#sighs. I don’t know if I have the energy to remind people how it works. maybe I want to let it die.

[sciderman]

Hi, I would love to ask more in the "ask blog", I just need to know, what are the current events that are going on?

Are they still on the plot on St Valentin, or is the theme with Harry the main conflict?

the main theme in the blog is whatever you ask about ! that do be how it works

[on-leatheredwings]

House Arrest

Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?

[a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao]

> word count: 1581

> Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!

You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General. 

Helping people recover. 

So patients could some day leave. 

You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops. 

Fuck.

He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.” 

Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back. 

“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.

Bruce’s face is still. 

“You haven’t improved.” 

Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning. 

“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.

“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall. 

“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”

“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile. 

“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.

Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people. 

Other people. Everyone here is your family. 

You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.

Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.

“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”

Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly. 

“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.

Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose. 

“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time. 

Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn. 

It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter. 

And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately. 

You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.

You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.

Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care. 

“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.

He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.

“... Better.”

You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess. 

“Bruce,” you croak. 

He looks at you, face alight in expectation. 

“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.

You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can. 

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. “I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.

“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”

“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.” 

“No–”

“Stephanie.” 

You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever. 

“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.” 

“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop. 

“Damian.” 

“Tim.”

“Jason.” 

“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all. 

“... Me.” 

Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.

Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.

“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”

Any semblance of protest dies in your throat. 

“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom. 

You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.

“You just need some rest.” 

And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.

[junrenjun]

but even after this, you're still everything to me

choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au

genre: heavy angst

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats

a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.

Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 

A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 

Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”

The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 

The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 

The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 

You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 

Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”

“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”

You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?

You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”

When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 

After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”

It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”

You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”

Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 

A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 

The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.

As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”

Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”

You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.

Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 

The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”

Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”

Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.

Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 

Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 

And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.

“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”

“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 

“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”

Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 

The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”

“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”

This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.

Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 

Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”

Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”

This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”

Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 

Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.

But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”

Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”

Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”

The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.

Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”

Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan��s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”

This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?

And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.

While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.

Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”

“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”

Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”

Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?

Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”

Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.

The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”

Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 

“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”

He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”

“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”

Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”

Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”

Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”

The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”

It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 

All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”

They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 

“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.

Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”

Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”

“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.

He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”

Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.

You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.

Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 

“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”

A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”

Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 

Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”

Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 

“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 

You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 

You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”

Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.

When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”

Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 

Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.

You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”

Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”

“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”

You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 

“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.

“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 

You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”

The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.

The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”

You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”

After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 

“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.

It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 

Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”

“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”

He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.

Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 

You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 

“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 

“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”

You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”

He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”

“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 

“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 

The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 

“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.

Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.

You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.

“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”

“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”

You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”

“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”

You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”

“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 

You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”

It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.

Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 

You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 

He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.

“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 

[pawnshopbleus]

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐜 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

Doctor!Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary - After a busy day at the hospital, all Abby wants to do is go home to her pretty wife.

Contains - lesbians being lesbians, domestic fluff, kind of erotic, reader is giving top energy

Authors Note - I wrote this at 2 am. Let’s hope I don’t regret this when I wake up. Enjoy.

AS soon as Abby stepped into the threshold of your shared home, she sighed as the scent of freshly baked cookies hit her nose. The familiar scent of snickerdoodle cookies enveloped her in warmth.

This is exactly what she needed after the day she had. Several hours of code blues, angry patients, sick babies, and a lost tampon can cause someone to go a little bit crazy. Abby has constantly reminded herself of the reason why she chose this profession. She likes helping people. Mean or nice, young or old, everyone deserves the right to health care.

Abby slipped her shoes off and placed her coat on the rack. Abby’s bare feet padded along the cold floor as she walked over to you in the kitchen. She stood there in the doorframe just watching you, admiring you. You looked absolutely stunning as you followed the same steps over again.

Abby’s presence was too strong for you not to notice her standing in the doorframe, but you simply chose to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand. Your hands worked as they rolled dough into little balls, dropped them into the cinnamon-sugar mixture, placed them on a baking tray, and added that tray to the warm oven. A batch of cookies was already baking in the oven, making the house smell like a bakery.

“How was your day, Doctor?” you asked without looking.

And suddenly, all the stress from the entire day washed away as she heard your voice. It was like a siren’s song: sweet, melodic, and alluring. She could listen to you talk all day.

“Busy,” Abby sighed.

She wrapped her arms around you and placed her head on the open space between your neck and your shoulder. Abby closed her eyes and just enjoyed being close to you after being gone for so long.

One would think that Abby had been away at war for twelve years by the way she clinged to you. You were her lifeline, her soul, her everything. She slaved away at work so that you wouldn’t have to work another day in your life. You never went without anything. The four birkin bags in your closet serve as a testimony to that.

You swivel around in Abby’s grasp. Now, you’re face to face with her, your lower back is digging into the counter. Your hands are covered in cookie dough and specks of cinnamon and sugar. Your left hand cups Abby’s cheek as your thumb swipes over her lips. The look in Abby’s eyes tells you that she knows what you want. She opens her mouth, swiping her tongue over the pad of your thumb. Cinnamon and sugar coat the inside of her mouth and she closed her eyes in satisfaction.

You retract your thumb from her mouth, giving her cheek a light pat. You walk over to the sink with a little pep in your step and wash your hands, letting the rest of the dough, cinnamon, sugar, and saliva run down the drain.

Abby watches as you walk away. She’s a little tired and dazed, but she doesn’t know if it’s from the hospital or from you. Either way, she’s not complaining.

You turn around from the sink, hands still wet. There’s a glint in your eyes that she recognizes all too well.

“Abby, honey, can you get me the glasses from the top shelf? I want to open the wine we’ve been saving.”

Abby frowns, not expecting that. “I thought we were saving that for a special occasion.”

“This is a special occasion. It’s the day you finally let me top you.”

[neiptune]

always for the first time

c/w: 1.2k wc, reader is deep in her head, gojo is stupidly in love & wants nothing more than to be the best boyfriend on planet earth, sickeningly sweet, disgustingly self indulgent, inspired by andré breton's poem, wrote this in like 10 minutes, reader discretion advised: you'll drown in fluff

Life has been brutal in teaching Satoru the consequences of not picking up on things in time and with that now comes the anxiety of missing out on hints, small details, imperceptible signals.

He is a good learner, although he wasn’t ready for what you had in store for him. He can be too much, always has been too much, people have told him. Too strong, too loud, too obnoxious, too dumb. He didn’t know how to juggle his worst traits and keep them under control around you, has never wanted not to scare someone away so bad.

Satoru is also, and most importantly, a keen observer.

He has to be, not only to watch his back every now and again but also to pick up on more subtle things that could escape a less trained eye. You are one of those things.

He has studied you, mapped out every twitch of your lips or crease between eyebrows, he has memorized the heaviness of your sighs and which limits it’s best not to push. He knows you need your space and that some people don’t appreciate how overwhelming his interest in them can be. Because what if his insistence ends up crushing them? What if he cares so much you eventually drift away?

So Satoru knows when to keep quiet, when to leave you be or wrap his arms around your waist to bury a gentle kiss in your hair. You have taught him that he doesn’t have to prove his presence all the time, a broken record of I’m here, don’t you know that I’m here for you?

You know. His presence is embedded in every aspect of your life, in every soft thought crossing your mind. He’s there when he lies on top of you in bed, infinity turned off for good measure, cheek pressed to your stomach and arms wrapped around your frame in a petulant attempt to convince you to stay five more minutes. He’s there when he gets back early from a mission and you come home to the tall, familiar figure making a mess of your kitchen. I had half an hour to spare and I thought you’d like soup.

Satoru sees the flow of individual atoms that make you, you. Which means that he knows when you’re in pain, feels your sadness creeping up into his very bones, only experiences true fear the first time you bury your face into his chest and your body shakes in his arms, consumed by the terror of not seeing him again. Satoru is not scared because he thinks the thought of something happening to him is even remotely rational, it’s the thought of leaving you without him for a second too long that petrifies him.

He’s there when he looks at you and sees everything there’s to see, the good and so much of the bad. Satoru has eyes that grant him extraordinary perception and cause a constant, exhausting influx of information. But he can now see you as well as he sees cursed energy: the flux of excitement, sadness, rage or embarrassment. He sees how big your heart is and yet deems it not nearly large enough to contain the love you have for him and for others, threatening to bubble over at all times.

He sees your shame and insecurities and how desperately you attempt to keep those from him. Sometimes he forces himself to respect it, other times it’s hard not to at least attempt to work his charm.

You could get mad but he can’t risk skipping the chance of reminding you once more that he’s there. Just in case. He’s there.

“What’s up?” he asks nonchalantly, nose still buried in that book you couldn’t stop talking about for an entire week.

“Nothing’s up. If something was up, you’d know first” your grin is charming although a little forced and when you go back to the cooking show you’re watching on television, Satoru lets a few seconds pass.

“I think something’s up”

You sigh. He’s not even looking at you but you feel the wary concern vibrating in his voice.

“I’m okay” your own pitch gets softer, a gentle reminder that there’s nothing to really worry about. It’s just that your mind can get very loud at times, but that’s not to become another one of his battles. He has enough of those already.

But that’s when he puts the novel down, a bunch of dried lavender twigs used as a makeshift bookmark.

“I can see that” he knows the punchline will always make you roll your eyes with fondness, especially if he has his blindfold on “your limbs are still attached, your hair looks pretty, skin is fairly hydrated” you huff out a laugh as he crawls over you only to slump his long, inconveniently heavy body on top of yours.

“But something’s wrong” he whispers it into your skin, hopes that it’s easier to get you to open up if you can’t see him and think he can see less of you. His lips are pressed to your neck and snowy hair tickles your chin, so you attempt to comb some of it back with a light scoff.

“You currently obstructing my airways?”

He lightly pinches your side and you squirm underneath his weight with an airy giggle.

“Stop doing that”

“Doing what?” you flick his forehead but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Deflecting. Something’s wrong, I can feel it”

Satoru wishes he didn’t sound every bit as pathetic as he did. But he’s made peace with the fact that this is what love does to him a long time ago. He’s in love, and pathetic, and simply prays it’s one of the times he’s lucky enough you’ll give him the green light to make a breach in the walls.

“You can feel it?” you muse “what are you, obsessed with me or somethin’?”

“I am” he lightly nips at your jaw and draws a gasp “what a stupid question”

As obsessed as an invincible man can be, one that spends each day hoping he’ll be allowed to gain yet another victory over the ache throbbing in your ribcage. What good is being the strongest if he’s barely allowed to shield you from yourself?  

“I’m just tired” you articulate the words slowly, attentively, and your heart swells in your chest when he instantly stills his movements “it’s a tiring day. I’ll be fine”

And Gojo hums against the warmth of your skin, tightens his arms around you. Of course you’ll be fine, he’ll be there to make sure you will be. Not that you need him to fight your battles, you never needed him in the first place.

“Thank you” for making this one of the moments I’m allowed to climb over those walls, even if just to take a small peek.

“You’re so silly” you smile and don’t even understand how the hell someone could get so lucky.

“S’why you love me”

“Wrong, I love you because of your pretty face and remarkable abs”

“I’m more than a nice piece of ass, y’know?”

Another silent laugh fills the air, now lighter, and you can already feel his smile as you gently pull his blindfold down. Satoru lets you, lifts his face to make your job a little easier and when his eyes slowly flutter open there’s nothing but sincere adoration swirling in them. There’s trust, and love, and you can’t help but force them shut again as you gently press your lips to both his eyeslids.

To tell him that you love him with just as much fierceness, with every fragment of your flawed, human body.

To thank him for seeing you with such earth shattering clarity, always for the first time.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

ok hear me out,,,,,,, the hero is on a mission but they dont find the villain anywhere UNTIL they find them half-asleep with fever but their still willing to fight but heros like NU UH so they just care for them-

“The walls have ears,” the hero said. They dragged out the words, trying their best to gain the villain’s attention. However, the villain only let out a noise close to a whimper. “You have to be more careful around people who might not be your friends.”

“You’re so charming,” the villain croaked. They pushed themselves up but the hero was quicker.

“I know.” With their flat hand on the villain’s chest, they pressed them back down into the mattress while simultaneously sitting down.

The hero felt the villain’s bare chest glowing under their touch, hot and sweaty. Definitely a fever. In all of this, the hardest part had been getting into the hotel room.

After the hero had tried to get into the villain’s room countless of times, the villain had let them in, completely unaware of who the hero was.

Apparently, they had woken up from a nap. Groggy and confused, they had stared at the hero and only recognised them later.

Which was bad, really bad. The villain was able to identify them no matter how creative the hero’s disguises were.

The hero hadn’t planned on playing nurse for their nemesis this weekend and they weren’t in the mood to neglect their duties. But it was the villain.

“Quite a lot of people want you dead. Did you really think it was smart to plan an assassination with other villains? And you planned on murdering another villain with them?”

“Eh.” The villain turned around in bed, pulling the blanket up to their nose.

“You’re aware how messy these villain relationships are, aren’t you? Each of them can betray you at any given moment, each of them would give out your information for five bucks, did you really—”

“Okay, fine. Let’s just fight,” the villain sighed. They shuffled.

“I’m not done.” The hero pushed the villain into the bed again, clearly frustrated. “Now you’re sick, hiding in a hotel room instead of home. You’re weak and an easy target. What were you thinking? Starting a war with no one in your corner?”

“You’ve come to lecture me, is that it?” the villain asked. Their face was red, their body heating up. “Because I really don’t have the energy right now.”

“I was supposed to clear out one of those nasty hideouts. I found a bunch of messages and posts on a strange server mentioning you. About you getting beaten up and hunted. I went out to find you immediately,” the hero admitted. They scratched their neck. “Found you with some detective work and the tracker that I put on you a while ago.”

“You’re tracking me?” the villain asked. They didn’t seem surprised.

“You’re tracking me too,” the hero reminded them.

“Aww. You found it and didn’t remove it?”

“Neither did you.”

“Softie,” the villain whispered. Their smile, although sleepy, seemed to be of genuine nature. “Always a softie around me.”

“Keep those little fantasies to yourself, will you?” the hero asked. They liked not to think of this aspect of their relationship. It was distracting.

“Hm.” The villain closed their eyes again. “You went through all of this trouble to make sure I’m alright?”

“I…hey, I am warning you, alright? You have to be more careful with information and the people you share it with.” The hero pushed up the blanket even further. “Do you have any medication?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m dying.”

“My god, you have a cold.” The hero stood up and went into the bathroom. Once they had found a towel, they let it soak in cold water and returned to the “dying” villain. “You’re so dramatic.”

They put the towel on the villain’s forehead. The villain winced, sensitive to the cold touch.

“But they haven't found you yet, have they?” the hero asked, softer this time. They didn’t know why but they didn’t feel as anxious as before. The villain shook their head

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” they asked eventually.

“You haven’t made the smartest decision.”

“Fuck, I’m so stupid,” they mumbled. “I really thought I could help you a little.”

“I don’t need help,” the hero answered. Although, they were quite surprised this was about them.

“You’re working yourself to death.”

“Not your problem,” the hero said. They shifted the towel a little. “Don’t do anything like this again, got it?”

“No promises.”

The hero didn’t know if they were worried or flattered.

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[wolfjackle-creates]

Number 5 again?

Here you are! ^.^

-----

Dick sighed. “Danny’s gone. He discovered who we were.” He let out a hysterical laugh. “And apparently thinks that because we work with the US government it means we were just pretending to like him to gather information so we could turn him over to someone who would hold him against his will and torture him.”

Clark landed and pulled him into a hug. Dick clung on tightly. “Why does he think that?”

Dick shrugged and, reluctantly, pulled away. “Apparently his parents betrayed him once already. I think…” Dick closed his eyes and whistled sharply. “Come, Titus.” He held onto Titus’s collar and began walking away from Clark towards the manor. “We think he already has experience being held and tortured. And that it was his parents fault.”

Clark’s sharp inhale proved his horror at such a thought.

“Yeah. So now Danny’s gone and we have no idea how to search for him. Did B tell you he’s a meta? We knew he had some powers, but clearly we missed some because now we suspect invisibility, density shifting, and flight. So we’re trying to find the ones who want to hurt him. But we keep hitting walls!” Titus whined when his grip tightened too much. Dick winced and let go immediately to pet the dog. “Sorry, Titus. You’re such a good boy.”

Clark draped an arm around his shoulders. “Well, why don’t you take me to the cave and you can go over everything you know. Maybe a second pair of eyes will help.”

Dick shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. And maybe seeing you will remind Bruce he knows how to do more than grunt when people ask him a question.”

Clark winced. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse, if I’m honest. Danny shot him with an energy weapon before density shifting out of the cave. So now his newest kid is missing and he’s too injured to go out and search for him.”

Clark let out a low whistle. “Yep. That’ll do it.”

[tsukimefuku]

kintsugi :: higuruma hiromi

Higuruma, former lawyer, curse user, and reformed jujutsu sorcerer tries to make sense of what his life has become after the war is finally over.

content warning: spoilers for jjk 269. hinted kusahigu. mostly fluff and introspection, some hurt and comfort if you squint.

wc: 1.8k

notes etc.: written to the sound of “here I dreamt I was an architect” by the decemberists. Inspired by this stunning higuruma fanart by @valleyofwater.

The sun hung high, and fully illuminated the classroom with the golden spring warmth. The blue sky surrounding it would be pristine, if not for a few stray clouds that on occasion cast its shadows over Jujutsu High, only adding to the idyllic, leisurely ambiance. 

“I didn’t understand that very well,” Yuji admitted as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, earning him the indignant grunts from Megumi and Nobara.

“What do you mean? Higuruma-san explains things much better than Gojo sensei ever did and you learned from him, of all people!” Nobara complained, leaning over her classmate’s chair and smacking the back of Yuji’s head with her fist. She then proceeded to adjust her eye patch and sink into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

“His explanation was, indeed, very clear,” Megumi chimed in as Yuji attempted to soothe his pain by brushing his fingers over a growing bulge on his scalp. 

Higuruma, unaccustomed to juggling three teenagers, solely watched the unfolding scene in utter helplessness. With a sigh, he reclined back against the black board while looking at Itadori.

“What exactly did you fail to understand?” 

Yuji cleared his throat for a second, knowing full well his answer would earn him another round of getting kicked around like a poor puppy.

“Everything,” he whispered, lowering his gaze towards the floor before Nobara’s protests in disbelief reverberated like a roar throughout the vicinity.

With a sigh of resignation, Higuruma relaxed his shoulders while checking his wrist watch.

“You do better with practical lessons, Itadori,” the reformed jujutsu sorcerer remarked.

“I do!” Yuji confirmed, starting to pull a contented smile on his face.

“That wasn’t a question.” 

“Oh.”

That smile left as quick as it came.

Megumi covered his face with his palm, and wondered for a second when the elation for being back to normal life gave place to the mundane, every-day annoyance of dealing with Itadori and Kugisaki’s shenanigans.

“Let’s wrap this up for the day, and tomorrow we can have a practical lesson at the Dojo,” Higuruma concluded, crossing his arms.

After some fumbling around, the three students finished packing their things. Nobara and Megumi stepped outside, as she tried to place a bet on who would get to the vending machines first. Megumi’s grumpy demeanor did little to hide the fact that he had, even if begrudgingly, taken her up on her challenge.

Yuji remained on his chair, though, still ruminating on his hardship to learn about the inner workings of the cursed energy world as quickly as his classmates.

Higuruma looked at the boy, and remained silent for a short while before asking him what was the matter.

“It’s just… I don’t know, after everything that happened, I thought I could learn these things faster now, you know?”

Softly brushing his hand around his jaw, Higuruma pondered for a moment.

“Each person has a different learning process. I learned jujutsu by reverse engineering my own cursed technique and figuring out how it worked. Most learn about cursed energy and then go onto training their own CTs all the way up to domain expansion. It’s fine. With only three students, we can tailor classes for each and every one of you.”

His words seemed to soothe Yuji, who looked at Higuruma and spared him a relieved smile.

“I guess you’re right,” Yuji conceded, pondering for a few moments before proceeding, “you remind me of someone.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” Yuji replied, getting up and walking towards the door. For a second, Higuruma’s suited up, responsible demeanor brought him flashbacks of a much lighter colored suit, a blonde, side parted hair and a pair of green shades. “He was a very serious person, and kind, just like yourself.”

Higuruma’s mouth fell slightly open, but no words came out before Yuji waved at him, bidding his teacher goodbye before sprinting towards Nobara and Megumi.

I am so out of my element. Why did I agree to come here, of all places? Higuruma asked himself while sinking down on his desk’s chair. 

“Rough class?” 

The familiar, low baritone voice came accompanied by a few footsteps inside the classroom. Hiromi lifted his gaze to see the signature brownish-beige trench coat, along with the man who wore it.

“Good afternoon, Kusakabe,” Hiromi offered, nudging himself over his seat while motioning to get up. Kusakabe signaled for him to keep seated with one of his hands, before leaning himself on the desk’s side with his hands in his pockets and a lollipop shoved into his mouth.

“Rough life,” Higuruma replied, half in jest. Truth was, those past few months — nearly half a year after the fight at Shinjuku against Sukuna — felt like some sort of uncomfortable fever dream to Higuruma.

He was offered the opportunity to atone for his crimes as a teacher at Jujutsu High, and he seized said opportunity. However, the former lawyer caught himself struggling to fall asleep most nights while pondering. He didn’t know, unfortunately, what had made his soul so uneasy.

“At least we are not shacked up like sardines inside a makeshift bunker while fighting for our lives against a genocidal maniac,” Kusakabe promptly replied, earning him a nod from Higuruma.

”I guess you’re right. How has life as the new NSS headmaster been?”

“Almost pushing me back into smoking. Sometimes, I wish these lollipops were made out of pure nicotine.”

At that, Higuruma spared a quick, discreet smile.

“That bad?”

“Don’t even get me started on it,” Kusakabe grunted, glancing over towards the windows. “It’s a beautiful day, huh?”

Higuruma looked down at his hands, which sat together over the desk. After Kusakabe was done admiring the view, he turned his eyes to Higuruma, noticing the man sinking further into himself.

”Higuruma, how have you been? Is everything alright?” 

“I…” Higuruma let his voice drag, uncertain just as his feelings had been about everything that had happened ever since that fateful day in Keita’s trial, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Kusakabe inquired, confused.

“I thought I was supposed to die back at Shinjuku. I believed that I would fulfill my duty, and… I don’t know, achieve some sort of spiritual absolution if I died while playing my role in the battle against Sukuna. But I just lived. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not adding up to me.” 

Kusakabe quickly realized this was the first time Higuruma was effectively putting these feelings into words, and conceded him the moments’ reprieve necessary for the man to collect his thoughts.

“Everything I’ve learned since gaining my CT was how to fight a war.” 

Higuruma sighed, and upon further contemplation, realized that what he said wasn’t the entire truth.  

“Actually, ever since I was a lawyer, all I ever did was fight a war, be it symbolically or literally. No one told me how to live my life after it was over, in peaceful times. I don’t think I quite know how to do that.”

“No one does,” Kusakabe quickly interjected.

“What?” Higuruma asked, his voice slightly surprised.

“No one knows how to live life. We’re just… living it, and doing what’s needed to get by. Clinging to what might give it some meaning from time to time.” 

Higuruma looked down, and let his colleague’s words sink in slowly. For all this time, he’d felt like a movie that overstayed its welcome, dragging along its plot for much longer that it should have. Upon experiencing the warmth of the sun coming through the wide set windows caressing his skin, however, Higuruma thought it didn’t seem so bad, after all.

“Everything I had ever believed in was broken, and I guess I was, too. My life,” Higuruma remarked, “and I’m finding it hard to piece things back together. I don’t know if that’s possible.” 

“I suppose you’ve heard of kintsugi,” Kusakabe said while pulling another lollipop from his pocket and replacing the already finished candy with a new one.

Higuruma was taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“The practice of fixing broken ceramic pieces with gold? Yes, I’m familiar.”

“Your life is the broken ceramic.”

… What?

Kusakabe had no ease for metaphors, and it showed in Higuruma's completely puzzled expression.

With a grunt, the seasoned sorcerer pulled the lollipop from his mouth and began gesturing around, as if trying to pull the words to have himself make sense out of thin air.

“What I mean to say is… broken things can be fixed, and sometimes the way they’re fixed can make them more valuable than they were before. Or something like that.”

Higuruma’s confusion subsided for the most part, but he remained silent to see if Kusakabe would offer some final commentary.

He did. 

“There is value in the healed cracks. That’s all. Perhaps this second chance you’ve been given is an opportunity to do just that. Heal those cracks with something valuable, I mean.”

Higuruma’s eyes traveled gently over the classroom in front of him, and he finally gazed out the window while actually paying attention to it for the first time in a long while. He saw the golden rays of sunshine projecting a soft, welcoming light over the students’ desks, noticed how clear the sky truly was, and the cloud-scattered blue that encompassed it all together as a visual symphony.

“It really is a beautiful day, after all,” Higuruma remarked, looking back at Kusakabe with a smile.

Kusakabe’s eyes met Hiromi’s, and this was probably the first time he had actually seen the man smiling with actual joy.

In a second, Kusakabe coughed, feeling his face warming up, and averted his gaze while covering his mouth with his fist.

“Is everything alright?” Higuruma asked, gently tilting his head to the side. “Did you choke on your lollipop?”

“No. It’s okay, I’m fine,” the other man answered, mentally pulling himself back to normal. “I just really have to go back to work.”

“Oh. Okay. I should probably leave this classroom too and get something to eat.” 

Kusakabe nodded and propped himself up, walking towards the door. However, he stopped as he was nearly past it, and turned around.

“Higuruma.”

The former lawyer had just gotten up himself, and turned to face his colleague.

“What?”

“Me and some other people from jujutsu high — assistants, mostly — will have a happy hour this Friday. Would you like to join us?”

The question caught Hiromi completely off guard, and he faltered for a few seconds before clearing his throat and answering, “yes. I appreciate the invite.”

Kusakabe nodded once more. “Okay. See you this Friday, then.”

As he watched Kusakabe leaving, Higuruma could feel the liquid gold slowly seeping into the cracks of his broken life, gluing things back in place.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[lieslab]

Birds of a feather

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: After getting sick while trying to cram for exams, Seungmin takes care of you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: This was requested a while ago and I'm so sorry it's taken me this long. If anyone has exams coming up, good luck!! If they've already passed, I hope you passed them. Exams are difficult and kudos to you for studying or winging it, whichever one you choose.

Side note: it probably seems like I'm ghosting people and that's not my intention at all. I traveled to Chicago and then came home and ended up getting sick hours later. I've been absolutely miserable and zooted on Benadryl. I haven't had the energy to open Tumblr, but now that I'm better and not feeling high on medicine, the fun continues.

_ _ _

“Honey, I’m home!” Seungmin called out as he stepped inside the shared apartment. Upon not hearing anything in response, he sighed, and kicked off his shoes. 

College was hard and exams were harder. For the past week, you have been cramming yourself non-stop for exams. Seungmin had tried to get you to take breaks and slow down, but you were relentless about your studies. 

You had to memorize half a textbook for one course and multiple flashcards for another. Somehow remember a complex math formula, remember a few fancy vocab words for your English class, on and on it went. 

Seungmin had warned you multiple times that you were going to burn yourself out, but you refused to listen. You had waited until the last minute again and now it was biting you in the ass. 

The bag of fast food in Seungmin’s hands released a greasy scent that he was sure would capture your attention as he grew closer to your shared bedroom. 

He called your name and gently knocked on the door. “I know you don’t want to take a break, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve been working for hours without proper hydration and without food. I got us dinner, so can we eat together?” 

He held his breath and listened, but you never responded. His eyebrows creased with worry and he knocked a little louder. “Please don’t tell me that you’re ignoring me. You’re not fooling me, I know you’re in there.” 

When you didn’t respond a second time, he threw his head back with a groan. His hand reached out and he shifted the knob. Inside the bedroom, you were a wreck and his eyes went wide. 

You had taken multiple things off the bedroom wall. The framed photos of the two of you, the painting that Hyunjin had gifted you for your anniversary, and a poster of his band, it was all gone. 

In their places, you had plastered sticky note after sticky note. They were all color coordinated and had multiple scribbles on them that looked like chicken scratch. His jaw dropped as he stepped forward to read them. 

Each color of sticky note had been for a different class. Green for finance, blue for English, yellow for physics, purple for business. On and on they went. Each one had a scribbled reminder of things you needed to study. Some had a few lines through them and he assumed that those were ones you had already finished working on. 

“What the hell?” He whispered beneath his breath. He knew you were swamped with studying, but he didn’t know you were pushing yourself this hard. “Baby?” He called out as he approached the desk you were slumped over. 

Two different textbooks were wide open and your arms laid limp over them. Your head found a home where the two met. The dwindling sunlight from outside casted shadows on your face. 

He placed the bag in front of you and gently shook your shoulder. “Hey, wake up.” When you didn’t budge, he tried again. “Get up, please. You can’t lie like this, you’re going to hurt your neck.” 

The soft shaking sent your head up so fast, you nearly slammed into his chin. You sucked in a deep breath and blinked your bleary eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I’m up, I’m up.” You rubbed your eyes and yawned. 

“Are you okay? How long have you been studying for?” 

“Studying?” Your voice came out sleepily as your eyes shut again. “Right, studying. I should be doing that and I…” You trailed off trying to find the right words. “I um…I-” 

He frowned, “you look miserable.” 

“I’ve gotta study all night. The first final is tomorrow afternoon and I-” Your face scrunched up and you forced yourself to swallow. “I can do it and I-” 

“Do you feel okay?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Honey, you don’t sound okay.” Concerned, he placed the back of his palm to your forehead. “You’re warmer than you usually are. Do you feel okay?” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“Besides that?” 

“My throat hurts a little.” 

“Sinus congestion?” 

“Some.” 

“You do know what I’m going to say, right?” 

“Please don’t.” 

“You can’t attend your finals if you’re sick. You’ll risk getting everyone else sick and I-” 

“I’ll be fine.”

“They will be able to be taken another day. You can get extensions from your professors. If you try to take them like this, you’re going to fail them. Don’t even think about it.” 

You threw your head back and complained, but Seungmin wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, grabbed your hands, and gently tugged you to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you feeling better.” 

“My brain hurts.” 

“Have you had anything to eat?” 

“No.” 

“Drink?” 

“I got tea from my favorite cafe earlier.” 

“You must have picked up a bug or something from there. You’re so tired and stressed out. You’ve been neglecting the basic human needs which means your immune system is down.” 

“Are you always a know-it-all?” 

“I wouldn’t have to be if you took proper care of yourself. Come on, arms up.” You lifted your arms without hesitation. “You should be glad that you have me in your life. All I want to do is help you.” 

You blubbered a response, but it was muffled and slurred. Your entire body felt awful. The pressure in your sinuses was causing a headache. You could barely breathe through your nose and the scratch in your throat was getting worse and worse. 

You didn’t fight it as Seungmin shifted your body around to wiggle you free from your clothes. He helped you into a t-shirt and a pair of your favorite shorts. He helped pull you to the bed and gently pushed you back. 

“I got you some food, but I bet you don’t feel up for eating, do you?” 

“You know me so well.” 

“I would hope so, you dork. We sleep in the same bed, so of course I know you. Does the term ‘boyfriend’ mean nothing to you?” 

“I love you.” 

“You’re so lucky I love you too. Get some sleep and I’m going to lay right here beside you. Let’s get some sleep together, okay?” 

You mumbled in an agreement and sank back into the bed. The body pillows caught your limp body parts. You sucked in a final deep breath. “Nighty night. 

“Yeah, yeah, good night. Get some shut eye and we’ll talk in the morning.” 

“But the exams-” you started. 

“Will be there tomorrow and we’ll discuss it then. Just trust me on it, you’ll be okay.” 

“But-” 

“No.” 

“I-” 

He cut you off with a kiss. His lips were salty from the warm french fries he stole from the bag. The granules were still coating his lips. When he pulled away, you licked your lips. 

“You’re gonna get sick.” 

“For you, it’s worth it. If I get sick, then you really have to stay home. You won’t want to leave me alone and dying, do you?” 

“You’re unbelievable.” You rolled closer to him and tucked your head beneath his chin. A final sigh escaped you as you closed your eyes. 

“I love you too.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Taglist, and inbox rules

[elsweetheart]

okay so now that we’ve had daddy ellie…… daddy abby….

now listen …….

burning desire.

🎀 with ellie i feel like the daddy thing would be strictly during sex… but for abby…….. she embodies daddy energy ………… she’s daddy round tha clock…..

abby had caught wind that you’d been stressed through your ranting to others. she had wondered why on earth you hadn’t come to her about it, before realising how busy she’d been. she hadn’t been making enough time for her girl. feeling guilty and deflated, she’d make her way over to you where you were stood cutting open a tin of food to prepare.

“hi, abs.” you greet quietly, barely looking at her. she stands beside you, taking up so much space— so broad and tall, tilting her head to look at you. her brow was creased, mouth slightly ajar. if it wasn’t for the concerned twinkle in her eye, you would have thought she’d been angry.

“why didn’t you tell me you were stressed? i have to hear about that shit from other people? that i’m not looking after my girl right?” her hands clench and unclench restlessly at her side as she shifts her feet, urging you to turn and look at her.

you slowly do, eyes trailing up her to meet her own. god, she made you feel so fucking small. the bomber jacket she wore, a little damp from the rain added another layer to her that made her look even bigger.

“abby… s’not like that… just didn’t want to bother you, i know you’ve been busy and—”

“and nothing. i’m here to help you, okay? you’re my girl. i’m supposed to make all of the bad shit go away. if i’m not doing that i’m not doing my job, alright? you gotta tell me these things.” her frown only deepens. you sigh out your nose, looking down at your feet nodding. so fucking submissive, she thought— hands tingling with the urge to touch you suddenly. she stepped closer and you didn’t step back, allowing her to crowd your space. she tilts her head the other way, trying to get a good look at your downturned face. “hey. you hear me baby?” she raises her big hand and gently knocks your chin up to look at her, before taking a hold of your jaw softly to keep your gaze there. “gotta tell daddy, alright? gotta let me take the stress away.”

and she just sees the stress already start to melt away. all the tension in your shoulders, the strain behind your eyes and eyebrows just softens slightly. her thumb rubs an affectionate circle on your chin and your lips part a little, practically purring. yeah, that’s what you needed huh. she licks her lips, nodding slowly as she gazes at you watching your eyes go soft and pupils dilate. you just needed to submit, and for her that was an easy fucking fix.

in no time your body is limp and you’re laying on her lap, chest to chest, legs open around her with her strap buried to the hilt. that’s okay, you don’t need to put in any work. abby does all the work of course, fucking you on and off her cock with her strong hands just letting you cry and mewl into her neck. “what a good fucking girl. just letting me have it, aren’t you? just needed daddy to take it all away. s’exactly why i’m here, baby. you just needed some reminding.”

♡

[greg-montgomery]

Your love is in trouble

pic by: @masterwords

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You agreed to go on a date for the first time after breaking up with your boyfriend, Aaron - it’s not going well.

based on this post <3

Warnings: angst ❤️‍🔥 lmfaoo

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Hitting the shuffle button after picking a playlist to keep you company while getting ready turned out to be a huge mistake. You can never know if your and your ex’s song might randomly play, making you cry - just an hour before your first date with another man.

First date: first in every sense of the word. Your first date with this Ryan guy, your first date after him. Him, Aaron Hotchner, your Aaron, the man you had been trying for months now to get over.

You felt embarrassed, using a q-tip to fix your mascara, as the tears started to fill the corners of your eyes. This was a first date, you should have been smiling and dancing to happy songs and giggling while texting your friends about Ryan. Not crying over your ex-boyfriend, again.

The song was still playing and you knew you should have just turn it off, but you hadn’t let yourself listen to it in so long, and deep down you wanted to let yourself drown in your memories of him. No matter how much it hurt.

You stared at Aaron as he put the pizza in the oven. Two years and you still couldn’t get enough of his broad shoulders. As soon as he turned around, you walked straight into his arms and pulled him into a tight hug, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

The romantic song that was playing in the background fit the moment perfectly. You started whispering the lyrics against his skin, meaning every single word.

“This song reminds me of you,” you said. “Of us.”

He didn’t answer immediately, you guessed he was paying attention to the lyrics.

A few moments later he finally spoke. “We should dance to it then.”

Aaron took your hand and gave you a little spin, before pulling you against his body, swinging both of you slowly to the rhythm of the song.

“I love you,” he whispered, leaving a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, honey.”

“It’s really growing on me,” he said, referring to the song. “We should dance to it on our wedding.”

“Aaron!” you whined, and let your head drop on his chest.

He chuckled and pulled you closer, always loving seeing you flustered.

You would never forgive the two of you for ruining the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to you. You let work schedules and stupid fights get between two people in love.

The sound of a notification from your phone disturbed your thoughts. It was your best friend.

Ready for tonight? :)

You sighed, and dropped the phone on your bed. She was the reason you had agreed to go on that damn date. “You can’t cry over him forever,” “It’s time to move on, my love,” “If you don’t give him a chance, how will you know?”

The fact that you felt pathetic and lonely had also contributed to you saying yes. Maybe Ryan wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

Except he was. Well, maybe not bad. But he wasn’t Aaron and you made the mistake of comparing Ryan to him in every one of his moves.

He didn’t pull out your chair like Aaron always did, he got offended by your sarcastic comments instead of replying with the same energy, he didn’t fight you when you offered to split the bill, and he didn’t insist on driving you home himself. You figured he got mad because you declined his offer to join him for a drink to his place and that was why he didn’t even wait for you to call a taxi.

For some reason, though, you hadn’t called a taxi yet. Instead you were standing outside the restaurant, staring at a contact you hadn’t dared to call in a very long time.

“Honey 🧡”

Okay, maybe it was toxic that you hadn’t changed the name of his contact yet – or that you hadn’t deleted it at all – but you had never claimed to be perfect.

You took a deep breath and called his number, fast, so you wouldn’t have time to think this rationally and change your mind.

Aaron answered your call even faster.

“Hello?”

Your eyes closed at the sound of his deep voice. You had missed him.

“Aaron?”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

There were a lot of things you could have said, but talking with him broke your heart all over again, and you started crying; your sobs making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Can you uhm…can you come pick me up, Aaron?”

“Tell me where you are.”

It was impossible for you to stop crying, so there were still tears in your eyes when Aaron arrived and parked his car right in front of you. You got in quickly, doing your best to avoid eye contact.

The car smelled like his cologne; a comforting scent to you, helping you to calm down.

He started the car, without saying a word. You didn’t dare to speak either, but you could tell by the direction of the car, he was driving you home.

“I was on a date,” you finally said.

His knuckles turned white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Did he do anything to you?” he asked, coldly.

“No.”

A deep sigh escaped him, and it was clear that it was a sigh of relief.

“Why did you call me, Y/N?”

“I miss you,” you admitted. “I was crying about you before my date. I am crying now that it’s over. I’m tired.”

Aaron was silent and you felt panic taking over your body. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. Or if there’s someone in your life-”

“There’s no one else,” he cut you off.

You wished you were a profiler like him; to be able to read him and his reactions. Was he angry? Was he annoyed? Was he over you? Closed off Aaron was your least favourite Aaron. You wanted to know him, to understand him.

“Aaron, talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, frustrated.

“How you feel!” you said.

“I’m upset you called.”

“Okay,” you said, softly. “I understand.”

His silence was driving you crazy, so you spoke again. “Thank you for coming even though I upset you.”

“I’ll always come when you call,” he answered. How could he say such sweet words with such a cold tone? You missed the days where he’d call you his love with a voice sweet like honey.

When you finally arrived at your place, Aaron got out of the car first and before you even had the chance to unbuckle your seat belt, he was opening the door for you.

Standing in front of him, you finally looked into his eyes. Yours were shinning with tears still, and you swore Aaron almost said something about it.

“Well…thank you again. And, I’m really sorry for upsetting you. It was immature of me to call you like that. It’s just been hard, you know?”

Aaron simply nodded.

“Okay…goodnight then,” you said, defeated, and turned around.

But as you did, you felt Aaron wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling you back and into his arms.

You let yourself break down completely, your face buried in his chest. His arms tightened around you, and you thought you could stay like that with him forever. It was safe and warm in his embrace, so you cried and sobbed while he rubbed your back in soothing circles.

“Shh…” he said. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you begged him.

“I won’t. I promise, my love,” he promised, and pulled back just enough to finally kiss your lips the way you’d been dying to.

“Let’s go inside, okay?”

“Okay.”

[ratsinyourskin0]

Nighty night!

This will be the sixth fic I’ve ever written! Warning; Smut, sadistic Enmu, I guess kinda non con? (Enmu forces you into a dream), fem bodied reader, breath play, spanking, masochistic Enmu, talk of eating flesh and blood sucking (Just like a vampire not like genuine bites) scratching, biting, bad grammar and punctuation.

2.9k words

You won’t lie and say you miss your life as a human, perhaps every 5 months you miss the savoury taste of chicken but you forget about that when the taste of heavenly flesh washes over your tastebuds, or when you get reminded just how fun being a demon can be.

This is not one of those “fun times” you were sent out on a mission with quite possibly the most annoying man to ever walk this earth- he stands right beside uppermoon two on the scale of annoyance.

Enmu, the sadistic dacryphile, the man who takes any chance to get into your pants, he’s tried hypnosis, force, seduction, and things to spike arousal, Not a single one has worked.

You were lucky enough to not see him for almost an entire year until the lower moon meeting- unless you count some odd times when you got bored and dozed off during the day which lead to some awful stress dreams about him, all ending with his hand in your chest gripping your heart or him eating your intestines, even your subconscious knows to avoid him. Anyways, you two got sent off to track down some hashira that was seen boarding a train, you sincerely doubt that you two will have any luck, You two are the only lowermoons that were left alive! And that’s because instead of talking back you rode Muzans cock to escape the same fate the other lowermoons did! You just pray if you stroke his ego again he’ll call you to the infinity castle before Enmu manages to get himself killed.. and probably you as well.

You sat on the train, you haven’t seen Enmu since he climbed on top of the train, you sighed and looked around.. your one cart away from the flame hashira and three very loud boys, one of them has hanafuda earrings and is holding a very large box with demonic energy inside it. You grit your teeth in annoyance as you try to keep your eyes on the window ahead of you, you don’t know why but something about that hanafuda kid makes your blood boil, almost like you’ve met him before. You can hide your aura well enough to come off as human, but if one of those three brats gets any closer there’s no way they won’t be able to sniff you out.. you sit for a few minutes impatiently waiting for Enmu.

You look off to the side for a millisecond and accidentally meet eyes with one the boy wearing hanafuda earrings, his eyes widen and it’s painfully apparent that he’s trying to play off the fact he just made you out, he smiled sweetly and waved before turning to speak to the hashira, the visible chill going down his spine and his spiked heartbeat makes it evident that he’s noticed your a demon, how impressive!

You quickly stood up to go to the next cart, however as soon as you stood up you felt unbelievably dizzy.. your vision began darkening, you looked around and saw the humans in your train cart and the next train cart slumping over and falling on their faces- Enmu must be activating his blood art, but why's he affecting you? You looked around for his stupid hand to silence it, you saw it on a seat,it began running off as soon as you saw it, you followed behind it.. although slowly, you almost managed to grab it before you finally tripped over a sleeping man, falling asleep as soon as your head smacked against the ground.

You expected to just be forced into nightmares, but instead you wake up in the same spot you passed out on the train, you know it’s a dream because the people are gone and your bloodart just isn’t working. That itself is shocking, normally Enmu likes seeing you struggle to defend yourself. You stood up once more and begun walking through the train, you looked out the window and saw instead of the forest landscape that was out there before the train seemed to be floating through the night sky, it’d be pretty if you didn’t feel Enmu’s eyes on you- and didn’t know Enmu was looming around.

You groaned and sat down on the train seats, trying to count how long you’ve been stuck in here.. 30 seconds, who knows what’s actually happening in the real world? What if the hashira awoke and is about to behead you! You close your eyes and try to relax before you feel hands on your thighs, you open your eyes and see Enmus ugly rat face staring into your eyes with that weird smile on his face.

“Hello, Y/N!”

He said with a wide smile and slid his hands up your chest, suddenly your limbs felt very heavy.. you struggled to move them.

“My my, who knows what’s going on in the actual world? Maybe you’re dead! Who knows, you certainly won’t unless you do me a tiny favour.”

He said with a knowing grin, you already know where this is heading and you can’t help but shake your head in disgust.

“And what’s that?”

“Participate.”

Enmu said teasingly before putting his hands on your hips tightly, squeezing hard enough to cause a bruise- you aren’t shocked Enmu is trying to hurt you, he is sadistic. You try not to react but that only made him smile even more, he then softly gasped- although it sounds like a moan mixed with it.

“High pain tolerance?”

“You don’t get the pleasure of seeing or hearing me in pain.”

Enmu looks like he’s about to cum on the spot at your words, he’s panting and you feel his hands sliding up your sides, you thought he was about to grope your breasts but instead he began pushing down on your ribs, you were confused at first before he applied pressure very suddenly, knocking the wind out of you. His mouth fell into an open smile, before you could even blink his hands were wrapped tightly around your throat, he’s squeezing so hard his knuckles turned white, you gasped for air but nothing came out.. as a demon you aren’t often scared of death, but suffocation is different.

You feel like you're on death's door as your vision darkens, drool comes from your mouth and your eyes began pulsing out of their sockets, you feel your heart beating so fast it felt like it was about to burst, only desperate gasps and whines escaped your throat. The worst part shockingly isn’t the suffocation though, it’s the fact that he’s making your limbs feel like they’re being weighed down by thousand pound boulders and yet nothing visible is weighing them. Your eyes began watering, the only thing you could see through the fog of darkness was Enmu’s grin, he almost looks like he’s drooling. the sound of your heartbeat and his panting filled your ears. Before your vision could go completely black he released his hold on your neck, putting one of his hands on your shoulders and the other one held your jaw so he could watch life be sucked back into your lungs.

“Beautiful..”

He caressed your jaw and put his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth to entangle it with yours tongues, in return you bit down on his tongue so hard your teeth went through part of his tongue, blood filled your mouth and Enmu shivered in pleasure and moaned deeply against your mouth, as soon as your teeth released their hold on his tongue he went right back to making out with you, he put his knee between your open thighs and began to grind it against your pussy, The taste of his blood heavy on your taste buds, you can control yourself enough to not swallow it, normally you’d invite the taste of blood but the thought of him being inside you— through cells or through body parts make you want to claw your skin off.

He pulled away eventually, his mouth smeared in his own blood, he sticks his tongue out and the spot you bit a hole through is still very much there, the blood drips onto your chest as his tongue heals up, he wipes his mouth and stares down at your cleavage before leaning down and licking the droplets of blood off your breasts. Suddenly you feel the weights lift off your hands, your hands find their way into his hair, not out of pleasure but anger, you rip a chunk out of his scalp and his eyes roll up into the back of his head and a pleasured whine. It's so hard to fight a masochist.

The clump of hair you pulled out slipped through your fingers as the hair on his head regrew very quickly, you began trying to shove him away but it’s almost like he’s a ghost, your arms go straight through him when you try and push him away- and yet he can touch you, although you noticed he doesn’t stop you from hurting you, you deliver a hard slap across his face which makes his cheek redden and his eye water. Once more your body feels like it’s being weighed down.

He ripped apart your top and sat on his knees in front of you, he began licking and kissing your nipples, sucking harshly on them- making soft gasps escape your mouth, once more you try and pull him away by his hair but instead he ended up biting down on your nipple, Not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make you jolt, He continued sucking harshly on your breast before eventually moving to the skin around your nipple, sucking on the supple skin around it, leaving hickies where his mouth trailed.

He kissed up your neck and began nipping on the skin, then he bit down hard- you feel his canine teeth sunk into your skin and he began suckling on the broken skin, he hummed against your neck, you feel his smile on your neck- his eyes closed and his hands begun sliding up and down your bare sides.

He pulled his teeth out eventually and he began licking the exposed blood off your skin and pulling away with a smile.

“Normally demon blood doesn’t taste good, but the sounds you make are making me so excited!”

If you could ever hear what the embodiment of arousal sounded like, it was his voice currently. You didn’t understand what he meant until you stopped and listened to your breathing, every breath sounded like a pained whimper, You quickly put that to an end and stared at him- you looked visibly displeased, he just smiled and pinched your cheeks.

“Don’t look so bitter!”

“You are putting our lives at risk for sex and I’m supposed to be happy?”

“You’ll die satisfied?”

You sincerely doubt that, almost as if Enmu can sense your doubt he ripped your pants in two effortlessly, he ran his nails down your thighs- digging hard enough to leave deep cuts along your thighs, he began clawing your inner thighs to make blood soak into the train seat, he leans down and spread your folds with two fingers.

“I wonder, is it just biology that’s making you so wet? Or are you actually feeling aroused, Y/N?”

He asked with a smile before leaning down and began flicking his tongue against your clit, your legs trembling at the sensation, your limbs somehow feeling weaker. You wonder if your body is just telling you to enjoy this or if Enmu is deciding to weigh you down. He delved his tongue into your soaking wet pussy and began slurping at the sweet nectar.

Soft moans escaped your mouth, Enmus hands slid up your body, he began tweaking and pinching your nipples. You gasped in response and your entire body jolted when he bit down on your clit- not hard enough to cause genuine pain but hard enough to cause discomfort, he roughly squeezed your breasts roughly, his nails digging into your skin. He released his hold on your clit and stood up, your wetness smeared on his mouth.

He chuckled quietly and began rubbing his thumb over your clit, he kept his eyes down on your pussy as he played with your pearl. He hummed and began watching your legs twitch and jolt in response, you don’t know how you're getting such a reaction from his fingers until you look down at his hand, the backside is pressed against your pussy and the mouth that's on his hand is lapping away. His free hand began unzipping his pants and letting them fall to the ground- along with his coat and his dress shirt.

“Such a reaction from my hand!”

“N-not the same..”

“Of course it is, it is my hand after all?”

He mumbled with a small laugh and lifted you up, he maneuvered your body in an uncomfortable position over a middle seat, your slumped over so your ass is up and your face is almost pressed against the seat of the train seat behind it, you felt him sliding the head of his cock up and down your pussy- teasing you, occasionally going over your clit, his mouthed hand doesn’t stop its attack on your throbbing clit either, you feel a knot in your stomach that’s threatening to snap. He pushed his length into your pussy- you felt him angling his hips before pushing your ass up- his cock finally ends up where he wanted it, pushed harshly against your cervix before he almost pulls completely out before he pushed back in completely, he began pounding against your cervix at a fast pace, his hand still on your clit and his other hand trailing up your spine and up to your neck, he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it back harshly, you felt the skin of your face get pulled back.

“Such pretty sounds!”

He almost howled out, he laughed and the hand on your clit bit down softly- shockingly that was the thing that pushed you over the edge, the knot in your stomach snapped and your limbs tensed, the world looked like it was spinning and you felt white hot pleasure, a loud moan escaped your throat and you barely registered him taking his hand away, you get pulled out of your bliss very quickly when he spanks you hard, not hard enough to leave a red hand mark but hard enough to leave a purple bruise, your entire body jerked and you yelped, he continued thrusting into you despite.

“Your pussy is clenching around me! Do you like pain more than you let on?”

He teased and you felt tears filling up your eyes, maybe out of pain or embarrassment- either way you can tell the tears did something to Enmu as he began thrusting with renewed vigour- hard and uncomfortably fast, he slapped your ass once more- forcing another yelp out of your throat, and again and again and again until your ass was throbbing and you were trembling and sobbing. Enmu eventually released his grip on your hair and put both hands on your hips again, his nails digging into the flesh before a gasp escaped his throat and he finally spurted hot cum into your womb, you sighed in relief as he finally pulled out.

“I’m so sad you regenerated, I would’ve loved to see all the pretty blood..”

He said in a fake sad tone, he sighed dramatically and pulled your paralyzed body back up, he put you on his thigh- your pussy pressing against him and making cum pool out and lube up his thigh, he began rocking you back and forth, ensuring that your clit was stimulated with every move.

You felt that familiar knot coming back, much faster than last time.

Every time he moved you the knot grew tighter, sending shockwaves through your body- each wave a more painful pleasure stronger than the last until your legs were trembling. Soft gasps and pants escaped your mouth while your eyes squeezed shut, just as you were about to reach your peak Enmu pushed you off his thigh and you fell through the floor of the train, with a gasp you woke up right where you had fallen— awake this time, the experience you just had very much fake but the knot in your stomach that’s slowly fading away is still very much real.

“Fucking Enmu..”

You gritted your teeth and stood up, you look down at your clothes and notice some wet spots on the back of your thigh, you feel it and heat Enmu Giggle- the giggle echoes through the entire train, the wet spot is almost certainly cum.

You groan in annoyance and look at the four men in the next cart over, to your dismay you see the boy in hanafuda earrings gasp and jolt awake- you also see a small girl who seems to be cheering for him waking up beside him.. you sense she’s a demon as well, how interesting.

[ughthatimagineblog]

yawn and reach

this was such a fun request it literally occupied my brain for the last 72 hours. tytyty anon!!!! summary: 'video game joel in jackson would be so awkward w reader. imagine they go see a movie for the first time in years and he does that thing w reader where he itches his nose to smoothly put it over reader’s shoulder' - requested by anon rating: 18+ warnings: lightly implied smut but no real smut at the end, cursing, age difference (reader is about 30-32 and joel is 54-56), tried to be as neutral as possible but i did write this with a feminine reader in mind. word count: 6.07k

Being in Jackson meant having clean water, a warm bed, guaranteed food, but best of all; electricity. The dam in town, monitored and worke on by the gracious townsfolk who took you in, keeps the water your bathe in warm and lights on all around the city at night. You’d forgotten the luxury of seeing so much in the dark.

Having been a young age when the outbreak began, the memories of what life before infected were blurred. Muddy water. Clear only in brief moments of light, smells, feelings and fleeting just as fast. Your mother, who also survived- or rather helped you survive- helped fill in the gaps on occasion and you were grateful for the life you clung to, even if it meant wandering in the dark for months at a time, unsure of where your next meal would come from. From youth to now, you and your mom watched out for each other. Now, you were part of a community that would take care of both of you. You both return the favor.

Being in a QZ meant enforced curfews and the military breathing down your back. Not allowed out, barely anyone allowed in. Escaping was easy enough. Surviving your way all the way to Jackson was not. Now, you and your mother roam freely at night and almost any other time if you aren’t on patrol. Music from bars pour out into the string lit streets. During the day, children play and learn. Hundreds of people found refuge here, and you now joined their numbers. You’d even met a few people you’ve become close enough with to say you’re friends.

Sometimes you get put on patrol with Dina, Jesse or Ellie, and while they’re both several years your junior, they entertain you, they respect your authority, and they also remind you of being that age, so you don’t mind. You spend some free time at the bar or help out in some of the kitchens from time to time and have grown close with a few others, all in varying ages. Joel, who you met through Ellie, being one of them.

Joel. Always brief with his words. Always to the point. Ellie would complain about him on patrol from time to time, but she would balance it out with credit to the man in the same breath.

“He’s always trying so hard. I just don’t know how to make it work now…” She trailed off on a ride home from the nearby abandoned town. It was your last stop and it was beginning to get dark. You’d given her a small nod of understanding in response. She huffed out a sigh. “I know he cares and stuff, but sometimes I need my space. I mean-” She paused to look at you, reasoning with her own conflictions. “I just would like one night out of the house. Or the garage, I guess. He’s done a lot for me… and I want him to know that I see that.”

You thought for a moment. “Maybe spend some intentional time with him. That way, when you want that night away, it will be earned and he won’t put so much pressure on it.” You suggested. She made a face off indecision but nodded anyway. “I think you’re right.” Was all she’d said on the matter the rest of the ride back.

Secretly, you admired the man. He was maybe ten years older, but you got along like you’d known each other for ages. You liked the energy the kids like Ellie brought to your days, but if they were your spark, Joel was your peace. You didn’t feel pressured to have to entertain, or keep him on the right path, or make sure he was being observant. Joel was a seasoned veteran when it came to survival and you felt an ease with him you couldn’t with anyone else. Because no one else could protect you like Joel could. No one other than the mother who helped a child survive the outbreak. And even that was highly lucky.

You were put on patrol just twice with Joel. Both times were eventful in wildly different ways. The first was in a positive way, you both found a new stash of medical supplies- an urgent care facility that’d gone unnoticed due to the decay of the lettering outside of the building signaling any kind of benefit to looting. Half of it was also caved in so you and Joel both worked to sort through the rubble that’d gone ignored for so many years. You’d both decided to check it out on a whim, and were very grateful you did.

The second time went a little differently. It was summer and the sun was beating down on the both of you like you’d never experienced before. Dehydrated and exhausted, Joel suggested stopping by the creek bed where you were to cool off in the water. Not a moment after relief began to set in, you were caught off guard when a small group of infected decided to jump both of you. In the calamity of racing back to your things, you’d slipped on a rock and fell so hard on your head you got a concussion. It rendered you unconscious and the only reason you were still breathing the next day is because of Joel.

You remembered the cold feeling of air rushing over your head wound, blood slowing, but still pouring out. Eyesight fading in and out, and when it was in, it was blurry. Unclear images of Joel fighting off the infected while keeping your body strictly behind him flash in and out of your memory. He’d patched up your head as best as possible and hoisted you onto his horse with him, tying your horse’s reins to his saddle horn to ride with the both of you back to safety.

He’d been muttering to himself the whole ride, all the way until you were passed off to the medical staff. Very faint sounds, from what you could remember, but you also knew to attribute that to the concussion. It was a fade out from being handed off, to waking up being carried further from Joel, the last image being of him staring after you as he grew smaller and smaller.

From that day forward, you two have been close. I guess saving someone’s life really does bring two people together. Your mother was fond of him as well. And not just because he saved your life- although you did figure that played a large part- but because of his manners, his honor. She’d mentioned how polite he was to you one day and, it wasn’t that you hadn’t noticed, but you hadn’t seen how deliberate it was. Holding doors open for you, fully listening when you spoke, considering your likes and dislikes. If he was behaving this way specifically for you, you couldn’t tell, but you did take note. 

When you’d complimented him on such things, he- in his own Joel way- laughed in your face. Really, it was more of a scoff, but nonetheless it was just as dismissive. “‘M not polite, darlin’, I just treat people how I wanna be treated.” He answered plainly, but there was a hint of knowing in his eyes.

You began to keep an eye on these things he does that he brushes off and you found that, while yes, he does open doors for others and he is an excellent listener, he doesn’t listen to anyone else the way he listens to you. Undivided attention. When you speak, you’re all he sees. He’s holding onto every word of yours like if he doesn’t he’ll fall down. Even when you’re talking about nothing. When he holds doors for others, he looks relaxed and at ease, but guarded. With you, his shoulders soften and he’s often watching your every move as you walk by. He’s more awkward with you. Part of it is his own ambiguity in navigating getting close with others, but part of it is something else, and to assume it’s you would be highly narcissistic. Or so you tell yourself. 

Meanwhile, Joel can barely contain himself. His time in Jackson had been peaceful, and had allowed him to grow comfortable. With Ellie safe and enjoying life, he’d forgotten what it meant to have room to care about anyone else. She’d been his priority for so long. Now that he met you… Just thinking about you made his stomach turn with butterflies. He felt juvenile.

It took him a week to discover your existence. Three months to patrol with you for the first time, and another three for the second time. Every patrol in between was filled with thoughts of you. Hope that you’d be paired with him again. After the second time with you, he was enamored. Your intelligence captivated him. You’d researched so much. Both about this new life and the life before the infected. You had stories on stories to tell of you and your mom, some of which were his favorite to hear. Joel knew better to pry whenever you’d get to a particularly hard memory in your stories. He’d often ask a question about a different part to get your mind off of whatever had you troubled, and even though you knew what he was doing every time, you let him. It was nice. Sweet. Two words most would not use to describe Joel. You would. And you’d said so.

That almost knocked Joel on his feet. When you told him you thought he was polite, and sweet. It made his heart nearly leap out of his chest. Feeling slightly guilty for laughing in pure shock at a fairly innocent compliment-turned-question, he’d given a finite and brief answer. You hadn’t complimented him since. Worried about rejection, you’d avoided doing so.

Finding himself thinking about why you hadn’t done so tipped Joel off to his growing, deeper, feelings for you. It bothered him, and under any other circumstance- anyone else- he wouldn’t care. Wouldn’t have crossed his mind. Much like many other interactions with others in the town. They weren’t on his mind like you were. But he also worried he was too old for you. He thought about what you’d think of Ellie who was essentially his own kid. His past was a heavy burden to carry, as well. He’d killed so many, watched so many die, and the thoughts of those deaths weighed on him heavily. 

The last thing he wanted was for you to shoulder any of it. Joel knew that the first time he saw you laugh. He wouldn’t do a thing to compromise your happiness if he could help it.

Weeks later, you both were busy on your respective duties that would be ending sooner rather than later. It was the first Friday of the month, and the first Friday meant movie night. The electricity in Jackson was powerful and a few months prior, Dina and Jesse returned with a projector, VHS tape player and some VHS copies of several different movies. The town would not stop talking about it for a month afterwards. Aside from new medicine, food or healthy helping hands, this was the best news they’d received all year.

Movie nights became a regular, monthly tradition. Those not on shifts for the night would gather and watch different movies. There would be a vote beforehand on what would be played and the announcement would go out a week in advance so people could plan to be there. If you couldn’t make it due to a shift, you were sure to be scheduled in time to make it the next month and so on. It was a huge morale boost for everyone. Dina and Jesse have not stopped bragging about it being their find because of it.

Hanging up your apron, you made your way to the washrooms where you cleaned up after working every shift here. Your neighbor, a girl of similar age who got put on the same duty as you today, met you by the sink. “Are you coming tonight?” They inquired. You smiled and nodded. “Movie day. Never missing that.” You assured, scrubbing the smell of garlic off your fingers. No amount of soap would be enough.

“I bet Joel will be happy to hear that.” They wiggled your eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure he will. He’s my friend.” You assured. “Uh-huh.” They responded in an unconvincing tone. “Hey, all I know is, he’s bringing Ellie, but we all know where she wants to be. Maybe you can get some one-on-one time with him?” They suggested. You paused at this before reaching for one of the towels to dry your now-clean hands.

It was a good point. You recalled your conversation with Ellie from a few days prior. How she really was looking for an excuse to be out of Joel’s earshot for one night. You weighed your options. It wasn’t like you to blatantly ask someone to hang out, especially not Joel, and especially not under the current circumstances. It also wasn’t likely to get him to let Ellie go anywhere he wasn’t familiar. Maybe you could get Joel away from Ellie?

It was clear you liked Joel. You loved him, really. It was quite easy once you got to know him. If you asked him to see the movie with you, and you specifically, you weren’t sure how he’d react. You were confident he’d say yes, but to what degree?

Realizing you were overthinking something that was probably just all in your head anyways, you snapped back to reality to find your neighbor staring at your zoned-out expression, smirking. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” They asked, mouth agape in joyful surprise. You felt heat in your face and quickly dismissed them, pushing past the doorway.

“I’m thinking about going to see the movie later and nothing else!” You shouted over your shoulder, leaving your colleague and emerging to the main cafeteria. Turning on your heel, you were about to reach for your keys and bag that had been strewn on one of the tables when your face instantly collided with leather.

Stumbling back, and almost on your ass, you began to curse, “What the fu-” You began to say, but the feeling of two strong arms steadying you and the familiar face in front of you cut all sound in your throat short. Joel stood before you, the smell of pine filling your nose as he stood there looking as patient and understanding as ever in light of your fumble. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He sheepishly apologized as you quickly regained your bearings. His accent was deep, thick. It made your heart flutter. The adrenaline of being caught off guard had not yet worn off. “No, oh my gosh,” You breathily laughed out. “You’re fine. I was just about to leave is all.” You smiled up at him, brushing some hair that had fallen into your eyes out of your face.

“Going to the movie tonight, I hear?” He asked, eyes darting to the hallway you just came from. If your neighbor was still here, they did not make it apparent. You silently thanked whatever was out there that they left. You didn’t need them making fun of your attraction to him to his face but behind your back. Your eyes darted from Joel nervously, remembering the conversation between your neighbor. Surely if they noticed your attraction, he would too.

“Uh, yeah, weirdly enough, I was on my way to you with a similar question, but you’re back from patrol early.” You grabbed your things off the table you went for earlier and turned back to see Joel’s look of amusement and curiosity. His eyebrows raised, a slight smirk on his lips that silently mouthed ‘Oh?’. Those lips. You forced yourself to look at his forehead.

Your heart was beating in your chest so hard you worried he could hear it in the pause. “Would you like to go with me?” You blurted out. It felt silly coming out. Like you were in high school, asking someone to the prom. But under different context. A non-romantic context. Because that’s what Joel would want, right? He doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with some romantic drama, you reasoned.

Joel’s face became unreadable. His mouth slightly opened as if he were going to say something, but closed again as he decided on something else. “Together?” He clarified. You ignored the way your heart sank. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I have some wine at my place, I thought maybe we could have a glass before we go. But if you have other plans…”

“I don’t.”

His response was quick. Joel saw the way your face fell at his initial response, and he quickly realized why. You thought he was uninterested in going with you personally. Something that couldn’t be further from the truth. Joel wanted nothing more than to go with you. Jesus, he had the opportunity to take a girl on a movie date. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. 20 Years was probably something like it. More.

His reaction was purely shock. Not distaste. He was shocked you wanted to go together. That you wanted to go with him. Be seen in association with him on purpose and not in a group setting. It was more intimate than he’d been with anyone recently. 

“I’d love to go with you.” He clarified, realizing he’d only been staring at you since his response to having other plans. “Ellie can have the house to herself for a bit.” You reasoned with a smile meant to hide your giddy emotions and while Joel gave a short reaction at the idea of his kid-now adult- being home alone, he let it go just as easily, too distracted with thoughts of his movie date with you.

Deciding both of you needed a shower before the movie, you split up and went to your respective houses to shower and get ready. It was merely an hour and a half before the knock came at your door.

Swinging it open to reveal Joel, groomed and standing off to the side of your doorway. In one of his hands was a bouquet. Your eyes shot open and you pretended not to notice he got groomed and brought flowers to go somewhere with you. “Where did you find these?” You excitedly reached through the doorway to take them from him, immediately pressing your nose to the petals. It was a well done bouquet of wildflowers. You’d seen them growing several times on some of the patrol routes and found them beautiful everytime. Joel just happened to notice.

“I pulled a few strings.” He laughed, watching your face as you examined them carefully. He could stare at you for hours. You didn’t have to know the exact townsperson Joel bribed to get him those flowers ASAP and you certainly didn’t have to know the extra rations it took for him to keep quiet about it. Joel making an emergency request for flowers? Unheard of. And it will stay that way too.

“I don’t know what to say.” You said, breathless from inhaling the scents in front of you. “Maybe a ‘Thank you’, ‘Please come in’, ‘I have wine’.” Joel teased. You rolled your eyes and cleared the path for him to enter.

He was quick to follow you to your kitchen where you grabbed two glasses and filled them just under halfway. You both silently toast to each other and take a sip. The wine is sweet, but has a slightly bitter taste that lingers. And then, there was that silence. It slipped over both of you like a comforting fog. Both of you comforted each other just by being near one another. You were in sync in these moments and it felt like having a dance partner. Someone to anticipate your moves and flow with them. Being around Joel was as easy as breathing. He didn’t complicate things. In the silence his eyes were like weights on you and with every sip of your wine you felt his gaze follow your lips.

“Why did you ask me to come with you?” Joel asked, cutting through your beloved easy silence like an arrow slicing the air. You froze, not quite sure yourself. That wasn’t true, though. You were sure why you wanted him to come, but terrified of what that would mean. You scrambled for any other logical reason. A favor for Ellie? Personal interest?

“And it’s not to get me away from Ellie for a little while. She knows how to do that on her own…” He commented and you felt the heaviness at the end of his sentence. Crap. He knew you. That wasn’t his point right now. “You can bullshit everyone else, but not me, darlin’.” His southern drawl was accentuated in that nickname and it was enough to cover the nervousness in his voice. The nickname that flooded your mind constantly. The nickname that made you melt.

Finding any alternative to telling Joel your true feelings, you lied. “I didn’t want to be alone. Going alone to the movies alone is kinda lame anyways and my mom wasn’t feeling up to it.”

Joel made an ‘ah’ expression and looked away in thought. He wasn’t buying it, but it was something you clearly didn’t want to be addressed, so he dropped it for you. That doesn’t mean the real reason wasn’t swimming around his mind. Occasionally, he saw the way you looked at him. He knew you respected him and thought fondly of him. Just how fondly, he was unsure. While he hoped there was more, he couldn’t help but worry what you’d think of him. What you’d think of what he’d done to get there. What he’d done, he thought, in a way, to get to you.

“We’d better get going soon if we want to make it across town in time for it to start.” Joel commented with a clearing of his throat, taking a final swig of the wine, now long gone in both your glasses. Nodding, you quickly finished your glass and rushed to put the flowers in a spot you wouldn't forget about, meeting Joel by the door when you were done. 

Twisting the key in the lock of your front door, you went to step down but felt a hand gently touch your back. Turning to Joel you saw his arm stretched out, but bent slightly. You looked at him in confusion.

“Oh c’mon…” He said, gesturing to his arm. “You know what to do.” He urged. Your blank expression answered his assumption with a resounding negative. Feeling a little ridiculous, not because of your confusion but because his own effort in sending signals were going unnoticed. He came up to you, grabbed your hand and looped it through his already-positioned arm. You smiled and said “Oh!” out loud, finally realizing what he’d been trying to do.

“Well aren’t you a gentleman.” You commented as you walked arm in arm to the gathering area the town held movie nights at, trying to ignore the way you were touching him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t before, but you’d repressed the way it made you feel before. It was beginning to be hard to hide it. Joel smiled slightly and shook his head. “Im telling you, I-”

“I know, I know, you just treat people how they want to be treated.” You finished for him. He stopped mid sentence and laughed to himself. “So you do listen.” His voice was gravelly but soft. Music to your ears. “Only when it’s you talking.”

Your response came out flirtier than you intended, the feeling overcoming both of you instantly. Despite ducking your head, avoiding his gaze, Joel felt his heart soar. “I’m a lucky man then.” It was your heart’s turn to flutter. Joel, once again plans to save the moment of being inquired upon further, noting your embarrassment. “How’s that?” You reply, desperate for every word. “I was able to get the most stubborn and independent person to actually listen. I don’t think any man has done so in history before.” Joel joked, a dramatic air to his tone, soaking every word.

You laughed at his jab and shoved his arm in response. “Yeah if you’re lucky for anything it’s because I tolerate your ass giving me a hard time.” He chuckled in response. “Now that is true.” His voice got quiet as you both approached the viewing area together. Finding a small section of grass that wasn't occupied, you and Joel grabbed one of the many chairs set out for people to use and you both sat together.

They were playing Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. A classic. Made before even Joel was born, but highly enjoyed in his childhood. He was looking forward to this movie when he heard it was the choice for the month. He was more excited about watching it with you, now. Your eyes fixated on the screen and as the movie began, everyone’s hushed voices and children's laughter all simmered to a pure silent crowd.

The movie played on like normal, maybe a glitch in the picture here and there but nothing too bad to break the feeling that comes with watching a movie. The ‘illusion’, some people call it. You’re laughing at a quip from Han to Leia when Joel subtly looks over to you. You’re too busy watching the movie to notice, but he can’t help but stare. Your eyes as they take in every moment possible, not wanting to miss out on a minute. Your lips are curved into a smile as you watch and Joel allows himself to wonder how they’d feel on him.

He notices a piece of your hair has fallen into your face and just before the thought of moving it converts to an action, you move to look up at him. Feeling panicked, he moves to scratch his nose and yawn. He stretches slowly and you look forward once more, unalarmed at first of his fidgeting. He was an older man after all. He was probably already getting stiff sitting still.

Joel’s stretch turns into an awkward hand on the back of your chair. This gets your attention. You can see his knuckles peeking over your shoulder and you wonder if the proximity was intentional. Inside, Joel is burning and tense. How could he be so stupid? The yawn and reach? Really? Did someone give him an ‘Oldest Tricks in the Book’ book?

Through his peripheral vision, he looks down to you, searching for any reason to give you any wanted space. He finds none. You’re content and still watching the movie. For the most part. In reality, your mind is reeling just as much as his.

Deciding to be a little more brave, Joel goes to rest his hand against your shoulder. Touching. He was touching you in a comforting way. Between this and walking arm in arm, just the slight contact makes him light headed. It’s been so long since he’s ‘made moves’ on anyone. He’s wracked with nerves and mostly stressed he’s lost his touch. That to you, he’s some cringe-y, single dad.

You feel his thumb starts to move against your shoulder in soft, slow, circles. Despite the motion’s intention to relax, you notice how tense he is. Looking down, his other hand is a fist, fidgeting with the hem of his flannel and you can see he’s watching the movie but every so often his eyes are darting around and down to you. It dawns on you just then that he is trying to make a move.

A mischievous smile spreads on your lips. If Joel was going to be subtle and innocent about his advancements towards you, you were ready to make this as easy on him as possible. After all, the man has been through hell and does deserve a win. Your mind ran a million miles an hour just picturing what might come next. Your attraction to him was at least somewhat reciprocated. It made thinking straight hard, but you knew you had to find some way to show him that he is more than welcome to be more comfortable with you.

You grin to yourself, knowing your plan is in place and you’re too excited to think of previous insecurities of his attraction to you. His sweaty palms and arm on your shoulder proved enough. Sighing lightly, you also feign fatigue, and carefully rest your head on Joel's shoulder.

You feel his upper torso tense and then relax as he processes what you’ve done. Feeling yourself move a bit to get more comfortable, he takes the opportunity to relax his own muscles, recognizing just how stiff they were beginning to get, and he moves his arm to fully drape over you and pull you in. His muscles loosening underneath you is your sign to move an arm over to rest on his leg.

His muscles were taught underneath his jeans. You felt the sweat on his palms, but it didn’t bother you. It actually made you smile. Joel Miller. A tough Texan who rarely let others in was a nervous wreck trying to get close to you. You stifled a giggle and adjusted yourself to be slightly more pressed into his body, almost crossing your leg with his.

Joel could hardly breathe. You were playing into it. It crossed his mind that maybe you’re being nice and don’t want to reject him. But he also noticed your hand on his thigh and how you sometimes would trace shapes or squeeze it lovingly there. It made him feel like a teenager, and he was basking in every second he got to feel his hand on your waist.

The only reason you both noticed the movie ended was when others began to stand up, grab their seats and the floodlights that lit the area came on. It made both of you jump a bit but no one rushed to untangle themselves from the other. He looked over to you, who began to slowly get up from where you were, cool air running over what had once been covered in warmth on his side. He tried to ignore the emptiness he felt without you being next to him so close, having grown accustomed to it for a couple hours.

“So…” You trailed off, not really sure what to say. Your anxiety was through the roof. Both of you weren’t sure if you should address what just happened, or go back to business as usual. Joel spoke before you could. “Let me walk you home.” He quickly insisted, standing and holding a hand to you. You smiled and took it, feeling a bit nervous. You knew if you didn’t address it immediately, it would definitely happen later. You hoped when he got to your door.

The walk home was quiet for the most part. A few comments on the movie, Joel told you a part he’s loved since he was young. You noted how nice it is to be able to do this despite the world’s circumstances. He agreed.

You’d just turned onto your street when Joel spoke again. “Can we talk?” He stopped mid step. It was a rare moment of bravery from him you wrote off as uncharacteristic. Startled by the abruptness, you stopped as well, disconnecting from his hand but not wanting to.

He watched as your arm fell back to your side. With a strong huff of air, he covered his mouth in stress. “I don’t know how to say this.” He said, honestly. You dreaded the worst. He’s going to tell you he doesn’t want this- or anything more. This wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to go home with you.

“Start with the first word.” You suggested, hoping you’d spark anything to get him to spit out what he was trying to say faster. Like a bandaid, you wanted the end of this to be quick and easy.

“You.” Joel said, clearly having more but working through how to put it. You gave him pause to gather his thoughts. “Y’know, you’re always on my mind but we don’t talk and then today you ask me to see the movies, but it’s just because you don’t want to go alone…” He begins to ramble. “Which I know is bullshit because you don’t mind going places by yourself.” Your breath hitches in your throat. He’s seen you this whole time. Why has he not said anything? Done anything?

“And then you spend half the damn movie basically in my lap and darlin’”- That nickname. “I am trying to be as respectful as possible but you just look so beautiful all the damn time and after tonight I don’t know if you feel the same, but I-I need to know. So I know what I can and can’t say to you. Say the word and I promise I’ll never touch you in that way.”

Dumbfounded, you just looked at him, mouth slightly open. It was the most Joel had ever said at one time to you, ever. He never vented. He spoke but in small bits and it was straightforward. He knew what to say. He always knew what to say. But around you he didn’t.

That one small fact had you lightheaded. And then his words dawned on you. Say the word and I promise I’ll never touch you in that way.

“No!” You blurted out. “I mean, I want you to touch me.” You cringed at how awkward it came out. “I mean…” A laugh from yourself blurted out at how hard this really was to put into words. “What do you want to say to me?” Settling on that, you looked into his eyes and found them pouring into yours. He’d smiled and chuckled in relief at your nervousness, giving him enough of an answer. Stepping forward, he traced the side of your face with a calloused finger, stopping after moving hair behind your ear. It gave you chills.

“I want to say,” He paused, looping a hand around your waist. “That I’ve been waiting to get you in my arms since we first met.” His words were enough to make the coldest person alive melt. “And you’re the only one who has got me wrapped around their finger like you.” His low voice rumbled in your chest as he closed some of the distance between you. He paused. Searching your eyes for any kind of resistance, hesitation… regret. He found none.

“I was going to say the same thing.” You grinned, closing any space between the both of you. His lips were rough on yours, his beard prickling the edges of your cheeks. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you sank into his grasp.

Joel felt like this was who he was supposed to be kissing. Who’s skin he was meant to be touching. His heart was thundering in his chest. He’d been falling for you for so long, he forgot the possibility that you’d possibly feel the same and settled on the idea you were better off without him. He knew now, under your grip which was soft but commanding all at once, you were just as deep in pining after him in return.

In reality, you kissed like that under the low street lighting for three minutes. It felt like an hour. Pulling away felt like diving underwater, far away from oxygen. Barely a foot apart and yet it felt so far.

“Do you want to come inside when we get back?” You asked, breathless. He chuckled, lips curving into a smile to match your own. “I want nothing more, sweetheart.” Joel’s gravelly tone lulled. It was rich with care and lust. Damn that voice. The voice that would drift you to sleep that night, whispering sweet praises under sheets you’d only slept in alone prior. It felt nice to have his breath on your neck, his bare legs tangled with yours, his soft skin on yours until morning. Ellie got the privacy she needed, and Joel got the night he deserved.

You’d worry about what to tell your mother some other time.

thank you guys for reading! hope you enjoyed. this has been my first official fully finished fic since returning to tumblr! i appreciate everyone's support :))

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.4

The skies are darkening as I walk home from the food stall, carrying what is – despite the time – technically my breakfast. Hot steam is wafting up from the flimsy plastic bags in my hand, warming my cold fingers.

I’m still not used to San Myshuno’s seasons, but Samara told me that it’s unusually cold for being this late in Spring. In a way, it feels like the city has decided to match my mood, as if the dark and dreary weather is being sympathetic to how I feel.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a robotic voice jarringly interrupts a sad love ballad to flatly announce that dad is calling. I sigh and tap my headphones, he’ll just call again later if I don’t pick up now.

“Hey, honey!”

My father’s voice is warm and comforting like a blanket, and I can hear faint birdsong and the rustling of the trees in the backyard. I briefly wish I could just move back home and be a kid again and leave all the worries to my parents.

“Hi, dad. How are you guys? House still standing?”

“We’re good, Kieran and Liam are busy worrying about prom so it’s been unusually quiet. Oh, and speaking of standing, Grayson can stand by himself now. He can even take a few steps as long as he’s holding on to something.”

He sounds so proud, almost as if he was the one learning to walk.

“Aww, he’s getting so big! Next thing you know, you’ll all be chasing him around the house every time they visit.”

“I’ll make sure to have your mother send you some pictures of him when I get back inside. She’s busy in the kitchen, Griffin and Daria are coming over for dinner. But how are you? We barely hear from you these days.”

“Oh, you know, I’m really busy with work and hanging out with people and such. I’ve just been out shopping for dinner, and then I’m seeing a friend later.”

I hear him hesitate, like he can tell that I’m lying.

“Alright. That sounds good. We’ve been a little worried about you. And especially today…”

“I know, it was really rough in the beginning, but I swear I’m doing fine, I-”

My voice breaks and I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take a deep breath to get it under control.

“Oh, honey. Listen, sometimes relationships don’t work out, no matter how much you love each other. I can see where Paul was coming from, and your mother and I have been worried that you’d feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. So I want you to know that we’re really impressed that you’re staying true to yourself. It can be… very hard to do the right thing when you love someone, I know that. So I’m proud of you.”

“I just miss him so much, dad.”

“I know. But maybe you don’t really miss Paul. Maybe you just miss a version of him in your head that he failed to live up to. If Paul Romeo was really so perfect, he wouldn’t have made my daughter so sad.”

My father reminds me to take care of myself and I promise to call more often before I end the call and pick up the pace slightly just as the rain starts falling.

I manage to make it home before getting too wet, but it’s still a relief to step inside the warm apartment.

My laptop sits on the dining table, and I eye it warily as if the deluge of messages could somehow escape containment and drown me.

I unpack my food and try to ignore the state of my kitchen. I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now, so I just kick off my shoes and take my food to the couch as usual.

I text Marten and eat a few bites while I wait. He replies almost instantly and within minutes, he’s online. It’s becoming my favourite part of the day.

We play for a few hours, and I almost forget to be sad. Marten never mentions Paul, he just talks about normal things like what the other guys in his fraternity are up to, his studies, new games he’d like to play. Easy topics. He’s also good at carrying the conversation when I’m quiet, like tonight.

Marten probably doesn’t even know what day it is today, and somehow that makes it easier.

Eventually, though, he has to leave. He tends to go to bed early, even on weekends, and I promise him to get some sleep too. My barely touched food has congealed into a solid cube in the box and I leave it on the table and try to decide how to spend the rest of the night. As if I don’t already know.

Finally, I give in.

I open my laptop, ignoring the notifications about the thousands of unread messages. I thought the sudden influx of hate-mail was bad when my relationship with Paul was discovered, but it has been nothing compared to after the news of the breakup.

I know I shouldn’t, know I’m just picking at the wounds, but my fingers move on their own, out of habit, and pure muscle memory is making them type Paul’s name into the search bar. All the links are already purple, of course, there is nothing new here, but I still click the first one. It takes me to his Social Bunny profile. Paul was never that active on social media, and his latest post is several weeks old.

I know it by heart.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

The best.

“But you were the best,” I whisper.

I feel like crying, but it seems like I’ve finally run out of tears, emptied the reservoirs over the last couple of months, and now all that’s left inside of me is dust.

I go back and click the second link, then the third, cycling through the old articles and interviews as if I’m expecting to find something I haven’t seen a hundred times.

Samara and Miranda are probably having drinks at The Rooftop right now. Samara texted me an hour ago, asking me if I was sure I didn’t want to go out with them instead of stalking my ex for once. I replied with another lame excuse. I’ve been avoiding people for so long that it feels like I’ve forgotten how to function in society, like some sort of feral raccoon who only knows how to hide and eat trash.

I’ve gone through all the links. I refresh the search page. Nothing has changed, obviously, but I refresh it again and again, feeling like I’m desperately knocking on his door and trying to be let in. Then I start over at the first link.

“In response to the recent speculation, I want to clarify that Julia and I parted ways a while back. She’s an incredibly gifted and wonderful person, and I truly wish the best for her.”

Samara is right, I can’t keep doing this. It’s crazy. There’s only one thing to do. I move my cursor over the red button and take a deep breath. Then I block his profile before I can change my mind.

As his picture vanishes, the entire screen blurs. It would seem that I still have some tears left.

beginning / previous / next

[snorky]

hiiii im back to very respectfully request more trent frederic! literally anything works if its 500 words or 3000 i do not care.

- anon 🌹

Tell Me A Sweet, Sweet Lie

Hey y’all! And hi again to the lovely requester, anon 🌹. I hope you all are doing well and lovely, and I deeply apologize again for this very delayed post, life has not been too sunshine and rainbows, but that’s for another time. A sweet Trent Frederic x F!Reader, strangers to lovers, fake dating, summer-time party fic for y’all. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Trent Frederic x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Some creep/sleazy dude (ew), Fake Dating, (let me know if I need to add anything)

—

—

As the summer sun seemed to beam onto her skin delicately, her sundress swayed in the wind, all whimsical and magic sewn into the hem. Her drink swirled in her grasp, a non-alcoholic refresher as she was the designated driver for her friends, who were talking to their partners and their friends. 

She didn’t mind the lack of company, but rather, she savored it as it felt like it was her only time to herself in such a busy and hectic life.

Laughter and easy conversation could be heard from around her, little snip-bits of people catching up with one another after a while, revisiting old and fond memories, and overall, just seizing the moment as they all reminisced. 

A small bonfire was started further off from the house, people setting up their chairs and blankets to gather around the blazing warmth, with some holding bags of marshmallows and chocolate for s’mores. It was a small detail, and yet it reminded her about her youth, eating the sugary sweetness until she was laughing on the ground, energy and hyperness zipping through her.

As she was lost in her thoughts, she felt an arm slide around her waist. “Hey beautiful, wanna ditch this party and go back to my place?”

 Stepping away from the strange person, whom she could barely recognize from her friends and her mutual friends alike, she shook her head. “No, no thanks.” She waved her hand in kind dismissal, hoping to not escalate the situation further. “I need to drive my friends back home,”

Eyeing her up and down, the look in his eyes made her sick to her stomach, unease starting to settle in her. “I’m sure they won’t notice that we’ll be gone for a bit—” His hot breath fanned over her neck uncomfortably, causing her to shrink away.

“I have a boyfriend!” she blurted. It was a quick, most likely, out-of-pocket response, but her mind ran a little empty in trying to figure out how to deter this stranger away from her.

He looked around the back yard, trying to search for this said ‘boyfriend’ of hers. “I don’t see him around here,” he scoffed.

Putting a finger up, she gave him a lopsided smile. “One moment, he’s inside I think—”

She ran off towards the direction of the backdoor of the house, hoping to find someone that could be her ‘boyfriend’ for a brief moment.

And with her luck, she ran into someone carrying a bowl of chips. He looked a little dorky if she could be truly honest, with curly light brown hair peeking out from his baseball cap, a gently soft face to tie it all together.

“I’m so sorry, but I need you to do a really quick favor for me,” she whispered in a rushed sequence.

He looked at her with a confused expression for a brief moment before responding. “Yeah? What is it?”

She bit the inside of her cheek nervously, hoping that this wouldn’t backfire terribly. “Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for like, the next few moments—” she looked at him, an apology prepared in her head in case he didn’t want to. “—please.”

A small smile formed on his face, “Tell me the ground rules and I’m all set.”

She sighed as a wave of relief washed over her, wiping her palms on her dress. “Well okay, first, I need to know your name. And secondly, I give you permission to touch me—like, arm around my waist—but nothing more!” A warm flush was visible on her neck and face from embarrassment, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

“Okay, okay, I kinda get it—and my name is Trent.” 

He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and she introduced herself to him as she took his hand. Her hand felt perfect in his own, their palms molding together as if they were meant to be, although he wouldn’t openly exclaim that since he just met her.

Her demeanor was angelic, the evening sun not denying it a single bit, and it pulled him in deeper, wanting to be around her presence more, savoring every moment with her. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed her earlier on at the party, but he was beyond grateful nonetheless. 

Pulling away, she clasped her own hands together. “Great!” She turned around and started to walk back towards the patio door, glancing over her shoulder as she noticed that he hadn’t moved a step. “You coming?”

Her voice snapped him back to reality, a gentle blush casting over his face as he realized that he was standing there in the dining area like a fool. “Yeah, sorry hun—”

The words flowed out of his mouth easily, a comforting taste on his tongue, and to her, it sounded like she could get used to him calling her sweetly so often. She smiled at him, cheeks warmed and rosy.

“No worries, love,”

They both walked outside, and took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining, and the sunset sky seemed to shine down on the both of them in approval. It felt so right to hold his hand, as if it was some sort of fairytale-meant-to-be situation. His thumb was grazing over her knuckles lightly, delicately, and it made her melt like ice cream on a hot day.

She looked over at him, his soft expression making her heart flutter in her chest despite having only met him a few minutes ago. He made her feel so in love, so fuzzy and infatuated with him, and she had a small hope burning inside of her that it could last a little longer than just for tonight.

“Let’s sit here, I’ll make you a s’more.” His smile was just as sweet as the marshmallow he reached for, skewering it onto the stick before he hovered it over the fire.

Sitting down beside him, she rested her head against him, a blurry tiredness washing over her already despite the sun not having fully set yet.

He handed the s’more over to her, marshmallow a perfect toast, chocolate slightly melted. “Here you go, enjoy it sweetheart,”

Smiling back at him, she took a bite of the sweet treat, the flavors too sweet almost, like a familiar childhood. They both remained like this for a little, sitting there and relaxing as the sound of others around them continued, a lively scene.

Trent looked around, making sure that everyone else around the both of them were occupied, due to the fact that his question would most likely out him as a decoy partner. “Are you familiar with anyone from this party?” he asked. His hand was still clasped around hers, lovingly, thumb stroking her skin.

“Yeah, my friend, I think you might know them since I saw you talking to them earlier,”

He looked at her with sweet admiration, wanting to hear her voice more often since it sounded like music to his ears. “Go on,” he encouraged.

She continued to talk about how she met her friend, rambling about childhood stories, as well as their shared memories of college years and early adult life, including the silly mishaps in hopes of making him laugh.

And it did, his laugh seemed to be the only sound she wanted to hear from now on, full and hearty, beyond genuine if she could describe it right. The way his eyes crinkled at the corner, cheeks flushed and pink, it made her feel warmer than the fire next to her.

Everything came naturally to the both of them, the easy, smooth talking, the lighthearted laughs and smiles, every nickname that cupid could come up with rolling off of their tongues.

Footsteps could be heard behind the both of them, the dirt and gravel being scruffed up.

“So is this your little boyfriend, sweets?”

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, recognizing that awful voice from earlier in the day.

Trent turned around with a slight smirk, standing up to face the other guy. He was visibly taller than him, who was now cowering slightly.

“Yeah, I’m her boyfriend.” He stuck out his hand, firm and confident. “Do we have a problem with that?” His brow was raised, tone interrogative and questioning.

The stranger took a step away, shaking his head. “No, I’ll leave you guys be—” His voice wavered as he took off in another direction, presumably to head home and away from the humiliation that he just had to put himself through.

Trent sat back down beside her, allowing her to lean closer to him. “Is that why you asked me?” he whispered.

Nodding her head, she remained silent for a little bit, allowing for her thoughts to accept the fact that it was over now, and that he didn’t have to act as her significant other any longer.

Moving away from him slightly, she could see his tender expression falter. “You don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore, Trent.” She matched his quiet tone, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation between them.

His lips were pressed together in a line, unsure of what to do or say next. He looked in her eyes, seeing a twinge of sadness—or maybe tiredness, he couldn’t tell—float around.

“But, what if I want to be yours, truly this time?”

She looked at him, confused, but wanting to not step too far. “Trent, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Only if you do as well.” Trent’s expression was genuine, pure, the nighttime sky and stars hoping to emphasize the way he felt. “I just think you’re a sweet and kind person, and from the time that I’ve gotten to know you, I know that I want to know more about you,”

A smile eased its way onto her face, paired with a blush from his honeyed words that truly felt like it was poured straight from his heart. “I think you’re lovely,” her voice was hardly above a whisper, but he heard it all, and almost melted on the spot.

“You think so?”

Nodding her head, she took his hand and held it, looking up at him once more.

He looked magical, enchanting, so sweet, so beautiful in the moment. Her heart seemed to slow, or speed up, but she didn’t feel real, lost somewhere in a dream-like state. They both remained in this moment, the seconds passing by in a blur, an exchange of numbers, something about wanting to co-exist more, feel more.

They both stood in the driveway of the house, moments before parting ways. He didn’t let go of her hand just yet, still wanting to feel her touch. “Brunch, tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, love,”

Her fingers slipped from his as she waved, walking away with her friends who were already gushing over any details they could get, laughter of the sweet night echoing in the sky.

Part Two