#((i meant to post this last night but it got longer than expected))

[strangerstilinski]

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙬, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; it’s been a long couple of months, and after a particularly rough night, your ex boyfriend finds his way straight back to you.

warnings; no use of y/n, post s4, exes-to-lovers, description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, emotional sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lil bit of cockwarming

word count; ~5k

a/n; i meant for this to be a quick little hurt/comfort thing but then my mind kind of ran wild and it turned into.. this. but i think i really like how it turned out sooo, y'know.. leave a comment/tag/reblog if you enjoy!

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

You're not entirely certain who you were expecting to find on the other side of your door at two in the morning, and maybe you should've given the possibilities a bit more thought before unlocking the door and swinging it open wide, effectively exposing yourself to whatever may be waiting on the other side — but you don't. And it's with a sleep-slowed brain, a baggy tshirt resting high on your naked thighs, and bare feet that drag lazy across cold floorboards, that you find yourself staring at your ex boyfriend.

Steve Harrington.

He's standing in front of you looking a little nervous, a little lost, and a whole lot like he's just come from some sort of brawl. The sudden brightness of the hallway lights outside of your apartment makes your eyes ache and you're squinting, one hand coming up to block a bit of the light just as your heart drops as you take him in.

His hair is a little longer than when you last saw him, impossible for him to keep from flopping down over his forehead while the ends curl at the nape of his neck, light shining down on the strands and streaking golden through the locks that you'd run your hands through once upon a time. But you're hardly able to process or file away those small changes when your gaze begins frantically to absorb the more important and wildly more alarming details in his appearance.

The light wash of his jeans is covered in splotches of denim slightly darker than the rest where something's been spilled down his leg, streaks of dirt rubbed into the knees like he'd fallen down, and blood — there are crimson drops of it splattered along the fabric at his thigh, likely his, likely from the split lip he's sporting, or perhaps from his bruising nose.. When those red smears crusted beneath his nostrils had been fresh and wet and had clearly dripped down past his chin and onto the collar of his shirt, which also seems to be stained in an array of red-splotched fabric.

“Fuck. Steve, what-” Your voice shakes through the sleepy rasp in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at the familiarity of it all — the scene in front of you sending that achingly familiar trickle of fear and worry and panic all racing down your spine.

“I- Hey, sweetheart.” His own voice cracks a little like his throat's been scraped raw from shouting. He's got his hands tucked away in his back pockets like he might be able to make himself small enough that you won't start yelling, his eyes sad and a little pleading as he gives you a weak smile. He lets out a small hiss of a wince when the motion pulls at the slow drying scab on his lower lip.

“Stevie..” The nickname slips out before you can swallow it down.

You think that you might be in shock, if the adrenaline shooting through your veins is anything to go by. It's making it a little difficult to think clearly as you stumble through the doorway, hands coming into contact with his chest as you brace yourself. Your thumbs find those drops of blood that are still drying into the fabric of his shirt, shaking fingers dragging over the freckles on the side of his throat on their way to his jaw.

You have to fight the instinct to linger on those faded scars encircling his neck, have to fight to push back the memories of the night that things between you had finally fallen apart — when all of Steve's half-truths and secrets and outright lies had finally pushed you to your breaking point. The night of the earthquake. When he'd shown up on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, just like this, looking like he'd been to hell and back, in search of comfort and someone to patch him up but apparently not looking to give out any explanations for the state he'd come to you in. Not for the marks on his neck, and certainly not for the horrifying chunks of flesh that had been torn from his stomach and sides.

The fear you'd felt that night coils in your gut again. It's the very same fear that you'd endured eight months before the end, when Steve had gone awol for forty-eight hours only to find you the evening of the mall fire. That time, his left eye had been nearly swollen shut, body littered in bruises in varying shades of black and purple. You'd sat with him in the bathtub with your limbs carefully wrapped around him for hours, until the water had gone ice cold, and even after that he'd been glued to your side until morning. You'd both burrowed beneath a pile of blankets despite the summer heat, legs tangled and sweaty bodies clinging to one another. Even though you couldn't begin to understand how the fire could have been the cause of his turmoil, of his injuries, you'd still held him tight, one hand tangled in his damp hair at all times while he'd clutched onto you like you were his lifeline. The hours it had taken for the tremble in his hands to fade had nearly broken your heart.

It's all a little too much, the position that you've suddenly been thrust back into.

“Wh-? What the hell happened?” You question hoarsely.

Why you bother to ask now, you're not entirely sure. You're certainly not expecting him to give you any answers, but as your thumb pushes gently into the swelling softness of his busted lip, the fingers of your opposite hand brushing the hair back from his blood-spattered forehead, Steve sighs.

“It's not.. I was at the bar. Got into a fight.” He admits with another wince as your thumb skates up the bridge of his nose.

“Got into a fight or started a fight?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking slow between his; they're tired and bloodshot, his lashes clumped together like maybe he'd been crying, caramel swirling in the pretty brown depths that you'd been steadfastly avoiding thinking about these last few months.

A huff crackles as he tries to push a sigh from his blood-clogged nose, his hands finally leaving his pockets to hang awkwardly at his sides while he gives a small shrug, “..’was stupid.” He says in lue of a direct answer.

“I'm sure it was,” You grumble under your breath, swallowing your instincts and forcing yourself to take a small step back, your hands falling away so you can hug your arms across your own chest with a sigh, “What're you doing here, Steve?”

“I didn't know where to.. I..” The words don't seem to come and he falters, shrinking in on himself further, “I don't know.” He admits after a moment.

Your eyes close as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you, “I can't-”

“Please,” Steve nearly whispers the word and when you meet his eyes again, his gaze is a little watery, “I know you don't want to see me. I know you're still mad. And.. You have every right to be, okay? But-”

“But what?” You plead weakly, fingers digging a little meanly into your own arms.

“I just..” He struggles for a moment, hands raking through his hair and ruffling it into further disarray, “I just needed.. I..”

The fissure in your heart cracks wide, the slow healing wound tearing open to expose this gaping thing that feels a little like it might be enough to shatter your soul. Even while the more sensible parts of your brain scream at you to shut the door in his face, you find yourself taking his hand in yours, swollen and blood crusted knuckles under your thumb as you pull him into the dark apartment and close the door behind you.

You push him to sit down on the couch, a wordless order for him to stay put implied in the sidelong glance that you shoot him before turning away to move down the hall and grab your first aid kit and a wet cloth from the bathroom. When you return, Steve hasn't moved an inch, just as miserable and small-looking as you'd left him a few moments before. He's got his fingers tucked into the crook of space behind his knees, the tall streetlight across the road allowing stripes of light to cut across his hunched form, late night shadows eating up everything else.

The coffee table is nudged closer to the sofa with your foot as you sit down in front of him, your bare knees brushing filthy denim when you scoot to the edge of the table and bring the cloth up to his blood-spattered cheek. You're gentle with it, wiping at same spots a few times with the lightest pressure you can manage as the mess proceeds to smear, red-tinged streaks of water against his skin lessening with each careful swipe. Once his face is clean, you move on to the knuckles of his right hand, pulling it from where he has it tucked beneath his thigh to softly wash away the crusted blood from his split and bruising skin.

You work silently for a few minutes. The soiled cloth is dropped against the coffee table with a wet slap and you immediately turn to find the alcohol and cotton balls in the messy basket you keep stored beneath your bathroom sink.

You've just begun to open the package of cotton when Steve says your name, nothing more than a hoarse whisper to break the heavy silence.

When you meet his eyes, the desperation you find there has you faltering for a moment. The warmth that seeps into your skin from each point of contact between you suddenly seems so much stronger. Heat and nerves creep up the back of your neck as you blink at him in question.

The backs of his damp knuckles drag up over your calf before pushing into the smooth skin on the outside of your thigh, his thumb pinching lightly at the doughy flesh there, “I.. Can you..” His hand unfurls and he lets his palm settle against you, his fingertips high enough to slip beneath the hem of your oversized shirt and brush the crook where your thigh meets your hip, “I just.. want..”

He seems incapable of finishing his thoughts, but he doesn't really need to because you know. With the way his free hand comes up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, thumb tracing the line of your jaw to your chin before catching against your lower lip in that all too familiar way, you know what it is that he's asking for.

“Steve..” Your accompanying sigh comes out a little shaky as you exhale it over the pad of his finger, your lashes fluttering as something stirs in your gut in response to his soft touch, “I don't think that's a good-”

“Please.” He whispers again — and, how could you possibly deny him when he sounds so pitiful that it wrenches at your broken heart? While his brows are drawing together like he's already bracing himself for your rejection even as his eyes remain soft and pleading?

And when the hand on your thigh pushes up to slide over the bare skin at the base of your spine, when he applies the barest pressure to urge you toward him, when the fingers on your face slip behind your neck — you're climbing into his lap with little encouragement. Your shins push into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs, hands finding the hem of his ruined shirt and guiding it up over his head in an easy movement that has his hair flopping down over his forehead again.

When your gaze drops, you allow yourself all of ten seconds to trail your fingers over the rough scars across his abdomen. The skin is a little puckered and pink, mottled in a way that it probably wouldn't be if he'd found himself at the hospital that night in late March instead of on your doorstep, but they've healed. It's a far cry from the jagged wounds that you'd tried to clean with blood-stained hands, through quiet sobs and glassy eyes. They'd been so deep, as if something had tried to carve out little bits and pieces of him over and over, like something had torn into him, like something had feasted on his flesh then and left behind nothing but the evidence of small, frighteningly sharp teeth.

Your choked questions ring in your ears even now, the way you'd begged for him to tell you what was going on, who kept hurting him like this — but as easily as your own voice echos in your memories, so does Steve's. You can still hear his agonized groans and cries of pain as you'd tended to his injuries, can still remember the sound of his desperate pleas for you to drop it, to just accept that he couldn't explain-

And you'd asked him then, if it was that he couldn't or that he wouldn't. The resulting silence from him had been answer enough.

Now, Steve seems to know exactly where your mind has gone and he covers your hands with his own, pressing your palms flat against the lingering marks on his skin.

“They're healed.” You state quietly through the emotion clogging your throat. The obviousness of the statement rings stupidly in your ears but you're not sure what else to say in the heavy silence.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse, “I had a pretty good nurse.. Cleaned me up real nice so that I didn't, I dunno, die from an infection or somethin'.”

A laugh pushes up from your throat that borders on a sob, “She sounds cool.” You manage, your thumbnail scraping lightly into the healed patch of skin under your hand.

“Oh, yeah, the coolest.” Steve tells you with the barest hint of a smile pulling at the unbruised side of his mouth. “You okay?” He asks quietly after another moment of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine.” You tell him with a shake of your head.

“Sweetheart..” Steve starts slowly, “I want.. Shit, I- I want you so bad right now, but if you don't want this-” When his hands move to the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes meet yours in silent question, and your head is nodding a little wildly in approval before you can begin to think too hard about it.

His hands nearly burn with every brush against your bare skin as you strip one another down to nothing, his touch leaving behind invisible streaks of something heavy and terrifyingly melancholy, something that you're sure will linger painfully in your chest long after he's gone and left you with a broken heart and an ever growing list of unanswered questions.

“I still have to clean your cuts.” You tell him quietly.

Steve's eyes only rake over your naked body for a moment before his gaze settles back on yours, “Okay.”

You settle over his lap again and wet a cotton ball with alcohol, “It's gonna hurt.” You warn in a whisper.

“I know.” Steve returns just as softly.

Bracing one hand on the side of his neck, you dab featherlight over his split lip. Steve's jaw clenches at the sting as it seeps into the cut and you murmur a soft apology while you continue to clean the area with careful fingers.

Steve's hands settle on your hips and his eyes flick between yours as he waits for you to meet his gaze. When you look up from his swollen lower lip, he gulps, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Is this okay?” He asks, fingers digging into your flesh a little as he pulls your hips until your groins align nicely.

“Yeah.” You murmur, dabbing at the cut on his lip again just so that you have an excuse to look away from his eyes.

Your heartbeat ricochets against your ribs sharply as Steve guides you to grind slow over his lap, the warmth of him wedged between your spread folds. The way he manhandles you isn't rushed, the movement not nearly as desperate as you'd been expecting from his plea for intimacy. It's slow and quiet and filled with a weight that you wouldn't quite be able to explain if you tried.

It doesn't take long for his cock fatten up and grow stiff underneath you, his length and the patch of hair surrounding it both streaked with slick where your wet cunt has been dragging back and forth. You're both breathing a little heavy as you finish cleaning the cuts on his lip and the bridge of his nose, your faces close though neither one of you make any move to close the distance.

Steve curls an arm around the back of your thigh as he reaches around to guide himself toward your entrance. A breathy sound falls from your lips when you roll your hips back and feel his tip catch, just barely pushing in. He's as thick and warm and perfect as he's always been, and that hunger to have all of him spreads down the back of your tongue like warm honey, but the moment you spread your thighs a little farther to take more, Steve is stopping you.

“Wait, wait, wait. You.. Are you sure you're okay with this?” He asks suddenly. His fingers are digging into your hips, holding you in place to keep you from sinking farther down onto him as he awaits your response.

“Wh-?” Your jaw trembles with something like petulance, a little desperate yourself now that you can feel the fat head of his cock inside you, stretching you wide despite barely breaching your entrance, “You said that you-”

“I do. Fuck, I do, I just want to make sure you're sure.” He says it so soft, so earnest, and his concern has you feeling something resembling whiplash. The two of you haven't spoken in months, but he'd shown up at your front door in the middle of the night and practically begged for you; for your presence and your care and your body.

You want to feel angry with him. For looking out for your well-being now, for being Steve, for bringing up so many feelings that you'd tried so hard to bury, but he's looking up at you with imploring eyes — a gaze that says if you climbed off of his lap now, he wouldn't be upset with you, if anything, he'd be upset with himself and..

It has you reeling a little bit, that blooming affection crawling like rapidly expanding ivy inside your chest.

You brush that stubborn chunk of hair back and off of his forehead again, your fingers combing through to the back of his head until they can toy with the bits curling at the nape of his neck. Your mouth finds its way to the space between his brows, a shaky exhale masked by the kiss you press to his skin before dropping your foreheads together.

“I am. I'm sure.” You promise in a whisper.

When you sink down, both of you groan in synchrony, breathy and guttural. The stretch hurts more than you were expecting, but it's been months since you've done this, so you suppose that the sting from him filling you up is warranted. Your hips settle against his and his arms curl around your back to hold you in place, to hold you close. His chest is flush to yours, scattered hairs on his pecs pressed to your breasts, the tip of your nose still barely avoiding brushing against the bruised bridge of his own.

The sensation of being so full leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed, the intimacy of the moment suddenly too heavy. His breath mingling with your own and his soft hair tangled up around your fingers brings pinpricks of heat to your eyes that you stubbornly attempt to blink back.

“Hey.. Hey, honey,” Steve murmurs softly, one hand coming up to swipe a thumb along your watery lashline, “What's wrong? You okay? You hurting?”

Another strangled sounding scoff of a laugh tumbles from your lips, a weak sniffle as your fingers find their way to those smooth, faded lines along the front of his throat again, “I should be asking you that. You're the one who's had the shit beaten out of him tonight.”

“I'm fine. Two weeks n' I'll be good as new,” Steve assures you with carefully crafted nonchalance, his tear-stained thumb dragging back and forth along the apple of your cheek, “Now what's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?”

“I just..” You huff out a sigh, rolling your hips experimentally to test the ache between your thighs, “I missed you. Fuck, I- I miss you so much, Steve.”

A few tears do manage to break through then, something about the way the patchy light coming in through the windows casts a glow over his battered face, the browns in his eyes shining golden in the dark.

“Me too, I miss you too,” He rasps desperately, “Shit, honey. If you think I don't miss you every goddamn second- You're everything. You're my everything.”

He's holding your face in both hands now, palms cradling your jaw so gently, arms trembling like he's trying to fight the urge to hold onto you tighter. His restraint and his words twist sharply in your gut, something akin to dread weaving its way inside of you.

“I'm scared,” You admit, voice quiet and buried beneath tears, “I'm so scared-”

“Scared?” Steve repeats, concern flashing in his eyes, “What're you afraid of?”

“Losing you.” You gasp.

“Sweetheart-”

Your chest is heaving a little with the labored breaths beginning to tumble past your lips, “I'm gonna lose you all over again, because I can't.. It- It is terrifying. To see you hurt and bleeding and not know why. To worry that the next time might be even worse than the last and have you keep skirting around the truth or outright lying-”

“Hey, hey. Honey, hey,” Steve gives your cheeks a soft shake under his hands and your gaze falls back to his, “I'm sorry-”

“Jesus christ.” You bemoan quietly as another tear falls, halfheartedly pushing at his arms to dislodge his hands.

“No, no, I mean it,” Steve pleads softly, “I'm so sorry I kept you in the dark, I just- Shit, it's so complicated, I-”

“Asshole.” The interruption comes out a grumble under your breath, and you're gearing up to climb off of his lap entirely when his weak chuckle meets your ears.

“I am,” He nods, brushing your hair back from your tear streaked face, “I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. I- I'll tell you everything, alright? I will. I will.”

“Promise?” You hate yourself for how small you sound, how unsure and broken.

“I promise.”

You crane your neck and tilt your head to brush your lips featherlight over his, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on the mess of purple and black and red along the bridge of his nose, your thumbs gravitating yet again to drag over those smooth, barely visible scars around his neck.

“Does your mouth hurt too much, or can I-?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking between his.

“'course you can,” His hand pushes into your hair behind your ear, cupping your head to guide you forward carefully, “C'mere.”

Your mouths come together with all of the gentleness you can manage and you leave one soft peck, then two, then three. You begin to work your hips over his all the while, and neither of you can hold back a keening noise of pleasure at the slow drag of his cock inside your warm walls.

You ease back from his mouth to drag the pads of your index and middle finger lightly over the bruises coloring his skin.

“Did.. Did you really get into a bar fight?” You can't help but ask, even as you're lifting up and dropping back down hard enough to have you both letting out a breathy whimper.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, his fingers trailing along your ribs and stomach like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every inch of your skin, “I.. It's possible I have some unresolved anger or something from- After everything that happened. Sometimes it kinda takes over, like tonight, and then I pick a fight I know I can't win, but.. 'm not lying to you anymore. I mean that.”

You nod and his arms curl around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Trapped in his embrace, you can't do much more than grind on him with slow swivels of your hips, the head of his cock rubbing at that spot on your inner wall that has your brows pulling together in pleasure.

He's so close like this. His chest hair drags against your bare breasts and your tummies are pressed together and the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own. You feel warm — in the physical sense, yes, but also in your stomach, in your bones, in your heart.

“I love you.” Steve says with emotion, like he's feels that warmth too.

Your eyes prickle a little traitorously, fingers toying with the soft ends of his hair, “I love you,” You manage in a choked gasp, “I love you.”

“Ho- Shit..” Steve groans, chin tipping up toward the ceiling for a moment as he throws his head back, “You feel so fuckin' good, honey.”

“Y'r cock feels good,” You pant in response, “So good. So big. I- Fuck.”

“So tight,” He mutters, sitting up a little straighter to meet every roll of your hips, “So perfect. 's like you were fucking made for me, you know that? Take me so well. You were made for this, for me-”

The way that your clit is rubbing against the thatch of hair on his pelvis has you a little dumb already, and his lust-fueled rambling only intensifies your budding orgasm, both of your thighs slick with how fucking good it feels to have him inside of you again. You nod in agreement to his words and manage to give a small whimper, but it seems that he's not done yet.

“-Missed this so much. Missed you, missed this.. Fuck. Honey, I love you. I love you. I-”

“Steve,” You whine, “Love you too.”

His tanned cheeks have gone a little pink beneath the dusting of bruises on his face, breathy groans fanning out past his busted lip. The pretty little noises of pleasure that he can't seem to hold back have you reeling, your gut twisting with heat at the sight of him, the sound of him.

“So goddamn wet for me, honey,” Steve grumbles, his voice catching in a way that has your cunt clenching down on him, “Listen to her. You hear that?”

You do. There's a lewd squelch emitting from the place where you're joined, the sound filling the otherwise quiet apartment every time that your hips roll at just the right angle. It happens again just then, his cock stretching your hole wide enough for the drag of slick and air to create a mildly embarrassing noise that has Steve giving another needy groan, his hips bucking up into yours.

“God, fuck, please tell me you're getting close,” He nearly whimpers, lifting up off of the couch to drive up into you again, “Please, I'm getting so close, babe. Need you to come.”

Euphoria licks up your spine in a white-hot flame, your weight bearing down that much harder to apply more pressure on your puffy clit. Sweat trickles down your spine, disappearing beneath Steve's forearms where they're looped tight around you.

“Mhm,” You hum, the sound catching in the back of your throat, “M'gonna come, Stevie. Y'r gonna make me come.”

Your hips roll a little faster and Steve continues to buck up into you, his cock pressing so, so nicely against the spot that has your brain whiting out a bit at the edges.

“Come on, sweet girl. Come for me,” Steve moans, warm breath fanning out over your lips, “Please, honey. Please come on my cock. Shit, I need it. Need you t' come, please.”

“I am, I am, I am,” You babble desperately, “M'gonna, fuck, fuck, 'm-”

The knot of pleasure in your gut twists sharply and you cry out, face burying in his neck with a whiny gasp as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cunt tightens and trembles around him and a deliciously choked sounding moan tears past Steve's lips as he finally lets his own release wash over him.

The warmth of his come coating your insides has you fluttering around him further, your hands grappling restlessly for any part of him to hold on to, his hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders, his biceps. Breathy little whines and gasps and groans tumble from both of you as you ride it out, the trembling tenseness in your muscles releasing all at once as you go limp in his arms.

It takes a minute, but you eventually come back to yourself a little, peppering a delicate kiss to that infuriating strip of scar tissue along his throat before you're pushing up with weak limbs to look at the man underneath you.

“Hey.” It comes out in a murmur, a breathless little thing that leaves you feeling kind of silly, but your brain hasn't yet recovered enough to work at its full-capacity.

Steve only grins, his lips curling to reveal perfect teeth, a pretty smile pulling at his busted and bruising lips. His eyes twinkle in the patchy darkness of your living room, a pretty mosaic of brown and gold and speckles of green catching in the light and forcing your heart rate to tick up in adoration.

“Hey, honey.” He returns sweetly, one arm uplooping from around your spine so he can reach up to push the sweaty flyaways back from your face.

You can't help but shift over him, sore legs flexing where they're spread over his hairy thighs, a trickle of warmth leaking out from where you're still joined and dripping down into the thick hair at the base of his cock. It feels dirty and intimate in the best way — his come mingled with your own, your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, his wide palms rubbing softly from your hips to your spine and then back again.

“I kinda want to stay like this forever.”

Your whispered admission has his eyes crinkling softly and he drops his forehead to your chest, his breath fanning out over your breasts as he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You won't hear any complaints from me.” Steve mumbles into your skin.

You never want to leave this moment. Your nose pushes into his hair and you pull in the familiar melding of scents, of expensive shampoo and hairspray and an underlying smell that's just Steve. You want to stay right here, in this perfectly imperfect bubble, but you feel Steve wince when he burrows his face into your chest just a little too hard and the serenity cracks.

“Steve?” You murmur softly, fingertips scraping gently against his scalp despite the nerves in your stomach.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You steel yourself with a deep breath, “You know I'd do anything to protect you, right? You.. You know that I'll do anything for you.. Know that.. That you can trust me?” It comes out in a rush, and your nerves increase tenfold when Steve pulls back to look at you, “..Right?”

“Honey,” The endearment comes out laced with something sweet and sticky that makes it sound an awful lot like an apology, “Of course I do.”

His eyes are so soft as they flick between your own, his hands smoothing up the length of your spine in a soothing drag of skin on skin. One hand leaves his hair only so that you can trace your thumb over those two wide freckles on the apple of his cheek, a self-deprecating sort of smile pulling at your lips.

“And.. And you're gonna tell me what's been going on with you?” You nearly whisper.

His mouth finds yours to press a featherlight kiss to your lips, “Yeah, honey. No more secrets. No more lies.”

“Promise?” You ask again, lips pulling into a smile where they're still brushing his own. Your faces are so close it's hard to focus on the way his eyes shine with adoration when he looks up at you, the bruises on the bridge of his nose blurring in the darkness.

“Promise.”

[taurussbabe]

give you my wild, give you a child

note: it's been so long since i've posted anything, missing posting and you guys, so here it is a charles fic 🎀🫶 word count: 1,3 k

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. This is it. You were pregnant, you were going to have a baby, with charles. The adrenaline of the situation got to you and you started crying. Your heard immediately thought ‘hormones’ following by a thought of the amount of times you were going to be able to use that excuse. You laughed at that, but also laughed of happiness, your hand coming to rest on your stomach as you looked down.

“hi baby” you whispered ever so gently.

You wanted to tell charles, you wished he was here, next to you, but he wasn’t, he was in Italy. This weekend was going to be special for charles, it was monza, everyone knew how much monza meant to Ferrari. You though about calling him but decided against it, after all, it could affect his racing or his focus and that was the last thing you wanted.

Keeping it a secret from him was harder than you expected, every time he’d call, you had to bite your tongue not to say it. You had decided you were going to plan something special, not telling him over the phone.

-

You sat on your couch watching the race, on the edge of your seat, charles had managed to snatch P2 yesterday and you were so proud of him, but you knew he wanted more. Luckily for him, the monza curse struck again and Verstappen had to retire the race, leaving your boyfriend in P1.

You didn’t want to get very excited because it was Ferrari, a simple strategy mistake and charles could loose the highest place on the podium, but he didn’t. you watched proudly as you boyfriend lifted his champagne bottle, spraying all the tifosi there watching him.

-

You had tried to stay awake till he got home, but sleep got the best of you, because when you woke up, you were no longer in your couch, wrapped around your blanket, you were in bed, charles arm wrapped around your waist, his hand stroking you back and his eyes glued to yours.

“good morning, mon ange” he whispered and you swore you felt butterflies in your tummy, you wondered if the baby feels it too, or something like that.

“good morning, I’m so proud of you, like bursting out of pride” you kissed him fearlessly, pouring out every bit of your love for him

“wow, if you’re like this when I win, then I should win more often” he joked “did you watch me?”

“of course I did, you were so great” you placed your hand on your stomach but quickly realized your mistake and placed it on his cheek

He kissed you again before he quickly sat up “I am making YOU breakfast” he brushed your leg softly and disappeared down the hallway.

After eating breakfast, you were going to finally tell him, but he had other ideas “I’m gonna shower, I didn’t do it last night because you were asleep, but I smell like champagne” he gave you a peck on your lips and left without saying another word.

-

You heard the shower stop as you sat anxiously on the bed, a small box next to you. He finally came out of the shower and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down, I mean, the guy looked like a Greek god, water still dripping and his chest fully exposed with a towel hanging around his hips

“oh, I didn’t know you were here” he leaned down to kiss the top of your head “are you ok? What is that?” he pointed to the box

“sit” you said seriously and he chuckled gently before realizing your tone was serious and sitting down, his face immediately dropping

“are you ok?” he grabbed your hands and gave them a tight squeeze “please talk to me”

“I have something for you” you handed him the box, and watched closely his reaction while opening it

Inside, he found a small Ferrari onesie with the name Leclerc on the back. You hoped for any kind of reaction, anything really, but he only smiled at you.

“aw, you bought something for Chiara? It’s cute but I think it’s a bit too small for her” he said and you were a bit incredulous how he didn’t got it but still managed to pull a laugh at his assumption that it was for his best friend’s baby.

That was the thing with charles though, no matter how scared or nervous you were, he always found a way to make you laugh, and you loved it.

“the thing is.. this is not for Chiara” you placed his hand on your stomach and a tear escaped your eyes

“wait.. really?” he asked, his eyes getting full of tears now “like, really?” those were the only words coming out of his mouth and honestly you couldn’t judge because you couldn’t say anything, you could only nod at him

Next thing you know, charles was pulling you in for a kiss, one that left you breathless. He picked you up and spun you around, pulling you up so your legs wrapped around him. Both of your hands came to his face and cleaned the few tears that laid on his cheeks and he mimicked your movements by kissing every inch of your cheeks til there was no tears

“Are you sure?” he asked and you climbed out of his arms to show him the test you had in your bag

“pretty sure” you both stayed still for a moment, this was going to happen, you and charles were going to be parents. As you both started to realize this, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten so lucky in life. “Are you happy?”

He took a few steps in your direction and pulled you in close to him, close enough that you could feel in breath on you “of course I am, you make me the happiest, I love you so much, mon amour, and I promise, I will be the best father”

“I know” you whispered, only loud enough so he could hear.

“no, I mean it, I’m gonna be the best, I’ll always be there and I’ll never, EVER, gonna let anything happen to the two of you, ever, you’re my world” he walked with you so your back fell into the mattress, his fingers playing with the hem of your (his) shirt, lifting it up enough so that he could see your belly, reaching to touch it, kneeling in front of you, his lips connecting with your stomach, whispering something to the baby, something you couldn’t even hear yourself. You immediately started crying when you saw him shed a tear, him immediately rising up to his feet, his hands on your shoulders “why are you crying? Are you okay, mon ange?”

“Yes, yes, I just… I was so scared of how you were going to react and… you know” you moved your hands around, stopping when he started laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re adorable, and I love you too much” you simply smiled and let him kiss you, for a second there you forgot he was still in a towel and just realized how gorgeous and hot the man in front of you was, you must have been staring because you noticed him smirking at you, kissing you, letting his hands wonder around you, but you couldn’t help but notice how he was being a little more careful with you, too careful.

“what are you doing?” you pulled back

“kissing you…I’m sorry, did I misread the signs?”

“no, I want this” you point up and down at him “but I don’t want you to hold back”

“I’m sorry, I’m just scared to hurt you or the baby” you smiled fondly at him and kissed his jaw

“that’s cute, but I want you, and I don’t want you told back, please”

“I won’t, then” he picked you up, his towel dropping when he got the both of you in the bedroom. You didn’t know why you were so scared, this was charles, it was always going to be okay”

[scoonsalicious]

6.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, nudity, Bucky's lies come back to bite his ass.

Please note: I'll be taking a break from posting starting on Thursday, May 16th to focus on writing, and will resume posting on Thursday, May 23rd.

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: Porn. The last chapter was porn.

A/N: Sorry, besties; not sure what happened. I set this up to post at 445 per usual, and when I came back on, I saw it still hadn't gone up, so I'm doing it manually. I apologize for this screw up!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and Major. He had to pee, but he didn’t want to get up. God, he never wanted to get up. If he could stay wrapped up with her like this, for the rest of his life, he thought, he would die happy. The very idea struck him like a brick– he’d given a lot of thought to his own death over the years, but never, not once, did he ever consider the possibility that he might actually die happy until this very moment. 

If she was in his life when he went, he realized, he very well could.

Major shifted in her sleep and snuggled further into Bucky’s chest with a contented sigh, and he felt his heart swell. If he wasn’t careful, at the rate his feelings were going, he was at risk of proposing to her before lunch. 

After about fifteen more minutes of blissfully watching Major sleep in his arms, Bucky couldn’t hold off his bladder any longer. Gently extricating himself from Major’s embrace so as not to disturb her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom. 

After he’d finished and washed his hands, he made his way back toward Major’s bed. As he passed by the string of clothes he’d discarded the night before, he heard a buzzing coming from his pants. He reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Lily. Again.

Bucky sighed and took himself back to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him as he accepted the call.

“Hey, Lil, what’s up?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Major’s whirlpool tub.

“Hey, Jamie,” she said, and Bucky could immediately tell something was wrong. She sounded… off, distressed. “Listen,” she continued, “I know you and Sam probably had a late night last night, and I hate bothering you…”

“What’s wrong, Lil?” Bucky asked, growing concerned now. 

“Well, I drove out to Langston Park to run the trails,” Lily began, “and I don’t know if I ran over a nail or had a slow leak, or what, but when I got back to the car, my tire was flat. I was kind of hoping you could meet me up here and help me change it?”

Bucky ran a hand over his stubble. “Shit,” he said. “You know I would in a heartbeat, Lil, but–”

“No, yeah,” Lily interrupted him. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m sure someone will drive by and I can flag them down for help–”

“Lily Anne McIntyre, you are not going to wave down a stranger and just hope that they’re not a murderer or a rapist,” Bucky said into the phone, a little louder than he intended. “Listen, I’m on my way, but I’m in the city, so it’s going to take me a little while, okay? Just… just stay in your car with the doors locked until I get there.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Jamie!” Lily’s voice was full of relief. “You’re my hero! I owe you, big time!”

Bucky cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Give me about forty-five minutes to get to you, okay? And remember, lock. your. doors.” 

“I promise,” Lily agreed before ending the call. 

Bucky stood up from the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom and quietly put his clothes back on. Sitting down at the edge of Major’s side of the bed, he leaned down and began pressing kisses to her shoulder and collarbone until she stirred and started to stretch. 

With a lazy moan that sent the blood straight to Bucky’s dick, Major sleepily blinked her eyes open. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” she asked him, her voice seductively husky with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

Bucky wanted to. Oh god, he really, really wanted to. “I’m so sorry, sugar,” he told her, leaning down to give her a proper kiss. 

“Bucky,” she laughed, pulling back from him, “I just woke up; I’m sure I have horrible morning breath.”

“Like I would ever care.” He cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers, gently running his tongue along her lips so she opened her mouth to him. 

After a long moment, they broke apart, and Bucky rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly. “But I’ve got to go.”

Major nuzzled her cheek against his. “So, don’t,” she murmured. “Stay.”

Bucky sighed. “I can’t. Lily’s got a flat tire; she’s waiting on me to come help her change it.” 

Major let out a puff of air through her lips. “Well, give me five minutes to get dressed and I can come with you,” she offered hopefully. 

“I’d love that, doll,” Bucky said, frowning, “but Lily’s still pissed off about the bar and…” he ran a hand behind his neck, suddenly realizing how stupid this was going to sound, “I haven’t told her I’ve been seeing you.”

The change that came over Major was nearly imperceptible, but Bucky clocked it, all the same. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tensed and she pulled back from him by a hair.

“So,” Major began slowly, “where did she think you were last night when she called you, then? You said you’d already told her what you were up to. If she didn’t know you were with me, what did she think you were doing?”

“I told her I was having a guys’ night out in the city with Sam,” Bucky admitted, hating himself now for even deeming the lie necessary in the first place.

“I see.” The words were clipped, Major’s voice void of any emotion, and Bucky knew he’d fucked up. Immensely. “Well, you better get going, then, if Lily’s waiting on you.”

“Major.” Bucky put a hand on her arm, but she got up out of the bed, dragging the topsheet with her to wrap around herself and keep her body covered from him, as if now, suddenly, after everything they’d already done together, she no longer wanted him to see her naked. “Can we just–”

“You should go, Bucky,” she said again, not meeting his eye, and Bucky felt like absolute shit. 

“Can I call you later?” he asked, and he heard the note of desperation in his own voice, but Major just shrugged a shoulder. He tried to lean in to her to give her a kiss goodbye, but she stood there, still as a statue, so he simply pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed before showing himself to the door.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, and he’d blown it. She’d probably never want to see him again, and honestly, could he blame her? He’d lied about being with her, like she was some kind of dirty secret. Sam had been right, though Bucky would never admit it to him. Why was he letting Lily’s opinion dictate how he lived his life?

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[justmystyles]

NEED YOU TO WRITE A JEALOUS/Angsty one for the picture of whoever is applying moisturiser to Harry. Your angst is soooooo good

PS: I’m OBSESSED with your work

Business or Pleasure?

read my other works here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for sending in this request, and for your kind words! when i first saw it, i wasn't really sure how to make angst out of it, but i think i figured it out pretty well.

i did take some artistic liberties with timelines here, i know the outfits and tour dates don't line up, but i had to suspend disbelief a little to make the story work out. sorry, don't come for me!

**Hey, so let's try this again! The first time I posted it was answering the wrong ask. That one will still be done snd posted. I promise!**

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As your car traveled through the streets of Glasgow, you were unable to really take in the stunning scenery around you. You were too busy worrying about what the day had in store for you, panicking about being face to face with him again. 

Love on Tour had been on break since November, so you hadn’t seen Harry in nearly seven months. And the last time you did see him, things got complicated. After the last show, Harry had rented out a local bar to throw what he deemed the ‘Love on Tour holiday party’. Since everyone would be going their separate ways for a bit, he wanted to give this family he had formed a chance to celebrate together. 

As with most holiday parties, the alcohol was flowing rather freely, and everyone was getting loose and having a good time. You noticed that as the night went on, Harry was by your side more and more, his jokes getting slightly more flirty and his touches lingering just a little longer than they usually would. You two had developed a pretty flirty relationship, but he was like that with everyone, so you didn’t think much of it.

Until you found yourselves in a secluded corner of the bar with his tongue down your throat. 

Sure, it was something you had thought about for a while. Harry was one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen, and to top it off he was so kind, and funny. He was technically your boss, but you would never know it. He treated you like his equal, his friend. Developing a crush on him was inevitable. But you had never expected anything to happen. Then it did, and you hadn’t heard from him since. 

At some point, Harry had gotten pulled away from you to do shots with the band, and you had an early flight the next morning. So you decided to slip out while he was distracted, it would allow you to put off the awkward conversation, at least for a little while. 

You had expected a call or text, anything from him the next day, but you didn’t. You hadn’t heard from him once since that night. You had seen him making appearances and doing interviews, which meant that he had hired someone else for his glam during the break, that hurt. He had regretted that night so much that he didn’t even want to work with you. 

You were contracted for the entirety of his tour, so you knew you would have to go back. When you signed on for the tour, you were excited to see the world, but now you were dreading every second you had to spend with Harry pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you. Pretending that you weren’t heartbroken. 

“Miss?” The driver’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you realized that you had arrived.

You thanked the driver as he handed you your bags and made your way through the backstage area. As you walked down the hall, you stopped to say hi and caught up quickly with people you’d run into, sharing quick stories about your break and promising to catch up soon. You found your way to the glam room, and took your time setting everything, partially because of how particular you were, but more than that, you wanted to kill as much time as you could so you didn’t have to go out to the common areas and socialize. You knew he’d be there, and you didn’t want to face him. 

Once things were set up, you killed time alone in your space, scrolling through your phone. You heard voices coming down the hallway, one of them was unmistakable. You put your phone down and took a deep breath to prepare yourself. As he walked through the door, you plastered your best fake smile on. 

Harry saw you, and you noticed his expression falter slightly, but he quickly corrected it. “Hey Y/N, welcome back.” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into a quick side hug. It was significantly shorter than your past hugs, but it was long enough for his scent to overtake your senses. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you step back, signaling for him to take a seat. You and Jeff say your hellos, and you make your way to your kit. The sooner you got started, the sooner you’d be finished, and you’d be able to get some distance from Harry. 

Jeff stayed by Harry’s side while he was in your chair. No doubt a calculated measure by Harry to make sure you weren’t left alone. As grateful as you were for that, you were also annoyed. He was the one that kissed you, and he wasn’t even man enough to reject you and apologize. 

“You’re all set.” You said once you were finished. You noticed Harry flinch slightly at your tone. You didn’t mean for your words to come out so stern, but you would only be able to hold back your emotions for so much longer. 

“Oh… okay, thanks Y/N.” Harry said cautiously as he got out of the chair, walking out of the room with Jeff. 

Once they were gone, you sat down into the chair Harry had just been in and dropped your face into your hands. The rest of this tour was going to be a nightmare. 

“Y/N, we need you backstage real quick.” Jeff sticks his head in the door only a couple of minutes before showtime. “And grab that lotion.” 

You furrow your brow, but comply. Grabbing the bottle and following Jeff down the hall. You find Harry standing shirtless amongst the hustle and bustle of pre-show preparations. 

“Um…” You got Harry’s attention and held up the bottle. “Jeff asked for this?” 

“Oh, right. I um… well…” He gestures to his bare torso. “I can do it if–”

“No no,” you interrupt him. “It’s fine, it’s my job.” You pump some lotion into your hand and set the bottle down. You rub your hands together and step up to Harry, taking a deep breath to center yourself before placing your hands on his chest and rubbing the lotion in. 

As your hands run along his body, your mind flashes back to that night. Your hands on his, his on you, your tongues entwined. You shake off the thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, you look up to meet his concerned, almost sad gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your eyes remain locked on each other, Harry opens his mouth to say something. 

“The internet is going to go nuts for this!” You both snap your attention over to Lloyd, who was snapping pictures of your interaction. 

You feel your face heat up and look down, trying to hide your blush from Harry. You hurry to finish applying the lotion. “All set,” you finally say, unable to look up at him. He thanks you as you’re scurrying away, rushing back to your area. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the hotel and hide, but you knew you’d need to stay for a few touch ups before the encore. So you spent the entirety of the show sitting alone in the hair and makeup area lost in your thoughts, wondering how you were going to make it through. 

You kept an eye on the show through the monitor, making your way to the backstage area as he was finishing up his final song before the encore. He rushed over to you, breathing heavy, and adrenaline running high. You made some quick adjustments to his hair, and handed him a towel so he could wipe down a bit before going back out there, avoiding his gaze the whole time. 

He thanks you quietly before he returns to the stage, and you return to your space. While he’s finishing the show, you pack your things, hoping to get out of there and back to the hotel before he’s off stage. As you're closing up your case, you’re startled by a knock at the door. You look up and silently curse yourself for not moving faster when you see Harry standing in front of you. His chest rising and falling rapidly, still catching his breath, his body glistening, a combination of sweat and the lotion you had applied earlier. He was the last person you wanted to see, but you couldn’t look away. 

“Hi,” he breaks the silence. “Can we talk for a minute?” 

“I can’t, my car is waiting. I’ve gotta get back to the hotel.” You pick up your case and move closer to him, but he refuses to move from the doorway. 

“Please,” he pleads with you. You look up and see determination in his eyes. He’s not going to let you go without talking. You relent, dropping your case by the door and signaling for him to come in. “You’re not going to pull some fancy footwork and run past me if I move away from the door?”

You shake your head, you know he’s making a joke, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh. You move further into the room, hopping up to take a seat on the counter. “I’m here.” 

Harry takes a seat, running a hand through his hair as he tries to form the words. “I think I owe you an apology for the last time I saw you.” You remain silent, hoping he continues. “I was drunk, I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have, it wasn’t professional.” 

“It’s okay, we were both drunk.” You say, your feet swinging back and forth. 

“The last thing I wanted to do was screw up what we had,” he confessed.

“It’s fine, like you said, you were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.” 

Harry looked up at you, his brows furrowed. “I said I was drunk Y/N, not that it didn’t mean anything.” 

Your eyes went wide at his words. “I… what?” Before he could continue. “I just assumed it was a dunk fling or whatever.” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘drunken words are sober thoughts’?” You nod, trying to put the puzzle together. “Well in this case, it’s drunken actions.” He stood from his seat, stepping closer to you. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a long time. I had liquid courage running through me that night, I knew I wasn’t going to see you for a while, and you looked so beautiful, and you smiled at me like that, and I just couldn’t help myself.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, it was the only thing you could manage to get out. 

“After the guys pulled me away, I tried to find you. I wanted to lay everything out, tell you how I felt, but you left.” He looked down, but you could see the pain in his eyes before they dropped. “We had kissed, it was this amazing kiss, and then you just left without saying goodbye. I realized I had fucked up.” 

“I didn’t, that’s not why I left, I…” You were about to apologize for leaving, but he could have just as easily called you. “Why didn’t you just call? Text? Anything?” 

“I felt so bad. I didn’t know what to say. The more time had passed, the harder it got. And before I knew it, it had been seven months.” He saw the tears welling in your eyes, and his heart sank. “I missed you so much during the break, but I miss you more now. You’re right in front of me, but it feels like you’re a million miles away.”

“I’m right here, Harry.” 

“You’re not though, we’ve barely said anything to each other, and there’s this awkwardness between us. I hate it.” His voice starts raising, frustration growing in his tone. “It was one of the best kisses of my life, but if I could go back in time and stop it from happening so that we could be us again, I would.” 

“Harry?” He looks up at you and you see a vulnerability in his eyes that you’d never seen before. “I wanted that kiss too. It meant so much to me.” 

“But… but you just left…”

“I had an early flight, and I didn’t want to pull you away because you felt like you needed to let me down easy. I just assumed I’d hear from you the next day, hungover and apologize. But I never did.” 

Harry stepped in between your legs, his hand coming up and brushing across your cheek. “You’ve wanted to kiss me too?” Your breath hitched from how close he was, all you could do was nod. He smirked at your nerves, relief washing over him. “You know, when you were putting that lotion on earlier, when your hands were all over me,” his face moved closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You were driving me crazy.” 

You couldn’t contain yourself, his husky tone, his breath against your face, you closed the distance and kissed him. He groaned against your lips as his hands rested on your thighs, squeezing gently. This kiss was different than the last, that first kiss was sloppy, desperate. This time, it was slower, more deliberate. 

When you finally separated, you were both breathless, silly grins plastered on your faces. “So, what now?” You ask, unsure about where this leaves you. 

“Well,” Harry sighs, his thumbs running back and forth over your thighs. “We definitely still have stuff to talk about, but I’m hoping it leads to a lot more of that.” He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. 

“I have a feeling it will.” You smirk, pulling him in for another kiss. 

[theemporium]

Hi!

🐈‍⬛ Reader hearing scary noises while being home alone on Halloween and calls Jack to come over and take care of her🥲

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You loved Halloween.

You loved the festivities in the month leading up to the holiday. You loved the spooky movies that made you laugh and the horror movies that made you jump. You loved the ghost stories and the old wives’ tales people whispered and shared during the month of October. There truly wasn’t an aspect you didn’t like.

But maybe your obsession meant you got in your own head a lot.

A coincidence was no longer just a coincidence. Things didn’t just happen by chance. And weird noises weren’t just random, one-time situations.

It sucked that you had gotten sick during one of your favourite holidays of the year. You hated the fact you had been confined to the couch, a blanket thrown over your lap and a marathon of movies playing on the tv since you had woken up this morning.

You had felt like shit. Your social media pages were flooded with everyone celebrating the holiday, dressing up and posting funny little stories and clips to their pages. It just made you resent the stuffy nose, sore throat and headache you had been sporting the last few days.

And Jack knew you were sick. He wanted to come over and spend the holiday with you. But you had been stubborn and firm that you didn’t want to get him sick, nor did you want him to miss out celebrating with his teammates.

You could survive a night alone.

However, thirty minutes into some creepy horror movie that left you more disturbed than scared, everything changed.

You didn’t hear the first noise, just passing it off as a noise in the movie. The second time, you became painfully aware that you were alone in an apartment that was in a building probably just as empty with everyone out and about. By the third noise, your chest was tightening with uneasiness and your finger was pressing Jack’s name before you could stop yourself.

“My favourite girl! How are you feeling, babe?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, feeling guilty at how excited and happy he sounded on the phone. You didn’t want to ruin his night.

“Babe, you there?”

“Jack—” you started but a small, choked out whimper cut you off.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I’m on my way right now. Just stay on the line with me, baby? Tell me what’s happened.”

“It’s stupid,” you confessed to your boyfriend in a hushed whisper, glancing around the house like you expected someone to pop out.

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, sweetheart. I can promise you that.”

Just as he promised, Jack stayed on the phone with you until he made it to your apartment. After seeing how shaken up you were, he made a point of doing a full swoop of the apartment before he joined you in the living room.

“All clear, baby,” he murmured as he tucked himself under the blanket, pulling you until you were practically draped on his lap. He knew he was taking advantage of the fact you were scared to finally be able to hold you after a few days since you had banned him. Then again, he didn’t care what reason he had to hold you, he just loved doing it. “Not gonna let anything happen to my girl.”

“Can you stay here tonight?” You asked in whispered voice, nuzzling your face into his chest as you pressed your ear against his chest, against his beating heart.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Gonna stay as long as you want me.”

“Good,” you said. “You can be the ones the ghosts attack first so I can escape.”

Jack snorted. “Oh wow.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I’m really feeling the love here.”

.

[jflemings]

Prompt 1 w jflem plzz

— mine

prompt: 1 “you are the best thing that’s ever been mine” from this post

a/n: my fav taylor song w jflem oooooo anon you are my best friend!!! also so funny that i was already working on a ‘mine’ fic for jess but that’s a whole diff thing xx

georgian bay glistens as the sun sets on the horizon, the last of it’s rays painting the sky with blues, oranges and pinks. jessie almost can’t believe her luck.

she’s got her arm around you as an attempt to fight off the chill breeze nipping at your faces, her nose turning pink from the cold. your face is tucked into her neck and both of you are holding one end of a blanket that’s wrapped around your shoulders. the scenery almost makes her forget why she brought you out here in the first place, the sight so breathtaking that it’s somehow distracted her from one of the most important things she’ll do in her lifetime.

almost.

jessie’s grip tightens on her end of the blanket as her heart rate speeds up, the sudden anxiety washing over her like how the waves would smother the rocks at high tide in burleigh heads. she thinks back to her time in australia fondly, but her thoughts always came back to you and how she felt sitting near the water watching the sunset with her arm around you, similarly to how the two of you are sitting in this very moment.

she doesn’t really know why she’s nervous because she knows your answer. the two of you had talked about marriage plenty of times before and every time you assured her that when she decided to ask, the answer would be yes.

you sigh and sit up “we should start heading back, i really don’t want to make your mum wait for us”

jessie shakes her head “i told her we had dinner plans. she’s not expecting us”

a puzzled look crosses your features “we have dinner plans?” you ask “you didn’t tell me that”

“spur of the moment type of thing” she shrugs before looking at you “we’ve got all the time in the world”

“i’d rather not be freezing my ass off in the dark, fleming” you say, dropping the blanket and standing. you brush off your bum and stretch your arms up before stuffing your hands in the pockets of your coat, admiring the view.

jessie takes a deep breath and runs over what she wants to say in her head, biting her lip and keeping her gaze focused on the water as she speaks to you “can you grab my waterbottle?” she asks.

you turn and walk three steps to where your stuff is, moving things around to find what you’re looking for. jessie knows you aren’t going to find it, it’s tucked into her side, but she needs at least forty five seconds to work the nerves out of her hands and get on one knee.

the midfielder shakes her hands out and puts one knee up, keeping the other on the ground, whilst she pulls the ring box out of her puffer pocket.

“jess are you sure it’s here?” you ask loudly “because i can’t find it, maybe you left it in the car” you exclaim, throwing your arms out and putting them on your hips before turning to face her.

your jaw drops almost comically at the sight of your girlfriend in front of you. her rosy cheeks are more flushed than usual, she’s wearing a nervous smile that you’ve never seen before and you can swear that her hands are shaking. sat in her grasp is a small black velvet box, the simple diamond ring occupying it catching the light.

“jess–”

“nope, no, you have to let me speak” she cuts you off, shaking her head

you nod shyly, bringing one of your hands up to cover your mouth “go on then”

jess let’s out a shaky breath “y/n i can’t count on my fingers how many times i’ve said that i’m going to marry you. i’ve said it directly to you, to my family, to my friends, anyone who would listen. everytime i’ve said it, i meant it. from the first time when i said it in that crowded bar in london, to two nights ago when we were in my childhood bedroom.” she says almost breathlessly, smiling when she realises that you’re tearing up.

“i have loved you longer than you’ve known” she says more quietly “i’ve had the privilege of watching you grow into such a kind and caring person. your compassion and ability to see everyone for who they are never fails to amaze me. everyday i wake up thankful that i get to spend my life with you so i’m asking, will you marry me?”

hey honey brown eyes are filled with hope and anticipation, leaving you to almost forget that she’s awaiting an answer from you. you shake your head and pull your hands off your face in borderline disbelief “of course i’ll marry you!”

jessie’s face breaks out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, tears welling up in her eyes as she carefully slips the ring on your finger. she grabs your face before she even gets off the ground and pulls you into a passionate kiss. the pads of her thumbs glide softly over your cheekbones before her grip tightens, pulling you impossibly closer.

you both pull apart from eachother so you can breathe but her lips still ghost over yours while she’s got her eyes closed.

“you are the best thing that’s ever been mine” she whispers against your lips before kissing you again, softer but with just as much passion as before.

you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with her.

[skzdust]

Room 514

Part 4

This one got longer than expected! Hope you enjoy! Pt 5 will get very interesting 👀

Summary: You’re moving into a new suite halfway through your sophomore year at Stay University, populated by three guys: Jisung, Changbin, and Bang Chan. You meet their friends and quickly become a part of their group, but you find yourself wanting more with Jisung…

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Includes: skipping class, crappy dining hall food, bad TV shows, cuddling, late-night drives

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife, @tsunderelino

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Masterlist

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You rolled over in bed and picked up your phone, which was playing your morning alarm louder than usual, and nearly had a heart attack. Your first class of the day started in five minutes.

You jumped out of bed and pulled on the first clothes you saw, which happened to be yesterday’s outfit that you’d left on the floor. You grabbed your backpack, deciding to forego morning hygiene until you got back from class. Your professor was strict about attendance, and you didn’t want to waste one of your absences because you overslept.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the way you thought about it), Jisung was laying down in the living room, one leg dangling off the couch, scrolling on his phone. He sat up when you rushed in, and you tried not to look at him.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You failed, turning around. “I’m about to be late for class.”

“Ah.” He nodded, glancing at his phone and clicking it off. “You’ve got one minute to get there. If I were you, I’d just skip.”

You sighed, turning the door handle but keeping it shut. “I wish. I only get three skips.”

“Then use one.”

“We’re, like, three weeks into the semester.” You said. “But that’s an appealing idea.”

“Then do it!” Jisung leaned back again, putting his arms behind his head and tapping his fingers against his head. “No time like the present. I’ll skip with you. We can go to the dining hall and get subpar eggs and watch The Immortal and the Restless.”

“That does sound… very nice.” You said, your fingers tightening on the door handle as you considered.

“C’mon.” He gave you a rakish smile. “Dare ya.”

Well, I can’t turn down a dare.

Your hand left the handle, and you rolled your eyes, smiling. “Fine.”

“I know, I know, I’m totally twisting your arm here.”

“Oh, totally.” You grinned at the thought of spending another day hanging out with Jisung. “I’m gonna go change and brush my teeth, and then we can go get food.”

“Sounds good.”

You walked into your room, picking out a clean outfit and taking a few minutes to mess with your hair before deeming it acceptable. You tried to ignore the excited feeling in your stomach as you brushed your teeth and did your skincare routine.

It’s just Jisung. You’re just getting food and watching your TV show. Nothing’s about to happen.

You’d hung out with Jisung and his friend group in the living room a couple of times during the week, but you hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with him since the mall trip a little less than a week ago. Finishing that calculus on Monday night had been hell, but it was worth it.

But today was Friday, which meant you could do nothing tonight. A twinge of guilt twitched in your stomach as you thought about the two classes you’d decided to skip.

Like he said. You reassured yourself. No time like the present.

You walked back out to the living room. “I’m hungry, let’s go get some breakfast.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jisung stood up. “You should get a jacket this time, though. Remember last time we went to get snacks and watch this show?”

“I won’t need a jacket. It’s only…” You glanced at the weather widget on your lock screen. “37 ℉.”

“That’s almost freezing temperature. You definitely need a jacket.” Jisung decided. “If you won’t get one of your own, I’ll get one.” He pointed at you. “You will wear a jacket.”

Okay, well, I have to be stubborn now. You remembered how warm the coat had been from his body, how good it had smelled, how it fit you.

“It’s not even snowing, or raining, or hailing. Those are jacket conditions. These are not jacket conditions.”

He raised an eyebrow, stared at you with judgement in his eyes for just a second, and walked back to his room. He returned with two jackets, a long black puffer coat and a shorter tan puffer coat. “Okay, take your pick.”

“Jacket? Those are coats!”

“It’s cold! You get a coat!”

You sighed, snatching the black coat from his hand and slipping it on.

“Hold on.” Jisung reached into the pocket and pulled out a black beanie. “Stay still.”

You did so, and he carefully put the hat on your head, then pulled out a few strands of your hair to frame your face.

He was so close. His tongue peeked out from his lips for a second, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

He looked in your eyes as he adjusted the hat over your ears, then stepped back, tilting his head to assess his work with a small smile. “There you go. We don’t want your ears freezing.”

“Of course.” You forced a laugh out, flustered.

He put on the tan coat and shoved a red hat onto his own head.

I’m gonna play his game.

You stepped towards him. “Here.” You gently arranged his hair under the beanie. You could feel his wide eyes on your face the whole time, but you made an active effort not to look at his expression.

You stepped back, finally looking at his face.

“Absolutely perfect!” You said, trying to make it sound like a joke and not your actual opinion.

He grinned. “Thank you.”

Jisung held the door for you as you walked out of the room, and your hands brushed as you got into the elevator. He pushed the button, looking like he hadn’t noticed anything, as you tried to suppress the thrill in your chest.

You scrunched your nose at the cold as you walked out of the dorm. Jisung laughed. “See? I was right about the jacket!”

“I don’t know about that.” You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “It’s not that cold.”

“Sure.”

You relaxed when you walked into the warm dining hall, shivering off the cold. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Mhm.” Jisung looked amused.

“Shut up.” You mumbled.

The dining hall was busy, but not impossible. You and Jisung got your food and found a table for two.

“All we need is a vase of flowers.” Jisung said as he sat down.

“What?”

“Y’know, like how at fancy restaurants they have vases of flowers?” He waved his hand. “Whatever, stupid joke.”

“No, no, I get it.” You looked down, smiling.

You weren’t sure you got it, actually. Was he implying this was like a… a date?

You and Jisung both ate quickly, not talking a lot. It felt comfortable, like it was just natural for you to be skipping class and scarfing down eggs with your unfairly attractive roommate.

The two of you finished your food around the same time and stood up to leave. Jisung paused with his hand on the door handle leading back out to the yard. “Wanna get snacks?”

“As long as it doesn’t end in another snowstorm, I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah, although that poetry library was pretty cool.”

“It was.”

You walked beside each other to the store, and you fought the urge to take his hand… or adjust his hat again… or kiss him…

You picked out some candy at the store and sat it on the checkout counter, behind Jisung’s stuff.

“This yours?” The cashier motioned to your candy once she’d finished scanning Jisung’s, and before you could reply, Jisung cut in with a “Yeah, I’ll get it.”

“What is your obsession with paying for me?” You elbowed him.

“Chivalrous Jisung, remember?” He winked at you. Winked.

You elbowed him again, harder.

“Okay, you’re carrying the bag.” He put away his card and shoved the bag of food to you. You sighed dramatically and took the bag.

The walk back to the dorm was far more peaceful than it had been the other day, not a snowstorm in sight. You made it back to your room and unpacked the bag onto the coffee table, spreading it all out. “Looks like a good haul.” You looked at him. “Thank you.”

He finished shrugging off his coat and threw you a grin. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Can you get the show up?”

“Yeah.” He queued the second episode of The Immortal and the Restless on the TV as you took your time selecting a snack. In reality, you weren’t sure if he’d want to sit together again, or if you were overthinking things from the other day.

“Can you bring me those gummies? I like the watermelon ones.”

You picked the candy up and turned around to hand them to him. He was sitting on the couch, one hand holding the blanket, the other around the back of the couch. “You wanna sit with me?”

“S—sure.” You stood up, handing him the gummies and awkwardly sitting beside him. You weren’t sure what he was comfortable with, weren’t sure if he wanted more with you, weren’t sure if—

“C’mere.” Jisung squeezed your bicep, his arm around your shoulders. “I’m a touchy person, if you’re okay with that.”

“I am certainly okay with that.” You said quickly, pulling your legs onto the couch and curling up against his side.

Jisung was warm, warmer than you’d expected him to be. His arm circled a bit closer around you, pulling you close. You blinked a second longer than you needed to. This was real, right? He didn’t seem to notice, clicking the episode on.

You had a hard time focusing on the show, instead letting your mind wander about Jisung. Every time he adjusted, you scooted a little closer to him. You let your eyes flicker up to his face, his damn near perfect face…

A few episodes in, Jisung’s hand found your hair. “’S okay if I play with your hair?” He mumbled.

“Yeah,” You breathed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

His fingers gently combed through your hair, drawing designs on your scalp, little circles, scratching your head.

You thought you might die of bliss, right then and there.

The whole day passed like that, with the two of you eating junk food and watching TV and cuddling. Every time he went to the bathroom, you worried that Jisung wouldn’t want to be touchy again when he returned. But every time, without fail, he returned to touching your hair, gently stroking your arm, pulling you a little closer. You didn’t talk much, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t need to.

“Hey, Y/n?” Jisung paused the show once an episode was done.

“Mm?” You looked up from where your head rested on his side.

“Wanna go for a drive? I wanna move around a bit.” He smiled. “I’m tired, and it’s only like six, and I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

“Sure.” You sat up, feeling your face and noticing marks where you’d been leaning on Jisung’s shirt.

He grabbed his car keys, and you walked out to the parking lot, which had an orange cast in the glow of the old streetlights. You got into the passenger seat, and Jisung drove off campus.

“Where are we going?”

Jisung shrugged. “Nowhere.”

You leaned your head back against the headrest.

“Mind if I put on music?” Jisung looked at his phone for a second, queuing something up.

“Sure.”

He pressed play, and a slow love song started playing, just loud enough for you to hear.

The heat was blasting, and a soft snowfall began, and Jisung’s hand found yours on the center console.

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: this chapter might be a little slower than the rest, but I felt like it was important to establish how they are surviving. I tried to keep it spicy and interesting but please stay with me, I believe I have some great stuff coming up :)

Chapter Ten

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

October 2003

Pittsburgh, PA

It had taken you nearly a full month to make it 400 miles, having to stop frequently and rest for a couple days here and there, but you were halfway to Chicago. Your bodies were not used to the constant exercise, and it required you to rest more than you expected. Joel suspected you were both deficient in some capacity since all you had eaten was canned and processed food for a month and exerting much more energy than normal. You were holed up in a small cabin outside of Pittsburgh, about 10 miles away from reaching the city. Joel had broken into the cabin late last night, and the two of you collapsed into bed once he confirmed the place was empty. He had planned to stay here for a couple days, wanting to make sure you were both as well rested as possible.

The next morning, Joel was looking around the small basement of the cabin, his flashlight bouncing off the dirty concrete walls while you went through the clothes left in the dressers upstairs, determining which ones were suitable to swap out. With winter fast approaching, you both needed to find clothes with longer sleeves and extra layers.

His flashlight scanned over a rusted metal shelving unit in the far corner. He walked over to inspect the items, finding mostly cleaning products, insect repellant, paint, and other chemicals. At the very bottom he found a hunting trap which he picked up to examine, pleasantly surprised to find it was still functional. He took it upstairs and placed it on the small kitchen table, then went to find you in the bedroom, where he heard you opening and shutting the dresser drawers.

The queen bed was covered in clothes, women's clothes on the right and men's on the left. On the floor you had tossed three well-worn hunting jackets, and on the other side of the room was a pile of discarded clothes that looked like they were meant for warmer months.

"Makin’ some progress up here?” he asked, bending down to take a closer look at the jackets and opening the pockets to see what was left behind. He triumphantly pulled out a few batteries and a lighter, shoving them in his jeans pocket. He picked the jacket up and shook the dust off before trying it on.

"Yeah, we got some good options. I think the guy's clothes will fit you, her clothes will be a little baggy on me but that's fine, I can do layers," you said over your shoulder as you scooped up loose socks from the top drawer and tossed them on the bed, getting to work matching and rolling them up. "Did you find anything useful?"

Joel put the jacket back on the floor and picked up a second one, trying that one on before settling on the third, which was a little big on him, but the thick leather kept him well insulated. "Yeah, actually, I found a hunting trap. I'm gonna go out a little ways and see if we can catch somethin', I think we need more protein, we've been needin' to take too many breaks lately."

"You want me to come with you?" you stood up after matching up the last pair of socks.

"Nah, I won't be long, you keep workin' on this stuff here." Joel grabbed his rifle and the trap, closing the front door behind him and setting out into the woods.

The cabin was surrounded by a thick forest but there were a few trails that must have been forged by deer given how tall the grass and narrow the paths were. Joel walked carefully into the trees, staying alert for any threats. Out this far into the wilderness, infected weren't the problem. The pair of you hadn't come across any more people since that night in his apartment a month ago but he made sure you stayed off the roads as much as possible. You weren't as quiet or withdrawn anymore, but he noticed you were becoming hardened by the world you were forced to live in. He had seen the slow progression as you both learned how to take down infected as efficiently as possible. He remembered when you first had to do it: you were so scared he could see the switchblade shaking in your hand as you snuck up behind a dormant runner. As the weeks went on and you practiced more, you became more comfortable taking them down, but he also saw the hardness growing in your eyes. He knew it was just a product of your environment and it was essential in order to survive, but some nights when he was unable to sleep, he laid awake and imagined a world where he could be a shield for you, taking all damage, and you could be your warm and sweet self again, safe under his protection.

Being out in the wild without the comfort of an apartment helped quell his feelings for you a little. He was less distracted when he had to always be on high alert, forcing his thoughts off you and onto survival. But whenever you stayed in a safe spot for a few days, like this cabin, he eventually found his thoughts wandering back to how soft your lips were against his that night, the curve of your hips in your dress, or the way you moaned into his mouth. The forced proximity and the illusion of safety usually meant his body ended up finding yours in the middle of the night and pulled you close to him. You never mentioned it, and neither did he, but he knew it was a byproduct of trying to stamp out his feelings for you. It was almost like his mind was saying one thing, but his body was refusing to obey. So, whenever he woke and found himself tangled in you once again, he didn’t allow himself to savor the moment and quickly removed himself from you before his heart swelled and he would be lost in you all over again.

It was about a ten minute walk from the cabin before Joel found a good spot to place the trap. It was near a big bush that looked to be home to some kind of animal based on the prints in the dirt. He took a pink scarf out of his pocket and ripped a piece off, tying it to the tree branch above the trap. As he followed his footsteps back, every minute or so he tore another piece off and tied it to a branch until he reached the cabin. He pushed the door open and set the rifle down by the door. He heard you singing softly to yourself in the bedroom, completely unaware he had entered the cabin. The first instinct he had was to chastise you for not being more aware of your surroundings, but the part of him that was desperate to protect you ultimately won, and instead he stood in the kitchen to listen.

You left the bedroom with an armful of rags you had made from the summer clothes in the corner, lyrics softly leaving your lips when you saw Joel standing there and yelped out of fright.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed before taking your pile of rags to the couch and setting them down. “How long were you standing there?”

“Just walked in a minute ago,” he replied, giving you a small smirk. “Found a good spot for the trap, I’ll check it before sundown. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He shrugged the hunting jacket off and draped it over a chair.

You nodded and headed over to the cupboard to see what the previous residents left behind.

“Are you hungry? We have some soup here, and some canned stew. What do you want?” You turned to face him with your hand on your hip, but his gaze seemed unfocused and his thoughts far away at your question. Moments like this felt so domestic and it made him ache. What did he want? He wanted everything you had to offer. He wanted to turn back time and take back what he said to you, before he ruined everything. He wanted domestic bliss where you made him dinner and he had you for dessert. He didn’t want to be fighting for your lives while you ate expired Dinty Moore.

His gaze refocused on you and replied, “I’ll take the soup.” He reached into his jeans pocket and found the lighter from earlier and got to work setting up a small fire outside while you rummaged around for pots to heat up the canned delicacies that awaited you.

Joel had just left to check the trap before it got too dark, and you were left scrubbing the pots in the sink until your fingers felt raw. You dreaded any time he left. You hated being away from him, and not because you were scared, it was something more. You figured it out when one morning about a week ago you woke up wrapped in his arms again, for maybe the third time, but that morning was when you realized you only truly slept well when he sought you out in the middle of the night to pull you close and breathe you in. You were always disappointed when he woke up and pulled away from you so fast, leaving you feeling ashamed for being the only one who wanted it to continue. You had to constantly remind yourself it meant nothing, that Joel only had wanted one thing from you by replaying how mad he got for not sleeping with him that night. He never apologized for it, and you know you shouldn’t care anymore, but sometimes when you let your thoughts wander, it bothered you.

You put the pots back in the cupboard and raked your fingers through your hair aggressively, looking out the window to see if you could spot him. You hadn’t had any moments between you like that day in the subway when you saw the heat behind his gaze as you ran your hand up his arm. You convinced yourself afterwards that you had misread the situation, that the look in his eyes was not one of passion, but one of disapproval, and the embarrassment for the way you behaved sat with you for the next week. Eventually, the embarrassment faded when your focus was redirected to surviving in the wild and learning how to take down infected. You were both becoming pretty good at it, so long as you had the upper hand and noticed them first. Only twice did Joel have to use a gun to take one down, so your ammo reserve was still well stocked. But there was something feral that triggered inside you when you watched him kill: the little curl his upper lip made when he made contact, the fire in his eyes when the adrenaline kicked in, the way the muscles in his arms moved from the force of piercing a knife through their skulls. There had to be something wrong with you, nobody should find something like that attractive.

You heard his boots walking up the small porch, but you put your hand on your gun, just in case you were wrong. He opened the door, smiling proudly and holding up a dead rabbit to show you, and set the rifle back down in the corner by the door.

“I’ll go skin it, get it prepped for later. We can finally have a real meal for dinner.” Joel said, still holding the rabbit in his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his smile faltering a bit when he noticed your expression seemed a little distant. You shook your head and smiled.

“Nothing, I’m fine, just distracted today,” you assured him, then turned around to find a small bag of rice you had seen next to the soup earlier. “I’ll make this to eat with dinner.” You plopped it down on the counter and went back to the bedroom to review the clothes you had set aside. Joel’s eyes followed you until you disappeared around the corner. He could tell something was wrong, but he knew better than to push it.

Joel was right about needing more protein and rest. You both felt recharged after just two nights but allowed yourselves the luxury of one more night indoors before heading off towards Pittsburgh. The morning you planned to leave was when Joel had let his guard down and you awoke entwined with him again. It was early, the sun hadn’t even risen yet. You knew the longer you let him do this, the more hurt you would ultimately inflict upon yourself, but as hard as you tried you just could not bring yourself to be the one to end the embrace. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself back to sleep.

Joel stirred when the sun shone into his eyes through the thin curtains, squinting and yawning. As usual, he detached himself from you quickly, frustrated with his subconscious once again. After using the bathroom, he went outside to start a fire. The air was crisp and there was a sharp autumn wind that took his breath away. He huddled in his new jacket and shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the fire to flare up. He looked up into the sky, trying to detect if any rain would be heading your way, but the forest blocked most of his view. He heard the cabin door swing shut and twisted around to watch you walk down the steps wrapped in one of the other hunting jackets and carrying a kettle in one hand and the jar of instant coffee in another. He reached out to take the items from you so you could go back inside and grab two mugs and a spoon. He sat down on one of the thick logs used for stools that were surrounding the firepit and waited for the water to boil. You came back out with the mugs but also had a couple bowls and packets of instant oatmeal.

“’Morning,” you greeted groggily, setting the items down on one of the empty logs and choosing a spot next to him. You yawned, looking around the forest and buried your face in your coat when the wind picked up.

“Sleep ok?” Joel asked you, knowing full well he was setting you up to ask about the way he woke up clutching you, but much to his relief, it seemed as though that topic was never brought up.

You nodded, saying, “Yeah, better than usual.” And left it at that.

Neither of you were morning people and generally didn’t speak much until coffee hit your system. You had been lucky so far and found reserves of it at most of the places you stopped, but you had to dip into the stash from your apartment when you made camp in the forest. You sipped your coffee and ate your oatmeal in silence.

“Next time we find a sporting goods store, we oughta look for a bow and arrow, somethin’ silent,” Joel mused as he scraped his bowl. “We should learn to hunt out here. With winter comin’, it would be a good skill to have.”

You agreed, grabbing both bowls and the kettle while he picked up the mugs and snuffed out the fire. It was probably pointless, but you cleaned your dishes and put them back. It was unlikely the owners of this cabin would find it again, but it just felt wrong to leave things messy. This cabin provided for you both when you needed it and keeping it clean and in its original condition felt like the best way to thank it.

After breakfast, you packed up all your new clothes and replenished any food and rags you could fit in your packs and headed back out on the trail towards Pittsburgh. The forest was thick and lush, and offered a lot of cover, so you were able to make decent time getting to the city, arriving in the early afternoon. You approached a cliffside, stopping there to eat lunch and rest for the first time since you left the cabin. Joel didn’t want to start a fire and attract attention, so you ate some granola bars, peanuts and shared a can of peaches while you surveyed the city in the distance.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked him, taking a sip from your canteen.

“Well,” he began, shoving the wrappers from the granola bars into his backpack, “I figure we should steer clear of the city proper best we can, especially the QZ. They won’t ask questions; they’ll just shoot on sight if they see anyone.”

You looked up at the sun in the sky, trying to determine the time. “We will have to find somewhere in the city that’s quiet, we won’t make it through before sundown.” You told him, looking back from the sky to meet his gaze. He nodded, impressed.

“Yep, you’re exactly right. Good girl.” he said, the compliment making you flush. “If we stick to the outskirts, maybe we can find a small shop or somethin’. But we’re gonna have to take turns takin’ watch, I don’t trust bein’ this close to soldiers.” he warned you, and you nodded in understanding. After you had spent a few minutes resting, Joel stood up, checking his revolver and tucking it back into his pants and zipping his backpack closed. You followed suit, shoving a rag back into your pack that you used to wipe some sweat off your forehead, and you both soldiered on towards the city.

It was approaching dusk as you and Joel finished clearing out a gas station in a quiet part of the city. There were only three runners inside, and you made quick work of taking them down silently. You helped Joel drag the last body into the men's bathroom, closing the door behind you. Joel wasn't thrilled with the building: it was filled with huge broken windows and left you too exposed for his liking, but the sun was waning, and your choices were limited. There was a small office tucked in the corner that you had emptied of the rolling desk chair and a few boxes of receipts so you could spread out your sleeping bag on the floor. Joel insisted on taking first watch, and you propped the door to the office open with one of the boxes so you could hear if there was any trouble before tucking yourself in.

Joel sat on the rolling chair by the front door, hiding in the darkness behind an aisle, every so often standing in a crouch to glance out the large windows for any movement. He was getting tired, but he still had a couple more hours left on his watch before he woke you. In an effort to keep him awake, he wandered over to the small electronics section behind the cash register, perusing the items on the shelves. His gaze settled on a Timex analog watch. He pried open the package and attached it to his wrist, adjusting the time to match the clock on the wall, assuming it was correct before sitting back down in the chair.

You had about 20 minutes left before he planned to wake you up. Joel was just finishing some beef jerky when he saw flashlights bouncing off a building about a block away. He straightened up in his chair, tossing the bag of jerky to the side, and hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder so he could see through his scope. He watched behind the aisle as a group of four men walked down the street in the direction of the gas station. He could see they were armed, noting knives in their boots, pistols holstered at their hips and two of them held military grade assault rifles. As they came into view, Joel scanned their clothes for any type of military insignia but found none. How did they get those assault rifles?

They were getting closer, but Joel still couldn’t tell if they were planning on entering the gas station or if they were just passing through. His hands began to sweat as he gripped his rifle tighter, his body tense and ready to strike. They were about 50 yards away when one of the men laughed at something one of the others said. The rest immediately shushed him, but it was too late. They froze as an unfamiliar noise echoed through the air from a dumpster they had passed half a block ago. Joel frowned, unable to identify the noise, but based on the reactions of the men, they knew. They whipped around, their backs now to the gas station, all four aiming their guns in the direction of the noise. It sounded like a high-pitched screech mixed with a gasp, then a distinct click, click, click. He heard one of the men swear under his breath, his voice sounding shaky as he shifted his weight back and forth nervously. The one next to him tried to get him to be quiet, but his nerves got the best of him, and a shot rang out, making Joel jump in surprise. In his peripheral, he saw you fly out of your sleeping bag, scrambling for your gun. He crouched as low as he could without sacrificing speed, and made his way over to the office, wrapping his hand over your mouth as you twisted around about to shout out to him. He put a finger against his lips, and only when you hastily nodded did he slowly remove his hand, turning back around to hide behind the front counter with you peeking over his shoulder, watching the scene unfold.

Two infected came ambling towards the group. At first, they stumbled and were slow, but when one of them shifted his weight and slid on some loose asphalt, they both let out a horrific scream unlike anything you had heard before and charged towards the group. Neither of you could understand the creatures you were seeing: they had a fungus growing all over their bodies but primarily on their heads, a mouth was the only facial feature you recognized since the fungus had completely grown over the rest of their faces. Blood had stained their throats and chests, their clothes were ripped and barely hung on, and underneath their skin looked wrinkly, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be more layers of fungus.

The assault rifles were spitting bullets and bouncing off the clickers, as if the fungus acted like some type of armor. One of the clickers jumped on the man who had slipped, viciously ripping into his throat while its fingers dug animalistically into his chest and blood pooled in the street below him. Another man saw his opportunity and pressed his pistol to the back of the clicker’s head, firing and watching its body drop to the pavement. Then without hesitation, he aimed his gun at his friend’s head and fired, his body jerked once and stilled. In the meantime, the second clicker had made short work of the other two men, one already ripped apart on the ground while it continued its assault on the other. The man did the same thing: walked up and shot the clicker in the back of the head, and for good measure shot the other two men on the ground. He was now the last man standing, panting for breath as he bent over to rest his hands on his knees. That was when he noticed the blood seeping through his jeans and trickling down to his sneakers.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, sitting down in the road to lift the pant leg. Joel could see the telltale imprint of teeth and blood when the man aimed his flashlight at his leg. He dropped the pant leg back down and hung his head between his knees. Joel tightened his grip on his rifle, expecting the man to come to the gas station in need of first aid, but before he could blink, the man lifted his pistol up to the side of his head and fired, dropping lifelessly to the side and joining the pile of dead bodies in the road.

Joel twisted around to try to shield your eyes, but it was too late. You let out a shaky breath, one tear sliding down your cheek as you looked up at him, his face full of concern. His eyes traveled down and reached his hand out to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping the tear away. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you had to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

"You alright?" he whispered to you in the dark. You nodded, breaking the contact and standing up.

The whole attack took less than five minutes. Joel approached the broken window and leaned out, listening intently to see if the noise had attracted any more infected or people. You waited as Joel went to each window multiple times to confirm nothing else was around. Satisfied, he turned back to you, your eyes wide and still gripping your gun at your side.

"I don't think anyone else is around," he said, placing the rifle next to the office chair. You nodded, tucking your gun in the back of your jeans.

"What the fuck was that?" you asked, staring at the bodies. "So these things are evolving now?"

"Seems that way," Joel answered, leaning tiredly up against the wall. He fought to keep his eyes open, but you could see he was exhausted.

"Go get some rest, I got this," you told him, "I'll wake you if I hear or see anything at all, I promise."

Joel wanted to resist and tell you he wasn't tired, but a yawn pushed through and gave him away. "You sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead. You need your rest, and we have to get out of this city tomorrow." You waved him off towards the office and went to sit in the chair after you grabbed his rifle, using the scope to get a better look at your surroundings.

Joel didn't bother rolling out his own sleeping bag, he just tucked himself into the one you were using, your scent enveloping him as he drifted off.

The sun rose about an hour ago. You waited as long as you could before deciding to wake Joel. He seemed so tired last night, you wanted him to get as much time as he could, but you knew you needed to leave. Once you got back into the forest, you could rest again. You went to the back office, carrying a to-go container of dry cereal in one hand, and found him snoring on his side with his back to the door. You popped a few pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in your mouth and leaned down to gently shake his shoulder.

Joel whipped around at your touch and grabbed your wrist firmly, his eyes wild. You dropped your cereal in surprise.

"Joel! It's me," you yanked your arm, but he still held your wrist in his grasp and it was starting to hurt. "Joel!" you said again as loud as you dared. He finally realized and let you go, stumbling back a bit as you rubbed your wrist.

"Shit, sorry, must have been havin' a bad dream, you alright?" he asked worriedly, opening the sleeping bag and reaching forward to examine your wrist. He brushed his thumb tenderly over the red mark he left, the gesture making you melt and leaving you with a pang in your stomach.

"I'm fine, it's ok," you said, taking your wrist back and turning away from him, trying to create some space. "We should get going, eat something quick and I'll refill our packs with any supplies I can find."

"You sure you're ok?" he eyed you carefully. He hated how you shied away from his touch. You nodded, opening up another cereal from the shelf and continued to eat while you inventoried the food in your packs.

You shouldered your backpacks and guns after you ate, getting ready to head out. After stepping out onto the road, Joel frisked the dead bodies and picked up some more ammo for your handgun, along with two extra flashlights. He checked the assault rifles, too low on ammo for him to consider taking one, but he did remove two of the knives and sheathes strapped around their ankles, handing a set to you. The roads seemed quiet, so you took advantage and got a move on, silently threading your way through the city.

November 2003

Cleveland, OH

The weather was turning cold and rainy, even a couple nights leaving a dusting of snow that melted early the next morning. You trudged along behind Joel in the pouring rain, trying to stay hidden and dry by walking underneath a raised highway. It was risky, being close to the roads, but Joel didn't see much choice. The weather hasn't been cooperating for a couple days now, and your journey had significantly slowed down. He glanced at his watch, seeing it was around 4pm. It was getting darker earlier now, and the storm clouds just made it worse. He sighed, shaking the water droplets from his curls, and looked around. You were near an exit ramp. He saw it led to a suburban area maybe two miles away, clusters of smaller one story homes that the builders made as close as possible to one another in order to sell more houses.

"C'mon, this way," he said over his shoulder, bringing you out of your reverie. You looked in the direction he was leading you and quietly celebrated to yourself. You were tired and soaked, you didn't want to set up camp outside again and the possibility of sleeping on a mattress gave you a second wind.

The two of you hid in some thick decorative bushes looking down a road called York St. All the houses looked very similar and close together, the biggest differences being the color the owners had chosen for the siding. Joel had kept watch for about an hour in this position, waiting until it got dark so he could see if any of the houses had flashlights or lanterns inside. You were squatting next to him, trying to control your shivering but the rain was pouring down hard, and your clothes were dripping wet, even under your jacket. Your teeth chattered as you inadvertently leaned against him for some warmth. Focused intensely on the homes in front of him, Joel's body tensed at the unexpected contact. He glanced down at you and saw your soaking wet hair and your lips a darker shade than normal.

“Alright, let’s see if we can get into this one right over here, follow me.” he said, helping you stand into a crouch as you jogged over to the yellow house on the corner. Joel peered inside the windows for a minute while you stood watch with your arms crossed, keeping an eye out for any light or movement on the street or houses. You heard a snap behind you, and you turned to see Joel had used his large hunting knife to break the doorknob. You sighed with relief as you followed him inside, shutting the door behind you.

You swung your flashlights around the room, Joel rushing to the windows and closing all the curtains as you inspected the house. It was small: a living room, kitchen, one bathroom and two bedrooms. Joel went down into the basement to make sure it was clear while you emptied essentials from your pack in one of the bedrooms. You pulled out a somewhat dry set of clothes and tucked them under your arm, heading towards the bathroom. You took your jacket off to hang up on the shower rod to airdry and got to work peeling the soaking wet clothes from your body. You figured you could just toss the shirts you were wearing and pick up new ones here, but you really liked the jeans you had so you did your best to lay them out to dry in the tub.

After you put some dry clothes on, you started to feel a little better, but you still couldn’t shake the shiver in your bones. Joel mirrored your actions after he came up from the basement, changing into fresh clothes and hanging up the wet ones to dry, making sure to take the keychain out of his pants pocket and transferred it to his new ones, and then met you in the kitchen where you were rifling through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth eating. You pulled out a bag of trail mix, some canned tuna, and a few cans of mixed fruit, setting them on the small table while Joel rooted around for some forks.

You were hungrier than you realized and ate quickly, all the miles you walked today catching up with you.  Joel finally broke the silence after he finished a can of fruit.

“Which room did you want to sleep in?” he asked. This was the first time you stayed indoors where there were two sizeable beds. He wanted to give you the option, give you your space. You kept your gaze trained down at the bag of trail mix in front of you, considering his words. You knew he was giving you a choice, and it was completely up to you now on what the sleeping arrangements would be.

“I liked the room I put our backpacks in, why don’t we stay in that one.” you replied, still not looking up. We. Joel’s pulse sped up and he tried to hide his grin. You made the choice to stay the night with him, you wanted to be with him. It was probably just a habit for you, or maybe you were afraid to be on your own, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be apart from you, either, regardless if his reason differed from yours. 

That night, he heard you softly snoring, laying on your side with your back to him like usual. This time he deliberately turned over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He breathed in your scent and nestled his face at the back of your neck as you let out a contented sigh, and small smile played across his lips as he closed his eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Taglist: @chiogarza.

[notf1obsessed]

a little flirting hurt no one (Charles Leclerc x Carlos Sainz)

Carlos is hopelessly in love with Lando, but isn't sure how to break it to him. That is until Charles comes up with a plan, to make Lando jealous. Fake dating. But what they don't expect is for their fake relationship to turn real.

Chapter 19: Pretty when you cry

side a/n: I was meant to release this way earlier sorry abt that.

A/N: IM BACK FROM THE DEAD (for now). so super super sorry about all that, a shit ton happened in this past month which kinda prevented me from updating (and also my laziness). I'm on vacation rn but it won't be long and only about 2 weeks. I'll hopefully get back into my habit of posting every 2 weeks if all goes well. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! (It's pretty short just to move things along but I promise next one will be longer)

Don't say you need me when,

You leave and leave again,

I'm stronger than all my men,

Except for you,

- Pretty when you cry - Lana Del Rey

________________________________________________

When Charles awoke that morning, he found a weight holding his waist down, and an extra leg sprawled over his. Turning his head, he was reminded of the embarrassing scene (in his opinion at least) that had unfolded the night prior. Flustering, Charles quickly rolled away from Carlos's grasp, thankful to the fact Carlos hadn't woken up.

Sitting up, the Monegasque realized there was no escaping this, he was in the middle of the sea for gods sake. So doing what any rational person would do, he got up, brushed his teeth, and plopped back onto the couch phone in hand. His finger mindlessly scrolled through the endless masses of content, passing the time until Carlos woke up and they could go get breakfast.

Much like Charles, Oscar also happened to be awake; barely getting any sleep that night. The scene in the bathroom kept replaying in his head, guilt crippling over him, as if he was the one who had crashed his lips onto Carlos's. Alas, he didn't want to worry Lando, so he kept his doll face on, not a challenging task for him considering he's had to do it many times before in media.

Finally, the Spaniard eyes fluttered open, rubbing circles at them as he yawned.

"Good morning," he said as he got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom.

"Good morning to you too," Charles tried to repeat with the least amount of anxiety in his voice, clearly failing as he cringed at the way he said it.

Unlike Charles, Carlos didn't seem to have an ounce of worry or care in the world, as if cuddling your teammate was the most normal everyday thing to do.

"Are you okay?" The Spaniard asked after brushing his teeth, "after what happened last night."

"Yes, yes perfectly fine you don't have to worry," Charles stated in panic, embarrassment filling him.

"Well you can always talk to me Charles, I'm your teammate and also your friend."

The reassurance made Charles feel a little less flustered and a little warmer, knowing that he could trust and count on somebody was a nice feeling to have.

"Now cmon we need to get to breakfast," he added, grabbing a set of clothes and retreating back into the bathroom to change, "I've already texted Lando we'll be down in 20."

After taking turns changing, the two drivers made their way downstairs and to the restaurant entrance, which to their surprise, was relatively empty.

"There you are!" Lando stated joyfully, "we've been waiting for you two!"

Laughing, Carlos playfully snapped in return, "I said we'd be down here in 20, so impatient."

As they took their seats, Charles couldn't help but notice the tired expression on Oscar's face, dark bags beneath his eyes that barely seemed to open. He's seen this sate before, many times, in himself.

There was something up with Oscar.

Although he knew there was something worrying Oscar , he decided not to approach the subject around a group of people, especially when he knew the Australian didn't trust him enough.

Lando chewed at the plate of hash browns and eggs he had brought, with Carlos and Charles opting for pancakes and eggs.

Oscar however, barely had any food on his plate, to which Charles was quick to notice.

This was more serious than he thought.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom, be back in a sec," said the Australian after swirling his food around his plate.

After he had made his way to the bathroom, Charles decided to interfere.

"Me too," he added, knowing for a fact the Aussie wasn't going to the bathroom for the right reasons, let alone any reason. He needed to figure what was wrong before it escalated any further.

Making his way through the restaurant and to the bathroom, he was weary to not startle the younger one, after all he needed to make sure Oscar could trust him.

The Aussie was stood facing the mirror, hands on sink and lost in thought.

"Hey mate," the Monegasque said as he approached the spot next to the other one. He seemed to snap out of thought at the sound of Charles, yet he gave no reply.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he almost immediately replied, voice full of nervousness and doubt.

"I know something's wrong, you can't keep lying to yourself and me," Charles stated, feeling worry for the boy as if he was his own son.

Knowing there was no escaping this, the other let out a sigh, though he wasn't going to just blurt out the full truth.

"I'm just...feeling a lot of weight on my shoulders recently, like this guilt that doesn't belong to me is still burdening me."

"Do you know what it is?" Charles pushed, wanting to get the answer out of him.

Although it was clear he pushed too far as the younger seemed to tense up and divert his gaze.

Knowing he had crossed a boundary, there was no getting more answers today, he would have to earn his further trust.

"Well if you ever want to talk about it, I'm always here," the Monegasque stated as his final words, stepping away from the marble sink top and towards the exit, "Cya at the table, if you still feel like eating."

The Aussie nodded his head as a salutation, still not looking him in the eye.

While he still didn't feel comfortable telling Charles, it was nice to know someone he could count on .

It was nice to know someone else who cared about him.

[sl33paholics]

Forever Banished In The Shadows

A little drabble for my cutie patootie, Jonathan ❤️ (okay as I post this, this is wayyy longer than I expected lol)

Warning(s): mentions of blood and gore, emotional distress, Dio Brando, references to cannibalism, jojo being driven to insanity in general

He should've been stronger.

He should've been wiser.

Succumbing to his loss against his vampiric-turned adoptive brother, Dio, Jonathan was ready to die in a pool of his own blood and be torn apart by his vampire brethren he would have welcomed the pain if it meant getting rid of his agony and tormenting his foes until they were all gone from his life. If anything, the battle between them made him fight harder so he wouldn't have to look at his brother's twisted face. Dio's eyes held no pity for Jonathan. Instead, they were filled with satisfaction and disgust.

Although, Dio took pity on the man. How rare. To see the man he's been dedicated to take down and overthrown, now in front of him bleeding out and the life in his eyes slowly fading away, even if Jonathan looked like such an arrogant cockroach that Dio wouldn't hesitate to crush him. He almost felt bad about it. Almost. After all, his brother has never cared for people outside of himself and what he could do for himself.

As if his life was beginning to flash before his eyes, Dio rammed the stone mask onto Jonathan's face as the blue haired male felt the familiar cold metal touching his skin, and piercing through his skull making it impossible for him to remove, or escape.

That was the moment where the heroine, Jonathan Joestar, died.

It had been months since that incident. The blue haired man is now a slave to his brother, Dio. The horrific moments he'd seen of the abuse of the stone mask being used onto others, seeing them become mindless victims and monsters without a will of their own. Doing awful deeds to the innocent and causing havoc in the town.

The way he'd see his brother suck the blood of women. Seeing their half naked bodies with dark, gaping bloody holes in their necks as they laid on the floor dead, or even throwing them and having those mutated animals feast on them as if they were nothing but prey waiting for their master to be done with them.

Jonathan felt trapped. Well, he is.

He could no longer eat human food, the need for hunger is no longer there and being surrounded by those with such a rich scent of blood made the man want to drink it right from their veins and devour them all. His body craved the sweet taste of blood. Even when JoJo doesn't drink any, he finds himself wanting more of it. And when he doesn't get enough, he wants to kill them all. It felt like suicide. Destroying his body so others won't have to suffer his uncontrollable wrath.

That was until Dio got tired of him. He found no use of keeping a man who wasn't useful. So, he threw the poor soul into the streets, just to make sure that JoJo could not do anything anymore.

Jonathan had to fend for himself. Finding shelter was a living hell. He had to resort into cannibalism to survive. He didn't want to, he didn't know how or why, but every day he woke up in the middle of the night craving some fresh blood from strangers, Jonathan would immediately devour the person in one sitting. As soon as he finished the last drop, he would vomit his guts out.

It felt wrong. JoJo was frightened of himself.

Now, here he is, salivating heavily in front of a broken mirror as JoJo's body shivers, feeling the need to feed again, the urge that was becoming stronger and stronger each time. The thirst that Jonathan couldn't ignore. If he wanted to get enough blood to live a decent life, he had to find a way. But, how?

How did he survive before? There's no point in asking himself that question since he already knew.

By the door, his lover can only watch as they sob silently, the tears streaming freely down their face and didn't say anything, they only watched Jonathan struggle to keep himself together knowing how hard it is for him and that it's killing JoJo inside. They knew that he was doing this for a reason. To keep himself safe, to keep both of you safe watching the man cough up blood.

Jonathan promised himself he wouldn't become a blood thirsty freak like Dio or his men, but at what point can he restrain himself any longer? When will he stop fighting against nature? When will he finally succumb and give in to its call?

The answer, Jonathan knew, was very soon.

It had started with his lover.

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

Part One: Playing Pretend

Posted 23/04/23, Edited 29/06/23

Prompt: Everyone thinks she’s dating Levi, but she’s actually dating R” - @xxforeverinadayxx

Laying on the sofa in the home you own together your phone flashed up that your girlfriend Millie had posted a photo on Insta. You opened up the app excited to see her face but was hit with deep disappointment instead - yet another photo of your girlfriend with her pretend boyfriend Levi. You were getting sick with keeping your relationship a secret, you only agreed to do it while the relationship was new and didn’t know if it was going to work but it’s been 6 years - you own a house together, you have 3 dogs together! Yet nobody but your families and Rachel knew that you were a couple. You both post photos of each other but everyone assumes you’re best friends who live together. The way your heart skips a beat when you see that she’s posted a photo of you together is cute but seeing the hundreds of comments wishing for a friendship like yours stomps your heart flutters away in an instant. Many times this has been bought up in conversation but Millie always brushes it under the carpet - “it’s better this way” and “I don’t want to ruin it” ring through your mind. She thinks people finding out will destroy what you have; with everyone’s opinions and comments and weird TikTok edits, there’ll be so much pressure.

At training the next day Erin, Guro and Sam were huddled around Millie asking about Levi, Sam suggested a double date which Millie agreed to while you were in ear shot making you red with rage. Taking your anger out on the treadmill your footsteps got heavier as the speed got faster until you couldn’t take the conversation anymore, slamming your hand onto the stop button and storming out the room. “What’s wrong with (y/l/n)?” Guro asked Millie, believing the best friends lie and thinking she’ll know. Millie shrugged but made no attempt to come after you and you didn’t see each other again until she finally came home that night.

Washing up in the kitchen your back was facing towards the front door when she entered. You didn’t even want to look at her, you hate confrontation but knew that this needed to be addressed. “Hey, what was wrong with you today?” she said swanning into the kitchen without a care in the world. Taking your time deciding how to respond to her took longer than expected as she became impatient “hellooo, you blanking me now?” she laughed genuinely believing that the reason you were angry couldn’t possibly be anything serious. “That would be ironic wouldn’t it!” you snapped, Millie looked stunned at your sudden aggressive tone. “I’m fed up with being a secret Mills! The Levi thing wasn’t meant to be permanent, it was just meant to be a few months until we knew what we wanted, it’s been 6 years! I want to be the one you post about and talk about to your friends and our team mates! You still get to act like you’re in a relationship and I’ve had to pretend to be single all this time, finding shitty excuses why I can’t go on dates while you’re out here with a whole make believe boyfriend!”

Millie’s reactions of a half eye roll like she caught herself midway through and stopped told you everything you needed to know about how this conversation was going to go. “I thought we talked about this?” she said trying to take you in for a hug but you shrugged away from her. “No, you talked about this. I just had to accept whatever you decided!” taking your frustrations out on the washing up as she stood the other side of the kitchen island. “But what if we ever break up?” scoffing at her comment as your anger started to boil over “that’s what you think of me is it?” slamming the last plate so hard onto the draining board it smashed. “We’ve been together six years, we own a house, I want to marry you! And the first thought in your head is what if we break up? That shows exactly what you think of me Millie. What’s the point in going public when you’re always thinking about what’s going to happen, not if but when we break up? You’re unbelievable.” Storming past her and upstairs you started shoving clothes and necessities into a suitcase. Millie watched you emotionless and just stood idly by as you packed your life into a bag and headed for the door. “But (y/n/n)” Millie said grabbing your arm. “No, you don’t watch me pack my shit up and start with ‘but’, you’re still trying to fight your side of this. You’re literally watching me walk out this door and you still think you’re right in all this?!” You watched with raised eyebrows as you waited for a response but seeing Millie’s mouth open and close with no words coming out was the last straw. Grabbing your keys and stroking the dogs you headed to the car, looking back at someone you don’t even recognise anymore standing in the door frame. She continued to stand there as you pulled away and out of sight, your mind on auto pilot drove you to Rachel’s house. That’s when your heart broke completely, she didn’t even fight for you.

Part Two

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

for @bookholichany for the prompt: "Monty meets Matthew the Raven" at last! I'm sorry that took so long, it's been weird to get back into writing after so long but I'm hopeful to post your other prompts in the next few days as well!

word count: 1167

“C’mon boss, one teensy-tiny favor for your incredibly faithful companion here,” Matthew called as he flew a few meters behind Dream and eventually perched on his shoulder. He ruffled his feathers, pressing his beak into Dream’s collar in the process. The weather in the Dreaming had been a little colder than usual for a while now, which probably had something to do with a minor fight between him and Hob. Matthew would argue that he tried not to be too involved in their relationship but who was he kidding? He was basically their therapist. One favor in exchange for unpaid and actually solid advice should not be asking for too much in Matthew's books.

“Matthew,” Dream acknowledged with the wary air only a being as old as the universe would be capable of. “Go on. Do not make me regret this.”

“Well, you see, before you say anything, I know we’re not supposed to snoop around in people’s dreams, but,” Matthew talked faster, speeding up even further when he saw how Dream’s eyebrows rose judgingly.

“But last time I was in Washington, I visited this small town, yeah? You remember? My ma was from there, I told you about the butcher shop there.”

Recognition lit up in Dream’s eyes, nodding once carefully without jostling Matthew.

“Indeed. You recommended the shop to Hob. You mentioned it could prove an adequate possibility for the next time Hob needs to assume a new identity.”

“You got it! Okay, so, I saw this crow while I was flying around. Little thing, name’s Monty. Playful, trying to keep up with me. That guy kinda grew on me, yeah? So I thought I could check out his dreams and see how he’s doin’.”

Dream stayed quiet for a long moment, silently contemplating as he was wont to do with any decision ranging from a date idea to the creation of a new nightmare.

“Very well,” he said at last.

“Hell yeah!”

----

The view around Matthew changed. The shallow lightning of the throne room vanished and was exchanged for a deep blue night sky with only the slightest hint of a moon keeping watch. Matthew was aware of Dream’s presence as a bird behind him, a protecting spectator that helped Matthew ground himself in the new environment. Residing in dreams was still new to him and he wasn’t sure it was something that he would ever do with the same naturalness Dream displayed. It wasn’t his purpose, Matthew reasoned. His purpose was to stay close to Dream and if that meant getting used to dream-hopping, then so be it.

Matthew’s gaze went toward the sky, expecting to see the little crow emerge any second now. Instead, two shadows moved in the corner of Matthew’s eye. The scene widened and a set of swings appeared, bathed in moonlight and mist.

Both shadows settled, one of them swinging higher and higher, giggling without a care in the world. It was so loud that Matthew could feel Dream softly jump behind him, surprised by the serene scene they were witnessing. The joyfulness of the person reminded him of the crow, always attempting to fly higher until they both would reach the trees that overlooked Port Townsend until he had to return to the weirdly hot lady (Matthew was still reeling from having that particular thought).

The two figures talked, too quietly to hear anything from their hiding spot. The longer the conversation continued, however, Matthew could see the shadows creeping in, closer and closer until they enveloped the couple, swallowing one of them in the process and leaving the smaller figure devastated on their knees.

The figure stood up and walked on shaking knees in the direction of them. Matthew chose that moment to reveal himself, hopping off a stone and into the clearing.

“Dude, are you supposed to be here?” Matthew wouldn’t assume that Dream had opened the way to the wrong dream, he wouldn’t make such a mistake but that left the only other possibility: someone had hijacked the crow’s dream!

Judging by the way the guy flinched backwards and let out a sound that sounded eerily similar to crowing, though, Matthew might have the wrong impression after all.

“Monty, you have changed considerably.” Matthew’s eyes bulged.

“Wait wait wait, replay that, what do you mean? Who is that guy?”

“Monty,” apparently-Monty and Dream said in unison.

Matthew looked up towards the sky once again, hoping for it to open up and hurl rotten tomatoes at these comedy wannabes. What was his life.

“I- I got that, thanks a lot. But the Monty I remember didn’t even reach my beak!”

The guy tried to wipe away the tears that still clung to his cheeks as a small smile took up his previously glum expression.

“Matthew, it’s been a while,” he grinned. His wide and misty eyes combined with the sincere smile were hard to take in. It humbled Matthew in a strange way.

“Dudeee,” Matthew said, for a lack of something better to say, feeling utterly out of his depth.

Monty giggled again, more subdued than in his actual dream but it was a nice sound nonetheless. Fuck, Matthew had missed that kid.

“What happened to you, man? Esther give you some weird protein food?”

Shaking his head, Monty opened his mouth to answer but Dream forestalled him.

“Young crow, magic has touched you recently. Did you wish for this opportunity of experiencing the human condition?” Dream, now resembling his human form again, stepped forward and inspected Monty with slight curiosity. Monty cowered under his stare. Matthew winced out loud – yeah, he could relate –, but neither paid enough attention to him.

“Eh, not exactly? I- I mean! I really enjoy life as a human so far, sir,” Monty mumbled. “It was not really my choice to make.”

Dream scowled, obviously not satisfied with that answer. Matthew shared that notion.

“Dude, that’s your body though, shoulda been your call. Mommy dearest thought she wanted to give kids another go after all these years? Well, at least you got the good fashion sense, the hair looks great too. Hey, was that guy back there your boyfriend?”

Instantly, Monty looked crushed again.

“No, uh, no. No.” He kicked a small stone with his shoe. Dream had his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, shifting slightly where he stood. That sure was an accomplishment, way to put your foot in your mouth.

“You know what? Forget the question.” He settled somewhat unsteadily on one of Monty’s small shoulders. “Let’s go back to those swings and talk. Oh, this is the Sandman, by the way. We thought we could visit your dream.”

“Oh okay,” Monty answered easily, “hello, sir.” Dream nodded while Matthew stopped short.

“You’re taking this way better than I thought,” he mumbled, slightly bummed out that Monty didn’t seem at least a bit impressed.

The former crow laughed.

“Trust me, Matthew, after the last few days, I don’t think much can shock me anymore.”

[timperi-fan]

Your timperi playlist is so good!!!! I wasn't expecting some of the song choices but they fit so well???? and it was fun trying to guess from wich pov they were and how they fit in the fic's story.

Its a little silly, but I got a bit excited when I played the songs that I already knew, thinking of them in the context of this ship/fic. Like, little talks??? amnesia??? HURTS LIKE HELL???? PLEASE DON'T SAY YOU LOVE ME????? I WANNA ME YOURS????? PINK!!! IN!!! THE!!! NIGHT!!!?????

I'm truly obsessed with this playlist <3

Also, Rewrite the Stars being there made me think of that one scene people used to redraw as their own ships when the movie first came out (I think it was Zack Efron and Zendaya's characters first meeting, idk I haven't actually seen the movie xD) and I couldn't help thinking about Timmy and Peri in that scene, someone should draw that *winkwink*

Also! The cover art is really cute, could you tell me where you found it?

(also!! i just saw your new post about ILITAYH and i'm. so. excited!!! -especially for the horniness and the tears ;) )

Link to the playlist.

Thank you so much, anon!! 🥺 I spent DAYS getting that playlist exactly perfect (instead of actually writing the fic, whoops) so I am so glad to see others enjoying it!!

Some songs are from Timmy's POV, some are from both, but most of them are Peri's. He's the main character, after all.

The playlist has a couple of different "sections." The first eight songs fall under Part 1: Brothers, which is all before Timmy lost his memory. Hence why these songs gradually get more melancholy, despite being tinged with hope, as the inevitable approaches.

Part 2: Alone, is... Exactly what it sounds like. These songs on the playlist get more depressing as Peri's explosive grief simmers into a constant state of depression over time. These songs do follow the five stages of grief very loosely — but I have a specific song in mind to fit "acceptance." See if you can guess which one it is :)

Part 3: Strangers, is the part of the playlist where Timmy and Peri meet again, as adults. I don't have a clearly defined point where this bleeds into Part 4: Friends, or a point where it becomes Part 5: Love. I guess that's okay, though! It suits them, because Peri and Timmy couldn't define those stages of their relationship if you asked them, either, lol!

A lot of the songs in the middle of the playlist are more for ~vibes~ than story beats. A lot of the "I don't want to be in love with you" type songs are meant to represent Peri's inner turmoil... But in the fic proper, he's repressing the hell out of those thoughts! He experiences the denial and the self-hatred and the regret all at once, after his relationship with Timmy reaches a point where Peri can no longer deny it :)

The mutual pining part of the playlist is my favorite! See this stretch of songs? ↓↓

These are actually POV switches! They go from Peri to Timmy to Peri to Timmy etc for a while, as they both grapple (or, in Timmy's case, don't grapple) with their feelings. It's so fun having Peri's sadder, longing, soulful songs about desire and struggling to accept that right next to Timmy's upbeat, bouncing songs about how they are perfect together and he wants Peri so bad, haha 💕

Part 6: Together settles towards the end, filled with love songs that become softer as they bleed into the "epilogue" of the playlist, Part 7: Forever.

Timmy and Peri's relationship in ILITAYH will not go this smoothly, ha! Nor will it necessarily end how the playlist implies that it does. But there are some hints in the last two songs as to how the fic will conclude :)

But, yeah >_< I can literally ramble about every single song on that playlist and how it relates to TimPeri. Do not feel silly, anon, I promise that not only am I more deranged about them than you, but I am beyond happy to have someone as excited about this playlist as I am!!

[gaybananabread]

☾༺Just a Bit Longer༻☽

~So I’ve been brainrotting over RW&RB for a solid month now. The goblins need a walk, and I cannot productivity until they get one. I love these two’s dynamic; they’re just so silly. Not my best work, but writer’s block be damned; I needed to post something this week. This is completely self-indulgent, but if it’s your thing, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Alex

Ler: Henry

Summary: Alex is overworking himself, going late into the night and working hours without breaks. Sick of his lover’s dreadful work-life management, Henry takes it upon himself to get Alex to sleep.

Warnings: mild Red, White & Royal Blue spoilers! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Life for Alex Claremont-Diaz was the best it had ever been. Henry came over almost daily from his Brownstone, and he finally felt like he had a definite idea of where his life was headed. The only downside: he was still in school.

The NYU Law course was a bit more rigorous than he’d expected, but it was definitely what he wanted. Sure, that meant long, painful hours of reviewing for extremely difficult exams, discovering that tort is a real word, and trying to figure out a system for coursework that didn’t make his brain want to explode.

His sleep schedule was already shit, so he didn’t think any of it would be a problem. If he just pulled a few all-nighters and pumped out some late-night essays, he’d be fine. What he didn’t think about, however, was how Henry would take it.

Alex was working late on another essay, running off of coffee and pure determination. He hadn’t meant to put it off, but with the three exams he’d had that week, his mind was a scattered mess.

Henry had put up with it for most of the night, but as two AM rolled around, his understanding had run dry, replaced by concern.

Knocking the “shave and a haircut” pattern on his lover’s door, Henry entered the room. He was immediately greeted with the strong smell of coffee and desperation.

There sat his boyfriend, hunched over a computer with a half-eaten ham sandwich (he couldn’t handle turkey anymore) by his side. The blonde couldn’t help the sad sigh that escaped him.

Alex looked up, his glasses nearly all the way down on his nose. It was unfairly cute, though Henry shoved that feeling down for the moment.

“Uh…hey, Hen. Not done yet; gimme, like, another half-hour.” Alex’s gaze was back on his computer in seconds.

Henry rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache brew. For once, why couldn’t Alex just use common sense?

“Alex, darling. It’s two in the morning. You need to sleep.”

Alex scoffed, not stopping for even a second. “Says you. You stay up later than I do most of the time.” While that wasn’t untrue, Henry’s problems were because of insomnia. Alex was just a stubborn asshole.

“Look, I’m going to be brutally honest here. You look terrible, you seem exhausted, and the bags under your eyes could fit the entirety of the Royal Wardrobe. Go. To. Sleep.”

Henry laid things out bluntly, crossing his arms. It was meant to leave little room for negotiation, but defying Henry’s expectations was Alex’s special talent.

“This is due at eight AM…uh, today. I’ve only got six hours to finish this thing, but I’m almost done. I promise, just a bit longer.” This would have been more comforting if Alex hadn’t already said that three times.

“Alex, please. If you sleep now, I’ll wake you up at six, and we’ll work on it together. It hurts to see you like this, dear.” He used pet names, trying to sway Alex to listen. It was a last-ditch effort; if he still refused, Henry didn’t have much of a plan left. Sure enough, he did.

“It’s fine, Henry. I’m all good, just a little spacy. I promise, the moment I’m done, I’ll eat your face. Okay, baby?” Alex flipped the other man’s strategy back on him, hoping to fully bury the concern. He was fine: end of story.

For Henry, though, the tale was just beginning. He racked his brain, searching for anything to help him get Alex to cooperate. He could only remember one time anyone was successful.

Alex had invited him to the White House for June’s birthday party. As the night dragged on, everyone but Alex was drunk and exhausted. To tire him out, June had employed some rather…unconventional methods.

Methods that would be extremely useful to him at that moment.

Casually approaching his boyfriend, Henry put a hand on the laptop. Then, after making sure the work was saved, he closed it. He pointedly ignored Alex’s scoff and protests, grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. Alex still squirmed, though a smile was breaking out on his face.

That was all Henry needed to continue. He gripped Alex under his thighs, lifting the man up and plopping him down on his nearby bed.

A surprised sound left him, his cheeks gaining a nearly imperceptible red hue. He was expecting some push-back from Henry, but nothing this active.

“Just couldn’t wait for me, could you~?” Alex weteased, starting to sit up on the bed. Henry was quick to stop that, grabbing Alex’s arms and pinning them above his head.

Before his lover could make another joke, Henry tapped a few fingers on his side. That shut him up, if only for a second.

“Henry, I swear to fucking god, if you try anything-” He was cut off when Henry squeezed his side, resulting in an indignant squeak.

“Sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I already have~” With that, Henry clawed his fingers into Alex’s stomach, straddling him.

The tired man tried to bite his lip, but the coffee wasn’t quite enough to give him that energy. A few giggles slipped out, quickly followed by tiny curses.

“What’s the matter, Alex? Something bothering you?” Henry chuckled, leaning down further to try and hold him still.

Kicking and squirming, Alex tried anything to get away from the evil fingers. He was tired, though; his brain was moving at half-speed and felt like it was running through soup.

“Gehehet ohoff me, youhuhu prihick!” Henry has decided to move up to his ribs, scritching and scratching between each bone.

Even on a good day, it’d be hard for Alex to get out from under him. With no sleep, coffee fumes and pure spite, he had no chance.

“Why on Earth would I do that? I’m quite comfortable here. Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself, if that blush is any indication,” Henry taunted, jutting his chin out. He didn’t really need to, but it was a sure-fire way to rile Alex.

“Fuhuhuck off! Hehenry, I swehehear- quihit!” Alex tried to bury his face in his shoulder, though he only drew attention to a new target. Henry leaned down, blowing a raspberry on his boyfriend’s neck. Alex would rather die than repeat the squeal that left him.

“Wow, Alex. Perhaps the Barbara Streisand accusation wasn't so far off,” he teased, his voice about as smug than Alex had ever heard it.

The typically witty man was in giggly shambles, trying his best not to sound like a child. He wasn’t very successful.

“SHUHUhut uhup, youhu douche!!” Laughing like a toddler, Alex was still pumping out insults. Henry was about to put a stop to that. Going for the kill, he hooked his thumbs into Alex's hip divots, kneading and squeezing the area.

That seemed to work quite well.

“GAH- HEHENRY! You- YAHAHA! FAHAHACK!” The law student lost his shit, practically cackling under his boyfriend.

Alex arched his back off the bed, only bucking into the ticklish feeling. There was no room in his mind for witt; the best he could do was “fuck fuck fuck it tickles oh my god-”

Hearts practically formed in Henry’s eyes at the adorably hysteric reaction. Still, as cute as it was, he had a mission.

“This all ends the moment you agree to rest. Or…would you like me to continue? I bet I could just tickle you senseless all night. You’d surely be exhausted then, wouldn’t you?”

Alex couldn’t even get a word out, shaking his head as he laughed. His curls went wild, getting in his eyes and puffing up. Henry wanted to brush it from his eyes, but he had to keep his priorities in order. There would be time for fawning over him later.

“HEHENRY! PLEHE- snrk” It took a solid minute, but Alex’s resolve was weakening. He was already tired beforehand, and laughing his ass off wasn’t helping. The squirming had died down almost completely, snorts slipping into the lax cackles.

While it wasn’t an agreement, the Prince could tell that his lover would be out in seconds. Henry stopped, switching to gentle traces down his sides. The first son tried to calm down, a steady stream of giggles pouring from his lips.

“H-hoholy shihihit… Thahat was evil.” He tried taking some deep breaths, rubbing his cheeks. Alex hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. He was close to just passing out right there, pure exhaustion hitting him like a freight train.

“Possibly. You deserved it, though.” Henry leaned down, gently kissing his curved lips. This sight was one of his new favorites: Alex, his toned skin flushed, practically a puddle of giggles beneath him.

Alex flipped him the bird before melting into the kiss. He weakly pulled his boyfriend down, snuggling against him. He’d all but forgotten about his essay, eyes closed the moment he laid still; the poor guy was wiped. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but all his energy was gone.

Carefully grabbing his phone, Henry set an alarm for six AM.

They’d finish that research paper; he was certain of that. With a bit of sleep, Alex would be a writing machine. True, the slightly rushed grammar would be atrocious, but that’s what Henry was there for. Pulling the sheets up over them both, Henry breathed a happy sigh.

“Good night, love.”

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Five) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, angsty as hell (sorry), misunderstandings, and crying.

[[A/N: Thanks @imaginemyfavoritefics for some concepts implemented in here !!! And this gif is just so pretty, like. Catch me wishing I was at a ball so he could ask for my hand. I'm simple, give me a pretty view of his blue eyes, and I'm happy. Googled it and regency era had gossip-focused newspapers!!! Drama. Thanks for reading.]]

It had been a dreadful past few days -you assumed to make up for the wonder that was the ball. You had ended up dancing -a brief one but still a dance. Sometimes if you closed your eyes you were right there -his hand delicately placed and yours mirrored. It was filled with the perfect poise, and better yet: laughter.

Some of your favorite dance pairings were full of laughter, but the banter you'd had with Mr. Grimes was much different.

You'd doubted you'd ever smiled so much in your life. Bright and big and shiny, you'd danced the last set of the night with him, and all the while desperately wished it could last longer. It was rather unheard of in your book to prefer more dances with men.

But, Mr. Grimes was quite special.

"Hey," Maggie waved her hand in front of you, "-stop drooling, we have to get the post, remember?"

"No, I-" you cleared your throat pointedly, "-have to get the post. You have to be Headmistress's companion for the hour."

She rolled her eyes, pointing out, "Right, and whose the one who has to pick up the rest of the groceries because you got distracted by a man?"

You shoved gently into her side, shaking your head and stepping out into the foyer. Your eyes landed on Beth -looking quite preoccupied with some paper in her lap and loose hand twisting her blonde curl.

"Hello, darling sister," you chimed, smiling brightly and trying to peek at the title -she didn't often share much, you have to learn it on your own, really, "-what is it your reading today?"

And usually, in normal circumstances, she would tell you and your morning would be started rather warm. Beth was always so grand to listen to, anything she spoke of came with the same cadence.

But, apparently, it was not a usual day.

"Are you to be married to Mr. Grimes?"

You froze in your spot, still as stone, peering down at your sister. She was looking at you with rather open blue eyes -vulnerable and curious, she'd always meant well you knew that. But it could be rather degrading in cases such as this.

"What?" You questioned, tone a little higher than you expected.

"Let me see that!" Headmistress rushed from behind you -you'd imagined she'd heard the whole thing, she was quite nosy.

'Have to be,' she'd say, '-to get anything done here.'

And as she stood beside you, you grounded yourself and peered over her shoulder. The black ink is rather bold and threatening like it was demanding you read it. Demanded you paid attention, really.

'LOCAL WEALTHY MAN HAS EYES ON NEW MISTRESS' it read, in big blocky sort of lettering.

"'Mr. Grimes, the wealthy owner of Alexandria estates,'" your Headmistress read, head following the words as she went, "'-was seen with a young lady, still yet to be identified, for most of his time Saturday evening.' Oh my, Hershel-"

He waltzed into the room, fairly dressed for the day -off to a work call, you assumed, "Yes?"

"Your daughter's on the front page," she brandished the paper under his heavy eye -eyebrows settled deep in worry, "-can you believe it?"

"Huh," he hummed -taking the paper in his hands, shaking it to clear the creases, "-I have to say I assumed so."

"Assumed so?"

"Well, I'm off for a trip to the estate," he spoke, eyeing you in a certain sort of way with an amused smile slipping onto his face, "-at Mr. Grimes's personal invitation."

"No," Headmistress lilted -rather improperly, "-you're truly not."

"See for yourself," your father tugged a little letter out of his vest pocket -extending it to her with a rather smug sort of look.

You nearly jumped to look at the note over your Headmistress's shoulder -handwriting rather neatly printed like it took much thought. Like he truly worried over the words he'd said, something in you swirled.

'Dr. Greene,' it said -printed by the fragile tip of a quill, '-I would hope you indulge me with a visit on the 'morrow. I wish to discuss some things at your leisure, I'm sure you're familiar with what. My intentions are obnoxiously clear, I'm told. And please extend an invitation for dinner to the rest of your family come Thursday evening. Awaiting your response, Richard Grimes.'

"Oh my," Headmistress echoed, tone really bubbling up into one of joy and disbelief, "-oh my! This is-"

You laughed, connecting your hands at the skirt -flushing a rather obvious crimson as a smile slipped across your lips, "Wonderful. Father, may I-"

"It's all yours, my dear," he smiled, a sort of wondrously fond look dusting across his face, "-but I must go, wouldn't want him to wait too long."

Headmistress merely grinned, extending the note in her hand to yours and when you accepted it, she only grinned brighter. Bouncing a little in her step, she ran her hands over your arms -something you found you'd rarely seen.

"Oh," she breathed wistfully -you were surprised she hadn't twirled around like she was in a meadow, "-this is terrific! My dearest, darling Y/N. We must work on dresses for dinner, you must look absolutely delightful-"

"Headmistress," you groaned, despite the grin biting up on your cheeks. It was quite the contrary.

"No, no fuss, dear," she urged, hand dusting across your hair -as if there was something out of place, "-if such a man wishes to court you, you shall only look your best."

You rolled your eyes but remained rather submissive as she dragged you out the door -stores slipping through her mouth like mere suggestions. And Beth and Maggie on your tails, a part of you never wished to distract from this day -the joy in your step, the fondness of your family, and the spike of hope on the fact that maybe Mr. Grimes wished to court you.

You found that you were walking on air. Until you weren't.

It was near Thursday evening when your Headmistress had slipped into your room -silent, as you brushed your fingers across the embroidery. Your new dress had been rather pricey, all billowing fabrics and intricate details, but Father had reassured you it was doable. That this occasion was one to mark.

"Dear," she started, tone rather plain for her -especially since the dinner came so soon, "-may we speak?"

You turned to her -a distant sort of concern smoothing over your brow, "Everything alright, Headmistress? You're rather quiet for such an important dinner."

"Darling, the dinner has been canceled."

"Canceled?" you stilled -a sort of question dipped into your tone, eager, desperate, "Why ever would he have canceled it?"

"I don't-" she started, a deep sigh rattling through her body -something pointed in her eyes, "-I don't know, but we mustn't fret dea-"

"Did he-" you stopped -something shaky in your tone, "-Is it going to be rescheduled? Perhaps a week's time?"

Headmistress's eyes faltered, flicking to the ground, "We have... We have reason to believe that Mr. Grimes will not be rescheduling."

There was a heaviness settled on your shoulders, as you watched the rather solemn look settle on her face -this wasn't exaggerating like before. Not as she wept over the carriage, or sobbed over Maggie doing something far less than proper. There was something real there, in the smoothing of her smile to that of a flat line.

"What?"

"You don't need to worry about it, my dear-" Headmistress hummed, hands brushing over your shoulders like she had energy but there was a distinct lack, "-you're sure to have more choices."

"Choices?" you echoed -tone lost and a shake behind your words, you didn't want to cry, "-Headmistress, what happened? Did he... Is he not-"

"It's not important," she answered, but it was all wrong -tone uneven, eyes everywhere but matching you.

"It is," you reasoned, the tears prickling at the back of your eyes, "-it's at the very least important to me. And if you don't tell me, well-"

Your knuckles were white, grabbed onto the fabric of your dress -swirled of delicate embroidery crushed into your palm. It would need to be ironed again if you were to ever wear it. Something inside yourself told you that you wouldn't. Not after this-

"-I shall ask him myself."

Headmistress stood with you, matching your stride, "Y/N, that's utterly ridiculous, and I forbade you from going to that estate unattended!"

You ignored her pleas, moving in a straightforward motion. It was much like you weren't thinking, only going. You couldn't think, none of it made any sense and it would only make your head spiral further.

As you made your way down the staircase, she eagerly followed you -spouting out excuses, and 'forbidden' and 'disrespect'. It was all mere buzz in the back of your mind, drowning out the noise as if it was well-practiced.

"Woah," your Father rose from his seat, "-wherever are you off to this late?"

"Mr. Grimes's estate," you answered -simply and tone-numbed, "-to figure this all out myself."

"Darling," he spoke, "-let me gather my coat and I'll escort you at the very least-"

"Father," you exhaled, looking at him in the eyes -so as to convince him, to keep him focused, "-this is something I must do by myself. Or I shall never understand it and I'd like-" your voice broke, but you stood tall, "-I'd like to understand it."

He stood there for a moment -eyes peering down at you with a touched sort of fondness he'd always had when it had come to you and your sisters. He sighed, a deep sort of sigh, and something told you he knew what had happened himself -as he pulled your head forward to kiss your head, gently, "Okay, just be back in time for dinner, yeah?"

"Okay," you echoed -swinging your coat around your shoulders before making your way out the door.

It wasn't long down the road that the rain started -a light dusting turning into pouring rain. It made you shiver in the wind, but you found a sort of determination -the fire in your stomach came alive, and kept you warm. The mud of the roads had kicked up your skirt, and your hair had been rather thrown by the rain, but still, you put one foot in front of the other.

Something was biting at you, as you wandered up the steps -now empty compared to the ball weeks prior. The beautiful stone was so decorated you hardly felt like you could step on it without feeling guilty. And despite the turmoil, tugging deep in your stomach, you found some solace in its beauty. It gave you pause.

You looked down at your feet, watching the mud trail wash away behind you, but you'd still stained it hadn't you?

Would you ever not be a mere stain on his carpet?

Shaking your head, you gathered your courage back up and stepped closer to the door. Still as pristine as you last saw it, you watched as your hand made a smear there and your thoughts only grew louder -not worth it, don't belong, stain on his carpet-

The knock was a light one, as you gathered your coat around yourself -trying to solicit any sort of warmth out of the soaked fabric. It was all you could think of to do, as the tension settled heavily on your shoulders and the chill of the evening brushed across your skin.

You don't know why you hadn't expected it, everything added up when you looked back now, but then. All you wanted was an explanation.

When the door had opened, you hadn't paid attention to who opened the door at first, eager to get the words out, "Hello, is Mr. Grimes available? I wish to speak to-"

And then you paused, eyes slinking over the woman in front of you -she was slim with a well-crafted face and her dress was a beautiful sky blue -bodice more detailed than you could ever imagine. (Your new dress shied in comparison.) Her eyes were the most brilliant of brown (a shade you recognized from somewhere) and her hair tidied to perfection, you felt rather inadequate.

"Hello," she spoke, a little bewildered, "-what are you doing out in this rain, Miss..."

"Ms. Greene," you filled in the blank -shivering slightly from the cool air, "-my name is Y/N Greene. Lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss-"

"Lori," she added in, a wonderfully beautiful smile smoothing across her face, "-Mrs. Lori Grimes."

[cowgurrrl]

ok what am I supposed to do now the one for the money, two for the show is done!!!?! I would love more lord while I go back a reread everything from the beginning!

If you’re taking requests maybe quick snapshots of the year apart? Not to get too personal but I have a crush and I’ve been stalking their social media but like in a chill way (or I’m trying to) I imagine reader and Joel both seeing each others accomplishments or posts or being tagged in things and just being happy for each other but also….the longing

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author's note: this is so angsty i'm sorry

Summary: This ask

Warnings: angst, yearning, oh it's so sad

Joel Miller's New Album Set to Break Records

Everything We Know About Joel Miller's New Album Glass House

Glass House Expected to Go Platinum Before Next Month

What Songs on Joel Miller's New Album Are About Famous Actress Ex?

You almost text Joel about the headlines and theories flooding your timeline. Almost. You actually started typing out a message before reading the last message you sent him almost four months ago and quickly deleting it. You're happy for him. You really are. In the pictures from his album release party, he looked insanely happy, posing with Ellie and Sarah and hugging his musician friends in celebration. He even played one of his newest songs, "Love-in-idleness," at the party with only his acoustic guitar and that deep voice of his. You think you would know it's about you even if he didn't tell you about it before you left. Love-in-idleness is the flower used in A Midsummer Night's Dream to make a love potion to unite the couples. It's common knowledge, but Joel might be one of the only people in the world who knows how much that play means to you. The song quickly becomes one of your favorites, but you don't tell him.

You scroll through his social media unashamedly. Dave Grohl and half the world congratulates him on his album release. He's making the music he's always wanted to make. Sarah told you she got into UCLA, and Ellie is drawing again. He's happy. They all are. So, why do you feel so shitty? Neither of you has deleted the pictures of each other from your profiles. It feels like a staring contest, seeing who will hold the torch of your relationship longer. It doesn't help that people are screenshotting the pictures of you together to "add context" to Joel's lyrics. The one that makes you break down is a quick snapshot someone took of you leaning on him in Central Park when you were watching the guitarist with lyrics from "The Yellow Subway." 

She knows more than me. You better believe

That city couldn't hold her right, but then

I couldn't either.

Despite the heartbreaking lyrics, you two look comfortable together— your head on his shoulder and his hand in yours. You cry in between scenes, ruining your makeup and having a mini-therapy session with your makeup artist, Saoirse, as a result. You don't post anything about his new album, but you put on a happy face and post snapshots from your time spent in Ireland thus far. Pitchers of Guinness, the Cliffs of Moher, stunningly green mornings, and a picture of you and the film crew hiding out in a tent while the rain comes down around you. Joel likes the photos but makes no other move to communicate with you.

You wonder if he's torturing himself in the same way you are. You wonder if he's waiting for a headline about you dating someone new like you are for him. You wonder if he's hurting the way you are. Selfishly, you hope he is because that means he still thinks of you. You also want him to hurt because he hurt you. You still love him, but you can't be the woman who crawls back to someone who can't trust her with things, like telling her the mother of his child is back in town. 

This is what's best. It's what needs to happen. You need to be here, working, and he needs to be there, being a dad and making music. It doesn't make it any easier or soothe the ache in your heart, but it's necessary. It's for your own good. Right? 

Right?