#this one is a bit of a change of pace from the typical stuff... i like it ! :3

[getonite]

(𝟏) 𝐌𝐒𝐆: I NEED LOVEAND AFFECTION.

"how they love to give you affection" — ( hajime umemiya, hayato suo, haruka sakura, jo togame, + choji tomiyama )

gn!reader ; fluff, slight cursing, metaphors, very light suggestion in suo and togame's parts. nothing just cute stuff, maybe ooc for togame?

forcing myself to write rn. wanna guess who i like the most lmao? smaus for them will be out soon! kuroshitsuji ver.

hugs

there's honestly no surprise here, hm? he's like a walking bear at times, specifically with his hugs. sure, at (rare) times he gives some encouraging hugs to the furin boys, but his bear-hugging arms are reserved for you.

umemiya has healing hugs. paired with his ability to sense a positive or negative change in others, he often surprises you with them, rubbing his face into you, swinging you around a bit with a bright smile on his face, hearty laughter from his lips.

he enjoys the way you feel wrapped in his touch. the way you lean your head against his chest or shoulder, sinking into his embrace.

it's a way he feels extremely close to you, not like how he wants (he wants to melt into your skin), but it's close enough to provide the both of you with the comfort and intimacy the both of you crave.

light kisses

despite the way he seems, he quite enjoys kisses. specifically, giving them. he enjoys giving and recieving affection equally, though there's something special about those little kisses he gives to the palm of your hand, or your knuckles. he peppers them everywhere, but those are his two favorite spots.

his eye watches the way you get flustered. especially, when he decides to make a show of it and bows to one knee to kiss you. "my liege," he'd joke, laughing at your embarrassed reaction.

he loves the way you jump, goosebumps along your arms from the way his lips ghost along your skin, tickling the small hairs on your arms. his entire aim with affection is making you flustered.

if he truly wishes to fluster you, maybe make you a bit hot, he breaths on ear, the air tickling your skin. he presses his lips to the tip of your ear, whispering a comment of praise. it amuses him how you jump and crumble from such a small action.

of course, he plays dumb, pressing another light kiss to your skin. "i haven't a clue what you mean, love."

anything (handholding).

anything flusters him. he doesn't typically initiate intimacy, it's normally you. so he doesn't have a particular favorite thing to do to give you affection. the closest he'll get to initiating something, is handholding. so perhaps that's his favorite to give you?

a combination of hugs and kisses

togame is slow-paced, he has a lazy energy to him more often than not.

he lazily wraps his arms around your waist, grunting as he pulls you back with him as he sits down. he smiles at the shriek you let out when you fall backwards with him. "calm down, will ya?"

togame bury's his face into your neck, securely holding you close to him. his lips press light kissed from behind your ear and to your shoulder, his thumbs sneaking beneath your shirt to rub circles against your skin.

there's nothing more that he loves than hugging you close to him and feeling the heat of your body. especially your neck when he peppers kisses on them. the press of your thighs against his, your back to his chest. his hands drift your thighs, squeezing them lightly, "i hope you know, i love you..." he often falls asleep like this, lightly snoring against your back, tugging you onto his lap so you don't leave.

a combination of handholding and hugs

choji is the type of guy to jump and hug you. he wraps his arms so tight, both you and togame have to tell him to let go. the both of you often fall over from the force of him. it's more of his favorite way to greet you than favorite way to show affection.

aside from surprise hugs and clinging to you, he likes to hold your hand. he's perpetually stuck in the childish way of aggressively swinging your arms back and forth as he does, happily smiling an apology when you reach your destination.

he likes to squeeze your hand at times, either to comfort himself, or you.

choji leans close, rubbing his face against you, proving to those you walk around that you are his. there's no shortage of glares he gives people who stare too hard or talk too long ro you.

regardless, he loves being right next you; keeping you close while proving you're together. and as far as cuddling goes??? he's wrapped around you like a fucking monkey. he is NAWT letting you go once he has his hands on you.

[daegu-based-terrorist]

Whats the music scene/art exchange like in north korea? ive read american propaganda that nk citizens get executed/sent to labor camps for possession of kdrama or kpop cds… but then theres also that one group of south korean protestors (?) that used to play south korean music over the loudspeaker near the border… so Im assuming people are aware of it. idk i always thought getting sentenced to hard labor for the crime of [checks notes] listening to SNSD sounded comically fake to me.

Nobody gets executed for owning Kpop/Kdrama cds but people also generally don’t own those sorts of things. Of course there are people who do and I believe they would probably get hit with a fine if ever found out, but really ownership of foreign media is very much a don’t ask don’t tell situation.

You aren’t supposed to own media created by states who want to blow North Korea up for… obvious reasons lmao. Also the Kpop industry is infamously abusive towards idols mostly due to the desire to exploit them for the most total capital, again, not something the dprk exactly wants to promote.

We do actually have a pretty good state funded movie industry, films and TV shows come out at a snails pace but when they do come out they tend to be pretty good, most of our films/shows also involve a big musical aspect which is where tones of super popular North Korean music comes from. The song “flower girl” was actually so inescapable when I was a kid like that movie came out in 1972 LET IT GOOOO 😭😭 English Wikipedia actually has a more comprehensive list of North Korean films and shows then Korean Wikipedia which is a bit funny.

As for the art side, art is pretty well funded within the dprk. It has probably changed since but when me and my mother lived there it was set up where the government would fund the artists and basically about a quarter to a half of their art would be offical government stuff, yk the typical North Korean propaganda posters, and the rest was literally whatever they wanted to do.

Here is some non political north Korean art (obviously all art is political but I’m sure you get my pint)

And here are some North Korean potters working in their Pyongyang studio:

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

🎶🎻 let's see if this actually helps me find this later

WIBTA for marking up my friend's sheet music?

ok so I (15m) have a friend (17f) and we both play cello in the classical music ensemble at our school. we have both been playing cello for approx 7 years. we had very different musical upbringings: she learned to play cello in a class with a bunch of other kids, and from what I gather there were many other instruments and the teacher took kind of a hands-off approach, which is typical for the kind of elementary school she went to. I, on the other hand, learned through private lessons (which I don't think I'm better for, it's just different) and my teacher (who I still take piano and cello lessons from) is a little bit obsessive when it comes to correct technique and stuff. I care a little less about technique than my teacher, but I definitely developed quite a few of her habits: I always pay really close attention to what the sheet music tells me, especially dynamics and which direction my bow needs to go in, or how many notes I'm playing in a bow stroke. part of this is because that's what the composer would have wanted and also because when I started my teacher would make me mark everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in my sheet music. we're talking fingerings, bow markings, highlighting every chreschendo and decrescendo, putting the counting in for all of the rhythms and more. now I typically only mark super important things, like if I keep forgetting a note or something, and I rarely mark my cello sheet music in ensembles, though everyone has seen me mark my bass music, since I'm new to bass.

Recently, since it's about 2/3rds of the way through the school year and we have a good group, my ensemble has been playing more challenging stuff. the parts or more intricately layered and dynamics are a pretty big thing, especially for the cello section, since we basically have one line for half of a piece which is just to play some half notes that crescendo and decrescendo over and over. and it's like, all we do, like it's a pretty big part of the song. the issue is that my friend just kind of ignores the dynamic markings and bowings in the music and what the other cellists are doing (there's three of us, including me and her and she sits in between us) so she just kinda plays the piece at the same volume. the whole time. and it's written right there. and she's heard me play it solo without the ensemble before, so in theory she knows how to do it. and after seven years of playing the cello, you should have the bow control to play quietly.

now, this wouldn't annoy me so much if her ignorance wasn't a recurring thing. last year, we played aquarius with the jazz ensemble and we both really liked the piece. except we had this one part. we had to play a bunch of tied whole notes in the beginning. just two in a row and then we'd change bows. (if you don't play an instrument, a tied note is basically when the note is played over two measures, in this case we would play the same note fore eight beats, and then reverse the direction of our bow) now, I can hold my bow in one direction for eight beats. it's not fun or easy and I'd rather play a melody or bass line to begin with, but if you're playing quietly (like we were supposed to be) you can maintain a pretty steady pace for eight beats in one bow. my friend NEVER did this. she would just run her bow back and forth on the note until we moved on to the next and then do the same there. and I'm talking like she'd play maybe ten notes while we played one. which, obviously, through off the rhythm. we weren't as close last year and I didn't know she'd been playing as long as she had, so I ignored it. but, she kept doing it and she still does. I've confronted her about it multiple times, saying how it's like if you breathed half way through a note on a wind instrument, how it messes us up because her bow will go in a different direction than the other cellos and hit me in the elbow a lot, and how it makes us look weirdly messy. every time she just kind of says okay and walks off.

now, I think my friend could benefit from having her sheet music marked like my teacher used to make me, because clearly just mentioning it to her is not enough and as we move on to harder music it's making us look worse. so, wibta if I brought some extra pens and highlighters and reminded her to circle or highlight different dynamic, rhythmic and bowing notations if she doesn't play them the first few times?

What are these acronyms?

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

*gif is not mine

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win. 

Daryl was not so easily mollified. 

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye. 

You weren’t afraid of him. 

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark  was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you. 

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said. 

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger. 

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes. 

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about. 

Still, you stayed. 

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now. 

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced. 

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you. 

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?” 

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue. 

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot. 

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow. 

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his. 

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll. 

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family. 

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor. 

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety. 

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you. 

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile. 

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?” 

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned. 

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring. 

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse. 

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away. 

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.” 

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose. 

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides. 

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance. 

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him. 

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you. 

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.” 

“Why the fuck do you even care?!” 

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing. 

“Ya even hafta ask?” You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door. 

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you. 

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside. 

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded. 

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder. 

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle. 

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt. 

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you. 

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.” 

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair. 

“Ya do?” 

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment? 

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail. 

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile. 

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy. 

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door. 

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you. 

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder. 

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement. 

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot. 

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently. 

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper. 

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly. 

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back. 

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite. 

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter. 

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.” 

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front. 

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later. 

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat. 

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear. 

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands. 

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!” 

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat. 

“Shit!” 

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen. 

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. 

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark. 

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt. 

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder. 

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it. 

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion. 

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.” 

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone. 

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.” 

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!” 

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg? 

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up. 

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.” 

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again. 

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long.  Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep. 

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse. 

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave. 

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered. 

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail. 

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?” 

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead. 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to���”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?” 

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.” 

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away. 

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him. 

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance. 

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was. 

A confession. 

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this. 

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap. 

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other. 

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you. 

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?” 

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.” 

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it. 

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already. 

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away. 

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair. 

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

[vermilionsun]

It's me again, I heard the song that goes "get your filthy fingers out of my pie" and I had an idea for a prompt : How would the LIs react to a female MC that hate men ? (Due to trauma or due to the fear of being abused)

Anyway I hope you're having a great day ! xoxo

I hope these turned out good - I got so excited for this req 'cause Florence + the Machine are an all-time favourite of mine agbdvuqvfcujkscv

Tysm and hope you have an amazing day as well <3

Leander

🗡 Bad first impression of each other

🗡 Leander would likely be intrigued and possibly see it as a challenge

🗡 He might approach her with his usual charm but would quickly realize that his typical tactics won’t work.

🗡 He needs people to like him and wants to prove that he can change her opinion.

🗡 “I can fix her” type

🗡 At first, he'd likely try to understand the reasons behind her feelings, showing empathy and attempting to build trust.

🗡 He would do everything in his power to make her feel safe and respected, always being there to support her through her struggles, even if she's hesitant or resistant.

🗡 However, he'd also be mindful not to push her too hard or make her feel uncomfortable

🗡 e̶v̶e̶n̶ i̶f̶ h̶e̶ h̶a̶s̶ n̶o̶ t̶i̶m̶e̶

Vere

✦ Vere’d initially seem indifferent or playful about the MC's feelings, potentially teasing her in a light-hearted manner.

✦ That only lasts until he realizes the depth of her trauma/pain.

✦ Once he realises, Vere would become incredibly protective and supportive.

✦ Vere’s understanding of suffering would allow him to approach her in a more subtle way while getting to know her on a deeper level.

✦ He’d balance his teasing with moments of genuine care and concern, gradually showing her that he can be trusted.

✦ He's simply there to offer her company and support

✦ Vere would show her that she deserves nothing less than love and respect,

✦ hoping her heart may come to soften towards men, or at least, towards him.

✦ i̶f̶ n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ w̶o̶r̶k̶s̶, h̶e̶ c̶a̶n̶ a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ e̶a̶t̶ h̶e̶r̶

Ais

✩ Ais’d be respectful of the MC's boundaries from the start.

✩ Reserved and cautious

✩ He would approach her with a calm, steady presence, offering protection without demanding anything in return.

✩ Ais would likely focus on actions over words, demonstrating his trustworthiness and reliability until the MC feels safe enough to open up to him.

✩ He would create a safe space for her, knowing that trust is something that must be earned.

✩ He would patiently encourage her to express herself and share her experiences, knowing that growth requires vulnerability.

✩ He would listen attentively, offering support and comfort without judgment.

✩ He would respect her boundaries and let her set the pace for their interactions, always making sure she feels in control.

Kuras

✞ He'd be a bit taken aback and thrown at first.

✞ Assuming the hate comes from trauma, he'd be understanding, if a bit awkward about it to start.

✞ He would probably try to be friendly, but he's not going to go out of his way to do extra stuff for her, either.

✞ Patient and trying to respect her boundaries,

✞ but he might get annoyed at some point 'cause he'd want to get to know her and try to develop a good relationship.

✞ He is a man with enough trauma of his own, though, so at the end of the day he'd understand where it's coming from.

✞ He's very protective of people he cares about, and he'd probably start to worry that she'll be ostracized or attacked by people

✞ If she's a misandrist just for the sake of it, he's not going to deal with that

✞ He doesn't care enough to get angry, at least not outwardly, so he'll just stop trying to get close to her, and would ignore her/keep interactions to a minimum

Mhin

🕊 Mhin would be cautious and probably keep their distance from her

🕊 They would probably end up being a silent ally

🕊 On one hand, they keep their guard up and maintain a distance

🕊 On the other hand, they quietly observe her and look for any signs of distress or trouble, ready to intervene if necessary.

🕊 They’d be internally frustrated by their own actions, feeling conflicted about helping someone who harbors such a… strong dislike

🕊 They'd eventually try to approach her carefully, aiming to have a few conversations with her, asking open-ended questions about her past experience, thus allowing the MC to open up at her own pace and decide how much to share.

🕊 Brief and to the point

🕊 They'd keep any personal information or feelings hidden away

🕊 They might feel a sense of guilt, as if they had personally wronged her.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

You're my sweetheart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Cute little birthday celebration for everyone's favorite guy!

warnings: swearing, sad Matt (as always) but he gets loved on I promise, underage drinking, fluff, Foggy and Bug being adorable friends

a/n: This chapter is sickly sweet so be prepared. I have some super angsty stuff coming though. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please feel free to reply/reblog/DM, I love feedback!!

w/c: 5.6k

Waking up to a ripple of pain throughout your head and an accompanying twist of nausea in your gut was unpleasant, to say the least. Groaning, you threw an arm over your aching head to block out the sliver of sunlight that had penetrated your thick blinds. As much as you would have welcomed more sleep, the persistent stabbing pain of your hangover was determined to keep you conscious.

Sitting up with a whine, you dug the heel of your hand into your brow, your other hand laying over your uneasy stomach. While last night had been overwhelmingly fun, you’d apparently gone a bit past your limits. You and Oscar had colluded for weeks to plan Jen’s 21st birthday party. You were in charge of food and decorations, Oscar–given that he was of the legal age–had been in charge of purchasing the alcohol. In typical Oscar fashion, he’d gone above and beyond, completely blowing your expectations out of the water.

After a grueling first semester and a chaotic winter break, you hadn’t really tried to be careful. Past-you had been totally fine overdoing it. Current-you was much less ok with that decision. As memories of the night wriggled their way out the sludge that surrounded your brain, your chest constricted with concern. If you weren’t doing well, it was unlikely Matt or Foggy were upright and jovial. Plus, there was a certain matter you needed to discuss.

The conversation was hazy, blurred by the alcohol lingering in your system, but you remembered the important things. As usual, you’d been pretty much glued to Foggy and Matt all night--maybe even more so since Evs wasn't there to put distance between everyone and your awkward, giggly self.

You didn't remember how it came up, but the three of you had started discussing birthdays. Foggy had lamented, saying his wasn't until July, but Matt had gone quiet. After a bit of prompting and a few more drinks, he'd quietly admitted that his birthday was months ago, in October. You and Foggy had screeched in disbelief, chastising him for not saying anything sooner—but the past was the past.

You and Foggy—Matt's only friends—hadn’t celebrated his first real adult birthday. If your own feelings were any indicator, you were sure Foggy was also devastated that he'd missed this. It almost felt like a personal failing.

Though you'd scolded Matt, anyone with a morsel of knowledge about his upbringing or insecurities would know he'd never have told anyone about his birthday unless specifically asked. This was an oversight that you intended to remedy, hopefully Fog did too.

Opening one eye and grasping for your phone, you managed to seize it from your wobbly nightstand before it clattered to the floor. Sliding the device open, you typed the message out at a snail's pace, each press of a key jostling the pulsating knot behind your eyes.

You: U alive?

The sound your phone emitted as the text was sent into the void nearly deafened you. Gripping it to your chest, you collapsed sideways, burying your head into the cool sheets. Your breathing slowed, consciousness ebbing, before a second text tone jolted you awake.

Foggy: barely

Smiling at your friend's parallel misery, you responded.

You: matt there?

Foggy: no. might b dead. will report back.

You: can we chat?

Before you could even comprehend the consequences of what you'd just asked, an ear-piercing verse of Fergie's “Big Girls Don't Cry” blasted through your phone's speaker. Changing Foggy’s ringtone last night didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You muttered, fumbling for the answer button. With a satisfied groan, you answered the call.

“Damn, you sound worse than I feel.” Foggy's hoarse voice chuckled over the line.

“So many regrets, Fog.” You moaned, squirming around on the bed while you waited for the ringing in your ears to subside. “Did we die? Is this hell?”

“Hey, speak for yourself. My good-christian-self is destined for eternal paradise.” Foggy scoffed.

“Point taken. If I'm still alive in a few hours, can we meet up to discuss our dear Matthew?” You asked, praying to god that your head stop aching with every breath you took.

“Discuss what exactly? Who'll be giving his eulogy when I find him dead in the communal bathroom?” Foggy grumbled. 

“Please tell me that's a bad joke.” You deadpanned.

“He's fine, jitterbug. He left twentyish minutes ago to puke his guts out.” Foggy confessed.

“Gross, Fog.” You grimaced.

”Hey, you asked!“ He protested. 

”I absolutely did not.” You laughed. “Can we meet up later?“

”Oh yah, forgot you asked. What are we meeting about?“ You could picture Foggy’s confused frown as he wondered aloud.

”His birthday, Fog.“ You explained, not quite in the mood to expound on the point.

”Shit, yah we should talk about that. Blue Java at 2?“ He suggested.

”Sounds good. Lower your expectations for my appearance. See you soon.” 

Ending the call, you collapsed back onto your pillows and let your eyes fall shut.

Lifting your eyes marginally as the bell chimed to signal someone's arrival, you felt a weight fall off your shoulders as a noticeably-disheveled Foggy shuffled in. His face was adorned with cartoonishly large, heart-shaped sunglasses; even through your own tinted lenses, you noticed the vibrant cherry red plastic accentuating his pale complexion. His long hair was tangled and greasy, tucked haphazardly behind his ears. Not raising his head more than he needed to, he trudged the few feet from the door to the wobbly table you were seated at, collapsing into a dented steel chair with a groan.

“Hey Fog,” You chuckled hoarsely as dropped his head to the table, shielding his face with his arms.

He grumbled incoherently, not looking up.

Snorting, and immediately regretting it as your head pulsed with a renewed ache, you poked his arm. “C'mon Fog, up and at 'em.”

“No,” Foggy groused, tightening his arms around his head as you continued to prod at him. “I'm mad at you.”

Throat tightening, you withdrew your hand. ”You're mad at me?“

”You dragged me across the city when I feel like utter crap. I think it's warranted,“ Foggy moaned.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you began jabbing him with your finger again. ”I think you'll get over it. Besides,“

Sliding a large paper cup over to the miserable boy, you forced it into the grip of one of his hands. ”I bought you a large snickerdoodle latte with extra whipped cream and four shots of espresso. That's gotta count for something, right?“

Foggy hummed appreciatively, dragging the cup towards his face as he gradually sat up. ”You're a godsend. I love you.“

”Damn, make up your mind, Nelson.“ You took a sip of your own coffee, briefly contemplating buying another before turning your attention back to your friend and his garish glasses. ”Those glasses look great on you, by the way.“

Foggy snorted, tossing his hair back over his shoulders. ”Why thank you. I found them in the dorm lost and found when I crawled back into the building after trying to brave the day without them.“

”Who would've thought such a fashion statement would happen by accident?“ You giggled.

”I'll have you know it was a deliberate choice to highlight my existing beauty.“ Foggy scoffed, pinching his own cheek.

Shaking your head at him, your tongue felt cemented in place, your brain not quite sure how to voice your concerns about your other friend.

As if he'd read your mind, Foggy dropped his chin to his chest. ”What the hell are we gonna do with him, bug?“

Tracing a finger around the plastic lid of his drink, Foggy looked downright morose, his glasses beginning to slip down the bridge of his nose as he pouted.

Digging your fingers into your brow, you kneaded circles into it to relieve the growing pressure. ”I have no clue, Fog. You really didn't know?“

”No!“ Foggy cried, clearly a bit offended. ”Birthdays are sacred, bug. Sacred! If he'd told me, I'd have...well, I'm not sure what I would have done. But I would have done SOMETHING.”

Nodding woefully, you tried to stifle the frustration building in your chest. “I know that he's probably not used to celebrating, but I can't believe he kept that from us. I don't know whether to be mad at him for not saying anything or mad at myself for not asking.”

“I hear that. Do we just let it slide?”

“Absolutely not.” You protested, your heart squeezing painfully at the idea of simply moving past this. “I actually might have an idea?”

When you hesitated, Foggy waved you on with a limp hand. ”What are you waiting for? It's scheming time!“

Biting your lip as your excitement grew, you launched into the plan your alcohol-soaked brain had cooked up when you fell asleep. Apparently, it wasn't too incomprehensible because Foggy was practically squealing by the end.

”That's PERFECT! How long do we have to prepare?“

”A week?“ You wondered aloud. ”I don't want him to think we've moved on, but we are going to need some time to make the arrangements.“

”Saturday it is. What do you need me to do?“

Grinning at Foggy's eager expression, you shrugged. “I don't know, Fog. What do you want to do?”

“Oh no!” Foggy shook his head, pointing a finger at you sternly. “You're the mastermind here. It's your job to tell me what to do.”

Laughing incredulously, you put your hands up in mock surrender. ”Ok, ok! One question: how are your cake-baking skills?“

Rolling his head in a circle to relieve the crick in his neck, Matt slipped his glasses off so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd been working on this legal research assignment for nearly two hours at this point and it was beginning to irritate him. His brain was too entrenched with other concerns to process the text sitting on his desk--meaning he needed to run his fingers over the same lines again and again in order to even grasp the subject of the material.

Slamming the book closed, he brought a hand up to his scalp, tugging on his hair with a growl. The thud of the book cover falling against coarse paper echoed throughout the empty room, making Matt frown. He wasn't quite sure what Foggy was up to, but it was clear Matt wasn't invited.

A few hours ago, his roommate had started gathering up his belongings and bundling up without a word. When Matt had asked him where he was going, Foggy had clammed up. Though Matt wasn't able to see it himself, he was confident the other man had been wearing a classic ”deer in headlights“ expression. The combination of his startled tone and scrunched face could only mean one thing:  Foggy was hiding something from him.

It was driving him up a wall. Listening to his best friend stammer out some shitty lie about needing to borrow a book from the library had to be one of the worst experiences of Matt's adult life. Foggy was such an honest person, hearing his heartbeat waver with deceit just felt so...wrong. It made him nauseous, in the same way the sound of styrofoam rubbing together did.

Swallowing around the emotions clogging his throat, Matt wet his lips. The more he thought about it, the more logical his anxieties seemed.

Foggy had been increasingly distant all week, and Matt had no idea why. The other man still spent time in their room, but it was limited, and it always felt like he was ready to bolt if Matt asked the wrong question. He'd come home at odd hours for the past three days, reeking of your familiar sweet perfume.

Despite Foggy's inability to admit to it, he'd been spending time with you--and Matt had not been invited.

When Matt had mentioned it to you, you'd waved off his concerns and quickly changed the subject, leaving him thoroughly confused. Both of you were dancing around a massive elephant whenever Matt was in the room, which was infuriating.

He'd thrown himself into their latest legal writing assignment in an attempt to think about anything other than the inevitable end of his two longest friendships, but he couldn't even manage to do that right. Which was odd because his routine this semester revolved pretty heavily around studying on Saturday afternoons.

Suddenly, he was struck by another wave of dread. Was this what the two of you refused to tell him? Was he holding you back from the true ”college“ life filled with underage drinking and loud music by being too concerned with your combined studies? Did you both find his insistence on staying in so unbearably annoying that you'd taken to making plans without him?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts, he inhaled deeply. No. That's not what was happening, he would have smelled the liquor on Foggy. Plus, you never seemed to mind spending a night in with him rather than going out on the town.

Allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the familiar sounds of his roommate returning to their room. At the sound of the door opening, he jumped—ramming the rickety desk chair into the desk with a bang as he tried to turn around.

”Jeez, it's just me buddy, no need to have an aneurysm.“ Foggy chuckled, lingering by the door until Matt regained his bearings.

”Sorry,“ Matt muttered, snatching his glasses from the desk and slipping them on.

”No need to apologize, Matty.“ Foggy responded cheerfully, launching himself onto his bed with a small grunt. ”I should've said something before I came in. What if you'd been with a lady?“

At Foggy's mock-gasp, Matt could feel his sullen resolve dissipating. He snorted, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile. “It's 3pm on a Saturday, Fog. Why would I bring a girl back here?”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Foggy twisted to give Matt a look. “Last week you took a girl home from Sunday Brunch at Tom's, Murdock. There's no telling what the handsome duck will do on a given day.”

A laugh burst out of Matt's lips against his will. Shaking his head, he let himself smile. “You told me to talk to her!”

“Uh yah, because she was making googly eyes at you and I'm a fantastic wingman. C'mon man, keep up!” Foggy smirked.

With a snort, Matt collapsed onto his own bed, letting his face fall towards Foggy's. “You are a fantastic wingman. I should be more grateful.”

“Damn right.” Foggy's grin was evident, the sound of his happy heart a welcomed thud in Matt's ears. The absence of Foggy's noisy self had filled their shared space with a stifling, uneasy silence. Now that the quiet had ended, Matt finally felt like he could breathe again.

”Matt, buddy?“ Foggy's direct question snapped him back to reality.

”Huh?“

Chuckling, Foggy shuffled over to Matt's bed, sitting beside him. ”Fallin' asleep on me, Murdock? I'll have you know, I am RIVETING company.”

“'M not falling asleep.” Matt protested, somewhat unbelievably as his eyes remained closed.

“Sure, sure. Tell that to the cartoon letter Z's coming out of your head, dude. I asked if you wanted to get dinner later?”

Foggy's hands twisted around each other, preventing his usual animated gestures. Matt's mattress shifted as his roommate wriggled uncomfortably. Anxiety was cascading off the long-haired man's shoulders, reigniting the dread in Matt's stomach.

Flipping to face the wall, Matt drew his knees towards his chest and away from his roommate's seated form. “Sure, Fog. whatever you want.”

Patting Matt's leg, Foggy's posture drooped with relief. “Great! You have a good nap and I'll wake you up when we have to leave.”

Giving his friend an indifferent thumbs up, Matt squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stop the tears from falling.

A handful of restless hours later, Matt's jaw was tight as he and Foggy walked across campus to meet you for dinner. Rather than allowing Foggy to guide him, as he'd grown accustomed to, he'd opted for walking alone with his cane. Foggy seemed a bit hurt, but didn't argue. As they closed in on the agreed upon meeting place, Foggy was practically skipping with nervous energy.

While you were still a few blocks away, Matt had focused on your pulse the minute he picked up on it. It was stuttering and unsteady, just like Foggy's–which did nothing to calm his nerves. Hearing Foggy's jacket rustle as he waved to you, Matt tried for a smile, though he was sure it wasn't very convincing.

“Hey guys!” You greeted, jogging over to them. “Long time no see!”

“VERY long time.” Foggy laughed nervously. “Barely remember who you are, actually.”

You snorted, pulling Matt into a hug despite his rigid posture. “Hey trouble. I missed you this week.”

Melting into your embrace, Matt tucked his nose into your scarf, relishing the scent of vanilla and light floral perfume that coated the accessory. You'd missed him. The thought of you valuing his presence enough to notice the absence of it after a few days warmed his heart.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

Unraveling your arms from around his waist, you slid a hand into his elbow and squeezed gently. “Everything ok? You two seem tense.”

“Tense? Pfft, never. I'm great. Best I've ever been, even. Off to dinner with my two friends, the three musketeers. Nothing could be better.” Foggy rambled aimlessly, twiddling his thumbs.

Letting Foggy's words hang in the air for a moment, you made a strangled noise, tugging Matt backwards as your footsteps stopped. Resting a hand on Matt's forearm, you chuckled. “Fuck, he's been like this all day, hasn't he? No wonder you seem stressed.”

Gawking, Foggy started to sputter out an excuse but you ignored him, continuing to speak to Matt as if you two were alone. “Don't fret, bubs. He's just nervous he'll ruin the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Matt wondered aloud, “What surprise?”

“Yah, bug. What surprise?” Matt could practically hear Foggy staring daggers at you.

“Fog, look at him. He's freaking out.” You observed, frowning at Matt's tight jaw and scrunched brow.

“I am not.” Matt blushed, ducking his head as he felt your eyes roaming over his face. Your ability to read him like a picture book never ceased to unsettle him.

“Sure, trouble. Let's just finish our walk and all this anxiety will be over, ok?” You bumped your hip against his, ignoring his attempt to maintain his suave image. “Don't let Fog scare you, he's just worried he'll lose the bet.”

“I am not!”

“You are too. We both know how dangerous your loose lips can be.” Placing your free hand on Matt's bicep, you turned your attention back to the dark-haired boy. “Promise he didn't say anything to you?”

“I am absolutely clueless.” Matt confirmed.

“Ha! I told you I could keep it a secret.” Foggy boasted.

“We'll see, Fog. We aren't there yet.” You reminded him.

“It's not MY fault I'm so eager to tell him. He's my best friend!” Foggy pouted.

“Which is why we made the bet as extra motivation, Fog.” You chuckled.

“You guys know I'm still here, right?“ Matt asked nervously, feeling too similar to a cow being led to slaughter for his liking.

Foggy threw an arm around his shoulders in lieu of a response, leaning forward to direct his next comment at you specifically.

“You do know where we're going right? Because this feels a lot like walking in circles.”

Matt could practically hear your eye roll. “You know, next time we plan something, you can pick the venue.”

Foggy tossed his far hand into the air. “Hey, I'm not judging.”

“Tell that to your judging tone, Nelson. You're giving me second thoughts and it's a bit late for that.” You teased. “And I'd like to remind you, I was pretty hungover when we planned this.”

“So WAS I!”

Matt let your playful bickering wash over him, feeling the start of a smile playing on his lips.

The walk to your destination wasn't far, only a few blocks, but the combination of the blistering wind and aching cold made it feel like an eternity. Matt was relatively familiar with the campus, but you were walking past the buildings he was familiar with towards a less populated corner of the college. It's not that he wasn't ok exploring an unfamiliar area of Manhattan, it just didn't help his growing confusion about the situation the two of you were keeping from him.

After the 8 block stroll, which Foggy complained about thoroughly, you reached the Northern edge of Columbia. Standing on the cracked sidewalk, Matt could feel the campus fighting with the rest of the city–the sounds of screaming college students competing with blaring horns and shrill whistles just one block over. The sounds were slightly muddled by the brick building you'd stopped at, echoing off opposite walls and ricocheting in all directions.

“Are we finally here?” Foggy groaned, voice muffled by the scarf he'd tucked over his nose and mouth in, what Matt assumed, was a futile attempt to keep warm.

“Matty, remind me to stop inviting Fog to things.” You quipped, knocking solidly on a locked metal door as Foggy gasped in offense.

The thick steel entrance was quickly unlatched by a man, whose deep voice Matt didn't recognize, halting your and Foggy's renewed bickering.

”Thanks Josh!“ You squeezed the man's shoulder before stepping through the threshold and into the strange building. ”Right this way, gentlemen!“ You called over your shoulder to your friends who hurried to take shelter from the winter chill.

Once inside, Matt's shoulders relaxed as the tension seeped out of them. Escaping the awful cold was a welcomed relief, and, on top of that, the unfamiliar space was immensely…quiet. 

The surrounding walls were thick and much better suited to keeping city noise out than any of the other academic buildings he'd walked through. Sound-proofed maybe? His practiced ears could still hear screeching tires and pounding club music, but the noises were unusually faint–as if his ears were covered with a hundred layers of spun cotton.

Inside the building, soft classical music was playing. Perfectly tuned string instruments sang brilliantly with the accompaniment of expert percussionists. It was peaceful in a way Matt hadn't experienced since listening to the St. Agnes choir rehearse as a child.

Letting his mind get lost in the melodies drifting through the hallways, Matt absently felt you take his arm, guiding him up a few sets of stairs and into a carpeted room. The scent of burning candle wax and sugar filled his nose, and he could feel Foggy's excitement peaking.

”Happy belated birthday, buddy!” His roommate clapped him on the back, ushering him into a seat as you fiddled with what must have been a window lock.

“What?” Matt asked, truly perplexed as Foggy uncorked a bottle of wine and poured three glasses. His birthday? How did you two even– Oh god. A hazy memory ran through his mind; a confession falling off his inebriated lips. Shit.

“You didn't think we'd forgotten that little tidbit, did you?” You teased, cranking a wobbly handle and unsealing the window. With a quiet 'pop', the window burst open and music flooded the room. “There we go! Let me know if it's too loud, trouble.”

Matt's throat was clenched as he truly took in his surroundings. Though he'd never been, he assumed, based on the context clues, that he was listening to the orchestra practice from somewhere in the music building. He wasn't quite sure how you and Foggy had discovered this space, or gained access to it, but he wasn’t going to question your combined wills. “You did this...for me?”

“Course we did, bud! Birthdays deserve a celebration!!” Foggy explained, pressing a glass of sparkling wine into his hand.

“We got sandwiches from the corner deli, champagne from the market, a cake from Silver Moon bakery, and,” You pulled up a chair beside Matt, squeezing his arm as you sat down. “We get to listen to the Orchestra's rehearsal for their ballet next week!”

Matt opened his mouth to say something, hopefully expressing his immense gratitude in the process, but the words refused to form. Swallowing a gulp of the sweet bubbly drink, he fought back the urge to cry.

“Do you like it?” Foggy asked eagerly, his eyes burning holes into Matt's forehead as he tried to read the blind man's reaction.

“I–I love it.” Matt murmured, eyes stinging with tears. “You didn't have to go through so much effort–”

“Oh stop,” You waved off his customary guilt, bumping his shoulder with your own. “We wanted to, bubs. You deserve to have a good birthday. Next time, maybe even in the correct month.”

Matt chuckled weakly at that. “Thank you both. I—I’m sorry for not saying anything last semester…” Trailing off, Matt debated whether to be brutally honest about his upbringing. A warm palm was placed over his hand, which you then squeezed encouragingly. 

“If you want to tell us, we’re here to listen.” Was your soft reminder. 

“We love you, dude. We just want you to feel comfortable with us.” Foggy explained, knocking a knee against Matt’s. 

“I do, I swear! I just…I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my dad passed. I don’t think the nuns even knew that it was in October.” Matt snorted, his small laugh tinged with bitterness. “I didn’t want to bother you both by asking for something, I guess.” 

“Oh, Matt.” Foggy says mournfully, scooching his chair closer to the dark-haired boy. 

“You deserve to be celebrated, trouble.” You remarked, fingers dancing in your lap to the rhythm of the music. “And don’t think this belated party absolves you of one for this coming October. This was a backlog situation.” 

Foggy raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.” 

Downing the small portion of alcohol, he grimaced. “Oh my god! This is awful.”

“It’s the best I could do! Oscar is out of town.” You lamented, coughing on your own swallow.

Matt smiled. “Maybe you two are just weak.” 

You both scoffed at that, immediately pouring yourselves more to drink. 

The sandwiches were decent, as always, but the cake was phenomenal. Chocolate sponge filled with a rich ganache and covered in vanilla whipped cream. Though Matt loved dessert as much as the next person, it could be hard for him to find things that weren’t filled with chemicals, way too much sugar, or–god forbid–non-edible items that warranted a health code violation. Not only had the two of you managed to find a cake that he enjoyed, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was not just a lucky guess. 

The two of you truly knew him.

A month ago, maybe even a week ago, he would’ve been terrified. All the lessons Stick had taught him, the main reason he hadn’t formed any lasting relationships in his two decades on Earth, had boiled down to one principle: proximity to others is dangerous. But you and Foggy had proven his former mentor wrong. Matt’s life had improved significantly since he’d set foot on Columbia’s campus, all because of the two of you and your massive hearts. 

Placing another forkful of cake into his mouth, Matt was suddenly giddy with gratitude. The champagne undermining his ordinarily reluctant subconscious and revealing the immense love that he held for the two of you. By the time you’d all demolished the food, his limbs had been warmed by the alcohol. 

“At least you know Fog will never find another best friend behind your back, Matt.” You giggled, bringing him back to the present as you drained the bubbles from your glass. “He wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.”

“You make it sound like he’s my paranoid spouse or something!” Foggy laughed.

“Paranoid?” Matt gasped. “Who told you!”

“Uh oh, you’re in the doghouse now, Nelson!” You beamed, licking icing from your fork. “You shouldn’t speak ill of your wife like that.”

“Ok, first of all,” Foggy raised a hand. “He’d clearly be the husband in this scenario.”

“Clearly.” Matt jested, rolling his eyes to you. 

“Second of all,” Foggy spoke over him. “Matt has made it very clear that he is not interested in legalizing our profound bond.”

As Foggy broke off into fake sobs, you gasped and Matt cackled. “Matthew! Why would you turn down such a marvelous offer?” You scolded, standing to give Foggy a wobbly hug as his dramatized reaction gradually slowed.

“I know why,” Foggy sniffled, shifting his body away from Matt with a pout. “It’s because of my inadequacy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Fog?” Matt chuckled, crossing his arms as he waited for Foggy to reveal the punchline.

“I can't—can't...” Foggy stammered emphatically. Rubbing circles on his back, you frowned in exaggerated concern, your breath stifled as you tried desperately not to laugh.

“It's ok, Fog. This is a safe space. You can tell us anything.” You reminded the blond, clearly in as much anticipation as Matt was.

“I can't DANCE!” Foggy cried, collapsing to the ground in a heap. “And heaven will burn before Matthew Murdock marries someone who would step on his toes.”

You and Matt erupted into boisterous laughter as Foggy stuck his nose into the air. “It's true. Tell her, Matt. Tell her about my left feet!”

Still giggling, Matt shook his head. “Fog, I'm blind! You've taken a whole semester of modern dance! If anyone has two left feet it's me.”

Jumping to his feet a bit unsteadily, Foggy swept an arm across the room, beginning to slow dance by himself. “Woe is me!” He cried with a forcibly shaky voice. “No partner to dance with!”

“I'll dance with you, Fog. You poor thing,” You cooed, squealing in delight as Foggy grasped your hand and spun you towards him.

Matt beamed as he heard the two of you swaying to the rhythm of the music playing throughout the building. Foggy was humming softly along and you were attempting to get your tipsy limbs to obey the commands your brain was sending.

“Ok, I'm getting way too dizzy. Time to cut in, Murdock!” You chuckled, plopping down into your seat as Matt stood from his.

“Gladly!” Matt smirked, yelping as Foggy yanked him forward and positioned his hands on the long-haired man's own hips.

“I'm confused, aren't you leading?” Matt questioned, body going slack as Foggy began to twirl them around.

“I'm trying! Pick up your damn feet, dude!” Foggy scoffed, kicking Matt's shoe lightly.

“Then why are my arms underneath yours?”

“Because I'M the WIFE!”

“But you have to lead!” Matt shot back, still chuckling.

“Ugh, forget it. It'll never work between us, dear Matthew. Remember me when you dance with your bride on your wedding day.” Foggy clapped him on the back, curtseying before stepping away. ”Farewell, sweet prince!“

Shaking his head as Foggy strode away, Matt turned his attention to you, smiling rougishly. “Hmmm, it seems I'm in need of a new partner. Care to dance with me, sweetheart?”

Shrieking with laughter, you attempted to make your escape by darting around your chair, but Matt snatched you around the waist, pulling your hips towards his.

“I'm no Franklin Nelson, Matty. I'll trip over you!” You protested, weakly trying to squirm out of his grip, smile still gracing your lips.

“I don't mind, bug. If you want to give it another shot, that is.” Matt loosened the hold he had on your hips, allowing you to refuse if you truly wanted to, but you remained mere centimeters from him.

“S-sure, Matty. How do I...” You flexed your fingers, unsure of where to place your hands.

“Fog?” Matt called to his roommate, grinning when the blond rushed over in a huff to 'correct their form'.

With your hands linked around his neck, and his palms pressed gently against your hips, Matt inhaled deeply as he focused on the tempo of the song currently playing. Swishing the two of you from side to side, Matt stepped carefully in a waltz motion, the very one he'd heard Foggy practicing night after night during the slow dancing unit of his class.

His movements weren't nearly as confident as Foggy's but you seemed pleasantly surprised, letting him move you around the room with a bit less force than your other friend had. Tilting into him slightly, you huffed out an exhale.

”Dizzy?“ Matt asked quietly, hearing your eyelids flutter closed.

”Drank too fast, I think.“ You reasoned, scrunching your nose as the ground continued to spin beneath you.

”C'mere, sweetheart.“ Matt clasped his hands behind your lower back, tucking your head under his chin as he slowed his movements. ”Need to sit down?“

”No,“ You sighed, nuzzling into the junction of his neck and shoulder. ”This is better.“

”I'm glad.“ Matt murmured, pretending not to feel Foggy staring daggers into his back.

Humming appreciatively, your thumb rubbed over his nape. ”You smell nice, Matty.“

Huffing out a laugh, Matt battled the urge to plant a kiss to your crown. ”So do you, sweets. Thank you for a great birthday.“

”Of course.“ Your thumb continued to stroke small lines over his neck. ”You deserve it.“

Withdrawing slightly from your embrace, Matt craned his neck towards where his other friend was finishing the last dregs of the champagne. ”Thank you too, Fog. I appreciate you both so much.“

”We love you too, buddy.“ Foggy smiled, stepping over the spread of food to help remove you from Matt's side.

Gently sliding you into a seated position on the carpet, Foggy sat to your left, prodding you until you nestled back onto Matt's shoulder to your other side. Plucking a fleece blanket from the floor, the blond wrapped it around the three of you cozily.

”There we go. Everyone warm enough?“ Foggy asked. You nodded sleepily as Matt hummed his assent.

Tapping his fingers to the steady beat of the percussionists below, Matt closed his eyes, smile never falling from his face. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[baldurs-writers-3]

Injuries: A Baldur's Gate 3 Rec List

This week, we have fics featuring blood and injury! Check under the cut for fourteen fics exploring pain and its aftermath of all different sorts. And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Any kind of life (without you my dear) by QueenMaria (18129,Teen) Warnings: No major warnings Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Feign death is only supposed to last an hour; Tav goes down in a fight.

Reccer says: I love how the author uses "flashbacks" of dialog from the game to make scenes more poignant. A lovely hurt/comfort fic.

The (barn) is spinning by nostrix (879,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Karlach & Wyll

Wyll gets a concussion post Barn fight and Karlach makes sure he doesn't immediately eat dirt about it

Reccer says: Well described hurt and very nice comfort to round it all out afterwards

Breathe, breathe in the air - Leave, but don't leave me by nostrix (1976,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Lae'zel & Shadowheart

Shadowheart almost doesn't make it out of the Iron Throne, but Lae'zel makes sure she does

Reccer says: They really captured the fast pace of this fight, and the desperation of the situation Shadowheart finds herself in is perfect!

Protector by violinbythefire (2138,Teen) Warnings: Pairings: Karlach/Tav

Tav grew up in a society where he was disposable as a male. He's certain that his party would leave him for dead when the chandelier fell on him.

Reccer says: I love characters with no self-preservation being forced to deal with people who love them enough to force them to take care of themselves

The Light of the Seven by Verelia (13812,Mature) Warnings: Implied violence, implied sexual assaults, etc. (Typical Cazador stuff, but worth mentioning) Pairings: N/A

A series of one shots exploring each of Cazador's spawn.

Reccer says: I love how these are written, and how they bring very minor canonical characters to life. I was especially taken with the descriptions of the sea in Yousen's chapter; and the terrifying circumstances of his "spawning" by the Szarrs.

Old Breaks by Asidian (8016,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Halsin

Astarion's pretty good at hiding the signs of his chronic pain, but Halsin is pretty good about seeing them anyway, and is even better at convincing the vampire to accept help for them

Reccer says: Top tier comfort and caretaking

Ambush by Rimeko (2737,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion & Wyll

Astarion get's injured while he and Wyll are out scouting. He walks back, complaining about his hurt foot. Wyll assumes it is sprained, because after all, Astarion is just a magistrate, right?

Reccer says: I love the exploration of how Wyll thinks of his companions in the early days, and how that is forced to rapidly change each time he learns something new about them.

the blade falls by PurpleCatGhost (4097,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Wyll & Friends

Wyll used to know his own limits fairly well, but that was before the tadpole. Besides that, having friends you can rely on is also a new experience, though at least this one is a nice one

Reccer says: I really enjoy Wyll realizing just a little bit too late that his injuries are worse than he thought, and then everyone's response to that being "How dare you not tell us you needed help >:("

temporal displacement by PurpleCatGhost (4796,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

Or Present Day Astarion ends up in a temporal mishap that has him meeting Twenty Year Old Past Wyll while he’s on death’s door. He steps in to do something about it.

Reccer says: It's so sweet and soft

Less Than Ideal by jeejaschocolate (5021,General) Warnings: some internalized ableism and drinking to cope Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

Being burned by hellfire left Wyll with poor eyesight in his solitary eye. Astarion notices. Of course, he can’t keep his opinions to himself.

Reccer says: Lovely exploration of vulnerability

This Protector by Mellybaggins (4382,Teen) Warnings: Injury (obviously) Pairings: Astarion/Tav

"Morwen and Astarion go off on their own to explore the second floor of the Reithwin Tollhouse and they learn the hard way why you should never split the party."

Reccer says: It's a self-contained character moment for Tav and Astarion. I like that it shows what their relationship is like outside of the larger plot or a sex scene. It's a deleted scene of a larger work but can be read out of context as a standalone.

Fated by FartasticDurge (43896,Explicit) Warnings: Smut, Trauma, Lack of consent, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Tav with memory loss goes through the whole adventure, with some new twists and turns as new information unfolds itself.

Reccer says: I loved it!

Purification by yasminkhxns (2094,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Lae'zel & Friends, Lae'zel/Shadowheart

The Zaith'isk causes more damage than initially thought

Reccer says: I loved it!

Wither and Bloom by onlymine139 (2642,Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Halsin/Tav

After a bloody fight with Orin, Tav realizes the air in the Bhaal temple may be affecting her more strongly than the others. Her druidic magic wavers and she feels ill. Luckily Halsin has seen this type of sickness before.

Reccer says: I loved it!

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with Cuddling fics and/or fics focusing on Shadowheart!

[astermath]

happy birthday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen reminds you it’s your birthday. the two of you celebrate in your own way.

word count: 0.8K

notes: got inspired by @superhoeva​ and her super cute carmen blurbs, def check her stuff out!! lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! requests are open!

By now, you’re used to closing up with Carmen. You were used to his routine of cleaning up and organizing, the order in which he’d do things, the cigarette you shared after you were done. 

And Carmen had gotten used to you too. The songs you’d hum as you mopped the floor, the way you’d sneakily organize the documents on his desk, the way you always put the spices back in the wrong order, but it was fine, because it was you. 

So needless to say you were a bit surprised when your usual routine was disturbed. You were in the middle of dusting off the cooker hood when he suddenly disappeared. “Carmy?” You’d called out, putting the cloth away for a moment to go look for him. What a great setup for a horror movie this would have been...

You walked into his office and looked around, until your eyes fell on a single slice of pie on his desk, adorned with a lit birthday candle. You raised an eyebrow, approaching and noticing the card besides it. 

You noticed a shadow behind you, and there he was, leaning against the doorway. Though that still didn’t explain things for you, a confused expression remaining on your face. “What’s this for?” You question, gesturing to the dessert.

A small smile graced his typically tired features. “S’your birthday today.”

Oh.

Fuck, right.

“Oh... Shit.” You said, chuckling to yourself. You recalled you told him in passing over a month ago, complaining that you didn’t have time to celebrate and that the years were practically passing you by.

You sat down at his desk, inspecting the clearly store bought card. It read “it’s a girl!”, with “girl” crossed out in red sharpie and your age written beneath it. 

“It was the only one they had left,” Carmen said, returning to sit at his desk with you with the rest of the pie. “I hope the pie makes up for it.”

You chuckled. “Absolutely,” you glanced at the candle”, “now do I make a wish or somethin’?” 

“You can.” He started cutting himself a slice.

“Hm... Alright.” You leaned in, closing your eyes and blowing out the candle. “Now I gotta taste this. Made it yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, laughing sarcastically. “I’m offended you’d think I’d curse your birthday with store bought pie. Dig in.”

You obliged, taking a bite and leaning back in your seat, nodding. “Mhm, mhm... As expected, delicious.” You went in for another bite. “Never took you for a pastry chef.”

“Me neither,” He took a bite himself, “improvised a bit for the special occasion.”

Your heart fluttered slightly at the thought of him going out of his comfort zone a bit just to make you something nice. All for an occasion you didn’t even remember. As much as he sucked at showing it, he did really care about his crew. And... Maybe just a little more about you specifically. But he’d never admit that to the rest.

The two of you enjoy a slice of pie in relative silence, before returning to the parking lot, sitting on the curb, where he lit a cigarette. 

“You know,” you started, “I haven’t done anything for my birthday in years.” You looked at him, the glow emitting from his lighter doing wonders for framing his face. Even after a painfully long shift, he was still so pretty. You’d even go as far the tiredness of his features added to his look.

“Well,” He handed you the cigarette, “hope this was a nice change of pace.” Your fingers linger over each other a little longer than usual when you take it from him.

“Yeah,” you smile, “it was.” You brought it to your lips, looking up at the night sky, and Carmen did the same. “Although I could think of something else that could have made it even better.”

Carmen smiled slightly, thinking your answer would have been something along the lines of “whipped cream” or “champagne”.

What he didn’t expect was to feel your hand on his cheek, bringing his attention towards you, and to feel your soft lips on his. 

You flicked the cigarette to the side and tilted your head slightly, leaning in further to deepen the kiss. He returned it after getting over his initial surprise, hands not moving as he was still processing what was happening. Just like it had been ages since you’d celebrated your birthday, it had been ages since he’d been kissed. If he could even remember the last time...

You pulled away after a few moments, eyes remaining closed in fear of opening them and it all being a dream. They fluttered open at the feeling of his hand coming up to touch your jaw.

“Shit... That...” He started, eyes half lidded and cheeks tinged pink with a soft blush.

“Don’t you dare say ‘that was fire chef’...” You laughed and he followed along, foreheads leaning against each other as you both savored the moment.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t.” He smiled, leaning in once again.

Damn.

You didn’t expect your birthday wish to come true so quickly.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar   @spr3id   @deadandstill  

[insom-nom-nom-niatic]

I see you write Troy Otto Fics 🫣

“you fixed me. you fixed my broken heart.”

could I request a angst turned fluffy fic where Troy is being an ass but around reader he’s an awkward ass bc he doesn’t know how to process his feelings but one day reader confronts him and is like “dude tf” and he reveals it all ? 👉🏽👈🏽

It has been quite a while since I have done any requests and succeeded in actually writing them, so first of all THANK YOU. And secondly, this terrified me so I'm sorry if I changed a few things because that's how my head works.

CHARACTERS: Troy Otto x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Normal FTWD stuff. FEELS!

Everyone within a few miles distance could have heard the yelling coming from the militia tent. No one could tell who had started it when the ruckus had suddenly erupted moments ago. All you could tell was that the boys were finally fighting back at Troy, making your feet pace a little quicker and making your way across the ranch. 

When you made it to the ruckus, you noticed the eyes peeping through the windows of the outlying RVs and tents scattered around. Giving an all knowing smile to the peeping eyes, you quickly disappeared behind the tan curtains finding a group of 5 men squaring off against 2, Troy, with Nick holding Troy back. 

Your entrance was soon noticed and the group grew silent. 

“What in the holy hell is wrong with you all?” Toeing up to John who was rubbing the newly formed bruise on his jaw. Nick let go of his hold on Troy’s jacket, heading to the back of the tent with a grunting sigh, catching your gaze as he did so. 

“You have all been a bunch of children the past few days, and now this?” Turning on your heels you make eye contact with Troy. Scanning his features, you take in the red patches growing upon his cheek and jaw line before meeting his gaze once more, this time more worry and sadness laced in your eyes. “You’re going to attract every walker within miles, and if you’re all fighting eachother, who is going to fight for the rest of us?” 

All men in the tent sunk a bit in their boots, all eyes staring at the ground. Troy’s cheeks reddened, not from a sucker punch this time. You look over to Nick, a smirk turning at the corners of his lips as he stared back. 

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Cooper spoke up. “We had a disagreement. We will watch our voices.”

John scoffed loudly, his eyes shooting back up to Troy on the opposite side of you. “I think she should know. We’re done getting the shit end of everything and still getting shit on while others can skate by and get the royalty treatment.” His eyes then shifted to you, scanning your frame up and down. You could feel the hair on your neck raise at the feeling, and you could feel the way Troy shifted his weight behind you. 

“It’s not her fault,” Nick finally raised his voice. The tone sounding over this bull shit and ready for someone to lay everything out. “You’re all being a bit dramatic anyways. Troy hasn’t done shit, except be an ass as usual.” 

This earned a raised eyebrow and questioning look from Troy, standing with both hands on his hips. Everyone knew Troy was kind of an ass, that’s how he got the miltia where it is, but you had never really seen what everyone else said about him. He was typically kind and oddly gentle when you were around him. He wasn’t this “monster” you hear the ranch whispering about. 

“Troy-” you took a deep breath, your back still turned towards him with your eyes staring straight back at John. “-Say you’re sorry.”

The tent went still. No one, not even Troy, was expecting that. No one told Troy what to do other than his late father and brother, and after they had expired, no one would have ever tried. Let alone tell him to apologize. 

To everyone’s surprise, Troy spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice low and grumbled through gritted teeth, but he said it. The men all shook their heads in response. Not knowing how or what to do next, they funneled out of the tent one by one. All as quiet as a mouse leaving only Troy and yourself in the space.

Turning on your heels, you lock eyes with the tall brunette. His face red and one eye growing bloodshot from what you assume was a nice hit from John. His eyes weren’t angry though… he was nervous as he tried his best to maintain the eye contact. 

“I didn’t think you would actually say it, but I’m glad you did.” Your lips turned into a gentle smile, closing the distance between you both. Your hands reached up to his face, cradling his jaw in both palms, fingers carefully brushing over the small cuts and broken capillaries in his skin. 

Troy returned the smile once he felt your warm touch. His blue eyes fluttering closed with a sense of comfort that felt so extraterrestrial to him. “Thank you for stopping us, Nick, that bastard, was close to getting his ass kicked too.” His voice cracked witha chuckle between his words. 

“Your still a ass though, Troy. You have to change that. I hear it from so many here, yet I never see it. So I know you are capable of being a gentleman, Troy Otto.” 

“If you tell me to, then I guess I have to.” Troy’s body shook with a mischievous laugh. His eyes opening to find yours once more. The closeness between you both instinctively closing little by little. “You fixed me, you know that?”

His words caught you off a little bit, making you stutter in your actions. His skin felt warm against your touch, his mere presence so close brought on a sense of safety and openness. You could have stayed like that for hours… days. It somehow felt right. 

What he spoke, however, caused a twisting feeling in your gut. 

“I was broken after everything, after everyone was gone. I was alone and hurt in so many ways,” Troy’s eyes softened. He had figured opening up to you would be impossible, his feelings always getting the best of him and taking any words he wanted to say and throwing them out the window. Bu here and now, with you like this, he was at peace. 

“I was broken and you fixed me-” His eyes fell from your own to land upon your lips, those nerves that had stopped him from saying it all previously appearing in his belly again. “-so thank you.”

You could feel his tension grow in the moment so you took matters into your own hands, raising to your tip-toes and crushing your lips to his. Years it had been since you had ever felt this feeling. Even then, it didn’t feel like this, not this strong. 

Troy was a pain in the ass. 

At times, an actual ass. 

But you were his golden key to change. 

And there was about to be a lot of it. 

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Khun Chai

I did it, y’all. I watched my first lakorn, and let me tell you, I had a fucking fantastic time doing it. Now that’s not a blanket endorsement of the genre, because I understand Khun Chai aka To Sir, With Love is pretty unique, particularly in that it’s a period queer love story with a happy ending. But as a different kind of Thai drama than any I’d previously seen, it was truly a great watch.

It has some flaws, sure. It’s a soap opera, so melodrama, repetitive story beats, overdramatic acting, and slow pacing are par for the course. If you go in understanding that, you’ll be fine. And the episodes are long af but don’t be shy about increasing the playback speed - I watched a lot of it at 1.5x and it was perfectly smooth. Now that I’ve finished it, I think the time investment was totally worth it (@bengiyo my final rec - worth going back to finish! It worked better for me when I broke it up in chunks of 2-3 episodes at a time).

Without further ado, the top ten reasons I loved it:

1. TIAN MY BELOVED

Look at him. Just look at his beautiful traumatized face!! I hold that it’s impossible to watch this entire show and not come out absolutely loving this man. He is so believably flawed but at his core he is good. He is generous. He is loyal. He is brave. And he looks very good in a three piece suit.

Honestly I could do a whole top ten list just about Tian but let’s move on and give some love to the rest of the show.

2. Did I mention this is a PERIOD ROMANCE??!! Something we get so precious little of in bl. I asked @absolutebl a while back if they knew of any other Thai period bls, and this was the entire list. So good thing it’s excellent!

The show is set in the 1930s and 40s in Japanese-occupied Thailand, and it centers on a powerful Thai-Chinese family (currently leading a cooperative partnership of five families) and the power struggle over who will be the heir (Succession, but make it Asian and queer). The show digs into really interesting family structure, politics, and class struggle stuff.

3. The brotherly bond is unmatched and undefeated. The plot centers on two brothers, Tian and Yang, who love each other so much, like I cannot emphasize enough how willing these brothers are to protect and die for each other. If someone was shooting at them they would both try to dive in front of the bullet. Their bond is so touching and provides an emotional through line when the plot gets wacky.

4. The classic soap opera plots are truly brilliant, all your favorite tropes are here. This show has everything - family secrets, nefarious schemes, murderous maids, mystical poisons, faen fatales, even sex pollen! As I believe @ginnymoonbeam put it at one point - everything is happening so much all the time. It’s truly a delightful romp, especially after the halfway point when the plot machinations really kick into high gear.

5. The queer love story is the main romance and emotional heart of the show. There are actually two romances in this show - each of the brothers gets a love interest. And both of them are lovely. But rather than the typical move where a het drama features a queer side pairing, here the entire story is driven by Tian’s sexual identity, the burden placed on him to keep it a secret, and how increasingly impossible that becomes once he meets Jiu. Over the course of this show, we get to watch Tian fall in love and finally live his truth and see how that changes him. It’s truly beautiful, and the romance between Tian and Jiu is so sweet (and a bit racier than I expected - the show does not shy away from the sexual aspect of this relationship). The romance between Yang and Pin is also very sweet - they are adorable tbh - but entirely secondary.

6. Every frame of this show is absolutely gorgeous. The scenery is lush, the costumes are beautiful, the tailoring is impeccable, the hair and makeup never misses. It’s truly a feast for the eyes.

7. There are so many good female characters in this show, y’all! Tian and Yang have not one but 4 or 5 different mother figures. They are all flawed, complex, and a little nuts. They get up to so much trouble and drive a lot of the plot with their scheming, hijinks, and prolific wielding of murderous sparkle dust (don’t ask, you have to see it to understand). Pin, Tian’s would be fiancé turned sister-in-law, is a total sweetheart, but she’s also smart and fierce with a steel core and not afraid to tell her man when he’s being stupid. There’s even a lady boss at the head of one of the five families.

8. Relatedly, there is so much complex family drama in this show, and so many interesting dysfunctional parental relationships. @waitmyturtles you will have a field day when you finally get to watch this. Both brothers have fraught relationships with their various parent figures, for very different reasons. The various relationships and resentments that form between the wives and the sons in a polygamous family unit (did I mention that yet? there are three wives in the mix here and the brothers have different biological moms) are absolutely fascinating.

9. The resolution to the succession plot and ultimate defeat of the Big Bad was so satisfying. I won’t get into spoiler territory, but let me just say that the characters went through a lot together and to see the way they ultimately had to come together and let go of their baggage to survive was very cool. It felt earned.

10. IT ENDS WITH A BIG OLD HEAP OF GAY DOMESTIC BLISS!!! I will get into spoiler territory here because you deserve to know that if you put in the time to watch this show you will be rewarded with a very happy couple forming a family unit and living peacefully on their own terms. I was so pleased with this ending, I can’t even tell you. The final scenes made me cry real tears, I was so touched. And they even put a literal rainbow in the sky at the end. A literal rainbow! Come on!

Watch it, friends! It’s worth your time.

[devilry-revelry]

Untitled - Male Orc x Female Human (Part 4)

OOPS I TRIPPED.

Not lemon, but maybe lemon zest?

Minors Do Not Interact

This marks the original concept/story for these two. First story was Riley worrying about stuff and things. Names may have changed since then. It's hard to remember. Ya know, because I deleted everything.

-

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

-

“Fuck,” Arzok snickered. He sounded absolutely winded from all of the laughter. “I’m not just going to ram it in and hope for the best, Riley. I promise you, we’ll fit together just fine.”

-

Riley’s curiosity was a dirty little bitch; a needy insatiable little whore.

Four weeks, and seven dates had left Riley’s baser urges feeling frayed and restless. After their second date they had shared the first kiss, and had since enjoyed a bit of necking. It was during their last date when their kisses turned downright sinful. Sitting in the car outside of her apartment in the middle of the night, Arzok’s hand clasped around her throat, the other slipping up her skirt as his tongue dominated her mouth. He’d teased her for just a moment, thick fingers tracing a slow path over the cleft of her pussy before he completely withdrew and bid her goodnight. Riley had been a mess ever since then. Any attempts to ease the tension Arzok had created left her feeling bereft and wanting. His had been such a strong, and commanding presence. Fiddling around with her vibrator didn’t do her any favors. 

And that’s where her dirty, dirty curiosity came in. 

Riley couldn’t help but think that her and Arzok’s first time together would be coming up soon. They had discussed her staying at his place for a weekend. Planning was still tentative at best but it was something they talked about with increased frequency. Arzok lived a little over thirty minutes outside of town, and while he claimed that the commute wasn’t any trouble, they had both agreed that a relaxing weekend without all of the typical date-night run around would be a nice change of pace. That, of course, meant that Riley would be staying at Arzok’s house and, sure, she could sleep on the couch or in a spare room, but she probably wouldn’t. Sex or not. Because they were adults. And they were dating. 

But those thoughts took a hard turn and she had been stuck with thinking about what she should expect were she to sleep with Arzok. He had mentioned that he was dominant and controlling, but what else should she anticipate? Arzok was big. Huge. He dwarfed her by nearly two feet and Riley was on the taller side of average. He was broad, and he was strong, but what about the rest? Short of just coming out and asking Arzok “hey, how big are orc dicks?” her only real avenue of getting that information was the internet. 

And that’s where Riley’s curiosity turned into a dirty, insatiable, little tramp. 

The initial search was a simple request on average sizes, but then a few videos showed up. The first video Riley stumbled into involved a beast of an orc, his height easily breaching the eight foot mark. He was paired with a petite, tiny little woman. The orc’s dick was bigger than Riley’s whole forearm, and while the pornstar took it like an absolute champion, Riley was aghast. It was porn so of course there were so many degrees of separation, but there was no way. No. Way. One video chased another in an effort to debunk the sudden theory that orc men were just obscenely massive in the pants department. Absolutely nothing was debunked. She’d even tried narrowing down her search, but it yielded no results. Instead, Riley had somehow ended up on orc-human BDSM play – and that was how Arzok’s phone call found her: stunned, horrified, whole-heartedly curious, and completely dejected. 

Riley didn’t process the first ring. She was far too engrossed in what was going on on the screen. On the second ring, she had a whole body reaction like he just walked in the door and caught her personally. Riley yelped - actually yelped - and slapped at her keyboard to pause the video. Then she abandoned the laptop on her coffee table and retreated to her bedroom as if getting away from the laptop would hide the evidence of her insatiable curiosity. She even closed her bedroom door. Locked it. 

“H-hi-llo–?” Hillo. Jesus. C’mon Riley. 

“Hey, baby,” Arzok said. His voice was low, and sleepy-quiet. He had informed her earlier that day that he wouldn’t be getting home from a work-thing until late. Nearing midnight, he sounded absolutely knackered. The growling rasp that was always in his voice was more prominent with his fatigue. Riley couldn’t help but like the idea of hearing him sound like that in person, grumbling sleepy good mornings. “I was just calling to say goodnight.” 

“I won’t keep you then,” Riley replied. Her voice matched the quiet pitch so as not to rouse him. “Did everything go okay, though?”

“Don’t know, and right now I’m too fucking tired to care,” he groused. Riley was able to pick up the teasing inflection of his words despite his bitter tone. “How about you? How was your night? What’re you still doing up?” 

“Oh it was fine,” Riley replied quickly. 

Arzok asked again, “What are you still doing up? You’re usually down for the count by now. Is everything okay?”

The heated flush that rushed into her cheeks felt as if her own body was trying to betray her. She moved away from the bedroom door to sit on the edge of her bed, then she flopped to her back. She hated that he was right. Riley was typically curled up, in bed, and on the verge of sleep by 9:30 most weeknights.

“Oh, everything is fine. I just… lost track of time.”

“Yeah? Doing what?” 

His question didn’t feel as if he was prying. He sounded genuine in his interest. Riley worried her lower lip, wishing that she had curiously looked up videos on how to knit or crochet. 

“Nothing. Just…” The idea of lying left a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. So she skirted the details and addressed it in broad strokes. “I’ve just been thinking. It’s really nothing crazy though. But, hey, why don’t we both go to bed and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“The fuck we will. What’s wrong, what happened? Is everything alright?” The sleepy timber of his voice was gone, and he now sounded wide awake, and bordering on frantic. 

“It’s literally nothing to worry about. I promise–”

“Riley.”

“Fine just… Just don’t make fun of me, alright?”

“Never. Just talk to me, baby. You’re freaking me out. ‘I’ve been thinking’ sounds like a goddamn death sentence.”

Riley sucked in a slow breath, held it, and released. She tried to control the swell of stinging, hot, embarrassment. She had thought about it so much that it worried her, which drove her to the internet, which worried her more. The fact that she had thought about it enough that she was driven to consult the internet was so stupid–

“Riley, sweetling, come on.”

“Okay, okay.” She babbled, “You have to promise not to make fun of me though, alright?”

“I already said I wouldn’t. Look, if you don’t tell me I’ll drive over there and–”

“Whatifyoudon’tfit?”

“Fucking what?”

I said,” she heaved another heavy breath. “What if… you don’t… fit?”

Silence. Quiet, deafening, silence. Riley waited with baited breath, waiting for him to say something. Anything. It felt as if the quiet stretched on for an eternity before a hint of sound broke through. It was barely there. Muffled. There was a sound like a snort, and then another–

“Don’t you laugh at me, you monster!”

The laughter came through full force suddenly. It was loud, booming, jovial. Riley could imagine him; his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut tight as he succumbed to it. Imagining him laughing made Riley’s mood darken. He was making fun of her, but he was beautiful when he laughed. The bastard. 

“I–I’m not–I–” His efforts to calm himself only seemed to make the situation that much worse. 

Riley sat up in bed, glaring daggers at her bedroom wall. “Hey, I’m serious!”

Arzok’s rolling laughter slipped into its decline, and eventually he said, “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re–you’re up this late worrying about whether or not my dick will fit–?”

“Yes!” Riley wailed. “I am! Look, I know it’s dumb, but I like you a lot. And if this whole thing doesn’t work out because you have a third arm–” Arzok cackled. “--then that’s really going to suck.”

“Fuck,” Arzok snickered. He sounded absolutely winded from all of the laughter. “I’m not just going to ram it in and hope for the best, Riley. I promise you, we’ll fit together just fine.”

Riley grumbled morosely through his reassurance, thoroughly embarrassed and ready to hide under her bed for the next century. She should have known better than to let her curiosity win. And on top of it, she sure as shit shouldn’t have been data collecting by watching pornography. Even if it was mostly accidental, once she started it was hard to look away and she fell down the rabbit hole. 

“Sweetling,” Arzok growled. “When we are ready to take that step, I’m going to take pleasure in making sure you’re good and ready to take me.”

His voice cut her grumbles short, and she fell into surprised silence. She sucked in a quick breath, searched for a reply, and managed an airy and incredibly eloquent, “Oh.”

“And I’ll make damn sure that you enjoy every fucking second of it, baby.”

The low rasping purr of his voice was warming her in ways that the insane porn videos didn’t. This was for her. She crumbled back into the bed and let her eyes close as he spoke. She imagined lying beside him as he made his dark promises, and that familiar want that had been plaguing her began to flood her system. 

“I’ve thought about you cumming on my tongue as I prepare you to take my cock. Would you like that?”

Riley shivered. The ache in her core assaulted her with no mercy. She could feel her pulse leap in her sex, and the sensations resonated through her body, making her toes curl. 

“I asked you a question, Riley. You will answer me.” Arzok’s tone dipped lower still. It was suddenly threatening in a way that Riley liked far too much. 

She pressed her thighs together, and hummed her agreement. 

“No. You will answer me. Use your words.”

“Yes…” she whispered feebly, feeling more heat gather in the apples of her cheeks. The heat seemed like it was everywhere now, emphasizing her timidities, and fueling the fire he had created with just his voice. 

“Good. Now stop worrying about this shit, you hear me?” The way the threatening rumble of his voice shifted into something entirely casual and bordering on playful smacked into Riley like a Mack truck. The spreading fire was doused with a bucket of water. Her eyes popped open to stare dumbfounded at the ceiling. “I don’t know who got into your head and told you we wouldn’t work, but we will. I can’t tell you how I know that, but I look at you and I can feel it in my goddamn chest. We’ll work. Promise me that you’ll give us a chance before you let someone convince you that we won’t. I–”

“It wasn’t anybody,” Riley said gently. She had initially been willing to let him ride with the assumption that an actual person had stirred up her concerns. Now she didn’t want him to think that she was willingly associating with someone who was trying to cause problems with their relationship. That wasn’t fair. 

“Then what did it? Do I need to slow down? I will…”

“No,” she said quickly. Maybe too quickly. “The only reason I was thinking about it is because I’m-I’m looking forward to it. But… Okay, you can’t make fun of me this time.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I assure you, it is. No laughing.”

“No promises.” When she didn’t immediately reply, Arzok pushed onward. “Can you tell me so I’ll stop worrying about it?”

Riley rolled so she could suffocate herself with the pillows in the event that the humiliation proved to be too much. 

“I watched porn, okay?” I watched dirty, filthy, orc-on-human porn and I regret it! Stop laughing–!” He did not stop laughing. “Alright. Well, I’m going to go walk into the ocean now. Goodnight!” 

“Baby, what the fuck?” He was still coming off his most recent bout of laughter. “Wh-why?”

Riley shoved her face into her pillows, mumbling a muffled reply, “Can we stop talking about it?”

“I will never stop talking about it. Fucking wow.”

What a nightmare of a night. If she managed to get to sleep after all of this, she was going to wake up still embarrassed. 

“I’m assuming I don’t need to explain why porn isn’t the most reliable source.”

A mumble of agreement. 

“All of this worrying because some pornstar with a monstercock spooked you,” he said good naturedly. 

“Stop.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done. No more orc porn though, got it?”

“Got it.”

They elapsed into silence, but it felt like Arzok was smiling like an idiot. Riley felt it in her heart. She glowered and mumbled about going to bed. He agreed, and she was almost completely certain she could hear him smiling. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Almost as soon as they hung up, her phone buzzed once, twice, three times. Three text messages. All from him. Two were images. 

First there was a picture of his face. His torso was bare, his arm curled around a pillow as his dark eyes stared into the camera. His inky hair was splayed out over his big gorgeous shoulders and white sheets. Riley smiled, simply staring into his eyes for a moment.

The text read: 

> Just so you can get an idea of what you’re working with. 

The angle of the picture came from somewhere over his head. It started just at the bottom of his chin, and it went down, down, down over his splayed chest, his stomach, his waist, to the tops of his thighs where the sheet was precariously bunched. His green skin offered a stark, beautiful contrast against the pristine bedding. Basked in warm lamp light, the contours of muscle were highlighted from his pectorals, all the way down to the tantalizing V of his hips. One of his hands was resting over his navel, and she followed the strong musculature of his tattooed arm down, and up, and down again. Riley’s eyes caught on the smattering of dark hair that met the sheet.

That awful (wonderful) orc.

Another buzz. Another message. 

> Sleep sweet, Riley.

[Part 5]

[confessions-of-a-monster-freak]

Dogs really are man’s best Wingman - Minho TMR

Prompt: Out walking their dog who chases your dog. WC: 3640

Synopsis: You work from home at a service desk that does data entry and take night classes from the local college for your chosen degree. You go on regular walks with your dog Lark, and just so happen to run into a certain someone.

Another prompt fill, I am quite happy with this one, even though it is rather short. This is a Non-Apocalypse Minho from The Maze Runner. If you have any questions on how I see the Gladers in today's society, put them in my ask box! I will answer the best I can.

Notes, Reblogs, and comments are appreciated! (I'd love to hear feedback or even silly little comments from you!)

Warnings: Swearing? (I don't know if the words I used count as swearing.)

I was finally on my lunch break, my legs were starting to cramp from the lack of movement, but it was better than constantly moving around a warehouse or otherwise. That meant it was time for a walk with Lark. Who had been patiently waiting on the couch for me this entire time. I stood up and walked to the door to grab her leash. When she heard the jingle of her leash she jumped off the couch and happily pranced over to me. She was happily prancing around and partially on my feet when I had a good hold on her harness. Her long tail thumped into my legs as I straddled her to get her harness on.

“C’mon Lark, just stand still a bit longer yeah?” I grumbled softly, having a struggle to try and get her harness on. She was normally very compliant when I had to put her harness on. Today it seemed she just wanted to get out. I couldn’t blame her, I’d been so busy I couldn’t even toss the tennis ball around for her during calls. I felt bad about it, but I knew I could make up for it when we got back and I got back to work, and when my classes started. I could play tug of war whilst listening to the lectures, or even give her a busy bowl for some enrichment.

Once her harness was attached properly, I toed on my shoes. Thank goodness for running slip-ons. I grabbed my keys, and my doggy bag, and slid on my headphones. It was time for some music and a change of scenery. Maybe even to stop at the cafe a few blocks down. At that thought I decided to duck back and grab my wallet. Tucking it into the doggy bag for safekeeping. I hooked her leash and opened the door. She knew better than to tug, but there were times that she had gone AWOL. I was doing my best to correct it when it happened, such as when she went AWOL after a squirrel. But just to be safe, I gave her the harness.

I turned on my headphones as we got into the elevator, scrolling through a playlist before deciding to shuffle it and hope I got some good songs. The elevator dinged and we left. Setting off from the building at a brisk pace. Lark stayed in front of me and kept an easy pace. Her tail wagged happily as we walked, starting to almost prance again as I picked up my walking speed. If I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t be able to handle two dogs I’d get another one to keep her company. She’s old enough that I’m not concerned about littermate syndrome.

My lunch break was typically an hour to hour and a half long so we had time. I remember when people told me not to get a Dalmatian because I lived in an apartment. All these worries about it being aggressive, barking excessively, or even not getting enough exercise. Here I was proving them wrong, getting Lark was the best decision I could have made. She kept me just as entertained as I kept her, as well as active. Now that I had her, I had a reason to get up and get out of bed in the morning, and go for walks. Hike even. Not that I had very many opportunities to do so.

I made up my mind to stop at the cafe so I could eat on the way back. I could even get a biscuit for her too. I was lucky that it was a pet-friendly cafe, and that they made stuff for dogs there too. As we continued our walk we passed some other dog walkers, most of which I knew were for people who had jobs that took them out of the house for work. I smiled as I passed, and continued along. Lark even stopped a few times to say hi to the dogs. I was proud of the work that I’d put into her, she still had a long way to go and was still young so we had time. I wanted to work on off-leash recall. That way when I did go hiking or camping I could call her back if needed.

I could finally see the cafe, we had a bit to go still, but at least it was in sight. It also didn’t look too crowded, which meant I didn't have to hold onto Lark’s harness to make sure that she stayed where she was supposed to. Even with her having a fairly good heel down, she still had issues in crowded places with other dogs. Especially since she just wanted to play with all of them.

With some more pep in my step, I continued along, Lark was wagging her tail as we got closer. She could probably smell the other dogs that had been there and wanted to sniff around when we got there. I took this small gap of time to look down at my phone and check the time. That and to skip the song I was listening to, it didn’t quite fit my mood at the moment.

In the split second from skipping the song to the next. I heard a name being called. I turned to see where it was coming from only to have something rocket into my legs. I stumbled, pulling Lark back as I did before looking down and spotting this bright red dog wagging at my feet and greeting Lark. There was a leash attached to a black harness on the dog, but that didn’t seem to be attached to a human.

“Well hello you…” I said, pulling off my headphones and crouching down to greet the dog. “You got away from your human didn’t you?” I cooed softly, letting the dog sniff my hand before petting its head. It was very soft, softer than most dogs that had this long of fur. I reached around for a collar or tags and managed to find one. Printed on a simple tag was the name Cinder.

“Cinder! Goddamnit” I turned and saw a man jogging across the street to me and the dog. He was well built and also seemed pretty athletic from the clothes he was wearing. He crossed the street and then whistled, Cinder looked between me and the man before running back to him and sitting at a heel at his side.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and she yanked the leash out of my hands” He apologized, reaching down to pick up her leash as she stared at him. Once he had the leash in his hands he wrapped it around his wrist a bit more firmly. “That's a nice Dalmatian,” He said looking at Lark, before looking at me.

“She’s friendly, you’ve got a pretty dog yourself” I answered, as he crouched down to greet Lark, who seemed more than content to let him pet her so long as she could get closer to Cinder. She tugged a bit before I corrected her and she rounded back to me. Not in a heel, but closer to my legs to where she wouldn’t be tugging at her leash.

“She seems really well trained” I pointed out, since she hadn’t broken her heel even with Lark trying to play with her. I was curious if he’d teach me how to do that with Lark, or even point me in the direction of the person who taught his dog that.

“Thank you, she is. She has to be for the amount of hikes we go on. I guess she just couldn’t contain herself this time” He shrugged, looking down at her before patting her head. Making her tail start to thump on the concrete behind him.

“I’m Minho,” He said, sticking out his hand for me to shake. I took it and introduced myself. Before looking down at Lark who was wagging her tail enthusiastically whilst looking at Cinder, she didn’t tug to try and get closer and play.

“Well Minho, do you think you can teach me how to get that good of a heel?” I asked, “I’ll buy if you’d like to stop at the cafe” I offered, deciding maybe the promise of food or a drink might help ease any tension.

“Sounds good to me” He agreed, clicking his tongue and Cinder stood up and watched her owner very dutifully. “It took me some time to get her this good, but I think I can get…” He trailed off, having not been told my own dog’s name.

“Lark” I answered, starting to walk, this time slower as Lark drifted over to the side Cinder was on to walk next to her. I was hoping this could turn into a good friendship, even if it was just based on him helping me with training my dog.

“Lark. I think I can get her close” He said with a grin, leading me to smile as well. Minho seemed very charming and personable. Someone I could get along with. Which I did as we continued to talk whilst walking to the cafe. I was keeping a rather dutiful eye on the time since it was a fifteen-minute walk back to my apartment from the Cafe.

“So what do you do?�� I asked, looking over at the man who was keeping an even pace with me. I would assume he was some sort of fitness coach with how he looked. He wasn’t buff per se, just well-built and in shape. Maybe he was an athlete at the nearby college. I wasn’t quite sure.

“Work at a sports store” He answered, “Not ideal, but it gets me discounts on the stuff that she wrecked as a puppy” He added, looking down at Cinder who was staring right back up at him. Unaware that he was talking negatively about her she started wagging her tail furiously.

“I’m also in school to get my bachelor's, last year and then I can get that cartography degree,” He said with a huff, “I’m glad it's almost over, I’m getting tired of the traffic on campus” He tacked on at the end. Figuring my question could be interpreted both ways.

“Sounds annoying, the last time I was over in that area I was stuck at a traffic light for like fifteen minutes” I agreed, it's been ages since I was over at the college. Normally Rush Week would be the busiest time, but apparently this year they had a surge of freshmen compared to previous years.

“I can’t wait to graduate and be able to camp for like two weeks and then go do my job” He sighed wistfully, I wasn’t sure how cartography worked but I assumed it could be a pretty lonely job. Maybe that’s why he got Cinder, to keep him company whilst he worked.

Once we got to the cafe and had our stuff ordered and bought for. Minho insisted on sitting outside so that way there’d be fewer distractions for Lark whilst training. Which was smart, I didn’t think about the fact it might not be the dogs in the cafe causing the issue. It could be the noise in the Cafe.

“To keep her focus on you” He started, having taken Lark’s leash from me whilst I held onto Cinder’s for him. “You need to have something she wants, that way she learns it positively,” He said, digging into his own pouch and pulling out a dog biscuit. Lark’s eyes suddenly locked onto his hand. Her tail started to wag and she almost looked ready to jump him for it.

I laughed softly at her reaction. “I barely give her treats for training, mostly I give her kibble so she eats her food” I explained. Having felt that would be better since she had alternating food schedules. She got raw food three times a week, and kibble four times a week.

Minho hummed and nodded. Before he continued to explain how to get her to heel like how Cinder had. Whilst he talked I pet Cinder, who’d laid her head in my lap. Growing tired over her owner talking.

It was weird seeing Lark be so receptive to a new person. She wasn’t stranger aggressive, but she was wary of strangers. Seeing her being so comfortable as to jump on him to try and get the treat was a new thing. That and she rarely jumped because she was strong enough to knock me over. Cinder was different, she seemed so open to everyone and everything. Including me, since she was half asleep in my lap whilst Minho walked and talked me through the heel process.

Eventually, we swapped places, with me taking Lark’s leash and going through the process a few times to hopefully get it down. Once that was done, we sat down to eat, talking more in the process. Minho seemed like a pretty good guy. One with a lot of ambition and some crazy friends it seemed. “I told him not to get in the car, 'cause it was Dingus driving” He continued, Dingus was Thomas. Or at least what Minho called him frequently. “But he got in the car, and I watched them spin on the ice as soon as he left the parking lot. I seriously question how some of them even got into their majors” He finished, grinning as he watched me laugh at the horrible story.

“That is ridiculous.” I shook my head, his friends sounded interesting. I was bad with names, so I’d probably have to be reminded. But I didn’t think I would forget Thomas any time soon and his horrible driving skills. “How many tickets has he gotten?” I asked, reaching down to pet Lark as she was pawing at my leg for attention.

“None so far, stupidly lucky bastard” He answered, shaking his head. “I keep telling him that he’s going to get ticketed one of these days. But apparently, the cops don’t even try” He huffed, crossing his arms. “He’s going twenty over and doesn’t get pulled over. I go five over, and I get pulled over” He pouted, apparently still sour over the whole ordeal.

I couldn’t help but laugh, seeing someone like him pout was oddly adorable and funny at the same time. When I started to laugh his pout went away and turned into a smile. For how we met, we turned out to be pretty compatible. That and our dogs were compatible which was a rare scenario for me.

“Well this was wonderful, and I will put all of that into practice. But I have to get back so I don’t miss my check-in for work” I said eventually, holding onto my to-go cup of the drink I typically got wherever I went.  “But maybe we should meet up again, since both of them dragged us together,” I added, smiling at him. He looked down at Cinder who did nothing but wag her tail at him. She then looked at Lark and me and continued wagging her tail.

“I think that’s a good idea, how does tomorrow evening sound at the dog park?” He asked, looking back up at me with a smile. I assumed it was due to him working, but it worked out perfectly since I didn’t have a lecture that evening.

“Sounds good to me.” I agreed, before pulling out my phone and offering it to him to input his number. “That way if either of us needs to cancel” I added, watching as he took my phone and inputted his number. Before sending himself a text with my phone and handing it back.

“See you tomorrow evening” He called, watching me walk back down the street with Lark.

I echoed his parting words, waving at him before turning around and picking my speed up again to get home in time for the clock-in. He seemed nice, and so did Cinder. Maybe regular Pup-play dates would be in order. I’d have to ask about that tomorrow, but for now, I had to get home and find a proper meal to eat in between calls.

I had decided to drive to the dog park, that way when Lark had exhausted herself I didn’t have to do much with her except load her into the car. I pulled up and unloaded her, locking my car before heading into the park. Lark was prancing about as we did, she always loved getting so much open space to run around. I didn’t like to bring her in the afternoons, as that’s when I found most of the Puppies that needed “Socializing” were out.

That led to some disasters that I’ve had to break up before. I didn’t understand how people could be ignorant about what socializing was. In fact, they were just traumatizing their poor dog by putting them in a park with other dogs. Not to mention the new wave of people not vaccinating their dogs for simple things.

I heard another car pull up and turned to see Minho getting out of his car with Cinder. Who pranced over to the gate and pawed at it. I laughed at her behavior, Minho didn’t seem concerned with her running off. I opened it for her and let her run around with Lark once they entered. I figured they wouldn’t need much, so I brought a few tennis balls just in case. I even had that old frisbee in my trunk still. But with the way they were sprinting around the park, it didn’t seem like they needed any additional toys.

“I don’t think they need the toys I brought” He laughed, joining me in the park. He was now in jeans and a plain polo shirt. He didn’t look like he’d just gotten off of work, so I assumed his shift was earlier in the morning. “I do not believe so” I agreed, “I think they are gonna tire each other out” I added, walking over to one of the benches and sitting down. Lark quickly sped past me with Cinder chasing her. 

“How is the heel going?” He asked, joining me on the bench. Looking over at me. I had texted him at some point yesterday because Lark was struggling again and he offered some pointers.

“Okay ish” I laughed, “It's kinda difficult to practice in my apartment with it. But I made some progress in” I admitted, which was true. She mostly wanted to play instead of practice, and I couldn’t blame her. I was trying to practice whilst listening to my lecture. Which made my focus off, as well as hers.

“So long as you keep consistency you should be fine” He assured, looking over at me before looking at Lark. “So if you live in an apartment, why’d you get her?” He asked, “Now don’t think I’m one of those, “Don’t get a dog if you live in an apartment” People, I live in an apartment with her.” He corrected quickly, gesturing to Cinder who was belly up and roughhousing with Lark.

“I got lonely, and while I do like cats, I needed to get out more” I explained, “I work a customer support and data entry job from home. Plus I take online night classes. So I truly never leave home much” I watched Lark as she jumped over Cinder and then off they went chasing each other. It brought a smile to my face seeing her this happy.

“We should make this a regular thing” I offered up, “Gets both of us out, and gives them freedom to run around” I grinned as Lark came running up to me and slammed into my legs before whirling around and taking off again. I laughed off the pain in my shins from her impact and watched them sprinting around the totally empty park. Barely anyone went to this park in the evening. Making it perfect for training and for Lark to get her energy out completely.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Minho agreed. Before he turned to look at me. “How would you like to go camping?” He offered and I turned to look at him, my mouth opening slightly before I smiled. That was forward and out of the blue, but not totally unwelcome. We got along really well, and so did our dogs. It was only reasonable to ask something like that. 

“Are you asking me on a date?” I inquired, watching him grin back at me. He started to chuckle a bit before glancing at the dogs to make sure they were doing fine and not getting into any major trouble.

“Absolutely” He replied and I laughed. Nodding my head agreeing. Minho was charming, and I definitely wanted to get to know him better than I already knew now. So I assumed he wanted the same with me. We’d have to figure out our schedules for camping, but I’m sure it’d be fun.

“So long as you can keep Lark in check, then yes” I answered, turning to look at the dogs, who knew that it would be dogs that are man’s best wingman. Lark came running back to me and was panting, slobbering all over the ground. “Are you having fun darling?” I cooed, grabbing her face and squishing it playfully as she mouthed at me. I laughed and played with her until Cinder came and stole her away again.

“I think I can handle her, it’s you I’m worried about” Minho teased lightly, making me shove him with my shoulder pouting playfully until we both just started laughing. Maybe this date would be a good thing for both of us.

Well hello! You've made it to the end of this fic. I've got a question for you if you'd like to share your answer. What's your favorite dog breed? I personally love Beaucerons. *Cinder is an Irish Setter, and yes, I went down a dog breed rabbit hole to find a dog that Minho would get along with.

[grantmentis]

what do you think the coaching problems were with pwhl new york? do you think there might be more turnover with the assistants?

Sorry for such a late response! This week had been crazy. Anyway, I think there was a mix of on ice and off ice issues with PWHL New York

The off ice ones? Well I’m not there, but Hailey salvain of the athletic reported this

I can only say so much there, and of course this stuff is always more prominent / notable on a losing team because people are frustrated, but depending on how serious and widespread this is it could effect if they just want to start completely fresh or if they want to keep the assistants. The reason I could see the assistants staying is because the special teams, which is typically a job allocated to the assistants, was one of the few bright spots for this season

Speaking purely on ice, it did feel like Draper was just a bit over his head, which I think can happen when someone’s been in the same coaching role for decades then all of a sudden switch. He did a genuinely great job in university of Alberta and coached one of my fave players, autumn macdougall, I got no beef with him as a guy but it’s a lot of change with very little blue print

I think the area it showed most for Draper was defensively, where there was just….no defensive structure at all, especially among forwards, and these were players we know have defensive capabilities. It would make sense that this is the area that would suffer the most for a coach who’s played a really really long time in usports where offense has typically been a little more muted and goaltending strong. It’s a cliche but it’s very much a symptom of players playing as individuals and not a system leading to them being hemmed into their own zone and blowing coverage - which every team experienced for a while because they’re brand new but New York got worse and worse with as the season went on. I know this is mostly just my general thought, I hope to get more into the statistical side when I have some time off from work and school and other life stuff

Overall I’d like to see Colton Orr back because he was successful on the whale and I think he’s a good coach that has taken teams that are in hard circumstances - not having a permanent home, being in the New York market which despite being the biggest is definitely the toughest for hockey due to overall lack of hockey culture (I grew up in Brooklyn and am speaking from experience New Yorkers do not get mad at me), the ability to play a high paced, fast, offense heavy system while also getting the best out of shutdown defenders. That said I get if they want a clean slate. I know some people really want a woman as coach which I get but I don’t care as long as they’re dedicated to the sport and have experience.

My last hot take is I also expect some very significant roster changes for New York this offseason, maybe a blockbuster trade, I think anyone but like Shelton and Schroeder is on the table (not because the rest are bad, but I think there’s a lot of shake up willing to be made for the sake of identity)

[hiskillingjar]

Roleplay (Ren/MC)

day two: roleplay second person

"I think when couples talk about roleplaying in the bedroom, they have other ideas in mind."

Your voice was flat and monotone as you crossed your arms and gave Ren a somewhat irritated look, looking down at the ridiculous cosplay outfit he had somehow managed to get you dressed up in. 

It was the typical sort of thing he liked, a short skirt with ruffle after ruffle of tulle bunched up underneath and grazing your thighs, thigh-high socks with lacy bands that bit into your soft flesh, long gloves, and plenty of bows to make you feel that much more ridiculous. You didn't understand what anime he was trying to reference with the outfit, if he was referencing one at all, nor would you care to understand if he tried to explain.

"I don't even know what role I'm supposed to be playing." You continued, idly pulling at the bow at the center of your chest and eyeing him as he beamed across the room, looking pleased as punch. "Am I a schoolgirl or something?"

"I mean, not exactly," He said with a grin, standing forward and pacing to your side, his tail idly swishing behind him. "You're, like, a part-time schoolgirl and a part-time magical girl, defending the world from aliens and overlords, and that kind of thing."

"Right," You replied, looking over at him with a raised brow. You had thought he'd be more creative than just having a schoolgirl fantasy. "And that's sexy to you?"

"It's very sexy to me," He replied with a little chuckle, his cheeks flushing a healthy pink as he continued to pace around you, circling you, a sweet-faced predator assessing their stoic prey. He was deceptive in that way, masking his darker and more violent desires with dweebish sweetness. It was as scary as it was intriguing. "But, ah, this character is even better, because she has a love interest that she's obsessed with, like, scary obsessed. It makes her that much more cuter to me."

"Mm, I can guess why," You mumbled, your own cheeks flushing a little as he continued to pace around you. "You like when someone is scary obsessed?"

"Can you blame me?" He said with a slightly sardonic smile, before stopping in front of you and taking a step closer. He was a lot shorter than you, but that never stopped you from getting a little nervous around him. "The rest of the stuff doesn't matter that much, but...you know. I want you to play that role."

You let out a little huff through your nose and peered down at him through half-lidded eyes. It would be up to him how he interprets that gaze.

"You want me to be the obsessive one for a change, huh?" You asked softly, not minding completely when he reached out and rubbed the tulle of your skirt with his thumb and forefinger.

"Maybe just for tonight," He murmured back, his own eyes softening with poorly concealed lust, his tail idly wagging behind him. Always so obvious with what he wanted, you could only hope that you weren't that obvious yourself. “Maybe I’d like to understand how it feels too. For someone to be obsessed with you,” His words were soft as his touch reached up your skirt and over the bodice of the costume. "Is that a bad thing for me to want?"

"No," You mumbled back, gently taking his wrists in each hand and pushing them down to his front. "That's not a bad thing for you to want. I just need to figure out how to do it, I guess..."

"Don't think about it too hard," He replied softly, leaning in close and dragging his lips over yours, plush and full. "Just do what feels right. Do what feels natural."

You let out a shaky little sigh, still holding on tightly to his wrists, his delicate little wrists, his pale skin, his dark veins that stood out so harshly, as he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, another to your chin, another to your jaw. 

Always so obvious about what he wanted.

"I...I saw you talking to other girls at school today," You stammered slightly, your voice uncharacteristically soft and sweet sounding, enough that it made Ren pause and look at you, his eyes wide and excited, evidently pleased to be getting what he wanted. "I wasn't following you or anything...I just saw-"

"It was-" He cut you off, trying to hide just how excited he still was at this idea, that you were playing along with his fantasy. "I  had a few questions about the homework we have, that's all, I swear."

"You could have asked me," You replied quickly, an exaggerated pout to your lips, trying to get into the headspace of this kind of character...well, kind of person that Ren wanted you to be. You couldn't help but imagine how he would have reacted in a situation like this, and channel it into what you were saying yourself. "You know I'm always looking out for you, more than anyone. You know that I would do anything for you, right?"

"I know," He mumbled, his cheeks flushing a little darker as you held his wrists even tighter, digging your nails into his skin. "I didn't mean to upset you...I really didn't, I swear."

"But you did," You replied then, your gaze growing a little darker as you leaned in close to him, so close that you could feel his quick little breaths against your skin, the heat from his cheeks against your own. "And if you upset me again, I won't have any choice but to...to hurt any girl you talk to. You'll have forced me into it." 

You spoke so softly that you wondered if he had trouble hearing you, but when his ears twitched forward and his tail started to wag more rapidly, you knew that he had heard you loud and clear.

"You...y-you don't have to do that," He stammered, doing his best to play his own role of a helpless boyfriend, though he couldn't hide his excitement or obvious arousal (since the front of his jeans were already straining), no matter how much he tried to. "I really don't have eyes for anyone but you, don't you believe me?"

"Not at all," You said with a sweet smile, keening in even closer and forcing him to step backward, his butt hitting his desk. "I don't believe you at all, but that's okay...I'll just have to make sure that no girls ever talk to you again...since you only have eyes for me."

"Oh god," He took in a shaky breath, tilting his chin upwards a touch as you dragged your lips down his neck, kissing, nipping, leaving behind little bites. He reached upwards to press his hands to your chest, your own hands still around his wrists, and gripped the bows stitched to the bodice of your outfit, pulling you in even closer, the bulge in his jeans rubbing against your thigh. "Mm...please don't hurt anyone, please..."

"I won't have to if you stay with me, love," You purred then, a hidden smile on your face as you kissed his collarbone, dragging your teeth over his skin and listening to him whine and flinch. "I love you more than anything, Ren...and I'll gladly kill to keep the one I love with me, always..."

[melonlthawne]

Oooh, how would meloni raising Thad change things? Bc I’d imagine it’d change a lot lol

HI. sorry this took a bit. im notoriously terrible at answering asks or like anything at a practical pace so i had to get my brain into the mood to answer. but thanks for sending i really appreciate it!

so yes the short answer is that A LOT changes. i think the main aspect here is that thad is actually raised as a wanted, loved child with his own thoughts and feelings that matter versus president's thawnes upbringing of him only being useful when he can be used as a tool to terminate bart or hurt the flashfam. though meloni definitely wasn't expecting another child in this au, she welcomes thad in with open arms knowing that if he's raised by eobard, thad won't be loved and she would never want that if she could help it. so the best option she has is to take him home and raise him herself.

she's not the best parent ever. no one is. but if there's one thing meloni can ensure she does is make sure thad knows hes loved and appreciated no matter what his origin is. when thad is older she probably explains the complex situation to him so that he doesn't have to find out in some other way that could be traumatic.

assuming things go to plan, mel would encourage thad in any way she could much like how she does with bart canonically in the very little time they have together. in this au/verse, bart's rapid aging either doesn't exist or is solved when hes still a baby which makes things a bit more normal though i imagine raising any speedster child can be a nightmare at times.

i'm sure some traits that thad has typically still show up, like him being very dedicated to whatever his tasks/responsibilities are, maybe being a little unintentionally rude or blunt, and he and bart would probably still bicker and fight a lot but not physically or to an extreme degree. just like typical sibling junk. but because from the moment they got him thad isn't "trained" to be evil or whatever he probably just ends up in a sort of chaotic good position or maybe even chaotic neutral but NOT evil. he still has the potential to be bad just like we all do but it would only end that way if he has some other influence outside of mel bart & don that is frequent and persistant enough to outshine mel's well intentioned upbringing.

he'd probably still end up as a hero. idk if he'd still be inertia maybe cause its just a cool ass name but maybe with a different suit that isn't inverted-color impulse since he has his own life now and has different interests and thoughts outside of his genetical coding being identical to bart. he's allowed to become his own person no matter what his dna says. he's not constrained to JUST be the better or inferior bart/bart-clone. and meloni and don would make sure thad always knows he is his own person and he's not just an extension of bart. they may be brothers but they are not the same person.

i could probably ramble even more on this and i will probably. i have that fic i plan on touching after like a year and a half of nothing. i have a surgery coming up and a buttload of time to recover so i might get some writing done soon. if you're interested in this stuff, keep an eye out! plan to get more art and writing in this verse asap : )

[katsheadinclouds]

chapter 4

joel miller x gn!/f!reader

series masterlist - chapter 3

summary: A horse ride outside the walls of Jackson with Joel is a welcome change to the normal pace of the town, but at the same time it brings up memories that you’d like to forget.

rating: mature

chapter warnings: angst, hurt and comfort, anxiety, panic attack, grief, descriptions of violence typical for the TLOU world, temporary mutism, no use of y/n, reader is described to have hair

word count: 6.1k

notes: Thank you for reading and sharing this story so far, I appreciate you all <3 If you leave any comments, I'll be answering through my main blog singaboutbeingfree since this is a side blog :) This is a heavy chapter and I wanted to give a warning for a panic attack described in this one. But I pinky promise this will have a happy ending and people will get help!

divider by cafekitsune

Joel is a little surprised to see Maria behind his door one morning. She looks a bit reserved as she plays with her fingers in front of her growing baby bump, but there is still a smile on her face when he opens the door for her.

“Morning,” she says smoothly, her voice warm. She smooths her hands down her stomach.

“Morning,” he answers back, confused what she’s doing here at this time. Or why she’s here at all.

“Can I come in?” Joel moves aside, letting her step through the door and take in the home that he’s starting to make their own. If you can even call a few outside clothing items, a record player and some picture frames without pictures making a home.

He knows he should be making this house feel a bit more personal, but there really isn’t much that he wants, or needs. And according to Ellie, most of the things she wants are going to the garage and so far she is making sure her things are where she wants them.

Most of the stuff in the house was already in place when the house was offered to him and Ellie and it’s been comfortable so far. Yet he’s not sure how to make it seem like it belongs to them rather than a place for them to stay in for a while.

“How’re you settling in?” She asks conversationally. He looks at her and knows immediately she’s not here to have a chat.

“Good, thank you.” He talks like he has a program in his brain telling him what to say. She turns towards him but stays silent, studying him. Discomfort settles and grows in his chest the longer she stares at him.

“Would you like anything to drink?” He finally asks, moving towards the kitchen while taking a long, silent breath.

“Water is fine, thanks” she follows him and sits by the kitchen island.

“Ellie has already gone to school,” he tells her, not really knowing why he said it. He knows she’s not here for Ellie. She chuckles, seeing right through him.

“I wanted to ask you a favour, since you’re not on patrol duty today.” He sets the glass of water in front of her. He tentatively sits down opposite her, running his hands on top of the counter.

He doesn’t know why she intimidates him so much.

At the same time he does.

He can definitely see why Tommy got attracted to her, she’s just his type. Determined, confident and straightforward. He always admired women like her, but he was always too scared to go for them. Who knew a damn apocalypse would make Tommy finally realise what he had always needed in his life.

She reminds Joel of Tess.

Joel nods and Maria takes a sip from the glass.

“The stables, they have been having some problems with the doors, some get stuck, and some won’t close properly,” she keeps measuring his movements. The way she speaks makes Joel tilt his head and look at the table, until she finishes and waits for him to say something.

“Why won’t you ask Tommy?”

“He’s busy renovating a room. It’s for the baby.” They look at each other with sharp eyes.

“I know you don’t like me,” Joel doesn’t need to ask her that.

“You got that right,” she raises her brows in challenge.

“So, are you testing me?” This he does want her to answer. And he catches her off guard. She takes another sip of her water, before gently touching her bump, soothing it.

“I don’t like you, but I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” Her words make Joel smile and shake his head once.

“So Tommy sent you?” Joel chuckles and follows his hands as he sets them flat on the counter. He knows he’s right and she’s not going to deny it. It’s better to be upfront with her, just like she is with him.

“I might have my reasons not to like you, yet,” Joel looks at her and it’s her turn to surprise him. He has been ready to not make any friendly connection with her by the way their first meeting went.

“But the community is judging a book by… I don’t know…”

“Rumours?” Joel fills and they both seem to relax at that.

“If they could maybe get a sense of who you are, that you’re part of this community and ready to help out, I think that would help you quite a bit.”

“So you want me to prove myself?”

“Yes, and for them to see that you’re not the person they make you out to be, because they don’t know you.” He catches the double meaning behind her words. She doesn’t know him either.

He must admit she has a point. But it’s him who doesn’t say anything to her, give her an answer right away. She sees that he’s unsure about this arrangement.

“And Tommy thinks that you’re scared of me so of course he sent me to talk with you. Since you won’t come by ours for dinner it seems,” she talks like she’s thinking out loud and he looks at her under his brow, shaking his head slowly.

“Tommy’s always been as subtle as a hammer.” She laughs at his words and finishes her water.

“I wouldn’t mind for you to come over for dinner though, the invitation stands.” She does seem like she might be interested in getting to know her brother-in-law even at least a little bit.

The thought of that word makes him clench his jaw. It feels foreign in this world. Her relaxed expression does soothe him a little and when he nods, she gives him a small smile that is open for the first time.

It’s not one of those that you give to someone to seem polite or like you tolerate them, it’s one of those that make you feel at ease. A somewhat comfortable silence falls between them and he looks at her, and then at her baby bump, that she’s still caressing gently.

“I know what you’ve done. Tommy has told me quite a bit about your past, both of your pasts in fact,” she tips the empty glass slightly, letting it roll between her fingers while many thoughts run through her head.  

She sees the way he looks at her bump and the pain in his eyes stops her from saying anything about it. Her eyes narrow for just a moment before she knows to not breach the topic of kids with him, at least not right now.

“And what do you think, do I deserve to be part of this community?” He asks her. He didn’t mean to ask the question out loud, but he’s almost happy that he did. The question that he has been mulling over in his head for the past week.

He has stayed home when he’s not on patrol duty, not wanting the attention he always gets when he’s walking on the street. People have calmed down, but there are still some, who act weird around him. Maria sets the glass down and her brows furrow just the slightest.

“I think everyone here deserves a second chance. Everything’s not black and white and I’m not a judge, I’m not here to tell you what was right and what was wrong when you were trying to keep yourself and your brother safe. We’ve all done some things that we might regret or what might not be seen as good. But the world has changed. Sometimes we need to do the things that we wouldn’t normally do, just to survive.”

He doesn’t answer her, what could he even say? He takes her words in, thinking about what he has done. All the things that he regrets and the things that he would do again and again just to protect someone else.

It’s all just a pile of actions in his mind, things that he must look at as only things and not attach any feelings to them. He’s become a master at that, separating feelings from his actions. If he wouldn’t, his past would eat him alive.

“I just need to get to know you, and not the stories of you,” Maria adds, a little conspiratorially. Joel cocks an eyebrow and faces her fully.

“The stables you say?” he asks, making her smile wider.

It’s a beautiful early afternoon, sunny and just slightly breezy. It feels like a promise of a similar summer. He walks to the stables and is greeted by Dan, the same man who he saw when he went out with Tommy the first time. It’s been a couple of weeks, though he has been on some of the shorter patrol routes a few times since them.

He hasn’t been in the stables though since Old Beardy has always been ready for him. He has enjoyed patrolling, even though he hasn’t really connected with the other patrollers. Maybe he should just give them a chance and try a little harder.

Mostly the rides have gone by in silence, what with some pointless small talk. He knows he should be more open, but it just seems difficult with some people who seem to want to probe on his past and to know if what they hear around town is true. And then the ones who aren’t like that let him be silent and they end up not talking at all unless something that has to be addressed happens.

Dan shows him the doors that they’ve been having problems with and even from a quick look, Joel can see it’s going to be an easy fix. Joel makes some adjustments to the hinges and levels the doors that have become uneven and crooked over time while Dan stands next to him, ready to jump in and help if needed. Even though it has been a while, Joel’s skills haven’t vanished. He is precise and Dan ends up just watching him and testing the finished work.

In the end it doesn’t take Joel long time at all to fix what Dan shows him in the stables. But with Dan smiling and clapping his hand on Joel’s shoulder, he feels like maybe Maria mainly tried to help him connect with someone rather than test him.

Dan asks Joel’s opinion on fences for the horses and they stand outside, planning what materials they’d need if they were to enlarge the enclosure. He even tells Dan that he’ll be there to help, when they get the materials they need.

Joel heads back inside the stables to get his jacket, when he hears a quiet voice talking in one of the stalls. He slows his steps and moves quietly, as he peers inside each one to see where the voice is coming from.

It’s Beardy, and you. He stops and listens, barely hearing your voice as you murmur your words into Beardy’s neck, brushing your fingers through its mane.

“I was supposed to talk to someone about my day, tell them about me. Can you believe it, that I’d need to make a friend? I guess it makes sense, it’s a tightknit community, of course I’d need to have friends. Why is it so hard? Why can’t I just be friends with someone and not tell them about… everything.” You speak so gently to the horse. Something tightens inside Joel’s chest at your words.

You sigh and say your name to the horse, then that you made your way out of North Dakota, trying to find Jackson. You pause and say nothing for a while.

“I’m… I’m alone and I have no one left and…” Joel feels like he’s intruding.

He should’ve said something earlier and now he feels like he shouldn’t be standing here at all, trying to even out his breathing and not be so curious about you and what you’re telling the horse.

It feels wrong standing here. It’s like he’s one of those townspeople who are only interested in gossip and what they can find out about the new people inside the walls. Hell, he shouldn’t be eavesdropping when he knows you’re still uncomfortable speaking out loud.

Maybe that’s why you sought out the company of a horse. If he’d need to tell someone his thoughts and secrets, it wouldn’t be a person either. Sometimes it’s just easier to speak to someone, or something, who can’t judge you. 

He shuffles back as gently as he can, not realising there’s a broom right behind him. He stumbles on it, barely catching himself, but the wooden handle clatters against the floor, echoing so loudly that it almost hurts his ear.

He looks up and sees you clutching your chest, half outside the stall. Your eyes are wide open and you’re trying to catch your breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Joel holds his hands out. He tries to relax his shoulders, but he can still feel his own heart jumping in his chest. He moves slowly to pick up the broom and lean it against the wall before he stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets. He takes a step forward and looks at you apologetically. 

“How… much did you…” you stammer out, speaking even more quietly when you check if there’s anyone else around. 

“Quite a bit,” Joel admits. He doesn’t want to lie to you, even though he feels like it’s going to make you uncomfortable knowing that he heard you speak to the horse about what is wanted from you. You turn towards the horse and card your fingers soothingly through the coarse mane.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” You suddenly ask, still quiet, but there’s new intensity in your voice and the way you hold yourself. Joel raises his brows and the question takes him by surprise.

“There’s a trail that leads to a cliff close by, it should be clear,” you tell him, letting go of the horse and take a step towards Joel. He instinctively moves to straighten his back, but his arms are still in his pockets. He stands still. How would you know anything about what’s outside the walls?

“Okay,” he tells you, taking in your sudden urge to leave. You move with determination as you saddle Old Beardy and another horse, Willow.

Joel hands you all the equipment you need, giving you space to do what you need to do to get the horses ready, while watching you and trying to figure you out. He feels something bubbling in him, a dread of something that he can’t name.

You hand him Beardy’s reins and let him follow you as you lead Willow out of the stables. Joel takes his jacket and pulls it on while Beardy stands next to him peacefully. 

Once outside you take out your notebook, write something down and go to Dan, who’s loosening hay piles in the enclosure. You almost jog to him and let him read whatever you had written.

Joel sees Dan say something and he nods at Joel, who answers it with a nod of his own. Dan takes out his walkie-talkie and radioes someone. You come back and climb on the horse, Joel following your moves. You seem to know where to go so he rides Beardy behind you. But there is odd tension in the air around you. It makes Joel want to stay in the town, inside the walls, and not follow you out.

At the gate the guy gives you both a long look while the outside comes slowly into view. Once you’ve ridden through and hear the gate close behind you and Beardy’s hooves hitting the ground in a steady rhythm, you feel like you can breathe.

You ride your horses in silence. This time the silence isn’t completely comfortable. It’s laced with an unknown pressure that you can’t quite understand. You can feel Joel’s presence behind you, physically following you and Willow, but also taking you in and what you’re doing. You can feel his eyes on you and the air is thick with questions and answers that go unsaid.

The sun is slowly turning orange as the afternoon is letting early evening take its place. You feel the warmth on your face and neck as you lead Joel to follow you to a cliff that looks over the whole of Jackson. It takes just under an hour for you to get there at the pace you’re moving, but by the time you’re there, the horizon is doused in different hues of red and yellow, making your surroundings look like they’re gently burning.

There’s a soft breeze in the air and it ruffles the delicate, lightly green tree leaves. There are bird songs that you don’t recognise, some you do, and you listen to the lively harmony when you swing your leg over Willows back and step down.

Your feet hit the ground with a light thud and you look out towards the town, marvelling at the scenery in front of you.

You’ve been here a couple of times before, with Dan, but those times were only for you to see a safe place where you can come if you want to get away for a moment. Apparently the area is surrounded by barbed wire fences in the forest to make sure you can’t be surprised by infected.

Dan and Sasha are the only people you’ve found yourself spending your time with at the dining hall and they’ve even invited you over to their house once or twice. You just haven’t actually spoken with them.  They don’t seem to mind it though, as the couple manages to have a lot to say without you contributing to the conversation at all. Especially Dan likes to talk your ear off and you haven’t minded that. But you still find yourself not entirely comfortable around them.

There’s something about Dan that lets you know he’s trustworthy but also something that keeps you quiet. He’s disarming with his jokes and easy-going nature that you’re not used to. And Sasha, she’s incredibly caring and kind, always bringing you leftovers to the stables for you to take home and telling you when there’s new pieces at the clothing shop or when people are going out hunting. Without her you would miss out on the good stuff everywhere even though you don’t really care about that. You’re happy with anything. You know why they’re doing it, being friendly. They care. But you also feel a little suffocated at times, like they care too much. You need your space.

They also know they can trust you, otherwise Dan wouldn’t have shown you this place, let alone let you leave on your own, or with Joel, outside the walls. Not everyone can leave the town just like that, especially with horses.

“Tommy brought me here just last week, it’s quite something,” Joel moves silently when he comes to stand next to you closer to the edge of the cliff. You glance at him before turning your attention back to the scene in front of you. The darkening sun bathes the town in gold and the lights inside the walls slowly flicker on.

You fill your lungs with the fresh air and breathe out through your mouth, closing your eyes with the feeling of your body relaxing. You slump on the ground. You drape your arms around your other leg, leaning your chin against the knee.

Joel follows your example and sits next to you, but he keeps his distance. You look at him from the corner of your eye. The strong silhouette of his face: the arch of his eyebrows, the sparkle in his brown eyes as the sun hits them, the bow of his nose, the softness of his lips, the solid curve of his jaw and the way it twitches as he bites his teeth together.

His neck is long and firm, muscles relaxing in his shoulders as he settles and takes a more comfortable position. You take conscious breaths and try to find comfort in this moment. But there’s that hint of expectation in Joel, that you can feel radiating off him.

And something else, something that’s making you feel sad. He doesn’t look at you, he’s giving you space. There’s a stiffness in him, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. It makes your skin shiver.

You let your knee fall and you come to sit cross legged, your hands in your lap as you fiddle with your fingers.

“Can I talk to you?” Joel faces you instantly, watching you, trying to decide what you mean. You can still see the surprise in his eyes, in their softness as he narrows them against the sunlight. You’re not sure if it’s from you actually talking out loud or if it’s from you breaking the silence between the two of you. He looks at you for a long moment, his chin dropping until he’s gazing at you through his lashes, shadows forming on his face.

“You want to tell me about… Your day? Or how did you put it? Everything?” You hear the teasing in his voice and see him look away, his grim smile dropping just as fast as it appeared and his eyes scrunch closed. Like he’s embarrassed about bringing it up? Or even hearing you talk at the stables.

You feel your cheeks heating up at the words you spoke to Old Beardy earlier. You turn to watch the town again and you let out something like a chuckle, but it dies down in your throat, turning into a cough.

“The doctor in town thinks I should start talking to people, get myself friends,” you finally explain to Joel who nods slowly. You turn towards him and relax when you realise he’s just listening.

He’s not trying to make you talk or force you to tell him about your past. He’s simply sitting still, not expecting for you to keep on talking, but also not minding if you do.

“You should be more social, use your voice to communicate, everything else will be much easier then,” you mockingly imitate the doctor who doesn’t understand you at all.

You’ve had a hard time going to see him when you know you’re not being heard even when you spell the words out on paper. When he told you that he’s going to need you to actually speak, not use your notebook anymore, you decided that you’re not going to go to your weekly check-ups anymore.

“They want to move me into a shared house at some point, soon I guess, and before that the doctor wants me to get a few friends.” You move your hand in the air dismissively and roll your eyes.

“And you don’t want to do that,” he fills in. You shake your head and exhale the air from your lungs that starts to burn. You don’t know why you’re in such a panicked state, your whole body freezing and trembling in waves from your anxiety.

“And what is it that you need to talk about? What do you need to tell people?” His head tilts with the question.

His voice rings in your ears and the questions go round and round in your head. You lose your ability to speak.

You feel it in your throat first. You open your mouth and look at him straight in the eyes, ready to tell him something, but the images flood your vision. Everything shifts.

You feel yourself falling, even though you’re sitting firmly in place. You feel your stomach turning, your limbs going numb, your brain going blank and your heart? It shatters.

It all happens so fast, the way you can’t control yourself, and at a snail’s pace at the same time. You relive those moments with your siblings, with your group, over and over, every little detail coming into view like you’re trying to decipher a mystery.

Like one of those details could change everything and bring you answers and solutions.

And as a new addition to your usual panic attacks, you’ve started to remember all of the moments when you were the one hurting others. Like it’s a cacophony of all the things that bring you pain.

You can see faces, hear voices. You can remember being thanked and praised for being a good shot or inflicting pain on those who deserved it.

At the time it felt good to hear those words of appraisal, but now they sour in your memory. You know you can’t change the past, but every time this happens, you change.

There’s something in you that gets dissected and put back together. Every time it means that you have to figure that part of yourself out again.

You know you miss the weight of a gun in your hand, but you don’t miss the moment when you hit a living, breathing human. You want to feel the kickback of a gun again, but you don’t want to hear the sound of a bullet piercing someone and the way their body reacts to that.

You miss parts of the violence, but you don’t want to be someone who has death in their hands.

You don’t know what has happened, but you suddenly feel Joel’s hands on your wrists, gently holding you in place, his face just inches from yours. His close proximity makes your body tight and as your eyes take in the lashes surrounding his deep, dark eyes, his quick breaths puffing on your face and you hear the vibrating sounds of his soft voice without registering the words, you say something to him.

Your quiet, barely there voice tells him about your sister, how she was right behind you, pushing you over the fence, yelling for you to keep running, and then she was gone.

The black gap in your memory, it’s not there anymore.

You see it like it’s happening right in front of your eyes. The way her face contorted in an indescribable agony. How her blood splattered from her head when the bullet burst through her skull. They way her body just slumped against the fence. How her voice was suddenly gone and you could only hear your own terrified breathing when you turned around, left her, and kept on running into the dark forest. 

You can hear yourself telling him all this in your head. There’s an animal screeching somewhere far away, the noise making you sad even though it’s just an echo in your ears. It’s like you’ve heard the sound before, in your nightmares.

He recoils and lets go of your wrists, his eyes wide with shock. How could he react that way, when you’re just talking to him, telling him something that makes you vulnerable?

It’s not until you realize those echoing cries aren’t from an animal in the distance or from the terrors that wake you up at night. It’s you, screaming and gasping for air, staring right at him while you try to hold yourself together by bring your arms to hug yourself tightly.

Your ears slowly focus on your terrified voice and when you can hear yourself loud and clear, without the hazy curtain of memories and panic, you shut your mouth.

You breathe through your nose harshly, determined to keep your screams inside. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to hear your voice. You don’t want to face what’s in your head.

As your breathing finally settles into a rushed stream of air flowing through your nose, Joel’s face finally loses that horrified look as well. He moves so gently, like you could run away and disappear. He stands on his knees, brings the other leg forward and leans towards you with his palms facing you.

“It’s just you and me, no one else. Just you and me. Look at me,” he tells you so softly that you can’t believe he’s even saying the words. Maybe it’s just your head imagining it. But then you look at him, into his eyes, and see his mouth moving as he keeps on demanding you to look at him with so much tenderness that it coats your fear with cotton wool.

He takes your arms from your midriff gently and pulls you forward. His eyes don’t leave yours, when he very carefully drags you to lean against him and you slump into his arms as exhaustion washes over you and settles deep into your limbs.

You inhale his smell and close your eyes. You can smell the stables, the laundry detergent he uses and him. His warm scent that you remember from months ago with hints of Jackson. Leather from his jacket. The soap he uses that is also in your bathroom. The earthy spring air that has caught to him during the day, and just a hint of soft perspiration.

He closes his arms around you and holds you tightly against his chest. Your forehead is firmly against his neck, and you cling to him. Your hands squeeze his shirt into your palms and you let him take care of you.

He sits down, adjusts his leg so that you’re almost in his lap, on his straightened leg while his other thigh supports your side. He hugs you securely against him, drawing circles against your back with his hand.

His other hand is on the back of your neck, squeezing gently every once in a while. You listen to him breathe, the sound humming against your ear that’s now pressed against his chest.

His chin is on your head and you can feel the scruff of his beard sticking to your hair. You relax against him and let his steady figure lull you to presence.

You can’t remember when someone held you, made you feel safe. When did you last feel safe? It has to be years. Your hands ease on his shirt and come to lay on his chest. His arms tighten around you for just a moment, his hands stop their movement, and you hear his heart thrum in his chest just a little quicker. But then it calms, he relaxes and keeps on soothing you.

The air turns cold when the sun has set. The last rays sink behind the mountain range and you shiver when a cool gust of wind blows around the two of you. You move slowly away from Joel and lean your hand against the ground between his legs.

You look up and see his face for the first time in what seems like hours. His eyes are filled with shadows, his sandy dark and greying curls are windswept and his lips are just slightly parted. And there they are, those deep creases on his forehead. Worry, fear and anxiety. He’s taking you in and trying to evaluate if you’re any better.

His hands are still on you, steadying you, the other on your upper arm, the other on your side. A steady pressure that you welcome, but also want to push away. He keeps his eyes on you and you can feel heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks. It nips on your skin and your breath comes out shakily.

You move to sit on the ground before you stand up, your limbs stiff from being in the same position for so long. You give him your hand and help him on his feet. He steps close to you and you can feel the way he’s searching, demanding you to look up so he can see your face.

When you give him that, when your eyes lock, your stomach turns with something completely different. A feeling that lurches deep inside you, making you shudder.

His palms are on your arms in a second, rubbing them up and down for just a moment. He must think you’re cold. What you really feel is deep shame. Here you are with this man, who you don’t know and he has seen you at your worst.

You take a step back, putting space between the two of you. His hands drop from your arms. You feel cold all around.

“I’m so sorry, so so sorry,” you whisper and you’re sure you’re only repeating it to yourself. You’re not sure if he even hears you. You turn away from him, hide from him. Protect yourself from him.

“We should go,” he says quietly. You nod and feel him brush past you to the horses. With wobbly feet you mount Willow. You start your way back towards the glimmering town, him leading in a quick pace.

“Will you be okay on your own tonight?” Joel asks when you get back to the stables. You walk Willow back to her stall and take your riding equipment off her. He’s standing outside, Old Beardy already in his stall.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but your shrieks from earlier haunt your ears. You nod as an answer, knowing that you’re not fooling anyone with your shaky movements. You feel like you want to be alone, even though you know it might not be for the best. And even if you wanted company, you can't admit it.

You feel so humiliated by your panic attack. And it’s still not completely over, you know it. It’s just waiting on the outskirts of your breaking point, letting you function somewhat securely before it’ll knock you right off your feet when you least expect it.

You’re supposed to be stronger than that, you’re supposed to be so many other things. But your head is shackling you to the horrors you’ve witnessed.

You don’t want to face him. You wish this was all a weird dream.

He doesn’t say anything, but you see him stop his movements for a moment. You work in silence as you brush Willow and put a blanket on her for the night. When you close the gate, Joel’s already waiting for you. Beardy stands calmly in his stall, chewing slowly on hay.

Joel walks with you and you’re side by side for a moment before you have to turn towards your house. You’d like to say how sorry you are, repeat it again and then once more and then thank him for comforting you. But you know you can’t. Not tonight.

You try to keep yourself together and take deliberate deep breaths before you turn towards him. You know you have to do something, communicate somehow. But your hope dies down quickly. He stands completely still, his whole body stiff. There’s a deep crease between his brows, clearly his thoughts are taking him somewhere else. You take in the expression on his face and can only read it as him wanting to get away from you. His eyes are cold, his mouth in a tight line, and when he swallows it looks like it pains him.

He looks like he’d like to say something to you as well, his jaw twitching as he’s grinding his teeth together, but he can’t seem to find the words. The moment stretches on and you feel like a failure. How on earth are you supposed to fit into this community when you feel this broken. When you seem to be nothing but a damaged person.

“Goodnight,” he suddenly forces out of his mouth, his deep, rumbling voice washing over you in the dark. You know he has his eyes locked on you even though you can’t look up anymore. You’ve tucked your chin tightly against your chest.

You see his feet turning and he walks away, his boots hitting against the ground with force. You stand still, waiting for something.

For him to slow his steps for even a moment before continuing.

A wish for him to say something to ease your racing thoughts.

But that doesn’t happen.

You dare to look up and you watch him until he disappears from view and then just a moment longer. That hope still lingers in your tight chest, your anxiety closing your throat the longer you stand still. You’re alone. You know he’s not coming back.

You imagine it though, that he’d come back.

The hope twists into a desperate plea for him to tell you that you’re going to be okay. That you don’t have anything to be ashamed about. But your brain likes to remind you that you’re a broken person, who just had an uncontrollable panic attack in front of Joel. Mortification flows through you like a tidal wave, drowning you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, in the dark. When the evening brings in a cold wind and it whips against your face, you slowly start your way to your house. You wrap your arms around yourself to keep the bitter air away.

You can still feel his hands against your back. You rid of it by rolling your shoulders back and suddenly the feeling is gone.  

But you can’t shake the images of your past from your memory.