#might be shooting myself in the foot with this one but you know what. i don't really care

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

[thousand-winters]

You know, I keep thinking about how CC said she always planned to kill Christopher and I'm a little... yikes about it. It's not even about the killing, stories always have deaths and such, the thing that got me the most is the "that's why I gave him a younger brother to keep the bloodline" or whatever, I'm paraphrasing here

Logically I know this is the past and we gotta get to the modern Lightwoods somehow but... It just feels icky to me. I guess it's also in part bc back when I was reading and I got there, I made my little mental list of why the others couldn't be killed and Christopher was the easy choice

It comes down to his death being SO unnecessary for the plot and the development of the other characters, the kind of story this is. Shock value death (which makes me not truly believe she planned it from the beginning but let's pretend she did)

It's about how he was easy to kill bc he wasn't part of a ship, regardless of if it made sense, and the explanation is "someone already can fulfill the family purpose"

[muntitled]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐄𝐏. 𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧

❝ 𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣? ❞

Pairings: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Being begrudgingly seduced by the anarchist

Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Cop!Reader, Revolutionary!Seonghwa, Implied Violence, Crazy Form!Au, Seduction, Smut (+18, minors dni) Corruption Kink, Innocence Kink, Masochism, Humping, Fingering, pet names, Rough Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Dom!Seonghwa, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Humiliation, Unprotected Sex, Hate Sex

A/n: I might turn this into a series featuring all the Pirates with their own smutty little parts because I cannot help re-watching the Crazy Form mv. It's too good

The very sight of the undulating mosh pit has your stomach rolling with nausea as you enter the dimly lit warehouse. The corrugated walls are illuminated only by various splotches of neon paint, and you suddenly feel the uncanny need to pray as you enter the crowd.

You begin to grow fearful, not onky because this crowd might birth a fresh panic attack, but because you fear for your focus as well.

That you may not be swayed from your mission.

The Intel that led you and your police partner here had been incredibly difficult to come by because every one of their little followers were so terribly loyal.

So naturally, upon receiving a tip off about a show being hosted on the seedier outskirts of town, you had no choice but to attend.

In this unpredictable field of law enforcement, of one thing you are completely certain: There will always be a clear distinction between the good and the bad and they are as bad as they come.

They are common criminals, and there is nothing else to it.

In fact, referring to them as anything but, feels like a gross display of exaltation. Exaltation, which is, evidently, what they are used to.

Disgust is smeared across your face as you and your police partner sieve your way through drunken bodies swaying to the sound of Seonghwa's voice. Although you're shoving roughly past people, all in an attempt to get to the front of the stage, you can not help but marvel at the crowd, undulating to the beat of a bandit.

His face, along with the faces of 7 of his fellow delinquents were smeared across every wanted poster in the city, and yet here he is, raging into a microphone while the crowd cheers his name.

“If I hear ‘Seonghwa’ one more time I fear I might shoot myself in the foot,” you call out, to your partner not far behind, “Keep a tight grip on your weapons, please,” you say, craning your neck back as you palm cradles your back pocket with the Glock 14 nestled inside, “We don't know what any of these idiots are on and I dont think we want to find out.”

Your civilian attire is successful in keeping the attention off of you and your partner as you break out of the heat and anxiety of the moshpit, right in front of center stage.

Seonghwa is right above you, cradling a microphone as if it were the Holy grail while his accomplice, a very inebriated San, bounds across the stage, stirring up the crowd like Seonghwa's personal hypeman.

You could almost feel your vexation increasing to ungodly heights.

Everything about this egregious display of egomania makes your blood boil raging hot, and although these are only 2, you find your hands clenching in anticipation of being one step closer to putting all 8 behind bars.

Your hatred seems to be oozing out of your pores because soon, you catch his attention. Perched on a stage elevated amongst the masses, he is looking at you now. You. Instead of any of the other drunken groupies in the crowd begging to get even a sliver of attention.

With both hands cuffed around the mic, he peers down at you and winks before belting out the final words of the song.

How badly you itched to bind his wrists with your silver cuffs.

How badly you wished to get him and his insolent underlings off the streets.

"They do know how to capture an audience… we can at least give them that," Your head snaps sideways as the words of your partner rouses what little patience you're already working with.

You tap lightly at his badge. The sound of your nail hitting the metal is drowned out by the raucaus applaud but your police partner watches you intently as you cooly say, “Don't forget why we're here, Sergeant,” your voice holds caution as the noise of the crowd trickles down.

The set ends, and the man on stage drenched in flamboyant white linen bids the crowd a ‘Very good night’. He strolls off stage, not without giving you one last, knowing glance.

‘If you catch me, it's because I let you catch me,’ is what those eyes seem to be saying.

So much for blending into an unsuspecting crowd.

“These are not your friends. They're common criminals.” Your voice is louder now, with the absence of that Seonghwa's cacophony. “Stay here, make sure none of these degenerates kill themselves.” You're hellbent om following Seonghwa off the stage, but your partner's light snickers have you pausing slightly. You raise your eyebrows in questioning.

“You speak about them like they're not just fans," Your partner shakes his graying head, "Like they're complicit,”

“They are." You almost immediately reply with a narrowed gaze. "As far as I'm concerned, their fans are just as bad as them.”

With those parting words you make your way towards the part of the warehouse sectioned off from the rest of the crowd, where Seonghwa and his accomplice disappeared off to in the wake of their applause.

You reach what appears to be a backroom hidden behind the makeshift stage. It is far quieter than the rest of the warehouse pulsating with cacophony. You do not miss the slight apprehension that swallows you whole when your feet stop you from venturing over the threshold.

“It doesn't look like you have a backstage pass,” San sits beside Seonghwa on a couch positioned in the focal point of the small room. You recognize hid face as another one of the men whose visage was stamped in a very large police docket on your desk.

“Apologies,” you murmer to San, “I only have one of these,” you raise your police ID to the side of your face and San rises from his seat in mild curiosity. He sinks closer to you while Seonghwa, the man who held most of your attention, sits reclined, with his legs spread on the wide sectional.

He sits lazily, almost kingly under a giant white sheet. A flag plastered to the wall, with a giant, obnoxious, A carelessly spray painted in black.

“I thought we said no fans allowed backstage." San says in a sing-song voice, blatantly ignoring your badge with his giant shoulders now bending down to your height. The circumference of his hat casts a wide shadow over you, all in a clear display of intimidation. "That counts for pigs, too.”

His steely gaze never wavers from your face, and you fight valiantly to keep your emotions tamed under a calm, nonchalant reserve. "If you're a cop, where's your uniform?" San does an obnoxious display of racking his eyes over your body.

"Your dad's place," you whisper cooly, "I couldn't put it on in time."

Your words have an unmistakable smile cracking on the sides of San's face. "I enjoyed that very much."

"I thought a degenerate like you might." Despite your words, San is still smiling. In fact, you fear yourself at risk of slipping right into that enchanting gaze of his were it not for the interception of the third voice in the room.

“How interesting,” Seonghwa's voice cuts through the tension blistering between you and San like a white, hot knife.

“Leave us.” San's head snaps backward towards his accomplice, and all Seonghwa does is smile as they communicate, quite literally without words right in front of you. Seonghwa evidently 'says' what is needed in order to get San slyly leaving room. Not before tipping his hat in parting.

With your attention now focused solely on the man ok the couch, drenched in the white linen, whose arms are outstretched and resting on the headrest, you suddenly find yourself completely and unfortunately unsure.

You had met plenty of prisoners. Dined with manner delinquents and questioned many criminals, it is only in his presence when you feel your usually tough reserve quaking at the smallest fraction. In the face of what is apparently true rebellion.

“Why don't you have a seat,” he snickers when he finds you already stepping over the threshold, making yourself all too comfortable in an evil space. Nothing good existed beyond this point.

“I hope you enjoyed the show,” There is a depth to his voice that is regrettably tickling down the edge of your spine, dousing every bit of pateince you had.

“You call it a show… I call it inciting a riot,” you shrug, finally choosing to sit beside him on the wide sectional. Far too close beside him and his outstretched arms.

Despite the warning bells, you refuse to exhibit any fear.

“Is that why you're here?” His voice remains steady as he focuses it on tracing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. He wants to see how quickly his touch could elicit a valley of goosebumps.

He is all too pleased to find you shivering in protest.

“You're here to arrest me?” In all honesty, Seonghwa enjoyed watching you try to push him away for the sake of your precious morals. Call it masochism, but there is something enticing about a woman who so very clearly abhors everything he stands for. Seonghwa cannot help but find it almost irresistible. His captain always remarked on Seonghwa's enjoyment for not only fixing broken things but also obsessing over them.

You did not know that the frown plastered across your face only accelerated his racing heart more. Desire plunged through his arteries as he immediately recognized you as a challenge.

Something to perhaps break.

It would be so incredibly satisfying, especially because you represented everything he despised in this wretched world.

Order.

“Actually, no.” You say, staving off another shivsr as you evade Seonghwa’s steadily heavy growing eyelids. “We received a call that someone was disturbing the peace.”

“In an abandoned warehouse?” He asks, voice airy and tone almost dismissive because he is much closer to you now, leaning towards you, as if enchanted by your very scent. You watch him with apprehension as you begin to feel the very first signs of what you regrettably realize to be attraction.

However, you can not move off the couch now because you can not control any of your motor functions in your concrete bones. Every one of your morals howl for you to get away from this man. To cuff him, send him down to the precinct and convict him for... something…

but that 'something' does not come quick enough, and he's leaning closer to you, with both arms still resting on the couch behind you. Before you can blow up your entire career, and close the distance, you wrangle some bit of sense to turn your head sideways, evading his half lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Your blatant rejection rouses him slightly, and he readjusts himself in his seat. Seonghwa brings his legs together to better manage the heat rushing to his cock in the wake of your rejection and apparent attraction (and immense frustration) as he shifts even closer beside you.

“You will find no disturbance here,” he says, “Only music.”

His words release the floodgates of your vexation, and your head snaps as you fire off. “Music that you weaponize to spew your delinquency.”

“Ah. Ah.” Seonghwa dips his head down to your ear as he whispers, “Delinquency, or rebellion?”

You're laughing humorlessly into the air, effectively causing Seonghwa’s smile to widen and his cock to stiffen completely in the confies of his pitch black dress pants. You are oblivious to his eyes, watching you as if you hung the very moon.

“You and your… freaks preach your vitriol and call it ‘rebellion’ when all you're actually doing is polluting our city with riots and crime.”

“You don't wish to be liberated from an oppressive world order?” He adjusts himself again, getting far too excited with the way this conversation is flowing. Your wide eyes and high vibrato do little to calm his restlessness.

“What oppression!?”

His voice is quick and monotonous, “Capitalism. Classism. Racism.” His fingers clench and unclench before swiping against the back of your neck, “Why do you willingly submit to a system that is simply un-winnable? We want you to free yourselves from the hierarchy. Fucking wreck the system-”

“You're fucking Pirates,” you spit the word out, unwokowungly snapping the very last of your reserve before Seonghwa is pulling you into a heady, heavy kiss by the nape of your neck.

"Fuck yes," He whispers before pulling you in as if you weighed absolutely nothing and you let him. You let his lips move languidly against yours as your hands fall against his chains and the white linen frills spilling from his collar. His hand is still positioned on the nape of your neck and he squeezes, forcing you to kiss him back. He groans into your mouth when you begin to work with him instead of against him. You mouth falling open as his tongue collides with yours.

Vaguely, in the background, outside these four walls, you can hear the crowd beginning to cheer once again as raucous music spills from unseen speakers. You can hear San beginning to sing into a mic, and your hand on Seonghwa's shirt curls imperceptibly.

“You're so beautiful…” You hate how easily his words affect you. You hate what a slave to desire you seem to be as he leans back to immediately push his hands in between your legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, keeping his feline eyes trained on you as he unclips the buttons of your jeans with one hand. “Tell me you don't want this disgusting delinquent to make you cum over and over again.”

Your lips are pursed painfully, and you throw your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you lift your hips. All the better for him to wriggle your jeans down to your ankles.

As he brings your legs up to his lap to pull off your jeans completely, Seonghwa's movements become all the more reckless and all the more urgent.

“All the same,” he murmurs before kneeling on the floor in front of you, “You conformists are all the fucking same.” Your eyes flutter open, along with your mouth, and the very moment your gaze locks onto the spray painted flag, hanging above you, Seongwha pushes aside your underwear, immediately spearing your dripping cunt with his long fingers. You release a broken moan into the air and his smile has blossomed into a full-on lopsided, evil grin as he brings your knees up to frame his face.

“2 seconds,” he taunts, in between your chorus of broken moans going head-to-head with the sound of San’s sensational belting, “it took me 2 seconds to have you humping my hand like a pretty fucking slut-”

Despite the pleasure coursing through your body, you still manage to keep your teeth clenched as you murmur, “You're the one… fuck… you're the one kneeling in front of me like my personal whore-”

Seonghwa's eyebrows raise, and his eyes glint in excitement at your taunting. He prided himself on being someone who could take as much as he gave out, and you're doing a terrific job at holding his attention when so many other people fell short.

You were interesting, of that, Seonghwa was sure.

“You make me want you so bad, Dove,” he admits before swiping his other hand over his stiffening bulge to the rhythm of his hand pushing in and out of your cunt.

“You drive me fucking crazy-”

“You're already crazy- fuck, just like that! Please don't stop-” your clenching around his fingers, eyes locked on his wide, excited eyes and his close lipped smile as brings his other hand to swipe over your clit.

The very second his calluses make contact with your swollen, puffy clit, you're cumming around his fingers. San’s vocal rages and your screams pour out as you fight to keep your eyes open. Seonghwa's fingers are still pushing into you relentlessly, and your heart sinks when you realise the seat underneath you is drenched with your arousal.

Seonghwa's mind is flooded with the image of you squirting so shamelessly around his fingers. Seeing you give yourself over to him so seamlessly made him feel absolutely restless with arousal, and he's pushing you down onto the couch before you're able to fill the air with idle protests.

His clothes suddenly feel too constricting and he curses the black corset as he wrestles with the buttons of his collar. He does not care that the buttons are flying onto the floor because he is clambouring onto the couch and hovering over you as he slots his hips in between your open legs.

“I need you to make a mess for me,” he whispers, before pulling his collar open, showcasing a patch of his tanned chest to your wide eyes. You unbuttoned your own shirt at the very same time that Seonghwa pulls down the zip of his pants, and he nearly whines at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your top. You are using him just as much as he is using you.

“Just like that, baby,” He nods, forcing his cock deep inside you as you begin to tweak your own nipples to stave off the discomfort of being stretched open so completely.

“F-Fuck- Seonghwa…” He is still nodding as he bends down towards you. Strands of his black hair tickle your face as he positions his hands on the side of your head and ruts into you with urgency. “I don't think I can take it-”

“You're already taking it so well, Baby.” He coos, as he forces his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching walls.

“You're taking everything I have to give and you're doing it flawlessly,” his praises are like that fashioned from a poet and the sheer artistry behind mere words have your head flying backwards as you release a torrid moan into the air.

“Where are you going?” He asks with a breathless laugh as he brings your head back by the grip of your throat. He is driving his cock inside you, his own frills spilling over your skin as he chokes you relentlessly.

Seonghwa is the very sight of violent beauty: hair mussed with his collar completely undone. His corset is still fashioned around his waist but it succeeds in tightening his abdomen, bringing him closer to the edge as the torrid sounds of your fucking fills the air.

"Fuck I'm close,” He grunts with his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull. "Tell me you hate me-" he whispers.

"I hate you," you moan out. "I hate you so fucking much-" It fell from your lips so easily because it is the God honest truth. Despite the spell he currently has you under, in the eyes of your aspirations, and everything you've ever worked hard for, you hated him and people like him. People who threatened to dismantle the progress lawmakers have strived to protect. And so, with your orgasm crwsting and your toes clenching, you whisper those words over and over to him. And every time to tell him you hate him, he chokes you harder and fucks you deeper.

"F-Fuck- 'Hwa I'm-" he nods, eyes now incredibly pained as he drives his cock into you with no chance of stopping.

"Cum for me," His whisper has you reading a broken moan into the air and Seonghwa watches as you descend into the depths of your euphoria.

"Gorgeous-" He exclaims through clenched teeth as his own hips begin to stutter, "You're so fucking gorgeous-" He whimpers before spilling inside you.

You're both moaning into the air, at the very same time that Choi San appears at the threshold.

"You work fast," San says languidly. He shifts his gaze from your horror-stricken gaze to Seonghwa who stares at his accomplice with a smirk on his face.

"I work smarter," Seonghwa says, "not harder." You're very much aware that he is still very much inside of you in front of a complete stranger but that panic dissipates when you realize Seonghwa, himself, is nothing but a stranger...

"The police is not gonna be a problem for us anymore, right?" He asks sweetly before dipping his head down in between the crook of your neck. You are starkly aware that your silence is answer enough...

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | just pretend

[ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen start off on the wrong foot and richie stirs the pot.

word count. 3.5k

warnings. language, hardly proofread but i tried

authors note. lets goooo, this is based off of this headcanon that i would recommend reading before this chapter(kinda treat it as a prologue)--lets get to part one!

"Richie, you dick."

If you had a dime for everytime Richard Jerimovich managed to inconvenience you, you could probably buy the Bean three times over.

But this, this really takes the cake. 

“Well if it isn’t our little college graduate here in good ol’ Orleans Street,” Richie cheers, throwing his hands in the air in fake surprise as a smirk rises slowly onto his face. You feel like if you were to glare at the man any harder, you might actually make his head explode.

“What brings you here, sweetheart?”

You take a minute to try to collect yourself before you absolutely blow up in Richie’s face. Carmen stands directly across from you, just behind the bar, dressed in a dirtied white tee stained in a sauce of some kind. He’s very obviously avoiding eye contact with you, leaning over the bar and seemingly very interested in the walls around you. 

“If I recall correctly, you asked me to come here, Richie,” you grit out, gripping the tote bag that hangs over your shoulder tighter. You press your lips together before a choice few words slide from between your teeth.

You see Carmen tense up at what you said, shoulders hunching up before dropping almost as quickly. The dirty blonde brings a hand up to his forehead in what you can only assume to be pure disbelief. 

You continue. “You called me literally like, two hours ago.”

“Really, me? You sure it wasn’t another Richie? Maybe a Rick?”

“Richie, please don’t piss me off right now. I swear to God–”

A loud slam interrupts the developing argument and nealyr sends you flying out of your skin.

Your eyes dart over to Carmen, whose hands are splayed flat across the span of the bar. His head is tilted down, curls falling to cover almost all of what you could see of his face. He takes a breath before turning his head to look at the older man behind him. 

His face is a bright red, angry flush sinking down past the collar of his shirt.

“Richie, you motherfucker,” he grits out, dragging a hand down his mouth before slamming his fist on the bar counter, rattling the plates and miscellaneous cups that littered across it. Richie tenses up behind him, catching on to the anger almost radiating off of him.

"Why the fuck would you invite her here?" Carmen yells, speaking of you like you weren't only a couple feet away from him. You frown, insulted at his disregard of you.

"Oh believe me, I hardly am jumping to be here myself, Berzatto." You spit.

Richie raises his hands in defense, taking a step back as Carmen bucks up towards him. “Hey, man, don’t shoot the messenger.” He casts a stray hand in your direction and Carmen’s eyes instinctively follow, making eye contact for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

The heat of his stare was strong, something that you could best describe as a blend of anxiety and anger. You notice that his eyes trail up and down your form, not in a "checking you out way" and more of a "I cant believe you're here right now" way.

“Bug usually never responds to my messages! Honestly, how was I supposed to know she would now,” Richie continues, still trying to maintain distance away from Carmen.

Carmen seems overwhelmed, split between jumping at Richie for his fake naivete or running a million miles away from you. He curls his hands into fist, and for a second, you think he's going to throw a punch. Quickly though, Carmen steps away from Richie and casts one more look towards you.

You wait for him to say something to your face, but he doesn't.

“I’m leaving,” Carmen mumbles under his breath, taking in another deep breath before abruptly turning and throwing open the kitchen door. The swinging door flies out and hits the wall, a sudden crack that you are sure would leave a dent later.  Almost immediately, you hear the sound of distant bustling and pans clattering around. 

A voice yells out in confusion. “What the hell, Jeff?”

You bring a hand to your forehead, feeling a headache incoming. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes and simply being around Carmen had given you more stress than you’ve had in the past week. Casting a glance up at Richie, you give him a final glare. The man simply shrugs his shoulders and gives a charismatic grin. “Well, that was pleasant wasn’t it, bug?” 

“Ayo, Richie, what the fuck is up with Jeff,” a voice questions as they walk in from the path of destruction that Carmen left in his behind. The owner of that voice is none other than Tina, and for some reason, seeing her alleviates at least some of the headache you feel pulsating across your skull. Tina casts a confused glance at Richie, who simply points over in your direction. Tina’s eyes follow and when she makes eye contact with you a familiar smile drapes across her lips. 

"Oh, well now I understand why Jeff's so pissed off."

"Yeah, and then the asshole has the nerve to act all coy, like he didn't blow my phone up with messages begging me to go down to the restaurant," you complained, throwing your head back to take another gulp of the wine in your cup.

In front of you, Sugar swirled her own glass of sparkling grape juice, shaking her head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

Shortly after Tina had walked out, you had left the restaurant (not before flipping Richie the bird) and immediately went to text Sugar for a rant session. Being the absolute angel that she is, she agreed almost immediately, stating that she had some qualms she wanted to rave about as well. Two glasses of Merlot for you and some non-alcoholic beverages for Natalie later, you two were sitting on the two ends of Sugar's couch, the TV playing a rerun of Selling New York as background sound for your current conversation.

"Yeah, Richie is a jerk." You nod in appreciation for her understadning your annoyance.

"And don't even get me started on you-know-who's reaction? He barely even acknowledged my existence!" You throw your free hand in the air. "Speaking about me like I wasn't right there?"

You release an exasperated sigh. "The ego on that guy."

Natalie hums, taking a languid sip of her drink. "Well, that sounds like Carmy alright. A tiny little ball of asshole-ery at any given point of time." The blonde reaches a hand over and places it on your knee. "Sorry my brother is such a dick."

You give a small smile at Sugar, resting your own hand on top of hers. "No need, it's clear you took all the 'sane person' genes in the Berzatto bloodline." Your joke pulls a giggle out of Sugar, the slight truth of her statement not missing between the two of you.

"But enough about me," you place your glass down on her coffee table before continuing. "What's going on in your life Nat?"

You listen as she rants about the stress of preparing for a bringing baby into the home. She talks about how those Al-Anon meetings she regularly attends are going, and how her one coworker Bryson seems to have a vendetta against her.

After a moment, Natalie coughs slightly, eyes darting across the living room in thought before returning back to you. "And well, I hate to keep talking about Carmy but..."

The smile drops quickly off of your face as Sugar trails the last word. "But what, Suge?"

"Buttt, Carmen's trying to rebuild The Beef," Sugar peers down into the contents of her glass as she speaks, "he's rebranding it as The Bear, and I've been trying to help him and the crew get everything sorted before they start tearing the building down."

You press your lips together tight at the mention of the familiar name.

"Personally, Carm, I don't see much wrong with the restaurant now?"

"The place is held together by a roll of duct tape and a dream, bug, I don't think you have to look very hard to see some issues."

You glance up at him from your position on his chest, looking as he gazed up at the ceiling of your bedroom. While his gaze was physically directed at the old glow in the dark stars scattered across the ceiling, you could tell his head was in a total different world.

"So you want to start a new restaurant?" You question, watching as Carmen shakes his head as soon as the words leave your lips.

"Nah, I just want to make it better, ya know? For Mikey, and Sugar, and Ma."

Sugar, noticing you are distracted, stops her sentence and gives a little frown, watching as your gaze drifts off somewhere distant.

Despite the years that have past, she knows that you still have feelings towards her brother. She was there for most of it, watching as you and Carmen went from daily hangouts to a weekly phone call, to a monthly check-in text, to, well, nothing.

She consoled you through most of the grieving phase of a post-breakup, like you had done for her a couple of times before. And after a few weeks of busting into tears anytime his name was mentioned, you began to heal, and focused those strong emotions towards improving yourself.

Natalie let a wistful sigh, pulling you out of your thoughts. Shaking the fog away, you give a remorseful smile at having basically cut Sugar off midway through her spiel. She gives you another small smirk before shaking her head, dismissing your silent apology with a wave of her hand. She draws another sip of her sparkling juice.

"But Carmen has been driving me up the wall with all the shit he wants me to help juggle. If I schedule one more appointment I might pull my hair out."

"Oh no, please don't do that, honey," Pete calls out from the kitchen, very obviously having been listening in on your gossip time from the kitchen table. Sugar gives off slight grimace at Pete's abrupt callout at her obvious exaggeration, shrugging her shoulders and giving a placating call back towards her husband.

Reaching back towards the table, you grab the wine glass from earlier. "Do you have anyone to help you? You know I have some connects who can manage the money and strategy end?" You offer, more than willing to alleviate some of the stress from your friend's shoulders.

"Yeah, can I have that guy who assisted you when you managed La Raison?" Sugar teases. "I have no idea how you managed to help that business go from near bankrupt to one of the best sellers down Michigan Avenue."

"Carter? Yeah, no. That dude was an asshat. He was more useful kissing up to the store owners than actually doing his job," you shake your head at the mention of one of your old employers. Since graduating, you had taken into strategic and financial management for businesses across Chicago. La Raison had been one of your main businesses for a while, the owners soon becoming close friends of yours.

You loved what you did, though business management sounded like a right pain to most, you found joy in being able to rub your braincells together and actually make a difference. Plus, the pay wasn't too bad either.

Sugar chuckles. "Yeah, well, I wish I could just have you as a little angel on my shoulder, giving me all the answers to all of these problems that keep popping up."

Though she was joking, you can see the way her brows furrow simply thinking of all of the things that she has to do. You could only imagine the stress she is under right now. Balancing opening a new restaurant with her ever-present family dilemmas, and a baby on the way?

Natalie was beyond used to extensive stress, so you know she won't verbally express all of her worries. But the thought of Sugar carrying all of that on her shoulders draws a slight frown on your face.

Before you know it, the thoughts are falling from your brain and past your lips.

"What if I helped you manage the place."

You honestly do not know why you offered to help manage this fuckery that is disguised as a restaurant.

Shortly after you had offered to help, it was as if Natalie had died, saw the light, and returned back to Earth. She squealed like a teenage girl and thanked you profusely. While she shaked you and explained all the things that needed to be done, you slowly began to realize the implications of your offer.

You, helping Natalie manage Carmen, your ex-boyfriend's, restaurant. A responsibility that would obviously take months.

And honestly, you were tempted to withdraw your offer despite the happy squeals of relief that Natalie was letting out. That was, until the tears of relief started pouring from her eyes.

Those pregnancy hormones really guilt tripped you.

Now, a week later, you're back at The Beef. Well, you suppose The Beef is gone officially now, the rusting sign pulled down from its former position hanging above the restaurant entrance.

"Why the hell did I sign up for this shit," you question out loud, watching as Manny and Angel pulling out a broken sign from inside the restaurant. Sighing, you reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette box, pulling one out before digging for your lighter in your back pocket.

"Mami, what are you doing here?" You turn around at the voice behind you, cigarette hanging loosely from your lips. Tina stands behind you, a smile stretched across her lips. "Seeing you two weeks in a row? Someone must be dying."

You smile, opening your arms for a hug that Tina reciprocates. "Oh you know, I'm here to save your asses from complete and utter failure." Tina gently pats your back as you pull apart, and it makes you regret not checking in on her and the rest of the crew more often.

"Missed you, T." You mutter, a small grin pulling up on one corner of your mouth.

"Missed you too, mami," Tina pats your arm before wrapping her hand around your elbow. "Now, I'm not trying to step on your toes but...you do know who your helping out right?"

You grimace at her implication, the reality hitting you once again. Behind those glass windows stands the man who took your heart and literally tossed it away like it was nothing. Took all of those years that you had spent together and wasted it away.

Broke up with you over fucking text.

And now, you're about to walk into his restaurant and help Sugar, and, consequently, help him fix this fuck up.

Talk about fate.

"Yeah, T," you start, letting her guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant, where you see Marcus and Fak carrying out some lockers. You wave towards the men, to which Fak responds with such enthusiasm that he drops some of the lockers on the ground, much to Marcus' chagrin.

You grimace before continuing. "Just helping my asshole ex because his sister is my bestie."

Sugar had texted you that Sydney, Carmen's former sous chef and business partner, had been more than happy to hire you as a strategic manager for the business. Although she didn't mention it, you knew that a certain dirty-blonde was not so excited at mention of you coming to help.

"He knows we need the help, no matter how fragile his tiny little ego is," Natalie had told you, a knowing smile on her face.

"Don't lose your head, boss." Tina teases, pushing you first through the doorway. As you finally enter the store, you take note of the pure chaos that is the restaurant.

Plywood and debris scattered across the flower, miscellaneous kitchen supplies and utilities lining the walls. Ebraheim and Sweeps were taking a sledgehammer to some random panels, while Richie was yelling something from the kitchen. As you take in the madness, Tina pats your elbow before heading back towards the kitchen.

"Welcome to The Bear!" Richie calls out as soon as he notices you. Spreading his arms out in what you assume is a hug, you only offer him a solid stare. Richie drops his arms and heads towards you despite your very clear disdain for him at the moment. "Glad you could join the team, bug."

"Richie, why the hell are you covered in black dust?"

"Inconsequential, sweetheart," you roll your eyes at his response before stepping over the debris in front of you.

"Where's Nat, Richard," you question walking behind the bar and towards the office in the back. Richie grumbles something under his breath before shouting out 'office.' Busting through the kitchen door, you note that the kitchen is just as messy as the front of the house. Stepping over black dust on the ground, you tread over to the office.

"Suge? You in there?" You call out, peering over the corner and into the office. The room is unoccupied, filled with nothing but discarded papers with miscellaneous phone numbers and sprawled writings.

You make note of what you know to be Nat's handwriting, eyes trailing over all of her notes for appointments and scheduling. Your eyes also rove over the chicken scratch that you also know to be Carmen's scribbles. Placing your bag down on the desk, you sit down in the rolling chair and decide to wait for Sugar to come in.

You grabbed a random pile of papers and attempted to digest some of the information being presented to you.

Bank statements, IRS requests, insurance, licenses, permits.

Judging by all the shit that needed to get cleared just for the restaurant to legally be open, your surprised that Mikey wasn't being physically chased down by the IRS and thrown into jail.

"Hey, Sugar, Syd and I are going to work on the chaos menu tonight so I'm going to leave the rest up to you, okay?"

Carmen slings around the corner, too focused on pulling his coat on his shoulders to notice who exactly was sitting in the office.

Instinctively, you freeze at his sudden appearance in the doorway, breath caught in your throat. At the lack of response, Carmen finally looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

His blue eyes widen, clearly not expecting you to be the person in the chair. You rack your brain over the next move to make, the silence continuing as he just stands in the doorway and practically gawks at your existence.

Deciding that staring indefinitely at each other was probably one of the worst things you can currently think of, you clear your throat to break the silence. That seems to break Carmen out of whatever state of shock he seemed to be in; you watch as he awkwardly wrings his hands, like he was at a lost of what to do next.

You're half-expecting him to make a repeat of the last time you saw each other and storm away from you. However, Carmen just stands there, eyes darting from you to random objects in the office then you again on repeat.

Both of you are waiting for the other to say something. To yell, chastise, and start an argument.

Biting the bullet, you start. "Hey, Carmen."

He seems to be taken aback that you even uttered his name, eyes meeting yours once again. You almost forgot how blue his eyes are-so bright that they're almost clear.

He nods in acknowledgement before saying your name to greet you in return.

Awkward silence fills the room once again. While you know that Carmen is hardly a conversationalist, this has to be the most painful quiet you've ever experienced.

Be amicable, you think to yourself. He's your boss/business partner now.

You're doing this for Sugar.

"Umm..," you trail off, eyes scanning the office around you in attempts to find something else to talk about. "I tried to find Nat, but she might have gone A.W.O.L"

Carmen nods his head a couple of times, a soft hmm leaving his lips. You can tell that he wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue but sealed behind his lips.

"Yeah, ok-okay, yeah." He nods rapidly, crossing his arms across his chest, lowering his gaze down to your shoes.

"Yep."

God, someone shoot me now.

Carmen clears his throat. "I-I-uuhh, you know, Sugar really appreciates the help."

You nod, licking your lips out of habit. "Yeah, she's told me."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

Just when you were about to figure out a way to turn invisible or sink into the floor, Sugar rounds the corner and lightly bumps into Carmen's back. She lets out a noise of surprise from her throat and Carmen jerks forward a little.

"Carmy, why the fuck are you standing in the fucking doorwa-" Sugar cuts herself off when she spots you over her brother's shoulder. She makes eye contact with you and you swear you see a little mischief in her eyes. She pushes past Carmen to step inside of the office, crossing her arms over chest to assess the room.

You, sitting in the office chair, papers still grasped tightly in your hands and your lips practically licked dry from your nerves.

Across, Carmen stands angled towards Sugar, almost trying to physically minimize the amount of eye contact you two share.

Natalie surmises that she just saved the both of you from a very awkward moment "Oh, shit. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"No-no, uh, you're good, Sugar," Carmen sputters out, face flushing a bright red. He brings a hand over his mouth to physically stop the word vomit that was about to fall out of it. "Umm, was just gonna tell you that Sydney and I are leaving to work on the new menu."

Sugar's eyes dart over to you again, sitting stiffly in the office chair. She raises her eyebrows in question but you subtly shake your head.

Let's not talk about it right now.

She nods in acknowledgement before turning to fully face Carmen.

"Okay Carmy, you're good to go. Me and Bug here are just gonna get some paperwork sorted." Carmen looks in your direction at the use of the familiar nickname before he hmms again.

He takes a step back and waves his hand in goodbye. "All right, bye Sugar," he's fully outside of the doorway now, but he pauses before leaving you and Sugar's line of sight completely.

He stands there for a beat, running whatever thought across his mind a couple times. Finally, like he settled on an answer, Carmen gulps and raises his head to look at you.

He nods his head and whispers out your name and a goodbye, followed by a swift exit out of the kitchen.

You're practically stuck in the chair, the past five minutes having been a complete whirlwind. The kitchen door whips against the wall in a crack, the squeaking echoing from your place in the office. Your gaze is still focused on where your ex-boyfriend had stood not even a couple of seconds ago.

"Well," Sugar starts, a knowing smile across her face. "That wasn't as violent as I thought it was going to be."

requests to be in the taglist for this fic in the replies below or send me an ask! thank you all for reading!

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 36: Severed

Joel, Tommy and Ellie search for you. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-35 found on Tumblr here.

I'm sorry I couldn't resist.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and a step beyond. Torture. Mention of past sexual assault (not described). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8.2k

A/N: I want to state, real quick, that Bambi is NOT going to be sexually assaulted again. This is a highly triggering subject and, given the situation she's in, I understand if folks are bracing for it. That's not going to happen. The threat of it is there but it's not going to happen.

We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. This character returns NEXT CHAPTER. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel had rarely paid much mind to how long it took to get out of Jackson before. 

“Tommy,” Maria was stalking after her husband as he, Joel and Ellie headed for the stable. “Be reasonable, you can’t just take off…” 

“Sorry, babe, but I can’t just sit here and let ‘em have a piece of her,” Tommy said as they went to the stable. There were the two horses Tommy and Joel had just returned on, the three that had carried the kids back, and some horses you’d been working with. You’d been telling Joel about their progress, how one was nearing well broke and you wanted him to go with you to the shooting range with her soon to get her accustomed to the sound of gunfire. 

“Do you have some kind of death wish you haven’t bothered to tell me about?” Maria planted herself in front of her husband, her arms crossed, defiant. “You have responsibilities here, Tommy! People who depend on you, people like me and our fucking son! You don’t get to just take off at your brother’s command anymore!” 

Joel stiffened at that. He and Maria had gotten to a good place in their relationship over the years, her moving past the thought that he’d been the driving force behind all her husband’s misdeeds. They’d settled into a mutual respect and eventual affection since he’d come to Jackson, Maria seeming to appreciate what he did for the community and the way he loved her son and Joel admiring her leadership and the way she was a partner to his little brother. He thought they were past this. 

Maybe he was wrong. 

Tommy took his wife’s shoulders in his hands, his thumbs rubbing little circles against her. 

“If it were you, he’d be going with me,” he said gently. “That’s my baby sister out there, Maria. Can’t live with myself if something happens to her and I didn’t do everything I can to stop it. I’m goin’. You can either help and hope we get back soon or you can be pissed while I’m gone but I’m goin’, you can’t stop me.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went and stood beside Joel, looking over the horses. 

“What’s better,” he asked. “Tired mounts or ones that might spook?” 

Joel looked at his brother for a moment, thankful that he had him to rely on, and ground his teeth. He didn’t know the answer. 

“They’re on foot,” Ellie said, joining them. “Tired is probably better, we’re still going to catch them. But I don’t expect this to be quiet and if we’re on horses that spook, well…” 

Joel gave her a stiff nod and went to get the horses ready to leave. He was moving as quickly as he could but it felt slow, everything felt so slow. It felt like he should be running, pushing himself to the brink so he could reach you sooner. Every second you were away from him hurt. It was worse than when you’d left Jackson to search for Savvy in the blizzard. That had been bad enough but at least then he could believe that you were in one piece, that you could take care of yourself. 

That wasn’t the case now. He knew you weren’t safe. He knew you weren’t OK. He knew he’d vowed to protect you, the night the two of you made promises to each other in his bed he had sworn to keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. 

He’d failed at that. 

He’d failed and now he was here, doing what he had to do to make sure he could reach you. It just didn’t feel like enough. Nothing would, not until he held you again. 

Tommy and Maria talked in low, harsh voices until they had things situated. Food, water, ammunition, medical kit.

“Tommy,” Joel said, jerking his head toward the horses, voice sharper than he’d meant it to be. His brother jogged over to him, taking the reins of his horse from him. 

“The guys who brought the kids back are going to wait here until a few more crews come in,” Tommy said. “Then they’re coming out after us. We can mark a path. With fresher horses, they’ll catch us quick.” 

Joel nodded stiffly and the three of them led their horses to the gate, Maria following with her arms crossed over her stomach. In another situation, Joel would have taken the time to talk with her and reassure her. He didn’t have the luxury of time now. 

He mounted up as the gates opened, Ellie and Tommy following suit, the three of them riding through the gate the moment there was room. 

“Joel!” Maria called after a moment. He looked back at her. “Bring my husband home.” 

He watched her for a moment, at the fear on her face and in her wide eyes, a mirror of what he was feeling now. But she was still letting him go. He wasn’t sure he could do the same in her position.

“I will.”

 Ellie took the lead, pointing out the spot in the fence where kids left town. Joel ground his teeth and resisted the urge to yell yet again. What good would it do? What was done was done and this lesson was one he doubted Ellie would forget. She didn’t need to be taught it again.

They rode for nearly two hours when they came upon a small clearing and Ellie jumped off her horse before it had even come to a stop. 

“We were here,” she said, looking around, almost panicky. “We were here, I know we were, they had us behind that tree…” 

She ran over to it, walking around it until Joel couldn’t see her anymore. 

“Ellie!” He called. He couldn’t have her out of sight, not right now. 

“I was right,” she called back, coming around the tree. “I took a chunk of bark off of it, this is where we were but they’re gone, completely fucking gone, I don’t…” 

Joel was less surprised than Ellie. 

“They weren’t about to sit and wait for us to find ‘em,” he said. “We need to track ‘em. We’ll find them.” 

He, Tommy and Ellie circled the clearing on foot, looking for signs of a trail. It didn’t take them long to find one. Unfortunately, they found more than one. 

“The fuckers split up,” Tommy kicked a plant in frustration. “Any way to tell which group had her?” 

“Smaller boot prints, maybe,” Joel said, looking closely at the ground. 

“But there were other women,” Ellie said. Joel’s head snapped toward her. “They had a few women. I didn’t talk to them but… She wouldn’t be the only one.” 

“We can’t split up,” Tommy said. “It’s too goddamn risky, there are too fuckin’ many of ‘em, we have to stick together…” 

Joel nodded, trying to think. He tried to keep his shit together but he could feel it happening, the panic setting into his bones. He could hear the blood in his ears, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He was having a hard time taking a full breath, his head spun. He reached out, his hand finding a tree trunk, giving him something to root him to the ground. 

“Joel?” Ellie’s hand appeared at his back. “Hey, you can’t die on us right now, we have to get her back, you can’t do this now, you gotta keep it together, you hear me?” 

He nodded quickly, closing his eyes for a moment. His mind scrambled for something - anything - to hold him here, something to make him push past the fear and do what he had to do. 

He thought of you. 

He thought of the first time he’d felt your body against him, on the back of a horse in the snow-covered forest. The first time he’d held you because you wanted him to, how you’d sought comfort in him. The first time he’d kissed you, how your lips had fit softly against his, the quick little breaths you’d made, the way you’d felt so close to him. The first time he’d touched you as his wife, how your body was so familiar to him but was brand new, too, with this new context. You were his, he was yours and he needed to keep himself together long enough to get you home. 

He took a deep, shaky breath. 

“We follow one trail,” he said. “We either find her or we find the people at the end of it. If she ain’t with ‘em, we get ‘em to tell us where she is.” 

“You really think they’re just going to, what, tell you whatever you want to know?” Ellie gaped at him. “They’re not going to just answer your fucking questions, Joel!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on askin’ nice,” Joel said, stalking back toward the horses. “We follow the middle track. See where it leads.” 

Joel knew he should feel some kind of shame about what he was about to do. What he wanted to do, how he wanted to hurt them. He’d never told Ellie the finer points of what he and Tommy used to do - still did, when the need arose. He’d never told her what he did to find her when David had her and he was desperate. She knew he used to kill people, he thought she had some idea of just what that entailed but he’d protected her from the worst of it, the most shameful parts. 

Now, he was hungry for it. If he were a dog, he’d be salivating for it, aching to get his jaws around the throat of the man who had taken you from him. He didn’t want to just kill him, that wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough the year before when he’d sent him away from Jackson and it wasn’t enough now when he was doing who knows what to you. He was going to enjoy pulling him apart, piece by fucking piece. He almost hoped that Cody wasn’t with the men they were tracking, that he’d find you and have the chance to take every ounce of pain from them before finding Cody and taking it from him, too. He couldn’t even regret the drive to do it or the fact that he knew he could do it and do it well. His only concern, after finding you, was exposing Ellie to that. 

But they lived in a harsh world. Maybe it was good for her to know the harsher parts of it. 

Joel led the way, slower going now that they were beyond where Ellie knew the group to be. They were carefully tracking a group of what looked like seven people - including two women - for hours. It was dusk when Tommy noticed the signs of people first, giving a low whistle that sounded something like a bird. Joel looked over his shoulder and Tommy nodded toward a patch of sky he could see through the trees. Joel looked up. There was smoke. 

He dismounted and tied his horse off, Ellie and Tommy doing the same, before the three of them prowled, quiet and slow, toward the smoke. It wasn’t long before they could smell it, hear the quiet laughs of men. Joel tightened his jaw and his grip on his gun. His heart raced. 

The group they came upon largely had their guard down. Joel spotted someone through the trees, beyond the fire, looking like they were patrolling. Otherwise, they weren’t paying any attention. Joel gestured to Tommy and Ellie, sending them behind larger trees, Joel going to one himself. He peered around the thick trunk to find them there, make sure these weren’t just innocents passing through and seeing if he could catch a glimpse of you. 

But they weren’t innocents, a woman with her hands bound sitting beside one of the men at the fire, another one - also tied - with her back against a tree. There was no sign of you or Cody. 

Tommy met Joel’s gaze, his face set and determined. Joel gave him a stiff nod before turning to Ellie, her own expression hardened with barely controlled rage. She didn’t even look at Joel, too busy watching the men around the tree. 

Joel took a deep breath and raised his gun, stepping around the tree and firing, catching the man with his back to them in his head. He fell forward with a thud. 

There was a moment of stunned silence, the only sound birds fleeing the crack of the gun. Then, it was chaos, the men scrambling for weapons. One of the women screamed. 

“Need two alive!” Joel yelled to his brother and daughter, pressing closer and firing again, felling another man. 

Tommy shot next, a third man going down. A bullet whizzed past Joel’s head, close enough that he felt the heat of it on his skin, the shot clipping his ear. He ignored the sharp pain of it, watching as the shot Ellie got off dropped a fourth man. The fact that they’d caught the men when they’d stopped for the night was to their advantage. They were clearly used to traveling in a larger group and running unchallenged, only watching for infected who often made themselves known with crackling breaths, the sound of crunching through the brush and sharp clicks. They weren’t expecting a small group to come in, guns blazing. They were slow getting their weapons, rifles on the ground and out of reach, making picking them off like shooting fish in a barrel. Joel shot the man on watch as he came running toward the fire, his gun raised and aimed at Joel. 

Tommy charged forward and grabbed a man who was just getting to his feet, his back toward the three of them. He was just raising his gun when Tommy swung the butt of his rifle at his head, catching the man in the temple and knocking him off balance. He took advantage of the moment and ripped the weapon out of the man’s hands, casting it aside before shoving him to the ground and putting his boot in his chest. Tommy leveled his rifle at his head, holding the man in place. 

“Got one!” He yelled to Joel. 

There were two men left standing now, one reaching for a gun. Ellie shot him in the shoulder before Joel got a chance to react, sending him sprawling on the ground. The other was smarter. He grabbed the nearest woman and pulled her in front of him as she screamed, pressing a gun to her head, his eyes darting between Joel and Ellie. 

“Keep coming and I kill ‘er,” he panted. 

“Joel,” Ellie’s eyes darted toward him. “What do we do?” 

“Let me go,” the man said, the woman in his grip trembling. “Him too, and I leave her alive.” 

Joel didn’t have time for this. He moved quickly, raising his gun and firing, hitting the man in the middle of his forehead. The woman screamed again, covered in his blood and stumbling forward as his body went limp on of her. 

“Shit,” Ellie lowered her gun, looking at Joel. “I thought we needed two.” 

“Think we got two,” he stalked over to the man Ellie had hit in the shoulder. He was whimpering on the ground, clutching the hole that was gushing blood. 

“Please,” he said, eyes wide. Joel ignored him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him to the man Tommy still had at gun point. He dropped the man there with a pained groan and he looked to the women, the one who had been a hostage sitting up next to the body of the man who’d had her. 

“C’mere,” Joel said. They looked at each other quickly but stayed still. Joel, again, resisted the urge to yell. He didn’t have time for this. “Ellie, cut ‘em loose, tell ‘em how to get to Jackson if they want. Give ‘em whatever they need. See what they know.”

Joel turned his attention back to the man on the ground, going down on one knee beside him. He grabbed his hair in his fist, forcing his eyes to meet his own. 

“You’re gonna tell me what I wanna know,” Joel said. “And you’re gonna do it quick. Understand?” 

“Why would we tell you a goddamn thing?” The man below Tommy asked, watching Joel. His words were quick, panicky. Joel looked back at him for a moment before he ripped the injured man’s hand away from his wound with one hand and thrust his thumb inside the bullet hole, pressing up into the tendon below his skin. The man thrashed and screamed, the shrill sound sharp and cutting. Joel left his thumb jammed inside him until the other man spoke again, his eyes wide. “Fuck, OK! OK! What do you want to know, we’ll tell you! We’ll tell you, please!” 

Joel pulled his thumb free of the man’s body and wiped the blood on a clean spot on his shirt, turning his full attention back to the man below him. 

“Should get one thing straight now,” Joel said. His voice was flat. “I don’t mind hurtin’ you. In fact, I like it. Like gettin’ justice for everything you’ve done wrong in this life. I can promise you’ve done a lot wrong and I can promise I can make you pay for every goddamn ounce of it in blood. I know how to make it last. But I’m in a hurry and I want this over quick. It’s in your best interest to give me what I want. Got it?” 

The man gave a shaky nod. 

“Your boss has got my wife,” Joel said. “You split up. I need to know where he’s takin’ her.” 

“He gave us a meet up point,” he said, voice shaking. “We were afraid of someone coming after her, he had us split up, he’s got her not us, I swear…” 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“Where.” 

“I don’t know where he’s taking her,” he said quickly. “I know where we’re supposed to meet him tomorrow, that’s all! I swear, I don’t know where he’s going.” 

Joel thrust his thumb inside the gunshot wound again, plunging it deeper, pulling harder at the structure of him as he screamed and writhed. 

“No, stop!” The man below Tommy begged. “We don’t know, we don’t know! We just know he was taking her to trade, that’s all we know!” 

Joel froze before pulling his thumb from his body. He grabbed the man’s hair again, forcing him to look at him. 

“Trade?” His heart was pounding. “Trade for what.” 

“Territory,” the man panted. “Please, there’s a guy who wants ‘er, promised us territory if we got her for him, that’s all I know. He was going to try and meet with him, see if they can cut a deal. If he couldn’t find him or couldn’t get what he wanted, he’s meeting us in the morning.” 

Joel looked to Tommy, his face hard. Tommy just gave him a nod. It seemed like the truth. Joel turned back to the man. 

“You’re gonna tell me where the rendezvous point is,” he said. “And you’re gonna keep it real quiet and then we’re gonna ask your friend the same question and he’d better say the same place as you. Got it?” 

Joel leaned in close, the rattle of the man’s pained breaths hot and wet on his ear. 

“North, ten miles,” he said. “Where the rivers meet.” 

Joel sat back from him and looked to the other man. 

“Now you,” he said. “Better say the same damn thing as your fuckin’ friend.” 

The man’s eyes darted toward Tommy, who pressed the gun closer. 

“Don’t look at me,” Tommy said. “I ain’t savin’ ya. You wanted to live? Shouldn’t have taken my brother’s girl. Answer the question.” 

“North of here,” he said, looking back to Joel. “Said they’d be there in the morning, we were just stopping to rest for a bit, that’s all…” 

“Where north of here.” 

The man’s eyes darted to his friend before looking back at Joel. 

“Ten miles or so,” he said. “There’s a spot where two rivers meet…” 

Joel nodded slowly and looked to Tommy before getting his knife out. 

“No,” the man below him shook his head. “No, I told you what you wanted to know, I didn’t lie, it was the truth I swear it was the truth!” 

“Oh, I know it was,” Joel said, adjusting his grip on the knife. “But you took my daughters, took my wife. Not about to just let you live.” 

He thrust the knife into the man’s stomach and he gasped, his eyes and mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. Joel angled the blade up, forcing it towards his lungs before twisting it and pulling it free with a harsh tear. He wiped the weapon on the man’s pants before getting to his feet, watching as he tried to hold himself together, not able to take a full breath. He’d drown in his own blood before too long and Joel wanted to watch him do it. This man had taken everything from him. He was owed his suffering. 

“Joel,” Tommy said, nodding down at the remaining man at the end of his gun, one who was clearly about to make a run for it. He knew he was done for, he was desperate. “What are we doin’?” 

“Shoot ‘im,” Joel said. “Not worth the risk.” 

Tommy obeyed, the man dead even had a chance to flinch. Joel went back to watching the the first man gasp and gargle, fighting to breathe and failing. He should feel something, he knew that. He should feel guilt or some kind of pity. He didn’t. He barely even felt satisfaction. You were gone. He was hollow of everything beyond pain and fear and rage. 

“Joel,” Ellie’s voice was quiet behind him. He turned to face her, her eyes wide as she looked between him and the dying man. He’d almost forgotten she was there. 

“Get the women out?” Joel asked, shifting instinctively to block her view of the man suffering at his feet. She peered around him, anyway. 

“Yeah,” she said. “They didn’t know anything. Gave them directions back to Jackson and some guns from these assholes. I don’t know that they’ll end up there but…” 

She looked at the man again for a long moment before looking up at Joel. 

“Did you get an answer?” She asked. “Do we know where Mom is?” 

His chest got tight, hearing Ellie call you that, knowing that he shared children with you and you were gone. 

“We know where Cody’s headed,” Joel said. “Let’s get what we can from here and head out.” 

The three of them took ammunition and weapons and food from the dead before mounting up, Joel taking the lead again. 

It only took a few hours to reach the place the men indicated. The group had stopped here before, Joel could tell. There were signs of fire pits, places where fallen logs had been dragged over for places to sit, cleared brush. 

“What do we do now?” Ellie asked. 

“We wait,” Joel said, not happy about his answer. How was he supposed to just sit here when you were out there, with them? But he didn’t have another choice. 

They got the horses settled and found places to watch and wait where they should see people coming and have the advantage. Joel settled in, Ellie sitting beside him while Tommy kept watch. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” She asked eventually, quietly into the dark. 

“Do what,” he asked, even though he knew. 

“Hurt someone like that,” she said. “Make them give you information.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment, twisting his wedding band over and over on his finger. 

“You know some of what me ’n Tommy did after the outbreak,” he said. “Did some of that, too.” 

She nodded slowly.

“You never talk about it.”

Joel shrugged. The sound of crickets seemed loud, louder than they should be. 

“Not exactly somethin’ I’m proud of, baby girl.”

“But it’s useful,” she said pointedly. 

He sighed. 

“I’ve used it a few times since, when it’s important,” he said. “When it’s to protect you or her. It’s not somethin’ that’s good to know how to do.” 

“I want to know how to protect people, too,” she said, her voice dark. “I have shit to protect, too, Dad. I want to know how.” 

Joel sighed, looking over at her, the outline of her barely visible in the light of the moon as it filtered down through the trees. 

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to know this stuff. That he would always be there to look after her, to do these ugly things that needed doing. But he knew that wasn’t true. 

He’d doomed her to this life, in a way. One where she wanted to know how to pull answers out of someone with pain, how to turn the love you carried for the most important people in the world into a deadly weapon. There was no other way to be in this reality, one with infected and raiders and the last gasp of human kind struggling to continue on. If he’d left the doctor alive, at least, maybe things would be different. Maybe he’d have succeeded without Ellie, maybe the world would have been better for her eventually. 

But he would have come after her and there was no point in fixing the world if it had to continue on without her in it. Good, bad, indifferent, there was no point to any of it if the price was her life. Hers or yours or Savvy’s, the three of you were all that mattered. And he liked knowing he had skills he could fall back on if he needed them. 

“We’ll take care of what needs doin’ now,” Joel said. “Then we can talk.” 

The three of them took turns keeping watch. Joel wasn’t able to sleep. Instead, he thought of you. How he’d had to coax you into life in Jackson, how you’d come to find your place there, how you’d chosen to do all that with him at your side. 

There was a lot in this life he knew he didn’t deserve. He’d never deserved Sarah, that was for damn sure. The world hadn’t deserved her, either. He’d squandered the gift that was her existence, let her down when she’d needed him the most and he’d bourn that weight the rest of his life. He didn’t deserve Ellie, either. He certainly didn’t deserve you, something so strong but soft, vibrant but centering. You were meant for something more than him but you’d chosen him, anyway. He remembered when your fingers first brushed his, when he first heard you play guitar, when he first saw how you loved his daughter like she was your own. He wasn’t sure how he was meant to keep going if he didn’t get you back. What would be the point? Ellie was grown now. Savvy had survived all on her own for years and Ellie had taken her under her wing. They didn’t need him. But he needed you. 

Dawn was just beginning on the horizon when Joel heard it, the sound of people coming in from the north. He roused Ellie and Tommy and the three of them stood, lying in wait amongst the trees, rifles at the ready. 

Joel wanted to come out guns blazing but then he saw Cody, riding on horseback with just two other men. 

They weren’t outnumbered. You weren’t with them. 

Joel readied to step out from the trees, rifle raised. 

“Joel,” Tommy hissed.

“Go around the side,” he said, voice low. “Kill the others. But he’s mine.” 

He moved from behind shelter then, weapon leveled at Cody’s chest.

“Cody!” Joel called, watching as the men’s heads all whipped around to focus on him, scrambling for rifles. “You have what’s mine.” 

Cody lifted a hand to his henchmen and they lowered their weapons as he smirked at Joel. 

“Think she was mine before she was yours,” he sneered. “Seems to me I just took back what got away.” 

“Where is she,” Joel said, prowling closer, straining to keep his voice calm. 

“Back where she belongs,” he said, fishing in his pocket for something. He found it, pulling it out, unwrapping it from a kerchief and throwing it onto the leaves at Joel’s feet. “But you can have the part of her you laid claim to.” 

Joel looked down and his vision narrowed to a sharp, bloody point. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the soreness of his legs and back and the pain at his ear that had been nagging at him suddenly gone. His hands shook as he dropped the rifle and lowered himself, slowly, to the ground. Lying there were two fingers. Your fingers. The wedding band that had been there since Joel had slipped it onto you was bloody, ragged flesh dangling from the ring he’d made you. 

Something inside of Joel snapped then. It was a sharp, clean break, one that he could he could feel deep at the core of him. A severing of his humanity, a setting aside of the things that made him who he was. The love he held for his family, the care he had for the place he called home, the remaining parts of him that were gentle and good - those things were closed to him now. Joel Miller had been called monster many times in his life but he knew he’d never become one. Not truly. He knew it because this had always been there, lurking below the surface, brought forward when he needed it most but always controlled, always contained. It wasn’t contained now. It couldn’t be. 

Joel left the gun on the ground, gently picking up your fingers - sticky and cool - and putting them delicately in his pocket before getting to his feet.

“Thought about sending you back with her whole hand but,” Cody shrugged. “Mitchum has use for it. Nothing she can’t do down a few fingers, though.” 

Joel didn’t even see Ellie and Tommy getting into position when he roared and lunged for Cody, ready to kill him with his bare hands. 

***

The Day Before 

“Move.” 

You glared at Cody, your wrists chained in front of you. 

“Not telling you again,” he said. “They’re still close enough, we could run ‘em down if you want to try me.” 

Your stomach got tight. 

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.” 

He split his men into three groups, hauling the man you’d killed to the brush and leaving his body behind. There were three women you hadn’t seen yet, one going with one of the groups, two with another. You didn’t get a chance to say anything to either of them, just sharing a look of desperation before you were led away. 

“You’re going to regret this,” you said as he shoved you forward. 

“Why, because you’re fucking guard dog is going to run me down?” He sneered. “Think we’ll handle him just fine. Besides, by the time he finds us, you’ll be long gone.” 

You followed his command, trudging through the forest and trying to find some way to leave a trail to follow. Joel would come for you. It would likely be hours yet before he was back from patrol, hopefully long after Ellie and Savvy made it back to town. You knew he’d come looking for you the moment he discovered you were gone, that he’d do anything to get to you. You just needed to make sure he could find you and that you were in one piece when he did. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked once you’d been walking for hours, looking at Cody. “You said you knew it was wrong, you helped me. Now you’re doin’ this? Takin’ me and other women?”

“Let’s just say I learned my lesson with you, Doll,” he said. “Could try to be a ‘good’ man all I wanted, try to do the ‘right’ thing but it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Not like there’s much left here to live for, right? I should just take what I want while I can, no one is going to give it to me, even if I deserve it.” 

“Deserve it?” You stopped and turned to face him. “You think you deserved something from me? You held me prisoner, you fucking raped me, you…” 

His backhand caught you off guard, sending you sprawling to the ground, unable to catch yourself with your bound hands. He stood astride over you, grabbing your face sharply and forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t fucking call it that,” he hissed. “That’s not what it was.” 

You spat in his face. 

“Fuck you.” 

He squared his jaw, like he was considering doing something more to you before he straightened, wiping your spit from his cheek. 

“Get her up,” he said. “We’ll stop here for a bit, take a break. Make her take a piss, get her cleaned up a little. Maybe we’ll have some fun before we hand her over.” 

You hoped the fear didn’t show on your face, that the way your stomach dropped and heart stuttered wasn’t obvious. 

It’s not like you didn’t know, consciously, what this was all leading to, what you were going back to. You’d been there for long enough before, you knew what it was and what this meant. 

But you weren’t sure you could survive it again. It had nearly killed you before. If you hadn’t escaped when you had, you weren’t sure how much longer you would have really lasted living that way and now you were going back to it. It would be worth it to protect your children but the fear of it was still there, the claws of it sharp and harsh inside you. 

Cody smirked. 

“Maybe I’ll show you just how nice I was before,” he said. “Show you what you took for-granted.” 

Two men pulled you roughly to your feet and shoved you into the trees, off the trail you’d been walking. Your chest got tight and your stomach turned and you found yourself flexing your fingers, clenching and unclenching your hands into fists as you tried to focus. Your vision threatened to narrow but you forced yourself to see beyond your own body, think beyond the fact that your lungs couldn’t seem to fill and your head was getting light. 

The men pushed you for a few minutes away from the rest, toward a stream. One stayed further back, watching the forest for signs of infected or someone who might come to take you. 

“Alright,” the other said, nodding to you. “You heard ‘im. Piss, get cleaned up.” 

“You think I’m gonna just do that with you watching?” You sneered, brows raised. 

He stalked forward, drawing his gun and pressing it to your chin. 

“You really think I won’t blow your goddamn head off?” He asked, his breath reeking of rot and liquor. 

“No,” you smirked back. “Your boss has you by the balls. You can’t do shit to me.” 

He stepped back and you saw the strike coming that time, dodging it enough that he caught your cheekbone more than your chin and you stayed standing. 

“I can do that,” he snapped. “And I’ll do it again.” 

“Go ahead,” you said. “Because you’re a little bitch. I’ve had good sex that hurt worse than that.” 

He bared his teeth and he went for you again. 

But he was stupid and big and slow and you knew where he was going to be now. You dodged him, not fully thinking and with no real plan. He stumbled where you’d been standing and you stepped behind him, looping your arms around his neck and pulling back so the chain constricted on his throat. 

He choked and gasped, dropping his gun on instinct as he clawed at your arms, trying rip himself free and trying to make a sound but you were pulling too hard, the other man too far to hear or see what was happening. 

The weight of him thrashing against you sent you off balance and you fell, taking him down with you, his body heavy on top of yours. But you didn’t give in, keeping the chain tight over his throat as he kicked and flailed. You held it there until he went limp and you released him, shoving his body off yourself and panting for breath as you did. You didn’t have time to get the feeling back in your body or to ease the panic, though. It was sheer fucking luck the other man who was standing just out of sight hadn’t heard something and you had to take care of this now. 

You found the gun where the man you’d killed - thought you’d killed, at least, you weren’t about to risk shooting him - had dropped it and took a guess at what direction to run in. 

You didn’t make it far. 

“Hey!” You heard the crush of leaves, someone moving for you. “Fuck, she’s running!” 

You turned and shot, the first bullet going wide as your hands shook but you were able to keep it together enough to get off another shot, this one hitting him square in the chest and he dropped like a stone. 

You kept running. 

You weren’t sure how long you ran for when you heard them, the men closing in on you. You couldn’t afford to look back and take the time to shoot, you had to keep moving, even as the sound pressed closer and your head was swimming. And then a hand closed on the collar of your shirt - Joel’s shirt - and ripped you back and down. You twisted on the ground, trying to aim the gun but it was kicked away from you. 

“You’re gonna regret that you little bitch,” the man panted over you. “We could’ve made this easy on you. We ain’t now.” 

He hauled you to your feet by your bound hands and forced you back to where the group had stopped, finding the two other men who had been sent after you on the way. Cody was standing where you’d stopped before, a small fire built on a patch of dirt in the middle of the trail. 

“You really think that was the smartest thing you could have done?” He asked, his voice almost eerily calm. 

“Did you really think I was just gonna let you hand me over?” You replied. “That I’d just go quietly into being a prisoner?” 

“I guess that’s why Mitchum’s so obsessed with you, isn’t it?” He asked, prowling closer. You wanted to shrink away but you couldn’t, not with the man at your back. “Because you just keep that fight in you. You didn’t give up like the others and he’s a man who likes a little fight.” 

He nodded toward the stump of a tree and the man at your back shoved you to it, forcing you to your knees beside it. 

“Thing is,” Cody said, pulling his knife free of its sheath at his belt. “You don’t need to be… intact for the shit he likes best about you.” 

Your eyes darted. You were surrounded, there was nowhere you could go and nothing you could reach. 

“Don’t be too worried about it,” he continued, kneeling on the other side of the stump. “Think he’d be pretty pissed if we took your whole hand, for example. But I don’t think he’ll miss a few fingers.” 

Your heart raced, the blood pounding in your ears. 

“That a risk you want to take?” You fought to keep your voice calm as you clutched your hands tightly to your body. “You really want to go through all this trouble for nothing?” 

He shrugged. 

“Think we’ll be fine.” 

The man at your back took your wrist in his grasp and shoved your arms down to the jagged wood of the stump, your hands clenched in tight fists. Cody took your left one and pulled at your fingers, trying to pry it open as you grimaced and fought him on it. After a moment, he gave up. 

“Fine,” he said. “Don’t want to cooperate?” 

He took the knife and slammed it through your forearm, on the side of it so it missed bone, making you scream as the blade went through the muscle and skin and into the wood on the other side. Your hand went limp on instinct and Cody spread your fingers with one hand, holding the other out. Another man handed him a knife and he lined it up with the base of your ring and pinky finger, smirking a little as he did. 

“Would you look at that,” he traced your wedding band and you tried to look at your hand through the blur of pain and tears. “The feral woman got hitched. You marry that animal of yours, that it?” 

You considered begging. If you thought it had even a chance at working, you’d have done it. But it didn’t.

“Fuck you,” you said instead. 

“Think this’ll make for a nice keepsake of you, if he ever comes looking,” he said, pressing the knife in just enough that you could feel it, even through the pain of the blade still lodged in your arm. “Wedding ring won’t mean much where you’re going, anyway.” 

He started cutting then, the automatic response your body had to pull away ripping and tearing against the knife holding you to the wood. You couldn’t look away from it, even though what little there was in your stomach was threatening to come up and the pain had deafened all the sound around you. You weren’t sure if you were screaming or not but you couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think as you watched part of your body be cut away. 

Cody finished, wiping the knife on your shirt - Joel’s shirt - before passing it back to one of his men. He held your bloody, jagged fingers up, turning them slowly in front of his face. You could hear again, the ragged sound of your breath and the rustle of leaves on the trees, the breeze moving through as though you weren’t being dismantled on the forest floor. 

“Think your guard dog will even still want you now?” He asked, holding them in front of you. Your blood dropped from them onto the sleeve of the shirt. “Not sure he’ll be interested in such… damaged goods.” 

You stared at the fingers in his grip in disbelief. It didn’t seem real, the things you’d used to play guitar and grip the reins of your horse and hold your husband’s hand were separate from you now. You remembered, for a moment, marrying Joel. The clarity of it was almost visceral, how he’d taken the ring that was now slick with your blood and slipped it onto the finger that was dangling before your eyes. It was a part of you then. It wasn’t now. 

Cody held his empty hand out and the man he’d given the knife to returned it. 

“No,” you shook your head, your voice wet and raspy. “Please, I…” 

“Not taking anything else,” he said, his tone almost kind. “Just going to make sure you don’t bleed out on us.” 

With that, he pressed the blade to the place he’d cut part of you away and you screamed, the metal scalding hot. You realized they must have put it in the fire, using the heat to cauterize the wound. Without warning, one of the men pulled the knife that was still in your arm free and the heated blade moved there, too. You could smell your skin burning, the man at your back holding you still as your body fought to escape the pain of it. They moved you around like a rag doll, cauterizing the other side of your arm, too, before stepping back from you. 

“There,” Cody stood, handing the knife off and taking a kerchief from his pocket, wrapping your bloody fingers in it before stashing them away. “Now you should know I’m not fucking around. Get up. We’ve wasted enough time on this shit and Mitchum won’t wait on us forever.” 

The man behind you pulled you to your feet by your shoulders and you swayed on your feet for a moment, your head swimming before you doubled over, vomiting mostly bile before your legs gave out, the man catching you before you hit the ground. 

“Shit,” Cody’s voice sounded far away. “We’ll have to find a way to move her…” 

You passed out. 

When you woke up, it was dark, a hand around your jaw. 

“There she is,” Cody said, releasing you and patting your cheek twice. “Need you up and walking, can’t trade you half dead. Move.” 

You tried to orient yourself, get some kind of understanding. You weren’t where you’d been when you’d passed out. You were on some kind of makeshift litter, your left arm and hand throbbing dully. Your hand was bandaged. Cody grabbed a fistful of your shirt, pulling you upright and you all but collapsed against him, stumbling as you tried to find your footing. The second you did, you pulled away from him. You couldn’t bear to touch him, even if that meant you ended up on the ground again. 

“Just gotta make it about 100 yards,” he nodded toward a flickering glow in the distance. “Then you’re not my problem anymore.” 

He nudged you in that direction and you moved, almost mindlessly. You weren’t strong enough to fight it. You were barely strong enough to walk. You cradled your injured arm to your body as best you could, watching as the glow of the fire drew closer. 

“Stop right there,” an unfamiliar voice said, a man coming through the trees with his rifle raised. But he lowered it as he drew closer, looking the group you were with up and down. “Cody. Starting to wonder if you weren’t going to make it.” 

“Got held up,” he said. “But I got what he’s after, if he still wants to meet.” 

The guard just jerked his head toward the fire and led the way, you trailing along behind him with Cody and his men at your back. 

The fire was in the middle of a large clearing, one with a cluster of about 20 men around it, the man you feared more than any other sitting at the back of it. 

A wide smile came over his face when he saw you, the spread of it sinister and slow. 

“Well well,” Mitchum said, getting to his feet and walking closer. He was still so much bigger than you, tall and broad and you knew just how well he could force you to do what he wanted. “The prodigal son returns, with my favorite toy no less.” 

“Told you I could get her,” Cody said, pushing you toward him. “And I believe we had an agreement.” 

“Sure, sure,” Mitchum waved him off before looking you up and down, just feet away from you now. Your head spun. “Jackson is yours when we take it down, as is anyone who survives. S’long as you remember who gave it to you.” 

Mitchum reached out, grabbing your injured hand roughly and you cried out with it as he pulled your arm toward him. 

“The fuck is this?” He held it up. “Thought I told you I wanted her intact, there’s no deal if you fucking maimed her.” 

Cody shrugged. 

“She killed two of my men,” he said.

Mitchum dropped your hand and clenched his jaw before snatching his gun from its holster and shooting Cody’s man who was at your side, making you flinch away from the sound. 

“You think I give a fuck how many of your men make it?” He asked. “You think their lives matter? Got fuckin’ news for you, theirs don’t and neither does yours so you better do a damn good job of explaining why you brought her to me damaged.” 

“She tried to take off,” Cody said, eyes darting down to the man who was dead  on the ground. “Had to do something to keep her under control. Figured you’d want her at all, even if that meant damaged.” 

Mitchum holstered the gun with a huff and pulled you away from Cody, your skin crawling where he touched you. 

“Well, she’s back where she belongs now,” he passed you off to one of his men before turning back to Cody. “Jackson’s yours, when we take it.” 

“And I want horses,” Cody said. “For my trouble.” 

Mitchum seemed to think for a moment before giving him a stiff nod. 

“Fine, three horses,” he said, waving them forward. “Take ‘em and go. Don’t want to see you again for a while or else I might change my mind.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Cody smirked before looking to you. “Told you you should have given me what I deserved.” 

You didn’t say anything. Instead you just stood there, in the hold of one of Mitchum’s henchmen, watching as the man who’d stolen your freedom rode off into the night. 

Next Chapter

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

A/N: I know it's a rough chapter but... feral!Joel?

We've only seen the beginning of him, he's about to go on a rampage like no other I can promise you that.

Also, I'm sorry for making this chapter quite so brutal. I really didn't want them to get off easy in this situation, I wanted to make sure we know that there are going to be some long term repercussions from all this - in this case, Bambi's missing fingers. They live in a brutal world and they're facing brutal things and I wanted this to be reflective of that.

Thanks for sticking with the story. I really do love you all!

[i-put-the-hot-in-psychotic]

Target Acquired PART 1

Pairings: Keegan. P. Russ x Soldier!Reader

Enemies to Lovers Trope

Summary: You and Keegan were somewhat of enemies, if that could be said. You got shot by him when you were on a mission, and hide in a nearby warehouse, but what happens when you actually get to talking, and showing him that you are not a scared woman and you mean business as much anyone else.

Disclaimer: This story will contain curse words, war themes, gun shot wounds, and (NSFW) sexual themes in part 2.

"Fuck"

You seeth between your teeth. You got shot, but from where you don't know. You rested your back against the metal crate breathing deeply.

You are enemies.

He was good, shooting you like that. You couldn't see in the the dusty air surrounding you. The abandoned warehouse. You just need to get there, hide there at least until you patch yourself.

The building is dark and has no lights except for the sunlight from the broken windows. All of a sudden, footsteps start getting closer. A man turns into the room. It's him.

He points his gun at you, scanning your body.

"Take your weapons off and push them towards me." He demands.

"Why? You already shot me. Might as well end it here" you say as you leaned against the wall breathing heavy holding your abdomen and applying pressure.

He walks towards you, still pointing his gun at you. "I need to make sure you are unarmed first. Take your weapons off and put them on the ground. Now!"

Sighing heavily sending him daggers, as if you're in a position to shoot, you removed your weapons and shot them towards him with a kick of your foot.

"There happy?"

He catches each one of the weapons with a holt underneath his heavy boot.

"I need to search you." He says, after a moment of dead silence.

"Take off your clothes and throw them towards me."

You stop dead in your tracks. Eyes trying to meet his, sadly having the light come from behind him it made him just a silhouette. He wasn't serious was he?

The corner of his mouth rises into a slight smile. "You heard me. Remove your clothes."

"Keegan"

"What?"

"Im not going to. I gave you my weapons what more could you want. Leave me to bandage myself." you state finalizing your bandage with a knot.

His expression sharpens, becoming somewhat frustrated.

"You aren't going anywhere until I say so. Remove your clothes, now."

You get up, winching at the pain in your abdomen. Keegan got you good shooting just beneath your chest plate. You removed your chest plate and your thigh holsters. Giving him a look as he urged you to continue.

You removed your top leaving you in your string one and finally went to your cargo pants, removing your boots too.

"This isn't very ethical. Even during war" you state.

Your string top had blood all over it sticking to your naval, but pushing the pain away you strengthen in front of him, trying to subside your anger. He was not going humiliate you.

His eyebrows arch in surprise as he stares at your body. He walks around you, checking every crevice. The look on his face is of disbelief and... curiosity?

"I'm amazed you are putting up this much of a fight... "

"Can I get dressed now? " you reply unamused.

Silence.

You look at his eyes. What game is he playing? Thoughts gave him away from his eyes, but no ounce of emotion from behind his mask.

"Please turn around for me." He says in a calm but firm voice.

You turn around as he instructs. Breathing heavy having him behind your back, you prepare for the worst, arms and legs at the ready years of training on you.

Silence.

Not even the rifle's strap sound, nothing.

He looks up and down your body as if studying it. For a moment, he stares in silence, letting his eyes take everything in.

Finally, he clears his throat. "Alright, I'm done here." He starts walking towards the door. "Once I've left, get dressed and don't try anything stupid."

"So what? What was this all for? Wanted to feel some power over me? That's why you had me take my uniform off?" You reply angry.

"Haven't seen a woman I presume"

You hit a nerve.

He was close to the door leaving. Smirking he wasn't the only one in power here.

He stops walking. This is the first time you've seen his expression change. He's... amused?

"You aren't scared of me?" He asks.

Normally, people are petrified. This is the first time someone's talked to him like this.

You turn and move towards him. He towers over you full gear on. You still in your under uniform garments.

"I'm scared of no one" you say directly looking in his eyes.

The tension in the air grows as your two bodies are now just inches apart.

He takes a small step forward, invading your personal space. He stares down at you, unblinking. You feel like you are caught in a trance, as if you cannot look away.

"You're not scared of me, hmm?"

"Never" you whisper to him.

He inches closer. Your lips are now only a few centimeters apart, his covered by his mask.

His eyes pierce into yours. He seems transfixed, almost like a predator watching its prey.

There is a slight smile on his lips. He speaks barely aloud in a teasing tone.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure"

You inch closer actually meaning what you're saying. As he angles his head closer you reply; "You should get going, they might be wondering where their leader went. Wouldn't want them to know you were with the enemy would you?" you say walking backwards away from him.

"Hmm... and what if I wanted to be with the enemy?" He steps toward you again, matching your walking pace but remaining only an inch or two behind you.

His lips curl into a devilish smirk and he tilts his head curiously to the side like he can't believe how brave you are.

You're shocked, yet not surprised that would be something he would say, however you remained stoic.

"Maybe the enemy doesn't want to be with you" you tantalize.

He pauses for a moment, still following behind you but not moving any closer.

His eyes are darting around your body, trying to take it all in. He speaks again in a voice that's somehow both playful and yet deadly.

"You're a bold one, aren't you?"

You start to dress back into your uniform, wanting to leave. Finally putting on your cargo pants you don't reply to him.

"Hey..."

He speaks, but at first his voice is so low that you ignore it.

"Hey!"

He tries again, yelling this time. He can't let you leave. And there's something else in his voice, a hint of desperation.

You heavily sigh wanting this game to end. Dressed, you walk towards him hitting his shoulder with yours making your way out of the building.

He grabs your wrist before you can walk further, spinning you around to face him.

For the first time, you see that deep down, he's not a monster. There is a hint of humanity and emotion in his eyes.

"Can I ask you something?"

Without replying you looked at his hand wrapped around your wrist then at him. Lets hear this you think.

He grips your wrist tighter, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to show you he's not letting go.

He stares back into your eyes, studying them, trying to read them.

"Why... are you so fearless?" he asks.

You frown at that. Remembering things that made you who you are today.

"Life" you reply.

For a moment, you see a flash of empathy in his eyes before he quickly masks it with his usual expression. "Right."

He pauses, then lets go of your wrist. He stares silently for another moment then finally breaks the silence. "You're different... "

"So are you" you say heading back to the outside world wanting this scene to end not knowing what actually happened between you two. Hand on the door handle you turn looking to wards him. "See you on the battlefield" you say opening the door.

He stays perfectly still, letting you walk outside first. You notice that he seems almost sad, like he's lost something.

You feel his eyes following you out. They are full of curiosity as if he's wondering if he'll ever see you again.

You are both very different people, but for some reason, you have this strange feeling that you are somehow connected to each other.

[solarmorrigan]

“That’s it?” Steve asks. “You’re not going to go to prom because you don’t know how to dance?”

“I’m uncoordinated enough! I don’t need to be out there making even more of an idiot of myself in some floofy dress,” Robin insists.

“Rob, no one at prom knows how to dance. Everyone kind of looks like an idiot, that’s half the point,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah, Steve, you’re really selling me on the experience,” Robin drawls.

“No, listen, I’m not done,” Steve says, giving her a nudge. “The other half of the point is just… going and having the memories, y’know? You get to dress up and take the dumb picture with your date, and avoid the punch because someone probably spiked it, and you get to dance and be close to someone and just, like, be carefree for a night.”

Robin says nothing. She doesn’t agree that prom night is paramount to the teen experience, she doesn’t tease the shit out of him for having such stereotypical expectations of a dumb high school dance, she’s just… watching him. She’s turned sideways on the sofa, one leg drawn up to her chest, and she’s looking at him like he’s something between a fascinating puzzle and the saddest thing she’s seen all day, and he knows what she’s thinking.

Steve hadn’t gone to senior prom. He’d been planning to, of course, at the beginning of the year – he’d had Nancy then, and even as early as October, he’d been fantasizing about the flowers he’d bring her and the dinner they’d go to and the way they would sway slowly to whatever shitty songs the DJ put on. But by the time spring had rolled around, he not only hadn’t had Nancy, he hadn’t really had any friends in school at all—not real ones—and so he hadn’t seen the point in attending.

He'd gone to a movie with Dustin that night, instead (he’s at least eighty percent certain the little shit had set it up as some kind of pity outing, since he’d known Steve wasn’t going to prom, but it had been kind of nice that someone had cared enough to even try). It hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been exactly what he’d wanted.

Stiffly, Steve glances away from Robin and shrugs. “Or whatever. That’s what it’s like in the movies, right?”

Robin opens her mouth, but her eyes are still soft, and suddenly Steve doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, he levers himself up off the couch and turns to her, holding out a hand.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you,” he says, cracking a grin. “Then you won’t have an excuse not to go.”

“You… want to teach me how to dance,” Robin asks flatly.

Steve shrugs. “You got anything better to do tonight?”

Raising a sharp brow at Steve, Robin starts to smile, too. “You sure you wanna subject your feet to that?”

“I think I can handle it,” Steve shoots back, and then Robin is up off the couch and helping him push the coffee table out of the way.

They rifle through Steve’s collection of tapes until they find something he deems just the right tempo, pop the cassette in, and stand in the middle of the living room.

“Okay, give me your hand,” Steve says, taking her right hand in his left, “and your other goes on my shoulder.”

Robin does as he says, glancing dubiously down at her feet as Steve places his hand on her waist. “I’m not actually sure this is a good idea,” she says with a grimace. “I might be unteachable.”

“We haven’t even started yet,” Steve reminds her. “Seriously, relax, this is super easy. It’s just a box step waltz.”

Despite her uncertainty, Robin can’t help but smirk at him. “A waltz, huh?” she teases. “Did your parents make you take fancy-pants, rich kid dance lessons when you were younger, or something?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No. My mom taught me,” he says, and then rushes on before Robin has anything to say about that. “So you’re gonna start by stepping back with your right foot when I step forward, alright?”

Brows furrowed, Robin nods and looks down at her feet again, and Steve squeezes her waist gently to get her attention.

“Look up at me, not at your feet. It’ll be easier, I promise.”

“How am I going to know what my feet are doing if I’m not looking at them?”

“You’re attached to them, Robin.”

“That’s debatable.”

Steve tries not to laugh. He really does. “Okay, you’re in marching band, right? This cannot be harder than following whatever steps that involves while also playing an instrument.”

“This is different!” Robin insists. “I can’t step on the French horn’s feet! The French horn isn’t gonna judge me if I fuck up! Like, the worst that’ll happen in marching band is that the drum major will yell at you, and the drum major is always yelling, so it doesn’t even make a difference anymore, and–”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in, squeezing Robin’s hand this time. “I’m not going to judge you if you fuck up, okay? I am literally the last person qualified to do that.”

Robin huffs out a little laugh. “Right. Two of a kind,” she says.

“Exactly.” Steve grins. “Now c’mon, Buckley, I know you’ve got this. On one, back with your right foot.”

Nodding, Robin glances down at her feet, but looks right back up at Steve. “Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps forward with his left foot, and Robin immediately steps forward with her right and kicks him in the shin.

“Ow,” Steve says, dry and flat because it hadn’t really hurt.

“Sorry!” Robin ducks her head, laughing nervously.

Steve shakes his head. “Let’s try that again. Back with your right foot.”

“At least I had the right side?”

“Yep, now aim for the right direction, yeah?”

This time, when Steve counts off, Robin’s right foot goes back, and his left follows her.

“Okay, now what?” Robin asks, looking down again.

“Now, you’re gonna bring your left foot–” gently, Steve judges the top of her left foot with his right, “back,” as she begins to slide back, he moves and taps the inside of her ankle, “and to the left. Just like that.”

“No injuries this time,” Robin quips, and Steve smiles.

“Now move your right foot over next to your left.” He nods as Robin gets her feet back together. “Forward with your left foot – good,” he encourages as he steps back to mirror her. “And now forward and to the side with your right. Like you did with your left before, but opposite.”

“Uh.” Robin makes the move slowly, still staring down, but she looks back up at him when she gets her right foot planted. “Like that?”

“Yep. Now left foot over, and–” Steve follows her, bringing them back to the same position they started in, “that’s it!”

Robin blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“Easy, right?” Steve says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods hesitantly. “I think I can handle that.”

“Of course you can,” Steve insists. “Now let’s try it again. Back with your right foot. One–”

Robin steps forward with her right and kicks Steve in the shin.

“Sorry!”

Steve quickly becomes glad they’re both in their socks, or he’d be sporting much more serious bruises by the time they reach the end of the tape. Robin doesn’t have any trouble keeping the order of the steps in mind, but keeps moving in the opposite direction of where she’s supposed to be going, and Steve has been kicked and stepped on more times in the last half hour than he thinks he has been in his entire life.

“This is ridiculous,” Robin groans. “This is the literal definition of women having to do everything backwards and in heels!”

“You’re not wearing heels,” Steve points out.

“I would be at prom,” Robin says. “Why do I have to go backwards?”

“Because you’re following.”

“Well why can’t I lead?”

“Because you don’t even know how to follow!”

“Exactly! I’m starting from scratch either way!” Robin aims pleading eyes up at Steve. “Can’t we just try it in reverse? How much worse at it could I be?”

The thing is, Steve’s only ever led when dancing – he’s never had reason to learn how to do the follow part. But then, he’s already been reversing the steps in his head all night in order to instruct Robin; following couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Fine,” Steve groans, letting his head hang back for a moment. “Fine. Trade me.”

“Yes! Trade!” Robin pumps her fist once in triumph, and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He lets go of her right hand and instead takes her left before putting his other hand on her shoulder.

“Hand on my waist.” Steve nods to his to his left side, and Robin moves into position. “Right, so you’re gonna step forward with your left this time, okay?”

Robin nods. “Forward with my left. Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps back with his right foot. Robin steps back with her left.

They stand there, each half balanced on their back foot, staring at each other, before Robin bursts into laughter. Steve follows suit.

“I– I told you I was unteachable,” Robin giggles once they’ve caught their breath, her forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder.

“Nope, this is a personal challenge now,” Steve insists, still grinning. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. You’re going to learn to waltz if it kills me.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘if it kills me’?” Robin draws back to ask.

“My death is looking a lot more likely at this point,” Steve says, and Robin snorts.

“God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, okay, Miss Unteachable. Ready to try again?”

Robin takes in a breath, wiggles her shoulders, and puts her hands back in position. “Ready.”

“Great. Just remember–”

“Forward with my left foot,” Robin echoes, overlapping Steve’s instruction perfectly.

Steve grins. “Okay, then. One–”

Somehow, Robin makes a better leader than a follower. Once she gets over the initial nerves, she manages the reverse order of steps just fine, even getting confident enough to stop looking at her feet after several sets.

(The fact that Steve has no trouble immediately reversing the steps himself and still instructing Robin receives no comment, though it does receive a brief glare, which gets a smug grin in return.)

They rewind the tape again and keep going. Steve lifts their joined hands to spin Robin around when they hit the second song and she follows with a laugh before insisting that, since she’s leading, she should be the one spinning Steve. He has to duck a little to get under her arm, but they feel the maneuver is quite successful.

Robin offers to try to dip him, but Steve declines, insisting he doesn’t feel like getting dropped on the floor today, earning a pinch at his waist even as Robin laughs.

As the evening wears on, they give up their carefully-held waltz positions and lean in close, until Robin’s head is resting on Steve’s shoulder again, her arms wrapped around his waist, while Steve drapes his arms over her shoulders and leans his head on top of hers.

“This is the kind of slow dancing I would’ve expected from Steve Harrington at prom,” Robin says as they sway in gentle circles to the beat of the music.

Steve hiccups out a little laugh. “Yeah, well, I had to make sure you knew how to do the real thing, first.”

“And?” Robin asks. “Do I pass?”

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Steve says. “Now you have no excuse not to go.”

“Steve,” Robin draws back a little, enough to look up at him without pulling away, “who the hell do you think I’m going to be dancing with at prom? It’s not like I can ask– anyone I’d be interested in.”

Steve’s heart sinks a little, the same way it always does when he’s reminded of how fucking unfair the world is to Robin and to other people like her. He shrugs a bit lamely. “You could go with friends?”

“I guess,” Robin says, staring at the front of Steve’s shirt, suddenly lost in thought.

Steve frowns. He doesn’t even remember what had gotten them onto the subject of prom—it’s January, the dance is months away—but what had started out as something fun is starting to make Robin feel bad, and he can’t have that.

“Hey, I didn’t mean–”

“You should go with me,” Robin cuts in, looking back up at him.

“What?”

“To prom,” Robin says. “You should be my big ol’ platonic date.”

“Right,” Steve drawls. “Because going to prom the year after you’ve graduated doesn’t scream that you haven’t moved on from high school at all. Definitely not sad, or anything.”

“Sure,” Robin agrees wryly. “About as un-sad as not going to your senior dance at all.”

Steve cuts a sharp look at Robin, who just smiles at him.

“I mean, I’m just saying: who better to give me the whole prom experience?” Robin shrugs, tone entirely too innocent to be trusted. “If you go with me, we can dress up and get the dumb picture together, and we can avoid the punch, and you can tell me all the gossip I know for a fact you still know about at least half the people there, we can dance… The whole shebang.”

When Steve had been imagining prom night with Nancy the year before, he’d imagined romance. He’d imagined meeting her eyes across the dinner table and sneaking kisses on the dance floor. He’d imagined going back to his place afterwards and making love, spending the rest of the night worshipping Nancy and making sure she knew how beautiful she’d looked and what a wonderful time he’d had with her.

But when he thinks about it now, he thinks about making jokes at dinner with Robin, about standing around in the tinsel-strewn gym and making catty remarks about who’s dressed terribly and whose dancing is even worse. He thinks about them dancing together, still, and maybe they’ll still go back to his place afterwards, where they can watch terrible movies for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t sound at all like what he’d wanted a year ago.

It sounds perfect, now.

“You’ll have to buy the tickets,” Steve finally says, and Robin’s face lights up. “And I expect my corsage to be very fancy.”

Robin laughs. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t be a cheap date, Harrington.”

“We can go Dutch on dinner, if you want,” Steve says.

“How generous,” Robin deadpans, and Steve doesn’t bother to hold back his own grin.

They both know he’s probably going to pay for dinner. He doesn’t mind.

“You’re serious, though?” Robin asks, looking up at him. “You really want to go to prom just to waltz with me?”

“Well, I went to all the trouble of teaching you.” Steve shrugs.

Robin bites her lip around a smile. “Do I get to lead?”

“For the sake of my shins, you’d better,” Steve says, and Robin laughs, leaning back in to cinch her arms around his waist again.

“You are my favorite person, you know that?” she says softly, just audible over music still crooning from the stereo.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his cheek to the top of her head and closing his eyes. “You’re mine, too.”

[Prompt: Slow dancing]

[bisexualcage]

Stunt Work | Johnny Cage x Trans Male

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Male Reader (trans male/masc)

Summary: you’re a stunt double working on one of Johnny’s films, he’s annoying to work with and you think you both mutually hate each other…at least you thought.

Warnings: NSWF! 🔞 MDNI!!, mentions of afab anatomy, there’s almost no plot but I tried my best so it’s a little layered.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/C: I didn’t really proof read this a whole lot, so ignore any errors pls <3

Part 2 here <-

“Alright, Cage, you gotta commit to it man stop flaking— grab his shoulder, flip him over and leg lock.” The director instructed Johnny who was shirtless, sweating and in an overall fussy mood because he couldn’t for some reason commit to performing the stunt on you all the way.

“Hop off my sack, man. I’m trying.” Johnny breathed heavily.

“If I may-“ you tried to put in a word of advice but it was quickly shut down.

“Listen, G.I Joe, zip it-“ Johnny barked, all cocky.

“You both been acting like cats and dogs all day, cut it out!” He yelled and then turned to Johnny, “What’s gotten in to you? You’re literally a martial artist, an actor, and you keep stopping at a simple leg lock?” The director whispered at him, patting his back.

The director not reprimanding his shitty behavior and only talking about his stunt block made you scoff loudly.

Johnny gave you a brief look before looking away and shaking his head, “I know I am, I’m the best there is— I’m Johnny Cage for god’s sake.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, another take! We’re gonna get this!” The director yelled.

You rolled your eyes and got to position, as well as Johnny getting in to fighting stance in front of you.

“Action!”

Johnny started throwing his moves at you, you dodged them successfully and then the sequence he struggled was next. He grabbed your shoulder, flipping you over on to the padded floor harshly which made you groan, and then finally performing the leg lock on you— extending your leg between his thighs on the floor as you grunted. You thought he finally got the move down until you felt something firm against your thigh as he kept it in a hold. You hesitantly look down and notice that between his legs was a rock hard erection making you go completely still and your eyes widen. Of course, he noticed your reaction and he immediately let you go and stood up with an embarrassed look on his face. A blush covering his cheeks as his shades hid part of his face.

“Way to go, Johnny! That’s my boy!” The director yelled.

You got up from the padded floor and cleared your throat, a heat coming from your neck. Not really looking at him as you were ready to run off set to your trailer.

“Are we done?” You look at the director and ignore Johnny’s flushed face.

“Yes yes, go ahead and take your breaks.” He patted an immovable Johnny’s back.

Without even a second thought you rushed to your trailer, a bunch of feelings and thoughts flooding your head. You were confused as to why you felt an attraction to the asshole, you were supposed to hate his guts, right? But now, since it’s pretty obvious he didn’t wanna do a leg lock all day was because he didn’t wanna reveal the rock hard boner he got in that position with you it made any rationality of in your head vanish.

An hour passed since you were trying to relax in your trailer, that is until you heard a few firm knocks on your door making you jolt and walk to it.

“Listen, if the stunt needs more rehearsing I might shoot myself-“ your words caught at the back of your throat as you saw a showered Johnny in front of you with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression.

“Easy, G.I Joe. It’s me.” He grinned at you.

“No- we ain’t doing this shit. You cannot just knock on my door with a smile and expect me to forget how much of an insufferable dick you’ve been.” You went to close the door on his face but he shoved his foot in and firmly moved his way in.

“What the-“

“Unclench your ass, I just need to talk.” He walked in with his hands in his pockets, he was wearing slacks and a navy blue dress shirt with his usual shades.

You slam the door closed as you turn around and near him, “The only reason why I’m letting you in is because I need this damn job— I would have kicked your ass by now.”

Johnny smirked, completely not phased by your red angry face, taking his shades off and looking in to your eyes with his big brown warm eyes. “Listen, I know I was a bit of a dick but I like you despite our quarrels on set. It’s an eat dog eat dog world out there, baby.”

You scoff loudly, “Baby?”, a redness in your face.

Johnny walked around your trailer, looking at your room and decorations on the walls. “Never had anyone call you pet names huh, stud?”

You shake your head and follow behind him, “Forget that. Why the hell did you have a boner when you did a leg lock on me?”

His cocky smile suddenly falters as he turns around to meet your eyes, his face uneasy. “That’s what I came to chitchat about. I’d appreciate if you didn’t go around to gossip about that. It wouldn’t be good press.”

You laugh dryly, “So you didn’t come to explain yourself but rather save your ass?”

Johnny rolled his eyes, “I’m a star, I don’t need any bs like that getting out there you understand? Plus, do you honestly think I could have controlled what happened?”

You shake your head, “That’s not the point. You know how many accidental boners I’ve experienced while doing stunt work? There’s friction when doing stunts it happens, it nothing perverted, But all of the actors I’ve worked with have apologized, just out of decency.”

Johnny actually stayed quiet, pondering on what to say, “I’m…I apologize. You know, I don’t usually apologize— I’ve been so out of it today and you being around just messed with my focus.”

You approach him more, “You’re blaming me for not being able to perform a stunt? I was distracting you?” You say bitterly.

“I’m not blaming you. Only explaining. I- I didn’t want to do the stunt all the way because I knew the second I got you on that leg lock…you’d feel it.” He looks away, a hint of vulnerability for the first time all day.

You sit down on a chair, taking a deep breath, “It wasn’t the friction.” He continued, looking at you with a certain emotion that you couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“What-“

“It was you. Moment you walked on set.” He played with the rings on his fingers, a more serious look on his face.

There was a warmth that overtook your body, a shock. “But-“ you were cut off.

“Just let me get this out alright, G.I Joe? I know what it looks like; ‘Johnny Cage getting a boner over another guy’, it’s not ideal for my image. It’s not ideal for Hollywood if it got out that their poster boy for masculinity, heterosexuality and womanizing was…not necessarily that all along.” He swallowed deeply now, sitting down next to you and looking away.

“…I guess you’re more layered than I thought. A dick with shades of gray.” You say, trying to be somewhat lighthearted at the rather shocking truth.

Johnny chuckled softly playing with his hands, “I am a dick sometimes, that I don’t deny. But the truth is, most of what people see is a facade— As most publicity of actors in hollywood is. I was raised in to this industry to fit a certain mold and you do it long enough you sort of become that regardless…” he trailed off, now looking at you, “As corny as it is, I haven’t felt a more genuine attraction in years.”

You blush, taking a deep breath, “So, have you always liked guys? Or is this something…new?”

Johnny thinks deeply, “Always. I get with anyone really. I’m an actor, of course I’ve gotten with dudes.” He grins at you, a hopeful look in his eyes that urged you to elaborate on your own thoughts.

“I guess we finally found some type of common ground Hollywood, I’m pretty…fruity.” You cheese.

“You are..?” His brown eyes turned to a dark color suddenly, a sort of hungry expression in his face. “And you…fancy me also, right? I see it in your face…”

You take a deep breath, “Careful with the ego but yes.” You chuckle, “Think I was…quite mad that your little slip up on set didn’t turn me off.”

Suddenly you feel his hand on your knee, his thumb grazing over your pants, “Come on then stud…we both want it.” He says in a deep husky voice.

A shiver runs down you leg, “Isn’t it unprofessional to get involved with- with coworkers?”

He chuckles, “Oh sweetie, unprofessional is my middle name.”, he glided his hand up your thigh now, studying your every expression as he did.

“Good point…” you breathe faster, a warm feeling festering in your lower abdomen.

“Shhh…shhh.” He whispered, “Let me just…I’ve been harboring a boner all day because of you, we’re doing this…” he trailed off, his hand now reaches the button on your jeans undoing it.

“Wait I-“ you stand up in a slight panic, “There’s something I gotta say before we proceed…”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, confused and stands up with you, studying your face.

You start pacing around, “I’m trans. A trans guy. I just wanted to say something before we-“

Johnny chuckled softly, a relief on his face, “Sweetheart, I thought you were gonna tell me something horrific.” He touches his chest, “Don’t worry about it, stud.”

Your face turns amused, “Are- are you sure you know what I’m saying?”

Johnny approaches you now, rubbing the back of your neck with his warm hand, “You’re a trans man, I understand. But a man nonetheless.”

You grow goosebumps as he touches you, “That doesn’t bothe-“

“It doesn’t, This is Hollywood baby, you know how many different folks I’ve gotten down with? I got you.” He now made his hand trail down your chest, rubbing it passionately.

Your breath hitches and you become warm all over, his hand then trails down your abdomen to under pants, his hand reaching the waistline of your briefs. Pulling you close against his chest with his free hand, “Now, come here, be a good boy…” he kisses your lips for the first time firmly, all warm and wet.

You sync your lips with his and hum against his mouth, a groan leaving his throat the deeper he went. Sliding his hand in your briefs now, rubbing your crotch up and down making you moan against his mouth.

“Fuck…” you hiss, making a grin form on his lips.

Johnny then suddenly slips his hand out and starts undoing your pants, but before he pulls them down he looks in your eyes for approval. When he sees that you nod with a gulp he immediately pulls then down to your knees leaving you in your briefs, “Don’t worry, honey…” he whispers as he cups your jaw and kisses you on the cheek. He pulls back while gently guiding you to the couch, your back against it as he finishes pulling your pants off. There was a primal look in his eyes as he crawled between your legs and was on top of you, his chest laying against yours as he leaned in and kissed your neck desperately.

“Shit-“ your breath wavers, your skin hotter than the sun.

“Mmm- taste so good-“ you heard a groan leave the back of his throat, he then trailed his hands down to your hips and gripped them tightly. “You okay? You ready?” He looked in to your eyes for any hesitation— as cocky as he was you saw an undeniable softness in them now. A want to please, a want to do something for someone. The way his eyebrows quirked up slightly waiting for your answer, like a kid looking for some sort of validation. For someone to tell him yes and that he’s doing well. It made you reconsider everything you knew about him so far. Maybe he was just a man desperately trying to look for connection in an otherwise soulless industry that broke people. He wanted connection, he craved it— he wanted realness with someone.

You nod, rubbing his sides tenderly. He closed his eyes briefly at that, sighing deeply with a small smile on his lips. Then, he reached the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his shirt, immediately going to unbuckle his belt and his pants. At a point, you saw he was struggling to get them off, maybe it was nerves, maybe it was frustration, so you sat up sightly between his legs and reached up gently to his belt undoing it with ease. You later unbuttoned his pants as well, but giving him space to take off his pants on his own. Johnny stayed completely quiet when you did that small act for him, observing you with a want that grew tenfold but with a side of that softness he emitted no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Big brown eyes like chocolate itself.

You chuckle up at him, “What, Hollywood?”

The actor snapped out of it, shaking his head, sliding his pants down and throwing them to the floor with the other clothes. “God, I wanna fuck you.” He said bluntly, taking his boxers off now, his dick in full view and without any hesitation going back between your legs, touching the hem of your briefs with his fingertips and with a sudden halt.

“Johnny, it’s okay…” you look down at him with a shy yet flushed face.

Johnny nodded, a grin back on his face as he used both of his hands to slide your briefs off— your heart accelerating at how slow he was going. He finally slid them down your legs and immediately his vision went your throbbing pussy— like an inevitable reaction. The actor licked his lips as he positioned his thighs and hips accurately, leaning over you. He looked in to your eyes as you felt his burning cock hitting your inner thigh, teasing your entrance.

“Hnnngh-“ you groaned, almost desperate now as you moved your hips against him, a trickle of sweat down your temple.

Johnny let out a chuckle as he placed his finger below your chin to look at him, “I ain’t even in yet handsome…take a breather.”

“Don’t tell me what to do you ass.” You chuckle and playfully slap his shoulder.

Johnny smirked at your behavior, reaching down between his legs and grasping his length that was oozing with precum already. Positioned it at your core and carefully slid past your folds with his hips— carefully studying your face as he laid down over you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Ahh-“ you moaned softly, digging your fingers in to his lower back…trying to push him faster inside.

“Easy…easy….” He said with reassurance, his mouth agape as he finally made it all the way in making him grunt as he felt your walls clenching around his cock.

Johnny then took no time nuzzle in to your neck as he pulled his hips back slightly and then rammed in to you with no warning, making you let out an earth shattering groan against his ear. His arms locking around your waist tightly now as he held you against him like you were air itself and he’d die without it. There was a slight tremble to his body the more he rammed in to you.

“Jesus- fuck-“ your eyes grew a bit watery as you cursed, a coil already tightening in your lower abdomen while you tried to gain your breath.

“Oh- Wrong J name, baby-” He moaned with a bit humor beneath, peppering your neck and jawline with kisses as his buckling against your wet tight pussy became more frequent.

It was a cumulation of moans, groans, curses and senseless phrases between you both. You noticed his face was flushed, his cheeks pink as he pulled back a bit to study your face. “That feel good, sweetheart? That feel- Fuck-“ he whimpered, and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “Answer…” he continued, with a stern tone now.

Your chest heaved faster as he picked up his speed, “y- yes, god- so good-“, your hands gripping his lower back more as he pushed in and out of you.

“You’re gonna take it like a good boy- mmm, sweetheart-“ He groaned as he grabbed your hips now more harshly, you could tell he was close as well the way he became more direct and possessive. A constant harsh rhythm was formed by his hips, his dick reaching in to the deepest depths inside as he hit your g spot over and over with no mercy. With no breaks or signs of stopping, you whined loudly and shook— feeling your height coming.

A the coil inside you soon snapped, making you whimper as you reached your climax— coming all around his swollen length. Johnny leaned in to your neck, moaning against it as he came right after you— his warm come filling you up to the brim.

“Fuck- fuckkkkk-“ he groaned as he bit down on your neck and then licked alongside your jaw.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you held him close as you tried to come down from the electricity that was currently running through you both. Johnny then reciprocated… sighing loudly, still inside you and wrapping his toned arms around your waist not caring how sticky and sweaty you both were against each other. He was content of sorts, a small smile playing on his lips, closing his eyes against your chest as he listened to your quick heart.

“You okay, Hollywood?” You rub his back tiredly.

Johnny chuckled lowly, “I feel like a million bucks, baby.” He leaned in and took a long sniff of your neck, “I love how smell-“

“That’s sweat, don’t patronize me-“ you laugh, your face red and full of embarrassment as you realized he hasn’t made any attempt of moving out of you.

“Oh shush— you have a musk. You might get me addicted, sweetheart.” He rubbed your sides now, his hair sticking in all directions.

You snort loudly now, rolling your eyes at his charming yet annoying behavior, “Okay fancy pants, can you pull out of me? I need to pee, I don’t want a UTI!”

His eyes widen at the realization and he carefully pulls out, “Oh- oh I apologize, stud. Next time I’ll remember-”, the actor says apologetically and stands up with a slight tiredness, carefully helping you up as you wince.

“You’re getting pegged next time that’s what.” You say humorously with a grin as you walked to the bathroom in your trailer and he walked behind you like a lost puppy.

“Oooh, challenge accepted, G.I Joe!”

[justmemethings]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐏𝐆-𝟏𝟑 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

Random general RP prompts, without cursing, requested by anon. Feel free to edit pronouns / etc. to make them more fitting !

“Oh my god, what is that !?”

“You should have seen them. I could hardly breathe with their ego taking up all the space in the room.”

“Hey, hey, stop. I literally have no idea of what you're talking about. How about you start from the beginning? Or at least put a subject in your sentences.”

“C'mon, who never had a ‘spaghetti coming out of the nose’ moment?”

“You insufferable...piece of...rotten lemon pie!”

“Do as I say and not as I do. For real, though. You don't want to do what I do. I don't want to do what I do.”

“I thought I’d never set foot in a place like this, but here we are. Congratulations on making my life a little more miserable.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. I might as well be talking to myself. I surely listen more to myself than you do.”

“Keep up the cocky act, it’ll only make you lose faster.”

“From where I’m standing, you’re the one who should be worrying.”

“Give me some credit. I know that I’m not a good person, but I like thinking that I can be a decent friend.”

“The only thing I trust humans with is dying when you shoot them.”

“How can you be vulnerable with someone who has shut you out over and over?”

“Yeah, not buying it. What is it that you truly want?”

“You know, now I have to challenge you at a drinking game.”

“Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.”

“...Maybe I just need a real break.”

“I’d say that it’s nice to meet you, but maybe the circumstances could have been more…ideal.”

“You can’t be serious! Don’t you see what’s at stake here?!”

“Oh Lord, you gotta be kidding me. This will take forever.”

“Have you tried telling them that? It’s easy to forget that not everyone grieves in the same way.”

“Look at you, showing some actual good taste. I’m almost impressed.”

“Let’s skip over you judging me and talk business. Will you or won’t you?”

“Don’t get funny ideas. I’m just choosing the lesser evil.”

“Oh yeah? So, what? Are you saying that my problems will miraculously fix themselves, if I talk about them?”

“Let’s bet on it. The winner gets to make the loser do one thing. Whatever they want, no limits.”

“You must be really bored if this is how you chose to spend your night.”

“Patience, [name]. I thought you liked surprises.”

“I really wouldn't do that, if I were you.”

“Anything you’d like to say to plead your case?”

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Weapons:

Summary: General Skywalker manhandles you as he tries to teach you how to use a new weapon.

Warnings: None but I might write a p2...

Word Count: 1,430

“Oh hey, be careful with that.” General Skywalker broke through your concentration and rushed to your side, stopping you from picking up one of the blaster guns off the wall. 

You had gone towards it because it was so unfamiliar to you. Naturally, you didn’t use these weapons very often, preferring your lightsaber above everything else. But war had made you a bit more uncivilised and often required lower forms of combat.

It was larger than a hand gun, and a strange almost round shape- possibly indicating quite a lot of power in the blast. You were only curious to try it out. It could come in handy.

Before you could grasp it, Anakin's hands swiftly closed around yours, taking the blaster from your grip. "These are new issue," he explained, his tone protective and possessive, though tinged with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the involuntary flutter in your chest at his touch. "I can tell. I just wanted to familiarize myself with it.”

His blue eyes darted around the hangar, calculating the situation. You weren’t technically due to leave for another hour. "I can show you how it works, but this enclosed area isn't the safest place for it."

“Then by all means General, lead the way.” He nods at you and gestures behind him in the direction of the lower training rooms.

"I didn't know you were interested in expanding your combat skills," Anakin remarked as the two of you descended into the training area. "I took you for a more traditional fighter."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. “In the current climate I don’t find that view overly convincing. I will do what I must. Even if that means using weapons of a… less elegant variety”

Anakin chuckled, the low, resonant sound sending a shiver down your spine, "Of course, staying ahead of the game is essential. You never know when you might need to handle one of these."

As you entered into the training room, Anakin pulled out the blaster gun he had taken from you earlier and handed it back. "Now, let me show you the basics. It's not too different from using a standard—but it is very powerful. First just shoot how you normally would and we can work out the specifics later.”

You took the blaster gun from him, feeling the weight of it in your hand it was markedly different from your lightsaber, from what you were used to, but you were eager to learn. You got into your normal stance, feet should-width apart, arms straight, one eye closed. 

“Alright, actually-” Anakin had other ideas. With sudden swiftness, he closed the distance between you, standing directly behind you and placing his hand over yours, guiding your grip on the blaster's trigger.  “It’s a little more complicated than all that.”

For some reason you couldn’t breathe. He was so close you you, his tall hulking frame encompassing your body, pressed up right against you back, you felt his every exhale on your neck. He must have asked you a question or given you a direction but you didn’t hear him at first. 

So when his foot went between your legs and nudged your boots apart on the floor to give you a wider stance, you started. 

“Y/N pay attention, this is a dangerous weapon, the backfire is absolutely brutal. Someone with your… small frame… You’ll be blown right back."

You nod, trying to regain your composure. “Yes General.” Your voice was unsteady but you did as he indicated, you spread your legs a bit more, you let him pull your shoulders back, and rearrange your fingers on the hilt. 

He stood beside you, his presence reassuring and distracting all at once as he guided you through the process. “You have to make sure your stance is stable. You want a firm grip on the blaster, but don't tense up too much. Keep your breathing steady. And when you're ready to fire, just squeeze the trigger gently."

You aimed at a target across the training room and squeezed the trigger, sending a blaster bolt flying. It missed the target by a wide margin, hitting the wall instead.

Anakin grinned, clearly amused. "Not bad for a first attempt. Remember, it takes practice. Let me show you again." He took the blaster from your hand and effortlessly hit the target dead center.

You raised an eyebrow, determined not to be outdone. "I can do better than that.”

“Prove it.” He said simply.

As you continued practicing, Anakin watched you, his eyes tracing over your form and taking in every movement. It made you feel self-conscious, but the thrill of his attention was undeniable.

The two of you spent the next half-hour in the training room, with Anakin patiently teaching you the intricacies of using the blaster. He was a skilled instructor, even if he was a little touchy. 

He continued to provide guidance, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. Your aim improved drastically, and you managed to hit the target dead center multiple times in a row. Anakin couldn't help but grin at your success. "See, I told you it just takes practice," he said, admiringly. “Now,  you should only use this weapon when you are in a guarded position, I don’t think you should use it on the battlefield, it is too bulky and requires too much stability which I don’t think you’re going to get a lot of.”

“Of course.” You couldn't help but focus on the sensation of his chest against your back, vibrating with his words. The firm grip of his hands on yours, and the intimate way he had adjusted your stance. Your heart raced, and you hoped he wouldn't notice 

Anakin stepped back, finally breaking the physical contact between you. "Remember, it's all about control and precision. You've got the potential for both."

You took a deep breath, determined to regain your focus. As you caught yourself, you tried to put some distance between the two of you. You didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, but you also didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Thank you, General. I appreciate your help.”

Anakin looked at you, his eyes softening, and his lips curving into a small smile. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

You could sense something between you two- a tension that was hard to deny. You wondered if it was just you or if he felt it too. It was an unspoken attraction that neither of you wanted to address. Anakin stepped closer as he reclaimed the weapon from you hand, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something inexplicable in his eyes. ”You're a quick learner. Maybe you'll even surpass my skills one day."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "We'll see about that, General Skywalker.”

Anakin nodded, his hand brushing against yours as he took the blaster from your grip. “I guess we will, but if you ever need a refresher you know where to find me.”

You nodded, your mind racing with the possibilities of what he meant by that. Did he mean that you could always come to him for training or was there something else there? The possibility of something more than just training sessions with Anakin made your heart race.

Your question was soon answered. With a slow, deliberate motion, Anakin leaned in, his lips inches from yours. The anticipation was electric, and it felt as though the entire galaxy held its breath.

Just as your lips were about to meet, the loud clang of a nearby training droid startled you both, breaking the spell. Anakin pulled back abruptly, a mixture of frustration and longing in his eyes.

“Duty calls,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

You nodded, trying to catch your breath. “Later, General.”

As Anakin left the training room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of deep disappointment. You had been so close to finally kissing him, but duty always seemed to get in the way of your desires.

But as you took a moment to catch your breath, you realised that Anakin's presence had left a lasting impression on you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, but you also knew that the Jedi Code prohibited relationships between Jedi. And you weren’t even sure the two of you would survive this war. 

But you couldn’t get him out of your head. You would continue to train with Anakin, improving your combat skills and enjoying the moments of intimacy that came. If he tried to kiss you again you would let him.

[stellamancer]

choux à la crème — (reader x satoru gojo)

notes: uh. see i have this thing where sometimes i get inspired by objects. or food. that's what happened. sorry, revealing the reader from this fic verse went to the kyoto school. that's because i'm biased myself lmao. i also looked up if there was a beard papa's in dotonbori. and i guess there really is. who woulda thought.

contains: sexual innuendo (licking stuff off fingers, thinking about licking/sucking on fingers)

wc: 1.6k (why is it this long???)

“Oh, hey, hey!”

Gojo’s excited voice reminds you of an hyperactive child, loud and fast. When you think about it, you don’t think there’s really not much of a difference; he's pretty much a gigantic child.

You’d been sent out to Osaka on a mission, and Gojo, for what you can only assume was his own amusement, decided to accompany you. As annoying as it was to have him tag along, his presence made the mission infinitely easier.

Though, you really could have handled it all by yourself.

With the mission all taken care of, Gojo’s taken it upon himself to drag you around Dotonbori like you’re a couple of tourists, eating through the street food the district has to offer. You’d never admit it to him, but you don’t mind it all that much; the food in Osaka is pretty good after all. Then again, as a Kyoto school alum, you might be biased.

You look over to see what it is that’s caught Gojo’s attention and you see him pointing at a Beard Papa’s— a cream puff chain. It's nothing too special; they have locations in Tokyo too, but it's not like you should expect Gojo's indomitable sweet tooth to care.

“We should go get some!” he demands, practically pulling you by the arm toward the storefront. You know when Gojo says ‘we’ he’s really just talking about himself. It’s fine though, you’re not all that hungry after all the other things he’s convinced you to eat.

Then, the warm buttery scent of freshly baked pastries fills your nostrils and you decide that maybe you’ve got room for just one cream puff.

You wait behind Gojo as he puts his order in for some ridiculous number of mini-cream puffs, but when he’s done he turns to you and tilts his head. “What do you want?”

Stunned, you stare at him. You’d fully expected to foot the bill for your own cream puff— he hadn’t covered anything else you’d eaten today so why now all of a sudden?

Sensing your hesitation, he smiles at you, but you can’t help but be suspicious of the random act of generosity. You know he can tell because his expression quickly changes to a pout. “What’s with that face?”

“I can pay for myself,” you say.

The smile’s back now, playful and amused. “I know, but just let me treat you this once, okay?”

You frown. Still not convinced.

“Or, you can just let me order for you. That could be fun! Let’s see…” Gojo whirls around to look at the menu, his expression suddenly devious. As wary as you are concerning Gojo’s intentions here, you know it’s a dangerous play putting your fate in his hands, especially when sweets are involved. “Maybe another two dozen…”

You absolutely cannot eat that many cream puffs. Granted, Gojo probably could eat whatever you don’t, but…

“Okay, okay, I’ll order!” you relent, shooting Gojo a quick glare. As usual, he’s completely unfazed, that stupid smile back on his dumb face. “I’ll get a creme brulee cream puff.”

“Just one?” the kid at the register asks, glancing at Gojo. The sheer size of his order probably conditioned them to think you’d have the same sized appetite.

“Just one,” you echo, confirming the order.

The kid nods and Gojo moves in to pay for everything on his card. You step off to the side and not too long after Gojo joins you, a yellow box filled with his cream puffs in one hand, and a small paper pouch containing yours in the other.

“Here you go!” he says cheerfully, plopping the cream puff into your hand.

You stare down at it, still warm, and then you look at Gojo. His attention is clearly on you, expectant and waiting. “You know you didn’t have to…”

He shrugs, opening the box with his now free hand and tosses one of the cream puffs into his massive mouth. “It’s fine.”

You scowl. “I don’t want to owe you.”

Gojo stops and gapes at you, before saying, sounding completely and utterly scandalized, “Is our friendship really so transactional? I thought you liked me!”

“Shut up!” you hiss. “You know what I mean!”

“Oh… So you do like me! I knew it!”

Gojo’s selective hearing has you seeing red and it takes all your self control to not waste the cream puff he bought you by throwing it at his face. “I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t not say it.”

“Gojo…” You raise a hand and press your fingers to your temple, hoping to stave off any Gojo induced headaches.

He laughs and says, his voice light. “It’s no big deal, you know, it’s just one cream puff.”

You sigh. He does have a point. Not like he’s breaking the bank over it. “...I guess.” Pause. “Thanks.”

He grins. “You better hurry up and eat that— it tastes best when the sugar on top is still warm.”

You nod and pull the paper back to take a bite. Unlike regular cream puffs, this one is collapsed, the pastry forming something akin to a bowl where all the cream filling sits. Over the top of the cream is a layer of hardened sugar, torched so it’s dark brown and caramelized. Looking at it now, there’s no way you’re going to be able to eat this without making a mess.

“If you’re too full from everything else, I’ll gladly eat it,” Gojo teases, reaching one hand toward your cream puff, his fingers wiggling menacingly like he’s going to steal it.

“Just give me a sec!” you snap, swatting at his hand. Might as well go for it. “Thanks again.”

You shove your face into the cream puff, the sugar top crunching as you bite down. As expected, it gets messy, and even with the paper packaging, you manage to get cream on your fingers. You consider taking a second to clean them off, but now that you’ve taken a bite, the cream puff’s structural integrity is quickly failing. If you don’t finish it fast, you’re going to have a larger mess on your hands.

Literally.

Hurriedly, you shove the rest of the cream puff in your mouth, ignoring how some of the filling smears across your cheek. Once the cream puff is gone, you crumple the wrapping in one hand and inspect the other. The mess isn’t as bad as you thought and you lick the remaining cream from the pads of your fingers. It’s a bit uncouth, but it’s not like Gojo will care.

At least, that’s what you think, but when you look at him, he’s clearly gawking at you through the material of his blindfold, his hand hovering awkwardly near his mouth like he’d just tossed in a cream puff, but hadn’t moved to grab another.

Confused, you tilt your head. “Gojo?”

The sound of your voice seems to startle him out of whatever daze he’s in and reaches toward you, his voice low as he smirks, “Missed some.”

Right. Your cheek. You quickly reach up and, with your thumb, wipe the cream toward your mouth. Your tongue darts out, swiping over your thumb as it laps up the remaining cream. For good measure, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Gojo’s hand drops to his side, limp. And though you can’t see it, you just know he’s staring again. Why? And why does it look like the tips of his ears are a little pink? Could it be that he’s… blushing?

Why?

“You… okay?” you ask tentatively.

“Yeah!” Gojo replies, and you think his voice actually sounds a little strained. “Totally okay!”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely!” he insists. “In fact, I’m so okay, that I’m going to share some of my cream puffs with you. Aren’t I so nice?”

“Gojo, I don’t actually— mmph!” you start, but he won’t hear any of it. He reaches into his box and shoves a cream puff straight into your mouth. It feels like it nearly explodes on contact, the sweet vanilla flavor coating your entire tongue.

“The cream puffs from here are so good, right?” he asks, his voice louder than usual. He’s not wrong, but you don’t know how he expects you to answer; your mouth is still kind of full.

Once you swallow, you try to speak. “Gojo, really, I—”

“Here! Have another!” he says, stuffing yet another cream puff in your mouth before you can even finish your sentence.

Now, he’s just being ridiculous. You quickly chew at it until it’s small enough for you to gulp down. This time you don’t even think about tasting it. He’s got another one prepped, ready to thrust it in your mouth, but you move out of the way. “Gojo, stop. I don’t want any more.”

His hand goes completely still. Disturbingly still, you realize. Gojo’s always moving, wiggling, fidgeting, as if he’s got too much energy for his stupidly large body to handle. To see him stop moving... It’s weird. It’s almost wrong.

You don’t know what comes over you, especially when you just said you didn’t want any more, but you lean forward and wrap your mouth around the cream puff he’s holding. The corners of your lips brush against his fingers and a strange feeling runs down your spine and straight to the deepest pit of your stomach. You think of trying to swallow the cream puff whole. You think of lingering there, letting your tongue trace the shape of his fingers. You think of—

You pull away from him, refusing to look him in the face as you finish this cream puff. Once you swallow, you say, quietly. “You’re right. They’re really good.”

Gojo is quiet. Oddly so. But then, he laughs, way too loud as he says, his voice still strained. “Told ya so.”

[papayatori]

Don’t blink! (P1)

LN4 x fém!reader

Warnings: none 🤭

Intro: Y/n, an amateur photographer who was simply skimming through emails, hoping to find some sort of work, accidentally stumbled upon a job offer from the McLaren F1 team. After working closely with the two drivers she had grown up watching and hearing about her entire life,(and almost throwing up on the floor a couple of times), y/n has slowly started to realize that her love for McLaren, and possibly her love for photography, had slowly started to morph into love for a certain driver.

Let’s get to it, shall we?

Four years have gone by rather quickly since I moved out of my parent’s house on the countryside. I’ve moved onto London to be a part of their photography schools. I’ve been posting my photos since I was able to get a hold of a camera, praying that I might be accepted into one of their schools once I graduated, and I suppose it all paid off.

Funny how life works, huh?

I opened my laptop, hoping to sort through some of these unopened spam emails, possibly even find some sort of job offer somewhere. I took a sip of my coffee and began reading through the unopened heaps of trash.

I skimmed through, barely giving them a second thought before hitting the ‘delete’ button in the side.

“YouTube, Tumblr, McLaren-“

I nearly spat out my coffee. I swallowed deeply, coughing a little on the inhale.

“Sorry, what?” I asked no one in particular.

At first I thought it was an ad of some sort, as I was known for buying McLaren merchandise whenever I had the extra funds. Genuinely, I thought I read the email wrong.

“A job offer..?” A smile made its way to my face, one that held all of my nerves on full display.

Why the hell was McLaren asking me to do a photoshoot of their team?

…

…

…

Here I was, standing in the offices of the McLaren F1 team, waiting for someone to tell me where I needed to go. I took in the shiny white floors, the huge windows overlooking the scenery outside, the McLaren’s in display in the lobby for all to see their beauty.

I was about to throw up all over these pristine, white floors.

Before I spilled my breakfast all over the floor, I was ushered into a room near the middle of the building, one that was large and full of lights and professional equipment that once again made me question the need for an amateur photographer like myself. I looked around the room with my jaw to the floor, seeing stars over just how much fun someone could have with all of these cameras.

I really don’t have much of a life, do I?

“You know, I don’t know how to use any of this stuff, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to figure out, but I figured you’d probably be able to work it better than I could.” I turned to the sound of a somewhat familiar Zak Brown.

My dad, before he retired, worked alongside Zak closely at McLaren Automotive. Ironically enough, I’d never really met the man who ran my favorite F1 team until this very moment. I had heard stories of all sorts of great things happening behind closed doors, got all of the latest McLaren news from my dad, and had never even set foot inside this building before today.

“I think i know just about as much as you do when it comes to all of the fancy equipment.” I said, gesturing to my small camera bag on my hip. “This is about as far as my knowledge goes when it comes to these sorts of things.” Zak smiled.

“Feel free to use it. Your dad used to tell me stories about your ‘photo shoots’ with the family, ‘heard those could get a little crazy.”

I laughed at that, remembering the silly holiday get togethers me, mum, and dad used to have. I remembered the time when I had them both on the porch swing for a photo, and right as I went to take the photo, my dad would blink every time. He had done this so often that I had started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

A loud laugh ripped me out of my memories. I realigned my gaze with the two young men that had just entered the room, the first one tripping over the second one’s leg. He locked eyes with me as he fell to the floor, grin fading only slightly as he did so. We stayed locked for a moment that felt like years, just staring into the each other. That’s when I recognized him to be the only person I was nervous about meeting.

I nearly threw up again.

“Nice of you to finally show up.” Zak joked with the two.

Lando looked up in surprise, as if not quite realizing Zak was standing on the other side of the room. Oscar just continued laughing at Lando’s shocked state on the floor. Lando stood up with a sheepish grin that they both sent my way. They acted as if they weren’t famous racing drivers who could have anyone they wanted.

As if they were the nervous ones.

“Hello.” I sent a small wave in their direction, praying Zak would step in and save me.

“Lando, Oscar, this is y/n. She’s going to be doing the shoot today.”

Lando stood up finally, proud and tall, eyeing me like he had to prove himself to me. He sent me a grin, one that would tear my heart to pieces if I saw it too often, and then walked towards me. Oscar seemingly got the memo and followed him along after a short pause to assess the situation. I smiled at Lando as he extended his hand out for me to shake.

“Nice to meet you, darling. I can’t wait to start.” His grin never left his expression as I took his hand.

Had Lando Norris just called me darling?

He squeezed harder than I thought he would, leaving a burn behind where his hand had previously been. The expression on my face must have given me away, the heat rising in my traitorous cheeks would never let me get away with the butterflies from his touch. Not to mention, this bastard knew what he was doing.

Though, I didn’t exactly mind.

I suppose my face had started to turn a darker shade of crimson than I had thought , because Zak sent him a look that I could only recognize as the ‘protective father’ look.

Lando’s only response was a challenging grin.

“Shall we get started, boys?” I asked, hoping to draw attention away from me.

“Where do you want us?” Oscar spoke, giving his hand for me to shake as well. I smiled, thankful things were working in my favor for the moment.

“Follow me.”

…

…

…

For the next three hours, Lando, Oscar, and myself we’re running around the studio and attempting to find some sort of style that worked for the boys. I had gone through the rack of clothing multiple times and had only gotten a few decent pictures of the two in the process. I had started to wonder if we’d ever get any actual progress on the task at hand.

It is exceedingly difficult to focus on the task at hand when you keep making eye contact with Lando Norris.

Lando and Oscar had insisted that we all take a break for a while, which I had spent mostly rummaging through the clothes provided. Lando was lying on the ground in front of the backdrop. I couldn’t help but take a glance every now and then, watching the way his chest moved as he breathed, minding the perfectly placed curl on his forehead. He looked too incredibly peaceful for me to be rummaging around over here instead of taking the given opportunity. I stood up, grabbing my camera and walking slightly over to the side. If Lando was finally at peace, I should be taking advantage of this. I took a few snaps from the side, wandering from different angles and catching him in his state of beautiful tranquility.

The LN4 girlies were absolutely going to love these.

At about the same time I had finished with Lando, Oscar stood up to unzip his leather jacket, saying something to Lando in the process. I smiled.

“Don’t blink.” I mumbled to myself.

I had not only, single handedly taken the perfect photos for McLarens Instagram, but also taken the perfect photos for the fan girls on twitter.

I saw this as a win in my part.

“Alright boys, I think I’ve got what I need.” I triumphantly raised my camera in the air, receiving two incredibly confused looks from the boys.

“I thought we weren’t finished?” Lando looked up at me with an almost saddened expression, standing to come see what I had gathered. I showed them both the photos, casually skipping over the ones of Lando that I had taken last minute. He didn’t need to see those.

“Holy shit, you’re better at this than Zak described.” Lando gave me a goofy grin that made me blush.

“I can’t take all the credit. You both helped me out in the end, I thought I was finished!” We all laughed a bit, feeling the tension ease as we came to a close.

“Well, if we’re done here, I’ve got a date tonight with my girlfriend, I’ll see you all later?” Oscar said, pulling his jacket back over his shoulders. I smiled.

“It was nice meeting you! Have fun.” He smiled back, sending a wave to the both of us. As he walked out of the room, Lando’s attention was redirected back at my camera. He plucked it out of my hands, skimming through the photos on his own.

“You know, for someone who knows so much about us, I don’t even know your name.” He gave me a sideways glance, insisting I speak.

“My name is y/n.” I said with a smirk. “And I don’t know all that much about either of you, I’m only here for the job” I heard him chuckle from beside me.

“Even so, you know a lot about how to take pictures of someone without them realizing it” he smirked, shoving the camera back in my direction, revealing the breathtaking photos I took of him on the floor earlier.

I really didn’t think this part through.

“I mean, I had to use an opportunity when it came to me. Twitter is going to love those.” I tried to play it off as if I had taken these with the intention of work rather than just attempting to capture his beauty.

“I’m sure you know loads about that.” He winked at me.

With a groan, I attempted to snatch the camera back, though his hold held firm. I gave him an annoyed look, even though I was slightly amused.

“You’re only proving my point further, darling.” I tried pulling the camera again, hoping to have better luck this time. I mentally cursed his stupidly attractive hands.

Accepting defeat, I let out a sigh.

“What do I have to do to get that camera back from you, Lando.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms slightly. He tilted his head as if to show he was thinking. His lashes fluttered as he blinked, revealing his beautiful green eyes, the ones any girl could find themselves lost in in a matter of moments. I felt the butterflies settling in my stomach as he finally replied, pulling me from my daydreaming.

“I think it’s a little unfair that Oscar is going on a date tonight and I’m not. So, let me take you to dinner. Then you can have your camera back.”

I blinked a few times, clearly confused.

“Im sorry, tonight?” I asked, starstruck.

“Well, I was thinking so, yeah. Unless you don’t really want your camera back.” Lando smirked a little in my direction.

My mind was racing, why was he asking me to dinner? All he had to do was hand me the camera back. Everything would have been settled then, and I wouldn’t have to see that breathtaking smile in person ever again. I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes or feel the butterflies that he somehow caused me to have. Hell, I’d just met the guy.

Oddly enough, I was about to go on a date with him.

“Alright, but I want my camera back.” I went to pull it from his grasp one more time, expecting to have it back in the safety of my pack.

“After the date.”

My jaw dropped to the floor. Was I hearing him right?

“Okay, after the date.” I agreed, only to see him take the bag from my side, place the camera in it, and place the bag on his shoulder. I rolled my eyes, opening my mouth again. “I have my own terms, however.”

He gave me a playful glare. “I didn’t agree to that, ma’am.” I chuckled, my hands finding my hips.

“It wasn’t a suggestion sir.” I mocked him with a playful grin. “You buy, I’m still in school. I think it’s a fair offer.” Shaking his head and trying to conceal his grin, he extended his hand.

“Deal.”

[simply-ozul]

ok- so i see so much ronance angst and it makes sense for their characters, the shows and all yalls broken hearts

HOWEVER

that means that by default i have become the fluff master. for whatever reason, i cant get myself to make heartbreaking angst like everyone else unless its my own characters, so i will forever and always be fluffy. bittersweet from time to time, but fluffy

also a mutuals recent snippet killed me so i need a lil hurt/comfort typa stuff

here we go

robin helping nancys fear of steve’s pool

like i cant not imagine a pool party at steve’s with all the kids and nancy’s the only one who refuses to go in the water

steve(if he notices) doesn’t really feel worthy to help, so here comes robin

robin is immediately up next to nancy, chattin away like its another day

nancy knows robin can tell, which is why she appreciates it even more, even if she’s a little confused

when the kids all rush out of the pool to eat and cause a mess inside, followed by an exasperated Steve, Robin gently tugs on Nancy’s arm urging her to stay

They talk for awhile, about what happened, and why Nancy feels the way she does. Robin never pushes any of it, she simply offers her genius little ears to listen

When she’s finished, tears streaming down her face as she leans into Robin, the lanky girl just smiles down at her and pulls her up

Robin brings Nancy to the edge of the pool, stepping in herself and just.. standing. Nancy’s cnfused

“What are you doing?”

“Standing in the pool silly :)”

Robin holds out her hand patiently, smiling all the while Nancy has no idea what she’s doing

However, her curiosity gets the best of her, and delicately places her hand into robin’s

step by step, robin get’s nancy up to her knees in the water before she freezes, gripping onto Robin painfully

robin stops instantly, soothing her with gentle strokes on her arms

she’s gently praising her, but not coddling her. nancy hates being coddled

nancy gets the water to her upper thighs before she’s shaking her head, backing out of the water

robin lets her, following slowly

she’s surprised when nancy pulls her into a bear hug, mumbling a thank you into her chest

robin’s immediately stuttering out a “welcome”, patting the girl on the back

from then on, every time theyre at the pool, robin helps nancy get deeper and deeper unti she can float gently with a hand on Robin’s arm

the first time nancy dunks her head under, she panics. she shoots out of the water, immediately wrapping herself onto robin, who holds her tightly, soothing her with praise and soft touches

nancy feels like she might cry. she never thought she’d be able to step foot in any pool again, she never thought robin of all people would be so very patient and gentle with her

without much thought about it, she grabs onto robins face, shoving their lips together

robin squawks and freezes, but eventually relax

they spend the next few minutes just.. kissing. pouring all their love onto one another

when they finally walk into the house, giggling and smiling to themselves, steve is none the wiser, chalking it up to “girl things” as they called it

not sure how to end it so ima just cut it there

lemme know ur thoughts :)

[lexisecretaccx]

Mine 1 - Matt Sturniolo

Masterlist

(Fem reader x Matt Sturniolo, Stalking, Window watching, obsessive behaviour, talk of violence, idk)

A/n: I love Joe Goldberg so I wanted to write a stalker fic and make it about Matt, I know I already have the HSS series going but this one might not be updated as frequently until HSS is finished!❤️

Matt’s POV

There she is, fuck. I’ve been trying to find her for the past 10 minutes, she almost saw me so I had to hide and I lost her. Look at her, smiling and laughing. Does she know what she does to me?

I walk after her, keeping my distance. She lifts her phone to her ear, “hey!” She spoke in a cheerful voice, she’s the happiest person I’ve ever loved. “I’ll meet you at my house!” She replied to whoever she was talking to. But it felt like she was talking to me, telling me she wants to see me, to be with me.

She continues to walk and I follow her, I pull out my film camera and snap a quick picture of her. I need more for my collection.

She walks to her front door, unlocking it with her key, the light from the outdoor lamp illuminating her perfect features. She walks in and closes the door behind her. I sit on a bench across the street and pull out my phone to lower any suspicions, not long after someone walks up and knocks the door. A man.

My jaw clenches, how can she do this to me? All I’ve done is love her, she doesn’t know who I am but still I feel like we’ve known eachother for lifetimes, I know all the things she likes.

She opens the door and hugs him, I feel anger rush through me. I walk around the back to get a closer look through the living room window, I’ve done this before so I know the most inconspicuous spots. They sit on the couch, not too close together so mustn’t be a boyfriend. Thank fuck.

While they turn on the tv I pull the window open the slightest to get a sense of what they are talking about. She never locks her windows, it’s like she wants me to listen to her. “Yeah just wanted to talk about grandma, she’s not right is she.” He spoke, grandma.. they’re related. I let out a sigh of relief and she nods. Her grandma has been struggling with her health.

They talk for a good 20 minutes before he leaves. She sits on her couch and lays her head back. I pull out my camera and snap another photo, I make a mistake by stepping backwards slightly because a twig snaps below my foot and her head shoots up at the window. Shit.

I make a quick decision by walking out from by her window and onto the muddy path behind the houses, she pokes her head out the window and I act confused, dropping my phone as if someone just pushed me. “Hey you!” She yells to me. I look up, “were you looking through my window?” She asks me, fear in her voice.

“What? Of course not, some idiot just ran past me and knocked my phone out of my hand.” I bend down and pick it up. “You okay?” I ask her, finally having the chance to talk to the girl that I’ve been following for a year.

“Yeah, maybe the guy who made you drop your phone was the creep looking in my window.” That word rang through my head, even though she didn’t know it was me, she still called me a creep.

“Maybe I should’ve been watching where I was walking.” I shrug, flashing her a smile, “it wasn’t your fault. What’s your name?” She asks me, I walk closer to her, looking up at her through the window. “Joseph.” I lie, “okay Joseph.. is your phone ok?” She smirks and I flip it over and inspect the screen. ��Yep, I’m glad it is because I would’ve hunted him down.” I laugh and she smiles.

“I’m gonna go now, to shower.” She spoke, as if she wanted me to watch her. “Didn’t you shower this-” I cut myself off and clear my throat. “You do that.” I smile as I walk away.

Fuck Matt, your first chance to talk to her and you almost blow it. Fucking asshole. I grab my notepad, out my backpack and start to write. her cousin visited her around 9pm on 10/09/23 to talk about her grandmothers health, which has been declining recently.

I get home and instantly walk into my bedroom, I move the pretty much empty wardrobe out of the way from the room supposed to be a wardrobe, but I use it to store anything I can get about y/n. I open the door and look at the board infront of me. Pictures of her sleeping, walking, eating food with friends, shopping, etc.

I add the photographs from today to the board and smile as I admire her beauty.

I grab a piece of paper, and start to write her a letter.

Y/n,

My love for you is unexplainable no, unlike anything i’ve felt. I don’t want to overdo it with the love confessions as you will see my love for you, proven time and time again. Take these roses, I know they’re your favourite, not the light red ones but the deep red colour just as you like them.

All for you.

Shit is that corny? She’s gonna be scared, maybe she should be. Love is a frightening feeling, I need to go to the store to buy the roses. Hopefully she will appreciate the gesture, but she might freak out. It’s fine.

She doesn’t know the lengths I would go to for her, once someone tried to get her to go home with him when she was drunk and she said no, he kept trying and finally gave up. I made sure he could never do that to someone again, especially my love. So I carved the word, pervert into his forehead.

Nobody, can ever touch her except me.

She’s mine.

Y/n’s POV

I hop out the shower, making sure all my curtains are closed, I don’t want another creep to spy on me. I dress into my matching satin red pyjama set.

It’s been about an hour since that creep was by my window, I brush through my wet hair and put on some face cream. As I’m getting into bed I hear a knock on my door. “It’s 11pm..” I sigh to myself and put slippers and a dressing gown on.

I walk down my stairs before opening my door, nobody is there but I look down and see a bouquet of roses and a letter, closed by a red wax stamp. I tilt my head in confusion before picking up the flowers and note and walking inside.

I place the roses on my kitchen counter before opening the letter, it’s handwritten. I read the first line, y/n, my love for you is unexplainable no, unlike anything I’ve felt. My mouth drops open, do I have a secret admirer? I smile to myself at the crossed out word and correction.

I don’t want to overdo it with the love confessions as you will see my love for you, proven time and time again. Whoever this secret admirer is, has a way with words. I feel a sense of happiness wash over me until I read the last sentence. Take these roses, I know they’re your favourite, not the light red ones but the deep red colour just as you like them.

How do they know, are they watching me? All for you. I put the roses in a vase and put them on my shelf before taking the note upstairs with me. I place it on my bedside table.

I can’t help but feel a sense of flattery, whoever this is knows me. And they are in love with me? I wonder if it’s the creep from my window earlier, if so then I take it back.

I turn off my lamp and slide into my comfortably cold covers, before laying my head on the pillow, facing away from my bedroom door.

I hear a noise downstairs but i usually have a draft through my windows.

That is until I hear my stairs creaking..

A/n: did you see what I did there, bro called himself Joseph, Joseph is shorted to… Joe! Litro love stalker Matt, he’s a tad crazy and delulu but we love him all the same.🤍‼️

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @accio326 @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———❤️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole for pretending to be younger?I 25gf (she he they) am possibly going to a fundraiser event for a local cat rescue later this month and I have a dilemma based on the wording on the notice/invitation for it. Please note that I'm not directly affiliated/work for this organization so they have no way of knowing my age without actually looking at my ID. With that in mind here's what my issue is. On the notice for the event they say the ticket for it will buy you one plate and 1-2 alcoholic drinks for ages 21 and up and one plate plus 1-2 mocktails (non-alcoholic cocktails) for anyone under 21 years old. The thing is I stopped drinking alcohol due to a previously undiagnosed liver condition almost a year ago and well obviously 25>21. I don't really want to have to divulge my medical information in order to justify asking for non alcoholic drinks only so I'm wondering if my best bet is to just claim to be 19 or so which is how old I've been told I look anyway so that I can just get a couple mocktails or fruit juices without any hassle. But I'm also wondering if it's like morally wrong or something to lie about my age even if the odds of me getting found out are pretty low. I'm honestly not sure if I could just ask for the underage drink option even though I am of age but the advert for the fundraiser seemed to imply I couldn't so my only other option is to bring an under 21 guest with me and take their drink(s) from them which would be kind of a dick move to said guest. One last point is that since I might want to adopt a cat or two from them in the not super distant future I might be shooting myself in the foot by claiming to be only 19 because they're really strict about only adopting out to folks who are at least 21. So needless to say if I do end up going after all I'm leaning towards just claiming to be younger than I am especially since it probably won't hurt anything and will allow me to preserve my health without giving personal details of it to strangers but I'm conflicted for a few reasons especially the last one. So tumblrinas WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[beforeimdeceased]

🗡️ DEFENDER OF SAURIS

how you can help palestine

𓇗*ੈ✩‧₊˚☾ synopsis: rumored to be a child of gods, ellie williams, known for her noble battle against the cordyceps virus is appointed to guard the kingdom of sauris.

☾⋆⁺₊✧ 🏰 content: sexual content, fantasy au, reader is described to have powers, barely diving into the plot, me just losing my mind basically.

ྀ࿔ author’s note: this was hell to write. it’s quite terrible actually and i want to cry my eyes out. i’ve never written fantasy but i’m such an experimentalist i decided to fuck myself over for fun. PLEASE (i’m begging you) give me feedback on this. i want to improve!

cheers can be heard, and nearly felt, from the small tavern sat in the middle of the village. a hip hip hurray shared over beers echoes through its wooden walls. the victor, a savory smile on her face, has fled her own celebration to find fresh air.

outside you sit, tracing shapes into your palm. the victor sees you, and oh does she find you interesting. walking up to you unsuspected, stripped of her armor. a waist length t shirt and a pair of dark slacks making her seemingly civilian.

“not much for celebration?” she asks. you jump, startled, and stare at her with the the most unpleasant face you could make. she’s wondering now if she should tell you who she is.

“just not up for celebrating some stranger in a cape. i should be the one guarding the kingdom.” you shrug, going back to tracing shapes into your palm. she’s intrigued by your anwser and finds herself wanting to know more.

“and why do you believe you’re more fit then a trained soldier?” a hint of defense in her tone.

“i am a trained soldier.” you scoff. “and i know this village like the back of my hand. i’ve got a strong hold on my magic. i’ve been training for years.” her face gets serious now as she listens. “some lunatic with a knife swoops in and wipes all of that from under me.”

“well i don’t think i’m a lunatic.” she follows. your eyes shoot up in realization, then an annoyed scoff leaves your lips. “you sure act like one.”

“how so?” she questions.

you place a firm hand on your hip. “you definitely wouldn’t have told me you were the victor if i didnt bring it up. i think that’s information you’re required to disclose.”

“well you’re right, i would’ve liked to tell you my name first. i’m ellie.”

✮

the day before battle, ellie had called you to her quarters. you’d always wanted to step foot in the castle draped in soldier attire, you felt bare in your regular clothes.

“is there a special reason you’ve called me to you?” you ask as you arrive at her door. she shoos off the guards and ushers you in.

“company. the day before battle and i’m all alone?” she pouts playfully. she’s wearing a half open button down, hair falling over her face ever so carefully. cheeks red. due to the deeply empathetic nature of your powers, you could feel the manifestation of butterflies forming in her stomach.

they multiply whenever you look at her.

a filthy thought slips into your head and you swallow it down. “i’m not sure what you’re implying, but if it’s what i think-“

she shows her palms to you revealing a lack of markings. one of many signs of honesty. “you don’t have to worry. i just enjoy your presence is all. you bring light to me.”

you nearly choke from the laughter that erupts. “oh, how many people has that line worked on?” you ask, looking her up and down.

she averts her gaze. “is it working on you?”

“no.” you respond quickly.

“ah, zero.”

the air is cool and quiet. a tension rises in the sudden silence. she watches as you walk around her room softly placing your fingertips on her trinkets. “this is quite the set up. very nice. blades everywhere.”

she nods. she’s started to trail you now. her hands nearly missing yours as she covers some of her blades. worried that you might get cut and draw blood. “a soldier must always be prepared.”

you take a seat on her bed leaning back on your hands. “so i’m assuming you prepared for me then?” she looks at you after inspecting the room for more possible sharp objects. raising her brow and fighting a smile.

“only the best for my best girl.” she says. you sit in awe as the aroma of the room becomes reminiscent of your favorite flower. a faint sound of a body of water echos from the walls. the bed becomes a bit softer than it was before.

you shake your head. the gawl of her! and to set the scene so perfectly? how crude. “and what if the princess catches wind of what you just said?” you tease.

she sighs thoughtfully. “i’ll have them slaughter me in the main quarters. promise you’ll close your eyes?” she travels to the edge of the bed and sits next to you.

“as tight as they’ll shut.”

a kiss breaks the reverent tension building between the two of you. her hand on the small of your back. a lustrous poison spilling from the sweetness of her tongue. a toxic feeling you fear you’ll never rid. her touch has overtaken you now. capturing your mind, body, and soul.

she pulls you on top of her, careful to never break the kiss. a soft groan leaves your lips, and to that she bucks her hips up into your heat.

her hands get busy with your clothes. hungrily ridding you of them and disposing of them on the floor. you reach for her pants but her hand stops you. “i can’t be touched before battle, it’s a rule. allow me to love you tonight?”

and you do. a tangled mess is made of you. her tongue licking up your folds to spread your juices around the bud of your clit. you cry out in pleasure as her hands grapple at your hips, attempting to stabilize you.

she shows you a slice of heaven you thought you’d never know that entire night. eyes never leaving you while her fingers hit the spot that makes your jaw slack. not much can be said of your noises, except that according to her, they were a siren song.

she was convinced your sweetness on her tongue was poison, and you were luring her to her death.