. And unlike her other previous teammates that would’ve just fumbled the ball in surprise, Azzi caught it mid-pass with ease — as if she intercepted her own ball — to fire the quickest release the crowd had ever seen. And with that, Paige held her fingers out in celebration, because as soon as that ball graced Azzi’s hands, Paige knew that shot was cash.

—-----------

“I don’t get you,” Paige growled, slamming her water bottle to the ground. “You show up like you’ve got nothing to prove, and then you play like your whole damn career depends on it. What is it? What do you need to prove?”

Azzi took a breath, her face a mask of calm, but Paige could see the tension in her jaw, the way her muscles were coiled, ready to spring.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Azzi said, her voice lower than usual, laced with frustration. “Not everything is about what you want, Paige.”

“Then stop pretending like you’ve got it all figured out!” Paige shot back, her voice trembling with anger and something else she didn’t want to acknowledge. “It’s like I can’t even look at you without feeling like you’re hiding something.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered, just for a second, like she was about to say something but thought better of it. The silence that followed stretched out between them, thick with unsaid words.

They were sitting inches apart. But emotionally? Miles.

Azzi finally turned toward her, eyes softer now. “You think I’m hiding something? Paige, you have no idea.”

Paige swallowed, heat rising in her chest. Her heart beat erratically in her ears.

“Oh, I think I know,” she said, voice low and dangerously soft. “You don’t let anyone close. You keep everyone at arm’s length. But I’m done with that. If you’re hiding something, then I want to know. Because I’m not gonna keep playing this game with you.”

Azzi stood up suddenly, the motion sharp and filled with frustration. “I’m not hiding anything,” she said, her voice a growl. “I’m not the one here pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m the one who shows up every single day, working my ass off, and all you can do is act like I’m the problem.”

Paige stood up too, the two of them facing each other, inches apart. “Maybe I’m not pretending,” she shot back, her voice hard, eyes burning with a fire she couldn’t suppress anymore. “Maybe I’m tired of you acting like I’m just another player you can push around. I’m done with that, Azzi.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a second, Paige thought she saw something flicker in her eyes. But before she could analyze it further, Azzi was stepping back. Her hand went to the back of her neck, rubbing the tension there.

“I think we both need a timeout,” Azzi muttered, more to herself than to Paige.

“Yeah, we do.” Paige replied under her breath.

Benched and bitter and burning from the inside out, Paige knew she needed to get away. Before she did something she shouldn't do. Watching Azzi glance over at her every so often as their chests rose and fell in sync with each other was driving her crazy. And before she could stop her thoughts, Paige stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Azzi asked.

“Out back. Before I say something I can’t take back.”

Azzi hesitated, then stood too, following closely behind. “Say it.”

Paige turned, inches away from the gym door. “What?”

Azzi stepped in, closer now than she had any right to be. “Say what you want to say. I’m right here. And besides, I’m done following you.”

“Fine.” Paige grunted. It was time to get real. The blonde couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t get you,” she began. “One second you’re giving me eyes like you wanna ruin me, and the next you’re pretending I don’t exist. What the hell is your game, Azzi?”

Fuck. Did she really just air herself out to Azzi?

Azzi stepped toward her slowly, closing the distance. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but there was something else there too—something raw.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Azzi said, her voice barely a whisper. “This isn’t a game. You think you know me, Paige. You think you understand me. But you don’t. You’ve only seen the parts of me I’ve allowed you to.”

Azzi stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending.”

And just like that, Paige couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing onto Azzi’s jersey, she pulled her into her chest —not hard, not violent, just… desperate, while her free hand pushed the door back.

[Outside]

Azzi’s breath caught as Paige leaned in. It was slow at first, hesitant, like a dare. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she was leaning into Paige too, their mouths meeting in a frantic collision of teeth and heat.

Paige slammed her palm against the building wall, caging Azzi between her broad shoulders all while forbidding herself to tear away from Azzi’s lips. Her fingers curled around the metal grate, trying to stay grounded — as if this moment wasn’t what she was fantasising about since she met Azzi.

It was a kiss that held everything—frustration, longing, pain. All the words neither of them had said but both of them had wanted to for so long. There were no zone defences anymore. No hesitation. Just the messy, overwhelming need to feel something, anything, between them.

Azzi’s hands slid to Paige’s back, pulling her closer. Paige’s hands found the hem of Azzi’s shirt, fingers pressing against the soft skin there, memorizing the feel of her. The kiss deepened, becoming frantic, like they were trying to devour each other whole.

Why the hell did she look at Paige like that when we first met?

Why does she keep pushing Paige on the court, then staring at Paige like she’s hers?

Why does this feel better than any win?

Paige shot away her thoughts with her mouth, biting softly on Azzi’s bottom lip, as if that was where she held the answers. Azzi pressed against the wall as Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, her muscles tensing —which sent a jolting sensation to Azzi’s spine. Paige’s hands gripped the back of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer.

Azzi gasped into her mouth, and Paige took that gasp like a win, like a possession. She leaned back, admiring her view with a smug smirk on her face —as if she had manifested this moment— before she tilted her head, deepening the kiss, her body flush against Azzi’s now — muscle to muscle, sweat to sweat.

Azzi moaned before she could stop herself…

And Paige kissed her harder for it.

They didn’t pull away. They couldn’t. Not until a water bottle dropped somewhere in the locker room, echoing just loud enough to remind them where they were.

Paige’s hands were still bunched in Azzi’s jersey. Azzi’s fingers were threaded through Paige’s hair.

Neither of them moved. Their foreheads touched.

Paige’s voice was hoarse. “I hate you.”

Azzi’s breath fanned her lips. “No, you don’t.”

Silence.

Then Azzi kissed her again — slower this time. Like a statement. Like a fuck-you and a promise in one.

The buzzer rang again. Timeout was over.

They pulled apart, barely. Lips swollen. Chests rising and falling.

Paige glanced down, cheeks red but jaw still set. “We have five minutes.”

Azzi smirked, voice low. “Then you better move fast...”, leading her to the locker room by the jersey.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #uconn womens basketball #azzi35 #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers uconn

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oceantornadoo · 6 months ago

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ch8 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: dubcon kissing (somnophilia), more pet play dirty talk, multiple holes are used, smut and angst in the same chap bc why not.

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

Thankfully, your new boyfriend does not give in to the urge to punch your brother.

“Johnny!” You move out from behind John, in no way afraid of your brother. “You can’t just hit him!” You yell. Johnny’s still as red as a tomato, huffing from the punch he threw. You can tell the captivity took its toll on him, because you’ve never seen him winded from just one punch. Instinct takes over, you and Simon catching Johnny before he stumbles. The doctor from earlier rushes over, telling her radio that they need a wheelchair, stat. The anger slowly drains from Johnny’s face, replaced with a world-weary look. He seems ten years older, a jarring thought since you’re only three minutes apart.

“Johnny, let’s talk about it later, ok?” The wheelchair arrives and you help him into it, Simon fighting off the doctor who’s arguing he needs one too. You try to grab Johnny’s hand but he snatches it back before you can. It’s like a shot to the heart. He avoids eye contact as the doctor wheels him away. Did you just lose your twin?

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” John scoops you up from behind, turning you so you’re against his chest. It’s like a switch has been flipped as the tears flow. You messed up, shouldn’t have let John kiss you in front of your brother. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You wanted to give Johnny time to adjust, time to gain his strength back, before slowly broaching the topic in a controlled manner. You did not want a punch to be thrown at 5 am. It was simply too much to handle. John’s fingers dig into the nape of your neck, anchoring you to the moment. He’s so kind, even though he was just punched, and the thought makes you cry harder.

John’s jaw aches, but not as much as his heart does. It’s hard to handle his sweetheart sobbing in his arms, especially since he hasn’t seen her in weeks. The kiss was not his best move, but he blames it on the early hour and lack of sleep. The mission was absolutely grueling, the kidnappers making themselves almost impossible to track. “Almost” because, well, he did get this job for a reason. But now his team is fucked and his new girlfriend has a broken heart he can’t fix. He couldn’t even blame Johnny because if it was his sister, he would have done the same thing.

Kyle went with the doctor, so now it’s just him and his girl on a godforsaken roof on a dreary London morning. He’s been rubbing circles on her back for a while now and can feel the tears slowly stopping, her breathing becoming even. “Feel better?” She shakes her head ‘no’ and he can’t help but laugh.

“How’s your face?” She asks, pulling back out of his grasp to inspect it. Her eyes are puffy and there’s a bit of snot on her nose. She’s beautiful. “‘S ok. Not the first time I’ve been punched.” Soft fingers turn his jaw this way and that. She sucks in a breath as she inspects the damage. “You’re gonna bruise, John.” The bruise won’t show through his beard so he shrugs, then starts herding her into the elevator. He desperately wants to shower and tuck her under the covers, then maybe eat her out later if his jaw lets him. Hopefully an orgasm would make her a little less sad.

Thankfully, John gets his way. He’s not a messy man, his cleanliness only rivaling Garrick’s, but his room is suspiciously much cleaner than how he left it. The floors are practically sparkling. When he asks, his pet mimes a zipper, throwing the key away. John picks her up, ignoring the creak of his joints from sleeping on floors for the past week, and throws her on the bed. “Stay.” She nods, eyes big and wet, and it’s a herculean effort to drag himself away. It’s the quickest shower of his life, a little toothbrushing, and he’s finally where he belongs. With her.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” He tugs her on top of him so they’re chest to chest, her cunt on his lower belly. She’s taken off her sweatshirt and shorts, so it’s just two thin layers of fabric that separate them. “I missed you too. You sure you don’t want ice or something? I’m practically best friends with the nurses now, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He rolls them over so he’s between her tits, right at home. “‘M fine. Go t’ sleep.” She finally gets the memo and hums contentedly, fingers scratching at John’s scalp like he’s her cat. He loves it.

You wake up to the feeling of something scratching you. Your cat is so annoying.

“Bubbles…stop…” The feeling does stop, but as the fog slowly clears from your brain, you realize your cat is nowhere to be found. John’s beard is the culprit, wet with…spit? He’s pulled your shirt up and from the look of it, has been laving at your tits for a while now. “You mistake me for the cat, sweetheart?” You bite back a smile, shaking your head. “Was dreaming. Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Now that you’re awake, John can start giving you the full treatment. He sucks on one nipple, a callused hand squeezes it like he’s trying to get milk out. Your hips move of their own according, bucking against his hairy chest. The pain feels delicious as he bites and sucks. Your hand threads through his hair, grasping on strands for something to hold. He switches to your other nipple but keeps his hand on your tit, pinching one while sucking another. He’s so loud about it, wet and messy in a way that makes you want to hide your face. Your hips fight gravity as they move, the hair on his chest providing friction as you move up and down. You could come like this.

“John.” He gets the memo, his unoccupied hand gripping your waist and helping you grind against him. “Gonna come, baby?” It’s like a spark to your core, the coil inside you growing exponentially with every grind. He’s leaving marks that might bruise, every bite lighting your nerves on fire. Your cunt is sopping, legs straining with the effort of maintaining your grind. Removing his mouth, he pinches both of your nipples at the same time, the effect of it bringing your right to the edge.

“Ya like that? Cunny’s all messy, baby.” You can only nod at his words. It’s desperation, your shirt hiked up to your chin, tits shiny with spit, cunt seeping. His beard is soaked, the hair on his chest matting with your slick. Both hands move your hips against his belly and he bites a nipple at the same time, the action sending you over the edge with a whine. Your empty cunt flutters against him, clit puffy from the friction of his hair. “Fuck, John.” He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, eating your face as you come down from the orgasm.

John drops your hips, letting your cunt envelop his cock, still in his boxers. You whine at the pressure, a pitiful noise. “Lemme eat then come on you, yeah?” You nod vigorously and he chuckles at the sight.

He licks you from ass to clit, smiling when you jump at the overstimulation. Your body is on the edge of orgasm, an almost continuation of the first. John eats sloppily, tounging the bud of your clit then flattening his tongue over the whole of it. He nearly drags you off the bed so he can be on his knees on the floor, tugging out his cock with one hand while he holds you steady with the other. That hand holding you steady grips the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to somewhere else. He prods at it, looking at you for confirmation. You nod tentatively and he slides a bit of his thumb in, giving your clit a good suck at the same time. There’s so much pressure and despite being empty you feel full, like you’re about to explode. John won’t shut up, speaking in between occupying his mouth.

“Y’r so trusting, pet.”

“Bet you were lonely without me.”

“Jus’ one more, yeah? Then I’ll let you sleep.”

You nod at the last one, feeling on edge. He slides his thumb in to the first knuckle, keeping the same pressure on your clit, and you lose it, walls spasming at his touch. Your second orgasm washes over you, your body flopping against the bed as the coil releases. John crouches up with his thumb still in you. His cock is hard and glistening in his hand, the sheen of precum all over it. You tug your shirt up from where it’s fallen and he smirks, his beard making it more pronounced.

“That’s a good girl. Good pet f’ me.” His cum is thick and creamy, landing on your sore tits as his thumb slips out, the pressure finally releasing. “Jesus, John.” You're soaked in sweat and cum and slick, courtesy of the man in front of you. He leaves and quickly comes back with a warm washcloth, wiping down your body, then his own. “We can shower later.” You nod, making space for him in the bed. You’re both sweating anyways, so he tugs off the comforter so it’s just you and the fitted sheet.

“You did so good.” He murmurs as you tuck yourself into him. “I like this boyfriend treatment.” You whisper back. He kisses your forehead softly. “Good, ‘cause yer stuck with me.” You kiss his pec, then snuggle in for a few more hours. John holds you until you’re asleep, then quietly slips out and takes a quick shower. The sight of you in his bed almost makes him stay, but there’s someone he needs to talk to.

“Ye here to discharge me?” Soap’s all bravado, but it’s hard to sound intimidating in a hospital gown. John lets him have it, picking his way through the room to sit in the chair near Soap’s bed. “‘m not apologizin’.” Soap mutters. John huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t ‘pect you to, Soap. Glad you’re doin’ better.”

Severe dehydration. Not starved, but close to it. Bruising on wrists and ankles, likely from cuffs. One bruised rib. That’s what the doctor said before he walked in. Simon got the same treatment and he’s resting in the room over, Kyle keeping him company. The outcome is better than he expected, to be honest. Most captors would love to give Soap a beating for every quip, but John suspects being near Simon calmed him down. Another thing he has to thank the Lieutenant for.

The room is silent. There’s only one thing to be said.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me.” Soap doesn’t answer, focusing his gaze on the door. “We met the night ‘fore she came to base. Would’ve seen her again no matter what. Yer sister or not.” Soap blinks and John takes that as a sign to go ahead.

“I know y’ve got a special connection. ‘M not here to break it. ‘M askin’ for the chance t’ love her too.” John laughs to himself. “Well, not really askin’, Johnny. But you an’ I have got a life bond too and I’m tryin’ to respect it.” It’s the first time John’s ever called him Johnny. Obviously, being around his girl is starting to affect him.

“Ye love her?” Johnny’s voice is gravelly, not at its usual level of honey-coated confidence. “I do.” Johnny gives a nod of approval, a minuscule dip of his head. “Christ, ah tried hookin’ her up with Gaz.” His captain frowns. “So Kyle’s good ‘nough but not me?” Finally, Johnny locks eyes with him. “Gaz wouldn’t break ‘er heart. Ye would.” John gives him a sour smile. “She rejected me right before I left to find you, actually. She’s been sayin’ we couldn’t date for months an’ I’ve had a ring in my drawer the whole time.”

Johnny groans. He tries to cover his eyes but he’s still hooked up to the IV. “Can’t believe you’ll be my brother-in-law, Cap. Yer so old.” John scoffs. “Could hook Gaz up with y’r cousin an’ we’ll all be related.” That’s what breaks the ice. Both of the men laugh and John reaches over to squeeze Johnny’s shoulder. “That’s the only punch I’ll ever let you have, Soap. Keep that in mind next time you have a twin squabble.”

Johnny’s brows furrow at the mention of his twin. “I need t’ talk to the lass.” John squeezes his shoulder one more time, then stands up. “I’ll find ‘er for you.”

It’ll be the most important conversation of their lives.

We got john pov! I hope the switches between John and Johnny weren’t too confusing lol.

Just one chapter left…thank u guys for all the kind comments it means the most <3

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asapeveryday · 28 days ago

Text

noctuary #5 - p.b x tlou

noc·tu·ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē

: a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

--read pt.4 here

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover

warnings: canon typical violence, drinking.

synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be.

notes: sorry for the long waits between chapters...i forget sometimes that ppl on tumblr aren't used to waiting long periods like ppl on ao3/wattpad are :') honestly really struggled with this chap

YOU CAN HEAR IT, the way it clicks and crackles, mouth open wide, teeth rotting, skin moulding.

It's dark in the warehouse, tables are overturned, spores fly through the air above the light of your lantern. You're waiting behind a knocked over cabinet, knees on the ground, breathing steady.

Your heart hammers like a drum, and you can feel a drop of sweat roll down your forehead. You're used to the fear, used to the feeling of being paralyzed. Despite it, you never are. Not since you almost died a month ago. Now the fear tastes sweeter, it's addictive. Just like it used to be.

You hear it click, low and guttural. It's closer than you thought it'd be, closer than you're prepared for.

Your gun has two bullets left, max. You'll have to make this hasty.

It clicks again, shuffles, croaks and huffs as it inches closer. You can't see it yet, not without getting too close to the edge of the cabinet that shields you.

Water drips from the ceiling somewhere near you. Early morning light starts to peek through the cracked windows.

Another shuffle, another crackle. You see the edge of its head, then its innumerable fungi growths. It scuffles past the cabinet, unable to sense your presence. Its jaw is cracked open, hanging loose. It's smeared with blood.

The blood of those familiar to you. Your teammates had failed to adhere to your warnings again, and this time they'd paid the price. You didn't know whether you should burst into tears or jump for joy.

Neither would work now. Right now, you can hardly even breathe.

It keeps walking. Then stops.

You hold your breath, trying your hardest to stay completely still, trying to will the hands wrapped around your gun to stop shaking.

Its head turns towards you, slow, unconsciously. Without even thinking, you lean back ever so slightly. Dirt from the floor crackles under your boots.

It jerks in your direction.

Shit.

It launches towards you, sprawling with no hesitation. You raise your gun and shoot faster than you can exhale any air, but your aim swerves as you stagger backwards and you miss.

One bullet now. This is do or die.

You scramble to get up but it's too fast, pummeling into you with arms outstretched and ready to tear you to pieces. You let out a broken scream as you hit the ground, frantically hitting it over the head with your gun, cringing as fluid splatters across your face.

You attempt to wrestle with it as its hands claw at your skin, kicking and punching wherever you can. Its head jerks forward to bite and rip with speed you struggle to dodge. Its breath is warm and soured with infection against you, saliva flies from its rotted teeth.

It launches again, you move your head at the right time. You hit it again with the barrel of your gun--hard--and its already slack jaw cracks right off. It's stunned, screaming in pain, and you slip on the damp floor in an attempt to get up on your feet.

You're too slow again, letting out a little squeal as it pulls you back down by your ankles, dragging you beneath it. Its face is even more gruesome now, fungus flowering like poisonous bouquet, jaw attached to its head by a thread. Saliva drips in strings from it's mouth to your body. You try to hit it again with the gun, but it whips your hand away.

Your gun goes flying. You hear it when it hits the ground somewhere behind you. No bullets, no backup, no chance. You brace for the bite, the rip, the tear. You finally breathe out as it lowers over your face like an animal swooping in to maul its prey.

You wait for the agony, the searing fire of pain to cut through your freezing terror, but it doesn't come. In the split second you give yourself to mourn your loss, a loud bang cuts through the air.

You flinch, ears ringing and clouded. Something warm splatters all over you, and a body falls limp atop yours. Your hands fly to your ears on impact, fingers tangled in your hair, eyes screwed shut, heart still hammering. Your breathing quickens, your mind races and stills all at once.

You wait for the ringing to subside. The limp body is lifted, then tossed somewhere beside you.

When you open your eyes your stomach drops.

"You're always in trouble when I find you." Paige grins, face smeared with blood and sweat, hair thrown back in a wild bun. One hand is stretched out to you, the other holds the gun you lost in the tustle.

"You." You mumble, words still numbed by the ringing in your ears. The clicker's body lies beside you, a gaping hole in its head.

"Yeah, me." She scoffs. "Don't sound too excited."

You roll your eyes, slapping her hand away and shakily getting up on your own. She watches you every step of the way, the way she always does.

"Where's my thank you?" Paige cocks her head, taking a daring step towards you.

You take a step back. "I'd rather be put out of my misery than thank you." You chuckle. It’s light hearted, you know she can feel it.

"Bratty as always." She shoots back unphased. You hate how she enjoys this, how she's always there in a moment of desperation, how she never fails to let you forget it. She steps again.

"What do I need to do to get away from you?" You frown. “Always gotta be the saviour, huh?" You step back.

"No hello?" Paige sighs with another step. "No good to see you?"

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You grin, stepping back.

She puts her free hand over heart as she steps forward again. "Awe, I'm so hurt." She pouts.

"I was hoping I wouldn’t have to be in a situation like this again. I hate owing you shit." You step back, letting out a slight gasp as your back hits the wall. She takes one more step towards you, grinning without embarrassment at the look of your face as you realize she's cornered you.

"You had a lot of fun the last time you owed me something." She frowns. "I did too, in case you were wondering."

"Back up." You mutter.

"You don't want that." Paige muffs, her head cocking to the side, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

She gets closer and closer. Her eyes, those icy blue fuckers that always make you squirm, they dart between your eyes and lips in a way too familiar to be real.

Somewhere along the way, you get closer too. And your eyes flutter closed despite the rush of blood keeping you awake. And your stomach flips in pleasure despite the nerves of a near-death experience.

And when you wake in your bed, sheet strewn into a mess, pyjama shorts halfway across the room, you're disgusted, confused and utterly flustered.

It doesn't help that your heart still thumps like it did in your sleep, or that your stomach is still flipping like when that clicker was on you.

Or when she was.

MORNING IS KINDER than night, or perhaps safer. Easier to stomach, harder to be content with. It doesn't hold the uncertainty of darkness, elevated breathing and hightened senses.

You'd think that sunlight would bring hidden feelings to light, but you often found most private thoughts escaped closed mouths under darker skies.

Today, the sun shines through the holes and cracks of the old wooden barn, rays reflecting onto the dirty, hay-covered floor. The yellow material crunches under your feet as you push past the creaky doors. A few of the horses stir. Crickets still chirp from the fields nearby.

You wake up earlier than usual, unable to close your eyes again thanks to your dream. Dreams happened often, so you found yourself coming early to the barn most days. The quiet is nice, nothing but nature and wind and your own thoughts, which prove to be louder than even Kk's heckling or Nika's incessant complaining.

You take your time as the sun grows stronger, smiling when the barn cat purrs against your legs. You dump out old buckets of water, replenish food, and greet each horse with a nod or a gentle hand. It’s only till you reach the last stall that you stop, holding an arm out to the head of Sue, your personal favourite, who willingly nuzzles into your palm.

You open the stall and gently lead her out by the rein, enjoying the clip of her hooves against the old barn floors. She walks with you through the barn and out the creaky doors, pausing by the little cabinet near the exit that holds all of your supplies: brushes, gloves, hoof picks, combs.

In the morning, despite the empty feeling left by the push and shove of a fight, you take pleasure in brushing her hair, her tail and mane. You let yourself breath without urgency as your fingers sew between the strands and weave braids.

And then you see someone in the distance, walking uphill through the green grass by the stables. A small figure at first, that grows familiar with every step. Taller than Kk. Blonder than Nika.

You glance away, focusing on the strands of yellow-white hair between your fingertips. You create a focus too trained to be real, even when the footsteps louden and stop a few feet behind you. You try not to remember what you dreamed the night before.

“Hate to interrupt.” Her voice says lightly. “But I’m gonna need her.”

You don’t break much from that focus, half-heartedly turning your attention towards her. Forced. Intentional.

“Thought you were done with patrol.”

“Where’d you hear that?” She smiles, white teeth bared. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, parted down the middle. Her eyes are bright, she’s in a good mood, grinning the way she always does.

“That’s why we went to smoke yesterday,” you raise a brow, “to celebrate a break.”

She shifts on her feet a bit, eyes glancing down, then back towards you.

“They won’t mind the extra help.”

You nod, letting the air get quiet. She stays still, watches, breathes. You shake away the feeling of that same breath on your neck. Inhale. Exhale. You will yourself back into real life.

“Won’t they be annoyed? Someone’ll be there to replace you.”

“Well, I told you I go off on my own a lot, didn’t I?” Paige hums, head cocked, forcing you to remember those three days you spent in the wild with her, recalling those conversations.

“Yeah,” you mumble. She’d found you alone, and been alone herself despite the decent patrol groups Jackson required. Funnily enough, she was even alone in your dreams.

“Yeah, you did.”

You turn back, finishing the braid you started not long before. Sue leans into your touch, but her eyes are on Paige. She doesn’t stall, doesn’t whinny like horses do when someone they dislike is near.

Paige is quiet, quiet and watching. You feel her blues on your back.

“S’ she your favourite?”

You turn again, fully this time. Your hands graze Sue’s soft coat.

You nod.

She nods in return. “Yeah, mine too.”

Another little grin breaks on her lips, closed mouth, restrained. Less bright, more like a shield for thought. She’s uncomfortable, you see it now despite the glow of the sun on her pale skin, and her talkative chatter. She holds herself too strongly, she questions more than she lets on.

You can see it on her. She has a tendency to run off, and she wants Sue for a reason.

“People here…” you begin, words caught in your throat. You don’t know how to talk to her, how to be her friend yet still be far away.

You shrug it off, swallow, and continue. “People here rely on you a lot, don’t they?”

Her eyes shift this time instead of her feet. Another tell. “I guess they do?” She mumbles, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

“I figured.” You shrug. “They all talk about you like you’re a godsend.”

“They?”

“Your friends, the townspeople, even Geno and Dawn.” You snort.

“Oh.” Paige rubs her mouth, considering your words. That glint in her eye returns, grin turned smirk. “You sound tired of it.”

“I’m not.” You say, too fast. “I’m just saying. It’s a lot of praise, and praise comes with pressure.”

“Pressure is a privilege.” Paige says back, fast as a dart. She says the words like they’ve been uttered a thousand times, not quite rehearsed, but something like muscle memory.

“Privilege can weigh heavy.” You shrug, meeting her eye. “Nika told me something the other day, about how everything we have here is thanks to bloodshed. We can enjoy what we have here without feeling burdened or something. Isn’t it the same?”

Paige nods half heartedly. “Glad to see you’re getting close with her, by the way.”

“We’re not close.” You say, far too quickly once again. “She’s nice. Very…unafraid. It’s new.”

“Are you not friends with her?” Paige raises a brow.

You pause, briefly thinking back to your interactions with her. The sharp glares, the comments dusted with distaste, and the olive branch of weed and companionship in an abandoned theatre.

“I am.” You settle. “Like I said. It’s new.”

“You’ve only been here a month,” Paige chuckles, “of course it’s new.”

You shrug again, turning your attention away, maintaining that distance. Conversation flows with her like fresh water from a waterfall, hard and natural, refreshing with the tendency to throw you under. Part of you sours at her presence. You wonder if her care is a coverup for her pity. The thought makes you sick.

“I haven’t seen you much since we came back.” Paige frowns.

“You patrol a lot. I’m here for most of the day.”

“I looked for you a few times.” She adds, a little edge in her voice. “You run a lot of errands in a lot of places.”

“Why were you looking?” You raise a sharp brow.

“To check up on you? To see how you were holding up?” She snorts.

There it is again, the painful kindness that you can't bring yourself to believe. "Well, why do you feel the need to?" You push.

"Shit, you ask too many questions." Paige groans. "I don't know?"

"This is what I mean by pressure." You scoff. "You don't owe me anything. You saved me, you brought me here, you've helped out. You don't have to feel like you need to make sure I'm okay."

"Do you think I feel obligated?” She huffs, blue eyes going wide. That mischievous glint turns sharper, and her brows furrow. Her mood has sullied, you can see it in the way her body goes rigid.

“I’m not obligated to do shit.” Paige bites, “I’m not going out of my way just to fulfil some fuckin’ checklist, or because I feel like I have to. I know it’s not easy coming here, I know that—that everything you’ve been through can’t make it easier. I just thought…you know, I’m a familiar face, and maybe I could make it a little less hard than it needs to be.”

You watch her, the way her hands stop grazing along Sue’s coat, the way they part and find their place at her sides, fingers clenched. It’s easier to watch her hands than her eyes. You can feel them burn through you, you can feel the slip of vulnerability that she’s unafraid to let escape.

“But whatever. Obviously I overthought it, you’ve got friends and a billion things to do, right?”

"Don't." You frown.

"Don't what?" She cocks a brow, attitude seeping from her words.

"Don't be that way..." you mutter, biting your lip as you try to maneuver through this, "it's not like that."

"Who said it was like anything?" Paige huffs.

The conversation turns redundant. She stands and watches as you braid Sue's mane. You keep your eyes on your fingers, ignoring the burn of her stare.

You want to keep talking, to allow yourself a relationship with her. But last nights dream, the sight of her in that light, changes everything, complicates things even more. That fact alone scares you, makes you cut your words short.

Paige obviously seems bothered, but doesn't allow herself to pry too deep. You realize despite it all, your rude and sudden distance from her despite all she's done for you, she's still being careful, considering your every state.

She only beats around the bush in case her next words could push you away--further than you already are.

"I care about how you're doing, that's it. There's no ulterior motive, no obligation. I'm sorry if it puts you off--it's just how I am." Paige finally says.

“Well, you know I’m okay now.” You conclude. She chews her lip, you watch as the pink flesh writhes between her teeth.

“Did I do something?” Paige sighs, palms facing out, proof of her confusion. “Did I like, offend you in some way? Because if I did, I didn’t mean it.”

“You didn’t do anything.” You shake your head. “It’s my fault, I should’ve been more grateful. I’m happy you helped me, I’m happy I’m here. I’m just…adjusting.”

She nods, swallowing. “My bad.” she mutters, leaning towards Sue, raising a hand to ghost along the horses lean body. “Dunno why, but it felt like you were avoiding me or sumn.”

“Wasn’t.” You lie curtly, and though she notes your tone she doesn’t push further. You just watch as her eyes take in the beauty of Sue’s braided mane, as they follow the line of your fingers in motion.

"Are you happy?" She asks, shifting on her feet again. Her voice is low, like her words are only meant for you and her.

This question makes you pause.

"I..." you trail off, "I don't know. Things are better here, much better, but different."

Paige nods, encouraging you to keep going. With a swallow, you do.

"I'm not used to, uhm. Spending my time like this, you know?" You ask, and you know for a fact she does. Otherwise she wouldn't be here, ready to patrol despite being told not to.

"Life back home was a constant rush." You continue, eyes still on your fingers. "I was out all the time, fighting all the time. Every day was a fight in one way or another. Now I wake up, I spend the day here in the stables. If I'm lucky I get another job, like helping with trades at the grocery store or running errands for Dawn and Geno. It's not bad, but..."

"Theres no rush." Paige finishes for you. "No adrenaline."

"Yeah." You mumble. "And you might think it's stupid...you'd think I'd be done with all of it. I thought I'd never wanna go out again, too."

"It's not stupid." Paige says quickly. "Hey, look at me."

You do, against your better judgment. Your eyes part from the braids and meet her own. She looks at you seriously.

"It's not stupid." She repeats. "It always feels scary when you're out there, but when you're safe it feels too uniform. It leaves a gap. Makes you feel like somethin's missing."

The look in her eyes, the tone of her words, it all makes it clear that she gets it, that once again she gets you.

"Yeah." You mutter.

"If you're okay with that feeling, then thats fine." Paige shrugs. "But if not then you should patrol with me."

"Today?" Your eyes widen.

"I'm going alone today." She shakes her head. "But take a few days to think about it. Talk to Geno and Dawn. If you make up your mind, come find me when I come back."

You nod, considering her words. The braids are finished now, and you turn to find Sue's saddle. Paige grins a little when she sees you reach for it.

"How long'll you be gone?" You ask, fixing the horse up with the saddle and reins.

"I dunno." She shrugs. "If Geno catches me? A few hours."

You let out a light chuckle, pulling Sue's muzzle tight before handing the reins to Paige. Your fingers brush hers as you pass the rope over.

"You're good at this." She nods, eyeing your work. The braids, the careful manicuring, the quick preparation.

"Thanks." You hum, slightly bashful. "It's all I've been doing this month."

She tightens the reins around her hand, the other grazing over Sue's head in a soft pet. It's quiet when she starts to walk, the horse following behind her. Your head buzzes with thoughts.

"Does the feeling go away?" You call out, the words rushed as Paige turns her head. "The feeling, like something is missing."

Paige's lips purse in thought, then smile a little sadly. "It gets quieter as time goes on." She says, "But I don't think anything can replace the rush of being out there."

You nod. She holds your eye a moment longer. Then she turns, and walks away from the barn. Sue follows behind her, hooves clopping against the grass. You watch Paige's silhouette grow smaller and smaller before turning back into the barn.

The barn cat mews, pushing against your legs in greeting. You bend over to pet it, letting your mind go blank as your fingers caress its short fur. You barely even notice the barn door opening wider behind you.

"Yo." Nika's voice calls out, Kamorea close behind her. "Was that Sue that Paige was taking?"

"Yup." You nod.

"She ain't even s'possed to be patrolling." Kk sighs with exasperation.

Nika comes beside you, smiling when the cat cuddles up to her too.

"What'd she say?" Nika asks you quietly.

"Not much." You shrug, and though Nika gives you her signature piercing stare, you manage not to break.

THE NEXT DAY you wake early again.

You relish the dreamless night. The sunlit barn. The calm, the quiet. You ignore the boredom, the empty feeling left by the rush of fighting for your life.

You don't see Sue back in her stable. You don't hear footsteps approaching the barn.

The next morning is the same, and the next.

Paige is gone for four whole days. And in her absence you live unchanged, waking by the same hour, working through your patend routine, laughing at the right times, keeping quiet when you can.

Nobody asks where she's gone, nobody worries. So you don't either. You swallow back any questions by the first and second day. On the third, you try to forget about her offer altogether.

On the night of the fourth, Nika knocks on your door unannounced again.

"Hi again." She grins, long hair slicked back, teeth bared in a charming grin. "Long time no see."

"Seeing you at the stables is enough Muhl for me." You open your door wider, and she laughs.

"You gonna let me in? Or what?" Nika snorts, stepping inside before you can respond. She walks herself to your room, her combat boots thumping on the wooden floor. You follow her without question, accepting her confidence. It bothers you less these days.

"What now?" You tut, hands on your hips. "You gonna move in? Or are you and your friends getting stoned again."

"If I moved in this shack would be a whole lot cuter." Nika snorts, allowing herself to slump over on your bed. "Get changed."

"I don't feel like smoking." You say.

"We're not. Tonight is bonfire night."

"Uh," You raise a brow. "You say that like I should know what it is."

"Some of the others built a firepit out of some old garbage can a few days back." Nika chirps, blowing a stray strand of her from her face. "We lit it up today, n' everyone's bringing drinks."

“And you decided to drag me along?”

“Precisely.”

You chuckle, turning to your closet to scavenge for something to wear. Summer nights can get chilly, but bonfires made you sweat.

“Shorts?” You ask.

“I think so.” Nika hums from your bed, slapping her bare thighs.

You pick out the rest with no problem, running into your bathroom to change before coming out to Nika standing up, waiting.

“Sexy.” She nods towards you. “Let’s go.”

You follow her up the stairs, stopping by your kitchen to grab a lighter and a pocket knife before leaving the house. The night sky, once dim in evening, has turned a deep blue. Stars twinkle from above. You can faintly smell smoke from afar.

You walk through the neighbourhood with her, eyes on your boots while hers stare straight ahead.

“Y’know, I was thinking.” She says.

“Don’t do that.”

“Shut up for one second.” Nika rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk upward. “Not even like, a week ago, if I’d told you to pick out something cute I think you would’ve kicked my ass.”

“Yeah?” You ask, but you think about it and realize she’s right. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have come out with you. Or I would’ve fought it a little more.”

“That too.” Nika nods. “What changed?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. You feel her stare turn to you as you do so, and her eyes narrow.

“I was surprised as shit to find out you weren’t boring.” She says slyly.

“What does that mean?” You shoot, meeting her stare.

“Like, you were a fuckin’ nobody when we met. Never talked, all that. It wasn’t a big deal, a lot of people come to Jackson that way. S’not like it bothered me that bad. I wanted to push you around, see if it was true. Then you came out and smoked with us, and we realized you weren’t too bad at all.” Nika hums.

“And?” You raise a brow. “I know this already.”

“Well, after that you went right back to being a nobody.” She says, no nonsense-like.

You just narrow your eyes. She sighs.

“You respond like a robot when me n’ Kk talk to you. You spend all your time alone. S’like nothing changed. Then I stop by today n’ you’re cool again.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” You scoff, closing up and honestly feeling a little attacked by her confrontation.

“Sorry if you feel uncomfortable.”Nika shrugs. “But you’re in your head all the time, I never know what to think.”

You don’t respond, and she doesn’t push further. Aside from the occasional sharp glance in your direction, you just keep walking beside her through the night.

“I’m still getting used to all this.” You mutter after a while. “You act like I’m supposed to know what to do all the time.”

“You’re not supposed to know what to do.” Nika frowns. “But I really don’t know how you act. Sometimes you’re cool, sometimes you’re like a robot.”

“We’ll, sorry I’m not cool enough for you and your friends.” You bite.

“Bitch, that’s not what I meant!” She groans, rubbing her face. “Look, I can see that you’re not a fucking robot, okay? You got attitude, and you’ve been through shit. Congrats, join the club. Can you just see how it gives me whiplash when I talk to you the next morning and it’s like you’re on autopilot?”

“Yeah.” You pause. “Yeah. I get it.”

Nika nods, satisfied but waiting.

“I don’t even know.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I feel more myself at night, I guess. Aside from that, I’m not used to interacting with so many people like we’re all friends, like, everyday.” You continue.

“I get that.” She nods, and you can tell she’s serious. “And?”

“And,” you inhale, “I can’t fucking stand how many times Kamorea complains about cleaning the stalls. Okay, we get it. You’re tired of cleaning horse shit. Obviously you did something bad for Geno to put you on stall duty, so suck it up and stop making it my problem.”

“Pfft.” Nika snorts, eyes wide with amusement. “What else?”

“I need you to stop whining everyday about how much you hate working at the barn. Same logic. You did some shit, now you can’t patrol. Maybe work on your raking skills before begging for patrol duty, you clean the place like you should be bedridden.”

“Okay, not sure why I’m apart of this.” Nika laughs. “You done?”

“No, I’m not done.” You shoot back. “You’re not the only person who hates the barn. I’m sick of the barn. You think all I wanna do in life is braid horses and clean saddles? Are you serious?” You laugh, and she genuinely starts to heave with laughter herself. “I used to outrun clickers with cocaine in my backpack in a normal days work, alright? This easy shit where I work like a traumatized child isn’t doing it for me.”

“You miss it?” Nika smiles. “I’m honestly surprised.”

“Yeah, I miss it.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t miss almost dying like, everyday. But I miss actually doing something with my life. I just don’t make it your problem, or Kamorea’s, or Paige’s. I keep it to myself, and then I get your nosy ass begging to get inside my head.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny.” She huffs. “N’ look at that, they started without us.”

Up ahead, surrounded by the businesses and buildings that have grown familiar, glows the bright light of burning fire. Large groups of young faces, both familiar and unfamiliar, huddle close, drinks in hand, laughter echoing through he night.

“Speaking of Paige.” Nika grins, shuddering as you both approach the heat from the fire. “What’d she tell you before she left? You’re the last person she spoke to.”

“Wow, finally someone acknowledges she’s gone.” You raise a brow.

“She dips a lot.” Nika shrugs. “The last couple times she left, we thought she was dead. At this point there’s no reason to worry. Anyways, what’d she say?”

Nika snatches two beers from someone nearby, handing one to you. You pop the lids with her in sync, taking a swig and washing down the fizzy, malted taste without a thought. You internalize the information, Paige’s aptitude for absence, and move on.

“She figured I wasn’t where I wanted to before I had to say it.” You shrug. “Told me to think about asking for patrol.”

“Shit.” Nika raises her brows. “What, did you guys get some mental link while ya’ll were out in the wild? I would’ve kept thinking you were a bot if you hadn’t told me.”

“I don’t even know.” You groan, taking another swing. “She’s too much for me.”

“Why.” Nika snorts. “Cus, she knows you?”

“She thinks she does.” You grunt. “And she’s damn lucky her guesses are right half the time.”

“You like it.” Nika smirks, nudging you.

“Definitely don’t.” You frown.

“You’re just not used to it.” Nika nods. “But I feel like if you hated it, it would be more obvious.”

You just shrug, taking another sip of your beer as you enjoy the warmth of fire on your back. People around you stare, most of them nodding or grinning. You try to reciprocate.

“Plus, I bet you know her too.”

“Barely.” You hum.

“Liar.” Nika shakes her head. “You never ask any questions bout her. Either you don’t care, or you figure it out on your own.”

“First one.” You smile, turning to her.

“Girl,” she snorts, hitting your shoulder lightly, “you always in your head about something. No shame if you figuring her out too.”

“She’s got more problems than I do.” You roll your eyes. “Forgive me if I think about it once in a while.”

“See?” She grins triumphantly. “So, you gonna take her offer?”

“I don’t know.”

“Seriously?” Nika guffaws. “You just shat all over working at the barn on the way here, fuck you mean you don’t know?”

You just drink, finishing the bottle and grabbing another.

“Is it cus’ she’s the one who offered?”

“I guess.” You admit, feeling a little warm inside. A faint buzz starts to settle in your skin. It’s comforting, loosening your tongue in the process.

“You’re so adamant about this distance from her.” Nika huffs. “Just so you know, it isn’t gonna work. I don’t know why, but she’s fuckin’ drawn to you. Not much you can do to shoo her off now.”

“You’re full of shit.” You hum, sipping again. She scoffs, sipping with you.

You and her walk around then, working your way through the groups surrounding the fire. Someone finds a stereo, sliding an old r&b cd in so the music floods the street over the crackling flame.

You stop to talk to the familiar faces: Jana, Ice, Aubrey, Kk, a few of the others. Nika stays by your side, cheeks pinkening with every drink she downs.

The night is still young as she drags you from person to person. Further away, another familiar face returns after four days of silence. Jackson’s gates open wide for her, and she smells the smoke in the air, hears the laughter, and follows.

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