#I love that they didn’t make it an issue that she was 19 and still living with her parent

[novelist-becca]

Idk about the other Doctor Who fans, but I like Ruby Sunday as a character

[inuyashaluver]

boyfriend - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which your girlfriend is just the definition of boyfriend

warnings: swearing, a little suggestive

a/n: i was writing my requests and got the overwhelming urge to write this because leah is just the definition of boyfriend, i don’t make the rules, i also saw the picture of her this morning and died so here you go lmao

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

your girlfriend, leah, was the literal definition of boyfriend. and yeah, maybe that didn’t make sense, but it did to you.

leah williamson was incredibly protective, supportive and disciplined to the public eye, but to you, she was just your leah.

your leah found comfort in burying her face in the crook of your neck to avoid the rest of the world.

your leah loved to hold your hand or any part of your body at every given moment so everyone knew you were hers and she was yours.

your leah was incredibly stubborn, especially when it came to you. your leah worshipped the ground you walked on.

—

you and leah grew up together in the arsenal youth teams, quickly gravitating towards each other when you both realised how passionate you were about football, exactly like the other person.

when you both got selected for the england teams, you two grew extremely close, finding comfort in just being around each other. you both brought out the best in each other and everyone could see it, both on and off the pitch.

you and leah didn’t have many issues surrounding your years of pining, the two of you would shamelessly flirt from the time you were both 19 and changing that dynamic of being best friends to something more.

“baby, do not go on this date” leah pleads as you held up a forth outfit up to your body, “what do you think?” you turn to face her, a scowl evident on her 19 year old face as she sat on the edge of your bed.

“you look gorgeous, that’s not the point, (y/n)” she spits out, “i don’t want you to go,” leah crosses her arms over her chest and glares at you chuckling in the mirror.

“i want to go, lee baby” you tease, making the girl huff in frustration when you brought out yet another top against you.

“fine, wear the second outfit, see if i care,” she grumbles, picking at her cuticles while you smile at her through the mirror.

you were just pulling her leg, there wasn’t really a date, you just loved to tease leah but you also wanted your relationship to progress, to finally call her yours.

“babe” you call out, moving to stand in between her spread legs, she looks up at you curiously, her glare still a little evident as you smiled down at her.

“what?” she sighs, your hands make your ways to her shoulders, massaging them gently and feeling her relax under your touch.

“there’s no date, you git” you chuckle, leah tenses again, “sorry?” you really couldn’t help but laugh at her face of relief but also mischief as she looked up at you.

“i’m fucking with you, there’s no date” you laugh, leah grabs the sides of your hips and chucks you onto your bed, moving to straddle your hips as she tickled your sides.

“you’re such a little shit!” she laughs, smiling brightly at the bright laughs coming out of your mouth.

“why would you tell me there was a date?” she breathes out, lacing your fingers together as she pinned them by the sides of your head.

“wanted to see how you’d react” you say breathlessly, your chest heaving while an affectionate smile adorns your features.

“you seemed a little jealous, williamson?” you say teasingly, leah shakes her head, pinning you by your hips to the bed with her own, “fuck off, i was not” she defends, giving your hands a squeeze as you laugh up at her.

your heart was beating out of your chest, so was leah’s, but in a good way. a weirdly familiar way.

“you so were” you smirk, “i don’t want you to go” you mock her accent, she rolls her eyes fondly, lifting your hand up and threatening to bite your fingers.

you yelp when her teeth actually does graze your pointer finger, making her chuckle against your skin.

her eyes flicker between your own before falling to your lips, subconsciously wetting hers with her tongue as she looked back up at your eyes.

“looking a little flushed there, gorgeous, you alright?” she teases, you shake your head at her, “i’m fine, but you look a little flushed there, babe, anything you want to tell me?” you tease right back.

she giggles at your words, kissing the corner of your mouth, your breath hitched at how close she was to your lips, feeling her smirk against your skin as she trailed kisses along your cheeks.

she pulls back, dangerously close to your face as she chuckles, both of your pupils were blown out, cheeky grins evident on both of your faces.

leah puts you out of your misery and gives you that kiss you’d both been dreaming of, it was as perfect as a first kiss could go.

a little inexperienced at first but quickly learning from each other as it continued. you hummed against leah’s lips and she can’t help but grin into the kiss.

the kiss lasted for a couple of seconds before she let go of you, pulling you to sit up cross legged in front of her while she offered you a sheepish smile.

“be my girlfriend?” she breathes out, you nod instantly, making your way into her lap and kissing her until the air was knocked out from your lungs.

when you both pulled away, you tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and leah’s heart fluttered. at the gesture but also the fact you were doing it as her girlfriend. “took you long enough” you grin, she pinches your hip and smirks when you squirm in her lap.

“how about i wear outfit number two and we go out on our own date” you smile cheekily, she presses a quick, tender kiss to your lips in response,

“you’ve got yourself a deal” she whispers against your lips, her hands gently squeezing your hips as you ended up in another kiss.

—

in present times, you and leah moved in together, both of you were extremely successful in your football careers.

leah was the captain of the england senior team and you couldn’t be more proud, showing her how much you loved that armband the first time she wore it.

you and leah had so much love for each other it was sickeningly sweet. both of you were head over heels, affection an understatement for the two of you.

it was obvious in the way you acted around her, dropping anything and everything if she needed something. telling her verbally how much you loved her no matter where you were. giving her heart eyes every two seconds that had her stomach swarming with butterflies.

and in leah’s case, she’s been called a simp way more than she’d like to admit but she didn’t mind. it was true after all.

—

“baby, you’ll get sick like that” leah scolds as you walk out of the change room onto the pitch where she was waiting for you for a pre match lap, your puffer unzipped in just your training kit.

“i’m fine, love” you smile, walking up to her and promptly puckering your lips up at her, she shakes her head fondly, pressing a couple of kisses to your lips while you sighed happily.

she pulls away from you, tugging you closer by the sides of your puffer and zipping it up for you. you smile at her appreciatively, she pinches your cheek gently before grabbing your hand and interlacing it with hers as you both walked around, posing for photos together with cheesy grins if needed.

your cheeks were a little red, not only from leah but the cold as well. leah moves you to stand in front of her again, her arms wrapping around you and prompting you to do the same as she pulled you closer.

she kisses your cheeks repeatedly, feeling them warm up under her lips as she spreads her love on both. “still cold?” she says softly, you nod with a cheeky grin, “very” she narrows her eyes at you amusingly but continues spreading kisses over your entire face, relishing in the soft giggles you were rewarding her with.

suddenly, she gasps, reaching into her pockets with an excited smile. “i forgot!” she exclaims, pulling out two heat packs that were warming up in her pockets, she only did it for you.

she places both of them against your cheeks and you smile happily, letting leah press little kisses to your lips again as she held the packs gently on your face, making sure not to burn you. she would whisper in conversation with you in between the kisses, your stomach lurching at her softness.

“ugh, you two make me sick” beth dry wretches, victoria and alessia laugh while watching you both pull away, “fuck off, beth” leah groans, tugging you impossibly closer as you tucked your head under her chin.

“i’ll remind you she’s my girlfriend, bethany” you tease, leah kisses your temple softly, “you think i don’t know that? you’re attached at the hip” she teases, “leave them, bethy, they’re cute” alessia coos, you send her a little wink of appreciation.

“they’re cute until you catch them fucking,” beth exclaims, you and leah both roll your eyes in unison, “you came to our home, unannounced, uninvited, with the spare key” leah grits out, holding onto you protectively. your hands rub up and down her back in an attempt to calm her down but leah was your defender.

“i told you i was coming over!” beth accuses, “you did fucking not!” leah yells, alessia and victoria laugh at the the thought of you and leah being caught. especially knowing how protective leah was of you. let’s just say a lot of yelling happened that day.

the bickering went back and forth for a bit as you and leah kept cuddling up together.

“you could have the same if you just go up to viv” leah shrugs, beth rolls her eyes at that, “i don’t need to be attached to my girlfriend to show our love” beth defends, “the kisses are nice, beth” you smile, looking up at leah with a smile.

beth chuckles and seems to give in, you and leah giggle as you watch beth run over and latch herself to viv, watching her struggle for a bit before giving up and pulling her into an embrace similar to yours and leah’s.

“we should be couple’s therapists,” you rest your chin on her chest, looking up at her with a soft smile. she kisses you softly again, “we can be whatever you want to be” she says cheekily, making you chuckle when her kisses make their way to your neck, jokingly biting you a couple of times to make you laugh.

—

whenever you and leah were in a large crowd, her true boyfriend nature came out that you just ate up. you were both at the pride of britain awards, her hand firmly planted on the small of your back as you walked around, posing for cameras on the red carpet.

when you two got pulled for interviews, leah tucked you into her side as you answered questions, she would focus on you intently, nodding along with your words and smiling proudly as you talked.

when you’d catch her gaze, her bright smile would make you falter slightly and you’d have to recover while her hand rubbed gently up and down your back.

you both answer generic interview until you approach a very special one. “it’s one nil” the interviewer says, leah and your eyes visibly widen, leah pressing her hand into your back as you both approached.

“are you joking?” leah smiles, “no it is!” the interviewer exclaims, “arsenal?” leah questions excitedly, “did you hear that?” leah grins at you, “yeah, baby i did” you chuckle affectionately, your head falling to her shoulder for a minute while she chats excitedly with the interviewer.

“this girl bleeds arsenal” you smile up at her, she nods without a second thought, showing off her earring with a proud smile.

“so, leah, if you had to pick between (y/n) and arsenal, who would you pick?” the interviewer says jokingly, though leah takes it seriously,

“now, hold on, i’m gonna go with my girl in arsenal, without a doubt” she says smugly, seemingly proud of her answer.

you laugh brightly, kissing her cheek fondly as she grins, “she was joking” you laugh, leah looks down at you cheekily, “don’t care” she taunts, her hand moving to rest on your hip to answer the rest of the interview.

you both got invited to an after party, making your rounds together with bright smiles, seeing people you haven’t seen for ages.

everytime you would talk to leah, she would bend her head to your level to make sure you were speaking directly into her ear, not wanting to miss out on anything you say.

and so, when you mentioned to leah you wanted to go home, you both left promptly with leah leading you out.

—

another instance of your girlfriend just radiating boyfriend energy was when you both needed to go on a bus for the lionesses on camp.

leah was talking to keira and georgia who she hadn’t seen in a while so you went on the bus first.

a few of the younger girls send you a wave so you go over with a bright smile. sitting next to maya as you entertained the young ones as they teased you about your love life.

it was until your girlfriend got on the bus with a little scowl at realising you left without her. “who do you think you are?” leah grumbles, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the seat you were in to another one closer to the back.

you hear the laughs of the girls as leah drags you from your seat.

“leah!” you reprimand with a laugh, “who?” she whips her head towards you, about to shove you into the window seat.

“love,” you sigh, she smiles cheekily, “that’s better” she pushes you towards the window seat, draping your legs over hers as you both chatted.

leah snapped a photo of you and smiled at the result, adding it to her folder dedicated to you. “you’re so cute” leah coos, kissing you quickly and dropping her grumpy attitude. “you’re cuter” you grin, pressing another kiss to her lips before you snuggle up to her.

“i’m running out of storage” leah frowns, going to her camera roll and gasping at how many photos you have.

you lean over and gasp as well, grabbing her hand with the phone in it and looking at the screen, “baby, oh my god, what’ve you got in there” you laugh,

“i don’t know, let’s see” she makes you sit closer while you both went through her camera roll, laughing at some of the funnier pictures and shoving her phone down at the more explicit ones.

“i need to revisit this picture later” she winks at you when one of you and leah during that first day of captaincy. “leah cathrine” you warn, she smirks, “sorry” she coughs.

your heart quickened when you realised how many photos she had of you, making up almost all of her camera roll.

“lovey, you can delete some photos of me, half of them are duplicates” you chuckle, leah looks at you offendedly, “excuse me? they are all different” she scoffs, flicking between two nearly identical photos while pointing out little differences.

“babe, that’s the same picture” you laugh brightly, leah stifles her own laugh, “it is not! god, just break up with me then, you awful woman, can’t even have a picture of my wife in my phone without you on my ass” she grins,

“wife? i don’t remember you proposing?” you tease, “in due time, my girl” she smiles, kissing you breathlessly until you were completely flushed in the face.

“here, i’ll help you delete some photos,” you hold your hand out for her phone and she holds it instead, “you delete a single one and i’ll really break up with you” she mocks, you gasp offendedly

“i’m wounded” you pout, she makes quick work of fixing it with a kiss, “kissed it better” she grins, squeezing your thigh gently as your head fell to her shoulder.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you, ily beffy

liked by alessia and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: she’s baby girl

view all comments

yourname: it was brilliant, it was powerful, it was leah williamson!!!!

↳ leahwilliamsonn: stop it

↳ yourname: never, it’s literally my job

↳ leahwilliamsonn: your job is football

↳ yourname: my job is annoying you for the rest of my life

↳ leahwilliamsonn: can’t wait xx

bethmead_: sick

↳ yourname: stop hating, bethany

↳ leahwilliamsonn: yeah, bethany

↳ viviannemiedema: yeah, bethany

↳ bethmead_: the betrayal

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Beach Episode (Part 19)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

Danny and Jason talked out their issues and dealt with it. Jason didn’t think he’d fuck up again, he’d felt so fucking bad, but Danny didn’t trust that. Which was fair, even if it hurt, he was going to have to prove that he meant it and could hold to it even when he was angry. He needed to get into therapy too, he’d been putting it off because he was scared, and protective of his identity, so much of the shit he’d seen and done was so hard to explain in a civilian situation.

But now that he was on slightly better terms with the JL he could prevail himself of one of their therapists. That ended up being the favour that Danny demanded from them was providing Jason with a therapist, one that wouldn’t be too judgmental of his… ‘methods’. They asked for Wonder Woman’s advice on that, which she was very happy to provide, relieved that Jason was facing up to his bad behaviour and taking steps to make it right. She’d been worried she was going to have to physically knock some sense into him.

The other favour that Danny asked for, not of the JL but from Jason, was not to complain about the family vacation that was being planned between Dick, Tim, Danny, and Alfred. Jason still didn’t love the idea but Danny gave him puppy dog eyes and insisted that it was needed to make him forgive Jason for his slip up. Necessary to make things right with his family and moving on, so he accepted it.

It took a lot of arranging and planning to get the family on vacation. They had to find a time everyone was available, find people they trusted to cover their patrols or cities, and of course agree on a destination. That was harder than you would expect, especially when Bruce got involved and tried to insist it should be in the deep woods somewhere and be a training exercise more than anything.

In the end he was shouted down and it was decided that they were going to go to a beach somewhere warm and sunny. Far enough away from any of their usual haunts that they wouldn’t feel the urge to work as long as there weren’t any natural disasters and Tim was kept off his ipad. Since it was a family vacation Danny invited Ellie and Dan too, though he wasn’t sure that Dan would come. Half of him hoped he wouldn’t because having Dan there was bound to be complicated, but they had decided to be family so Danny was going to put his money where his mouth was. 

Dan had been doing well anyway, he hadn’t missed any check ins and hadn’t caused any chaos in space. So he at least deserved an invite, whether he wanted to come or not. They had a check in two weeks before the trip so Danny brought it up with him then.

“A family vacation huh?” Dan asked, they were ‘sitting’ on a broken satellite which was still orbiting earth through inertia.

“Ya, God knows the Wayne's need it. And honestly so do I. Ellie will be coming too, and you're welcome too if you want to,” Danny said with a little shrug.

“And draw more attention from the GIW onto both of you?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Ya, but they already know Phantom is back and working with the Justice League now. I really don't think they're brave enough to touch us now. And if they try to, with all three of us together with the bats? Frankly I'd like to see them try. Maybe it would give the Justice League the push they need to really give them the smack down.” 

Dan snorted a little at Danny, he still didn't expect that ferocity from his younger self. “Ya I guess so,” he agreed with a crooked little smile.

“But if that was an excuse and you just don't want to come, that's fine. I don't want to push you, I just don't want you to feel left out since we decided we're family now,” Danny explained.

“Nah, I want to come. I want to meet my future brother in law,” Dan said with an absolutely feral smile.

“Oh dear,” Danny said faintly. “That doesn't sound good. Is it too late to uninvite you?” 

“Oh absolutely,” Dan cackled wickedly. “If you're going to be my little brother I should get to vet your boyfriend,” he teased, reaching over to ruffle Danny's hair and laughing when Danny smacked his hand away.

“Fine, you'll be a better judge than some people since I'm assuming we have the same opinions about violence?” He asked, glancing at Dan.

“I think I'm probably even more down for it then you are, but ya. Why?”

“Batman tried to stage an intervention about Jason hitting me. Trying to explain to them that I was totally fine with it and kinda liked it suuucked,” Danny groaned, flopping back dramatically as Dan laughed at him.

“Poor you,” Dan said, entirely unsympathetic. Danny flipped him off. “I'll probably give him shit about it.”

“Just don't scare him off. I really like this guy. If you pull anything I swear I'll spend the rest of our eternity making sure you never get a date!” 

“Sheesh, that's a serious threat kid! As long as he's not a wimp I won't scare him off. If I do scare him off he wasn’t a good fit for you in the first place,” Dan pointed out reasonably.

“Fine, I'll be keeping an eye on you though,” Danny warned.

“Of course you will, I'd expect nothing less after everything I've done,” Dan agreed dryly. “I'm surprised you're letting me be around your new found family at all.”

“Ya, well, you're one of my new found family as well.”

“Shit.”

“If you didn't want to be part of my found family you should have killed me when you had the chance!” 

“IS THAT A FUCKING MEME?!”

------------

All the Wayne’s could have asked their respective flying friends to give them a lift to the resort, but it had been decided no kryptonians were invited. They were trying to keep things to their family, though Dick was bringing Kori, that was fine they had been together off and on for years and were well settled together this time. She might as well be an in-law already. So she would be flying Dick in from Bludhaven, and everyone else was going to fly out from Gotham in the Waynes’ private jet. Well, the Waynes and Babs and Steph, who had taken a little more convincing to come, getting past their insistence they weren’t actually family being the trick. Thankfully the fact that the phantom siblings were coming too helped them see it wasn’t only a trip for the Waynes, and with different heroes and allies found to cover protecting Gotham they were bundled onto the private jet as well. 

 Which Danny and Ellie teased Bruce and Tim relentlessly about owning, Jason snickering in the background and egging on the two ghostly siblings in their teasing. They deserved it, no matter how much Bruce tried to defend that it was expected of him to have a private jet and he needed it for business! 

Teasing didn’t stop them from enjoying it though, Ellie chasing Tim around the isles, with Alfred chiding but not actually trying to stop them from having their fun and being kids for once.  Danny spent half the time exploring and stealing any snacks he found, and half the time murmuring in Jason’s ear about how they should steal the jet to join the mile high club. It was sweet torture and Jason did not want it to stop even as he shifted awkwardly and tried desperately to think unsexy thoughts so he wouldn’t get a boner surrounded by his family! Thank fuck Dick wasn’t here, the knowing smirks he’d be shooting the two of them would be too much.

It was a 16 hour flight, and once Ellie and Tim tired themselves out and fell asleep Bruce pulled out a sleep mask and settled in. Danny gave them this, it was much more comfortable to sleep in, and Jason and Danny slept soundly, at least until Ellie got bored and pounced on Danny. They phased out through the wall of the plane to go for a fly, racing the jet and flying loops around it until Ellie got tired and Danny had to help her back into the jet when she started to fall behind. 

Everyone else had started to wake up while they were gone, so by the time they got back it was just in time to have a family breakfast, and talk about what they were going to do once they landed. They had booked the entire top floor of the resort for privacy, which Danny thought was kind of overkill, but these were The Bats, they were incredibly security minded people, so he didn’t argue about it. Danny was mostly excited about swimming, this was a beach vacation after all!

Finally they landed, and grabbed as much of their stuff as they could from the plane before the bellhops could get them, as if all the staff hadn’t already been vetted by Babs. They were only staying for a week so they didn’t have so much they couldn’t reasonably carry it, and Danny suspected at least Tim had some stuff in his bags he would not want anyone else to see. He was going to keep an eye on the younger man to make sure that he hadn’t smuggled any work with him on vacation. 

They piled out of the plane, chattering excitedly about the vacation, Dick coming onto the plane to help Babs on the slightly too steep ramp from the plane. Kori was waiting for them on the tarmac with a warm smile, taking a couple of the heavier bag.

“We already picked out her room on the left side. I suspect Jason and Danny will want to be on the right, and the… single, and younger members of the family should be in the middle so we all have some place,” Kori suggested. 

“Kori!” Dick chided, though he clearly wasn’t actually shocked. Actually those who’d known the two of them for a while knew that was far more delicately put then she might have said it a couple years ago.

“What?” She said, blinking her bright green eyes innocently at Dick. “This is a romantic destination, and we love each other, we are only doing what is surely expected of a loving romantic union. I doubt your father wants to hear-”

“YES thank you Kori you’re right. We’ll make sure you and Dick, and Jason and Danny have your privacy,” Bruce promised.

Before the conversation could continue Ellie shrieked and dropped her bags, taking off running away from the group. It startled everyone, but hackles smoothed immediately when they spotted Dan, strolling across the lot to meet her at a more casual pace. He rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face as he bent down to scoop Ellie up before she could headbutt him in the gut at full sprint. He was wearing regular clothes, a black shirt and pants with white stripes down the side, and his fiery hair had been gathered into a low ponytail. He still looked obviously inhuman with his grey-green skin and red eyes, but there were all sorts of meta-humans around and he didn’t look like a supervillain at least. 

Ellie scrambled from in his arms to onto his shoulders as he grumbled at her without any real heat behind it. He shrugged his shoulders, making her squeak and hold on tight as he strolled over to the rest of the group.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Danny said, approaching Dan and patting his arm.

“Hey I told you I would,” Dan said ruffling Danny’s hair and ignoring the way the humans around them shifted nervously. Danny was either ignoring it as well or hadn’t noticed the nerves.

“I don’t believe we’ve met!” Kori said cheerfully, holding out her hand to shake. 

“Hey, I’m Dan. I’m these two’s big brother, by technicality,” Dan joked, gesturing to Danny and Ellie with his free hand, shaking her hand and squeezing too hard. He looked impressed when her smile only brightened and she squeezed back just as hard. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Kori, I’m Dick’s partner,” She said brightly. “You seem strong, we should spar some time soon.”

“I’d like that,” Dan agreed with a shark's grin. Grunting and dropping the smile when Danny elbowed him in the side. 

“Behave,” Danny grumbled at him, getting a growl and an eye roll in return, before his gaze landed on Jason. 

“And you must be Danny’s boyfriend huh?” He asked, letting go of Kori’s hand and offering it to Jason.

“Ya, I am. It’s nice to meet you. He warned me about you,” Jason said, standing up straight and shaking Dan’s hand firmly, trying not to wince when he squeezed it far too tightly. 

“I’m sure he did. I warned me about messing with you too,” Dan cackled, letting go of Jason’s hand before it could crack and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Right, well now that everyone’s met each other let’s head inside hm?” Bruce interrupted trying to shoo them all towards the door. They were starting to attract attention standing out in the open like this. “We should pick out our rooms and get comfortable.”

“Ellie, how do you feel about sharing a room with Dan?” Danny asked, glancing up at his young clone, still perched on Dan’s broad shoulders. 

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Both Dan, and Ellie said at the same time before looking at each other, startled as Danny laughed.

“You’d both be absolutely terrible babysitters,” He said fondly. He expected them to get into a good deal of chaos together, but he did think that Ellie would keep Dan from killing anyone, or get Danny if things got completely out of control. 

“Fine, we’ll share,” Dan sighed, and Ellie nodded. 

“Thanks guys,” Danny said, smiling at his siblings before grabbing Jason’s hand and tugging him towards the door. “Come on, let’s go find the most extravagant room we can!”

--------------

There was a bit of a scramble for rooms, not that there weren’t plenty of rooms, but Step, Dick, and Tim were petty and silly and argued over the ‘best’ rooms. And of course once they started Ellie had to get in on the action. Danny and Jason left the younger ones (and Dick) to their squabbling and went to pick out their own room as far away from the rest as they could manage. They found a lovely one with an airy, beachy theme and a window seat looking out onto the ocean.

“It’s beautiful here,” Danny said, sitting down on the padded bench in front of the window and making grabby hands at Jason.

“Is it,” Jason chuckled, going to sit with Danny, who practically dived into Jason’s arms. “I wouldn’t want to live in a place like this, but it is very nice to visit.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you're a Gothemite and a bat! If it’s not a little close, dark, or gloomy you stand out like a sore thumb,” Danny teased, nuzzling against the underside of Jason’s jaw, who laughed along. “I like our home and our nest though, it’s cozy,” Danny added before Jason could get insecure about it.

“Me too, do you want to unpack first or go exploring?” Jason asked softly.

“As much as I want to go exploring, I think we had better unpack before anyone tries to kick us out of our room by throwing out our bags,” Danny said with a put upon sigh, going nearly boneless against Jason’s chest. 

“You know you’re going to have to get up for us to unpack, right?”

“Noooo!”

-----------

The resort really was beautiful, and since they’d rented an entire floor it wasn’t as crowded as they were sure it usually was. Danny had never been to a place like this and he intended to make the most of it, all of it! The beach, the spa, and the incredibly fucking fancy restaurant and bar where he and Jason could actually drink since the Maldieves actually had a reasonable drinking age! 

Over the course of the week they got couples messages, got so drunk they had to lean on each other to get back to their room, and ordered far too much room service. But undoubtedly the beach was absolutely the main attraction. They spent a lot of time there, to the point Danny got a tan, and Jason was very glad he didn’t burn like Bruce did, who spent most of the second day laying on his stomach in bed with Alfred scolding him about not refreshing his sunscreen after swimming. On the second day Danny remembered he didn’t strictly have to breathe! And Jason spent the rest of the day sitting on the beach while Danny (and Ellie or Dan in turns) disappeared into the water for hours and came back to tell him about everything they saw.

On the third day Jason rented some scuba equipment so he could go down with his boyfriend and see all the wonders he’d been so excited about. At least the ones in shallower waters, he couldn’t follow Danny deeper where the pressure got too much, when Danny realized that he stuck to the shallower areas. By the time they got back to shore Jason was exhausted and very ready for supper, which was a family affair every night of the trip. It was really nice, since Alfred didn’t have to cook he could actually join them and he kept it from being too rowdy. 

They had to push tables together to accommodate the whole family, but the Waynes had more than enough money to get away with it and establish an extra long table for themselves for the entire week of their stay. They tended to eat late, which worked too because there were fewer people for them to disturb with their chatter and chaos, and the eleven of them were usually more than enough for the kitchen to contend with since most of them were big eaters. The dinners were really nice, it didn’t have the baggage of being at the manor, and though they’d met up in smaller groups all of them (minus Kate who had opted out) had never been in the same place. 

It was the perfect opportunity for… something, something that Dick unfortunately beat Jason too on the third night, during dessert when he got up from the table, and got down on one knee in front of Kori. Silence fell over the entire restaurant as Jason bit back a groan and quickly readjusted his expectations to be happy for his brother. 

“Koriand'r, you and I have been together for a long time, and we’ve been through a lot of shit. But never have I not been happy you were there with me for it. You’ve made all of it easier by letting me be by your side, and I hope you’ll let me stick by you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” Kori yelped, holding out her hand and letting him put the ring on her finger before she grabbed his wrist and his collar and hauled him in for a passionate kiss as the family cheered and everyone around clapped politely. “You’ll have to come with me to pick out a ring for you as well My Love,” Kori told him warmly while Dick grinned like an idiot. 

“Congratulations!” Steph cheered, practically leaping over the table to tackle both of them as Bruce ordered a few bottles of the best champagne the resort could offer and everyone else lined up to congratulate them as well. Besides Dan, who was being ignored as he grumbled in the corner about how ostentatious and cliche the whole thing was. 

Hey, maybe if Danny secretly shared some of those thoughts Jason had dodged a bullet not being able to propose on this trip. He’d come up with a new plan, one Danny might even like better.

[ghxstlike]

you shut my mouth (and buckle my knees)

pairing: mike schmidt/gn!reader

content: reader is michael's next door neighbor, mike is so awkward, mike has social anxiety & is bad at words, reader is so oblivious, reader is 19 & mike is 20/21, reader has daddy issues, fluff, this takes place before the events in the movie, no use of y/n.

summary: mike’s been avoiding you recently, and you automatically think he’s mad at you. when babysitting abby, she tells you the truth about his feelings about you.

author's note: the title is a lyric from ‘i want to be with you’ by chloe moriondo! also!! the fnaf movie is AMAZING and it’s one of my favorite movies now. this is cross posted on ao3!! enjoy :)

he’s never this quiet.

he’s always somewhat quiet, yeah, but not deathly silent. and he usually doesn’t avoid you, either.

being a babysitter is something you never expected when you moved into the house right next mike’s. you moved in about a year ago with your mom, due to her divorce with your dad. your dad wasn’t the greatest man, nor the best dad. he never left, but he was never involved in your life. so, your mom was pretty much a single mom. your mom wanted to move far away from your dad, landing up in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

a few days after moving in, your mom introduced you to mike and his little sister abby. the first time you’ve ever seen mike was…awkward, to say the least. you could tell mike wasn’t very comfortable in the conversation at first, with the way he swung back and forth on his heels. you, on the other hand, couldn’t focus with the most hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life standing in front of you. you loved the shade of brown his eyes were, they reminded you of a beautiful forest in the fall, late at night.

mike voiced to you both about how his recent babysitter wasn’t returning his calls and wasn’t showing up, so you stepped up to be abby’s new babysitter. you’re glad you did, since now you’re able to do fun things during the day and not sit in your room reading some lame book. you don’t get paid much, but that was the least of your worries.

now, you’re in the kitchen cleaning dishes. it was about 8 pm, so abby was already fast asleep. you and abby baked cookies and there was already a huge mess. in the middle of mixing the wet and dry ingredients together to make a dough, abby pinched up a bit of flour and threw it at you. you looked up at her with an exaggerated gasp and a hand over your heart. to play with her little charade, you grabbed a tiny bit and threw in her direction. the fight of throwing flour between the two of you suddenly stopped as mike walked through the door. a feeling of guilt ran through your body when you realized what you’ve done, but there was still a huge smile on your face as you waved at him.

ever since then, he’s been sitting on the couch watching some sort of old cartoon. he usually stays in the kitchen with you, sitting at the table and talking about your day with abby. out of seemingly no where, mike stopped this routine. it bummed you out, obviously, but you didn’t want to force him to talk to you.

you sigh, grabbing the green and yellow sponge that was placed next to the sink. your mind began to wander, thinking about earlier that day. you feel terrible, but you just wanted abby to have a bit of fun. you shouldn’t have let it go that far.

you know how it feels to start something fun, and have it end up with your body filling with shame and embarrassment. especially at abby’s age. the last thing you want abby to feel is embarrassment from an adult. you also never wanted mike to be mad at you, but you have a slight feeling he already is.

you sigh again as you realize you haven’t apologized to mike about what he walked into. you bite your lip, turning around to see mike still sitting on the couch, eyes fixated on the TV.

you gently place the remainder of the dishes in the dishwasher, then quietly walk over to mike. you sit on the same couch as him, but on the other end of it. you look down at your lap, your eyes tracing the all the lines in your palm. after a few moments of being silent yourself, you speak up.

“mike?” you say in a hushed voice. his response was almost immediate.

he hums, eyes flicking to you and back at the screen. “yeah?”

his flat, low voice always made you feel warm inside. making your heart and stomach flutter with butterflies. but this time, the warmth that his voice brings goes directly down to your stomach, twisting it with anxiety. his whole presence made you feel giddy, like you were in high school with a newly founded crush. you swallow thickly before you speak again.

“i just wanted to apologize for earlier.” you pause, trying to find the right words to say and not mess this up. you want mike to speak to you, you want mike to spend time with you, you just miss him. “i-i shouldn’t have let it get that far.” you murmur.

mike doesn’t say anything at first, he just looks over at you again and nods. “you’re good.”

your stomach churns at his dry response. you nod at him, wiping your clammy hands on your jean-clad knees. “i should get going,” you say under your breath. again, mike doesn’t respond. he just watches you walk to the door, putting on your shoes in a hurry.

mike runs a hand through his curly hair, trying to figure out what he wants to say. he wants to say something, atleast a goodnight, but nothing comes out. you were too busy tying up your shoes to notice his conflicting face.

you open the front door of mike’s home and look over your shoulder. “have a good night, mike.” you say with a smile. mike’s hand does a slight wave, not returning the smile. you shut the door quietly, feeling absolutely crushed.

one of mike’s hands run down his face, hating himself for not saying something before you left. he also hated the way his heart clenched as you looked so sad when you walked out the door. “god dammit.” he grumbled to himself.

days have passed from that night. mike is still avoiding you, and being extremely quiet around you. you know it’s just you he’s being quiet around, since you hear him arguing with abby when you enter his home in the afternoon. just the thought of mike being mad at you pains you to your core, so much so that you avoid him yourself. you feel absolutely terrible, but stirring the pot could make it worse.

mike obviously notices your recent behavior, but didn’t say anything about it. instead, he’d think about it deeply when he’s in bed late at night. for weeks, he’d sleep terribly, just staying up all night figuring out what to say to you to make things better. he misses talking to you, he misses hearing your beautiful laughter and how your eyes sparkle with life when you talk about your interests.

today wasn’t very eventful, it was rather peaceful. you and abby sat at the dinner table, drawing each other pictures and talking. you noticed a drawing she was finished with and picked it up. it seemed to be you, mike, and abby all holding hands in front of a house. you smile softly, glancing up at abby, who’s doodling away with a yellow crayon. you look back down at the artwork and notice a small detail between the drawing of you and mike.

“abs?” you call out, not looking up from the paper. you hear a quiet clank as abby set down her crayon.

“yes?” she looks up at you, a slight smile apparent on her face. you set down the paper and slide it over to her. she looks down at her art, then back up at you.

“what’s up with the heart between me and mike?” you question, your stomach filling with nerves.

abby shrugs, the smile on her face never faltering as she talks. “he likes you, duh.” she giggles.

you sit up straight as your eyes widen. “what?” you whisper. your mind is running wild with all sorts of thoughts- he likes you?

“mike talks about you all the time,” she explains, picking up the yellow crayon again. “i hear him talking to himself about how-”

“abby.”

both of your heads snap toward the front door. it’s mike, he seems angry; his face is a slight pink and his hand is tightly clutching onto his bookbag that’s slung over his shoulder. abby quickly gathers up all of her art supplies that were scattered across the table and flees to her room, giggling loudly. you watch her run, smiling at her cute antics.

you hear a chair being pulled out and see that mike is sitting across from you. the picture of the three of you remains. mike only glances at it and seems to wince with a clenched jaw. he doesn’t look happy at all. you bite the inside of your cheek, getting all wrapped up in your head about what mike is thinking.

abby clearly had a misunderstanding of what mike was actually feeling. she had to.

minutes pass, and not a single word is said. to save your embarrassment (and his), the chair under you screeches as you stand up. “i-i’ll leave,” you suddenly mumble. you don’t notice the way mike’s head snaps up, watching you start to make your way to the door.

mike calls out your name before you’re able to reach the door. “stay,” he pauses to clear his throat. “uh, please.”

you turn around to see mike staring at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. without hesitation or any word, you sit back down. “is everything okay?” your voice sounds so soft, it makes mike’s heart melt.

he nods quickly, scratching the back of his neck. you can see that one of mike’s legs are bouncing and you can see sweat build up on his forehead. he loosens his tie, which makes your whole body warm up. you could feel the warmth spread throughout your limbs, stopping at your toes and fingertips.

“you don’t look okay, a-are you sick?” you exclaim with a worried look on your face. mike shakes his head no, huffing out a laugh.

“no, i’m okay, promise.” a grin appears on his face, amused with your sudden worry. “i just- abby wasn’t lying.” he blurts out, his eyes not meeting yours. you seemed to have a confused expression, so he went further. “when she said i like you.”

oh.

“oh.”

mike looks back at you, seeing that you’re completely and utterly flustered. he was right, you don’t see him the way he sees you. he feels himself sweat more, “is there something wrong?”

“no! no, no,” you ramble, laughing awkwardly. “is that why you were avoiding me for weeks on end?” you ask, your voice getting into a higher pitch. mike nods silently, eagerly awaiting for your response.

now that you think about it, everytime that you were in close contact with mike, his whole body would tense up and his face would turn pink. you almost hit yourself for not noticing sooner. instead, you laugh quietly. one of mike’s eyebrows raise, looking at you with a confused expression.

“i thought you were mad at me.” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers.

mike’s expression softens, “why would i be mad at you?”

“the day where abby and i made a mess out of the kitchen with flour,” you replied with a shrug. “that was the day where you started avoiding me.”

mike’s mouth opened, then closed. he did this a few times before finally saying: “that day was when i realized i liked you.”

you stayed silent as he continued. “i really didn’t mean to avoid you, but i just..” he stops and takes a deep breath. “i just, y’know, couldn’t find words when i was around you.”

your heart almost skipped a beat at his words, smiling ever so brightly at him. you felt so many emotions in that moment, where mike felt like he was about to faint from how pretty you look when you smile. he gives you a grin in return.

“i like you, too.” you say, still smiling. you giggle as mike sighs in relief.

his hand reaches over the table to grab yours. his hand is a little sweaty, but you don’t mind a bit.

he clears his throat, “that means i can take you on a date, right?”

you squeeze his hand tightly and nod before you realize something.

“who will babysit abby?”

[keeplcving]

I absolutely fell in love with your wiring babe!!!

Can you do one where Coriolanus and fem!reader have been in an established relationship but they’ve never gotten intimate before so after a year of dating they’re hanging out at coryo‘s place and a kiss turns into lore and coryo indicates he wants to go further but reader is a bit intimidated considering she‘s never done it before and coryo is a bit experienced because reader‘s like 18 and coryo‘s like 21? Thank you sm!!!

thank you so much for your kind words sweet anon! of course i can! ! i bumped their ages just a bit up to 19 and 22 so there is no morality issues with them being 17 and 20 when they started dating! hope that’s okay with you, anon! enjoy xoxo ♡

cherry.

(university!coriolanus x younger!virgin!f!reader)

summary: she may love her man, but something’s holding her back from doing more with him.

cw: younger reader (reader is 19, coryo is 22), sweet!coryo, heavy kissing, dry humping, oral (f receiving), creampie, soft sex, cuddling, aftercare (kinda??)

Today had been more than enough for you. With your first semester at the University coming to a close, with final exams, you were beyond stressed, and all you wanted to do was curl up with your boyfriend and take a nap.

You quickly make your way to the Snow’s apartment, not wanting to waste any precious time that the two of you could have together. You knew that you would have to have dinner at home tonight, in celebration of you completing your first semester. Your parents were beyond proud of you, and your academic achievements, and you couldn’t spend the night at Coriolanus’, even though you’d much rather spend time with him.

“Darling?” You say as you open the door to the apartment, looking around for the blonde head of your boyfriend. You find him in the kitchen, holding a cup of tea.

“Hello, my love.” He greets you warmly, before passing you the mug with the press of a kiss to the top of your head. You smile, feeling so overwhelmed with love for your boyfriend. He knew you so well, that chamomile tea was one of the ways you relaxed.

“Thank you.” You whispered, taking a sip of the tea. You couldn’t believe that Coryo was yours sometimes, with how thoughtful and generous he was towards you. He showed you a love that you didn’t think still existed.

“You are very welcome, my dear.” He responds, before gently taking your hand and leading you into his (and yours most nights of the week) room. Gently shutting the door, Coryo turned the dim light on, which was used to soothe the migraine you usually had after class.

You walked to your side of the bed, setting the mug down on the nightstand that was beside the bed, and you began to change into more comfortable clothes, while your boyfriend watched from his side of the bed. You then climbed into the bed into Coryo’s waiting embrace.

You hummed in relief, finally at ease after a long day. You gently inhaled, curling up on your boyfriend’s chest as he ran a hand slowly up and down over the rungs of your spine, trying his best to soothe you.

“I missed you this week.” He tells you quietly, continuing his gentle ministrations on your back.

You usually spent the night (and most of the day), but for the past week, you had spent every night hunched over your desk at home, studying. Coriolanus had told you to come study at his apartment with him, so you weren’t alone all night, but you couldn’t. You knew if you tried, you would’ve been too distracted by your handsome boyfriend to do any actual studying, which wouldn’t fare well for your grades. Your grades were super important to you, and not even Coryo could have you skipping study sessions.

“I missed you too, Coryo. I missed your strong arms holding me at night.” You giggled, remembering your inability to fall asleep this week, even after being up for twenty hours straight, without your boyfriend’s strong frame holding you close. It was almost embarrassing, the way you were so dependent on him for even the most basic of actions, like sleeping.

“And I missed you keeping me warm at night. How are you always so warm?” He joked. You knew that he was always so cold, no matter what, and holding you always soothed him, as you were always warm. It worked out for the pair of you, creating the perfect temperature you both desired.

“My body just holds a normal temperature, Snow.” You bite back, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He let out a deep groan at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He hadn’t kissed you all week, and he was feeling needy.

“Want something?” You tease, and he instantly pulls you to meet his lips. You love kissing Coriolanus. He treats you like the delicate woman you are, but also allows for some of your not-so-innocent side to come out.

He sits up, and pulls your thighs apart to straddle his own, and deepens the kiss. His hands slide down, grasping your ass firmly as you continue to kiss. He squeezes your ass, and you let out a moan at the feeling. He’d only done that a few times, but every time it felt so good.

He takes advantage of your mouth ever so slightly opening, sliding his tongue against yours. The kiss turns frantic, and you experimentally slide your hips against his thigh, pressing down. He lets out a groan, and you can feel the tent in his pants through your shorts and panties. It excites you, but it also terrifies you.

You had never had sex, and Coryo was your first real boyfriend. You had met when you had turned eighteen, on your first day at the University. You were a little lost on finding a classroom, and he had so kindly offered to help you find it. From then on, you two had been together, even though it took two months of constant flirting for him to finally ask you to be his. He was hesitant, as he had just turned twenty one, and being with someone three years his junior, especially whilst at University, was daunting. It seemed wrong, you were still so innocent, had never even been kissed.

You wanted him (and you knew he wanted you) but at the same time, you didn’t. You knew that virginity was a social construct, but it still was special to you, even if Coriolanus was also special to you, you were so afraid after being told (and overhearing) many horror stories by other girls in your class.

You tried it again, and Coryo gripped your hips, halting your movements. “Darling, if you continue, I may not be able to stop.” He hotly whispers into your ear, and you tense up. He notices this immediately, and looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, my dove. I have gotten carried away. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You are in control here. What would you like to do?”

“I…I want to keep doing what we were just doing. It feels so good for me, Coryo. I don’t know if I’m ready to have real sex yet. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a tease.” You tell him earnestly, eyes downcast with a matching pout upon your lips.

“Darling, you do not need to apologize to me. Whatever you feel comfortable doing, I am just fine with doing. Whatever makes you feel good. And, it feels good for me, too.” He smiles, and you nod. You should have expected this, he was always the gentleman, letting you take the lead on everything in the relationship. You knew he had experience, and you were grateful that he wasn’t controlling or demanding of you.

“Thank you for being so understanding, Coryo.” You tell him, resuming your movements, pushing your clothed cunt down and grinding on his clothed cock.

The pressure from the grinding feels so good, and when you move, you can feel him pressing against your clit through your panties. You feel animalistic as you speed up your movements, chasing that feeling deep in your stomach. It feels like a coil tightening, and you want him to make it snap.

He begins meeting your movements, pressing his cock up while you press your cunt down, and the groans that fall from his lips lead to your own pants and moans. Soon enough, you feel something inside of you snap, and you drench your panties with your juices, soaking his pants, too. You keep moving, though, knowing that you had just orgasmed. You wanted your boyfriend to feel the same pleasure.

Your rapid movements, along with the feeling of your juices soaking in his pants, make him reach his peak mere moments after you, grunting out your name. You both fall back, laying down, you directly on top of him, both breathing heavily. You collect your thoughts for a moment, allowing both of your heart rates to resume to normal.

“I think… I think I want more.” You tell him honestly, smiling. He smirks back, he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time, but he hadn’t wanted to pressure you, waiting until you were ready.

“If you’re sure, dove.” He waits for your nod, before rolling you over onto your back. He attacks your lips with kisses, trailing down to your neck, and to your collarbone.

He leaves a few love bites, and you shake your head at him. “How on earth am I supposed to hide these?” You jokingly chastise him, and he just rolls his eyes at you. You loved when he left his mark on your skin, even though this was only the third time of him doing it. It served you a reminder of him when you weren’t physically together, and you loved it.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. “Is it alright if I take this off?” He gestures to your (his) shirt that you were currently wearing. You quickly nod your approval, and he gently pulls it up, over your head. He had expected you to be wearing a bra underneath, but instead, he was met with your bare breasts. He lets out a groan, quickly leaning down to suck a nipple gently, swirling his tongue around the rapidly hardening bud.

You let out a series of mewls of pleasure, arching your back against the bed. Carefully, he lays himself over top of you, forearms holding him up so that he does not crush you. He switches breasts, lavishing both with equal attention. You grip the edge of his shirt, pulling it up until he gets the message, quickly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere you don’t see.

He continues kissing down your body, worshipping, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He looks up for approval, and you simply smile, and he gently brings the shorts down, over your ankles, and finally off, joining his shirt somewhere. You then reach to unbutton his pants, and he finishes the job for you, leaving the both of you in just underwear.

“Are you sure?” He asks you, giving you once last chance to back out, and change your mind.

“Yes.” You respond, smiling at him, and he smiles back.

He removes the panties, and groans at the sight of your wet heat. He palms himself through his boxers, before sliding further down the bed, so that his face was eye level with your cunt. Your heart was beating rapidly in anticipation, and when he licks that first stripe from the bottom to your clit, you let out a sharp gasp. It felt so unlike anything you had ever felt before, you never wanted it to stop.

Grasping the back of his head with both of your hands, you held him in place, and you could see him smirk. He knew you would enjoy this, and he was so glad you were taking charge. He circled your clit slowly, and you couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

“Please, Coryo. More. I don’t know what, but more.” You begged of him, and he then began eating at your cunt like he was a feral animal that hadn’t eaten in days, licking and sucking and it felt so so so good. You almost couldn’t take it, and you felt yourself quickly approaching your second orgasm of the night.

You could see him humping against the bed as he ate you out, desperate for some friction of his own. Just the sight of that alone, alongside his tongue dipping inside your dripping hole had you coming, and loudly at that. You screamed, clenching your legs around his head, coating his face with your juices.

Once you had relinquished the pressure of your legs, he brought his head out, and made eye contact with you. “Feel good, princess?”

“No, it felt awful.” You teased, ruffling his curls with your fingertips. “Of course it did, Coryo. But now, I want you to feel good.”

With that, you urged him back up the bed, and slipped your small hand into his boxers, grabbing his cock. Your fingers barely fit all the way around, and after experimentally pumping it once, you could tell it was long.

“Take your boxers off.” You told him, leaving no room for argument. He pulled them off, and your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, long, thick and painfully hard. You had felt it, sure, but seeing it was a totally different ordeal.

“Is that… Is that going to fit inside of me?” You let out with a laugh, looking up at him.

“Yes, princess. It may take some work, and some time, but I promise, it will fit.” He replies, looking so seriously at you.

You smile in response, and without further preamble, grab his cock, pumping it up and down. You surprise him, and he lets out a series of low groans that have the heat pooling up in your stomach one more. Once you are satisfied that you feel confident to take his cock inside of you, you seize your pumping.

“I’m ready to try, darling. Please, please be gentle. Don’t hurt me.” You plead, pouting lightly.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, my dove. Just tell me if it gets to be too much. I will stop, I promise you that.”

With that, he slots his cock to line up with your drenched hole, and gently begins to press in. When you tense up after the first three inches, he stops immediately, meeting you eyes.

“Just give me one second, please.” You tell him, and he nods, waiting for you to tell him to continue pushing in. Once you do, he continues slowly sliding his cock into you, until he is fully surrounded by your tight, wet heat. He groans at the feeling, almost overwhelmed by how tight you’re squeezing him.

“Is it alright if I move, princess?” He asks, and you nod. He starts his movements off very slowly, trying his best not to hurt you by starting off too quickly, by getting too excited about finally being inside you.

It’s only when you beg him to give you more, that his pace quickens, and you can feel him push against a spot inside of you that makes you gush.

You had heard some girls talking about that spot, the g-spot, and how their lovers had never been able to find it. How lucky were you, your man was able to find it with ease. You moaned and gasped and writhed around, loving the feeling of his cock pounding relentlessly inside of you, hitting your g-spot every thrust.

You bring your two of your fingers down to your clit, circling it roughly while Coriolanus pounds into you, and you begin to see stars. You feel so overwhelmed, and clench around his cock. He lets out a groan, and is panting as he continues to fuck into you.

“I’m so close!” You scream, and he nods his head, not letting up. As you reach your peak, you look into his eyes, impossibly blue, and continue moaning.

You feel yourself come, but it felt like you had used the bathroom. There was so much liquid, you felt embarrassed. Coriolanus grunted as he continued his thrusts into you, and he didn’t let up until you felt him spurt deep inside of you. He slowly halted his movements, pulling out of you carefully as if not to hurt you further.

“What’s that liquid?” You asked him, confused and embarrassed. You had never done that the few times you fingered yourself, and were shocked.

“You squirted, my love. It’s totally normal, it just means your body felt so good it got overwhelmed.” He explains, running his fingers through your hair. You just nodded, allowing him to roll onto his side, pulling you flush against him, spooning.

You loved cuddling like this normally, but now, it felt all the more intimate. You had just given a part of yourself to your beautiful boyfriend, and you felt so good. Your body was so at peace, and you heard Coryo let out little snores. You realized he had fallen asleep, overexerted from your activities. You then allowed yourself to fall asleep in his arms, content with your first time.

So much for just taking a nap.

©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :) i’d love to write more of what y’all would like to see!!

[princess-of-songs]

Tashi’s Jealousy and Possessiveness

*originally posted on Reddit*

I like how Tashi’s jealousy and possessiveness manifests itself in different ways.

Patrick: We see her jealousy and possessiveness in the way we are used to seeing it. At 19, we see her get visibly upset over Art suggesting Patrick may not be loyal and that he may not love her. I think this possessiveness started when they first got together when she asked him not to tell anyone or she’d stop seeing him. It meant something to her because I think Patrick was her first serious relationship. In the original screenplay, Tashi mentions to Patrick in the Atlanta scene, that her dad hated his guts because as far as he was concerned, Patrick was the boy who ruined Tashi’s life. In the film, we see Tashi mention her parents didn’t want her to go to boarding school for a multitude of reasons, one being distracted by boys like Patrick and Art. Tashi’s cross necklace also pointed me in this direction. I would remiss if I didn’t point out the chaotic hypocrisy. Challengers has strong motifs of repeated behaviors coming in cycles of 3 and specifically with Tashi’s relationship with Patrick- cheating together has always been inevitable. Patrick cheated on his girlfriend with Tashi and Art at the Junior US Open, Tashi and Patrick cheated in Atlanta, and Tashi and Patrick cheated in New Rochelle. Each time, Tashi attempts to ignore Patrick’s luring charm and fails spectacularly. Our girl is nothing but consistent and I can’t say I would’ve fared much better. The specific jealousy part of it is fascinating to me. Tashi gets irritated with Art over the simple idea of imagining Patrick being with other girls on tour or being filled with quiet, simmering anger when she sees Patrick with Helen at the hotel bar, and even making a snarky comment when Patrick mentions he’s still staying at Helen’s house. But we never see her jealous when Patrick is with Art. Tashi only smiles and cheers when they’re together, she’s devastated when Art tells her they fell out of touch, and she’s pissed off when Patrick tries to put Art down in the alleyway. Patrick and Art are just as much of each other’s as they are her’s. What pops out at me also in the midst of this, is seeing Patrick both excite and frighten Tashi. Here is someone who can see through her facade she puts on, calls her out on it, still thinks she’s hot, and loves her anyway. I can easily see why that would scare her. It’s not a secret that Tashi loves to be in control in any and all aspects of her life. Patrick disrupts that and gets under her skin like no one else does. It’s not a feeling she’s used to. She’s probably used to getting praise from others like Art (though I think his is so raw and genuine) or ignoring the not so glamorous parts of who Tashi is as a person. Patrick doesn’t allow for that and it drives her (and Art) crazy.

Art: We see her jealousy and possessiveness in a unique way. Tashi is simmering with jealousy over Art being able to heal from his surgery with no issue. The thing really withholding Art in the present, is his emotional and mental exhaustion from a myriad of things. Art still gets to play the sport that Tashi lives and dies for and it drives her crazy that Art’s heart doesn’t seem fully in it. She tries to do everything in her power to help him get his confidence back despite saying she can’t do that for him. Art is her avatar in tennis. His body is her’s and through him, she can still play the sport and accomplish her dreams. The idea of hanging up her racquet is unfathomable. Tennis is so intertwined in her soul. The question rises who is Tashi to the world without tennis? Tashi clearly wants to delay that answer as long as she can. This possessiveness and jealousy unravels when the night before the final match. I honestly think Tashi’s conversation with Patrick opened her heart. As much it hurts to leave tennis, I think she’s finally fully allowing herself to see it from Art’s perspective. He’s tired. I think in the best way an emotionally repressed person can, I do think she does try to reassure and comfort him by saying he doesn’t need her permission. It’s okay and he can retire. What throws Tashi for a loop is when Art questions her being okay with it, he was expecting and hoping for similar argument he had with Patrick, something to fuel him. I think he wanted Tashi to neg him in a similar way. Tashi and Patrick are extremely similar but there are key differences. As much as Tashi can be quite brutal with her words when talking to Patrick about his tennis career, we don’t see her be as harsh with Art. In fact, Tashi highlights his skills and praises him. Tashi doesn’t really neg Art and we can see why. She goes too far with her statement. At first, she looks visibly ill before and after she says it. Topped off by her rubbing Art’s head, asking if that helps him. This makes Tashi spiral into desperation with her feelings all over the place. I think she’s too stubborn to take her words back so she comes up with a last ditch effort plan to get Patrick to throw the match so Art can win. So she doesn’t have to lose Art or tennis. The chaos of this act is logically speaking, Tashi could’ve texted or called Patrick. Getting in the car in the middle of the night with the your ex that you’ve been passively aggressively flirting with and gotten jealous over is setting yourself up for failure. But Tashi’s feelings and intentions are all jumbled up because she’s desperately trying to cling on to tennis and she isn’t ready to leave it or them because she cannot have it without Art or Patrick.

It isn’t that Tashi isn’t herself around Art, she is. How I’ve read it, is that the two of them are deeply repressed in several areas of their lives so there is a wall of passivity between them in addition to the current lack of passion in their marriage and the pedestals they put each other on. They’re both fully aware of each other’s flaws and the issues in their marriage but they dance around it until the bedroom scene. With Patrick specifically, I was thinking about him saying to Tashi “You like precisely one thing about me. It’s the fact that I’m such a piece of shit that I can see you for exactly who you are.” In the original script, Patrick mentions he didn’t treat her like a mystical being who was going to change his life. I believe that he is Tashi’s twin flame/mirror. To me, Tashi is a more raw, unfiltered version of herself when it comes to Patrick. He pushes back and challenges her, which is something I don’t think Tashi is quite used to in her life when she first meets him. I think what’s also notable to me is whenever Tashi and Patrick talk, they’re saying the most raw unhinged things but they aren’t beating around the bush with each other. It’s fun foreplay for them. But unlike with Art (for the both of them), they struggle to surrender to the deeper feeling of love, longing, and surrender. Being vulnerable and soft with each other doesn’t come easy to them. Ultimately looking at it from Tashi’s perspective, she can be herself around both of these men but displays different aspects of her true self.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 18

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed,"

summary: you spent the days with negan

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 18

masterlist!

previous | chapter 17

next | chapter 19

You’ve lost track of time. Days? Weeks? Maybe months? The lines between each are blurred into a gray, endless fog. It feels like a lifetime, every moment dragging in this hell, locked away in a basement where time itself has abandoned you. No sunlight. No air. No life.

Your skin has become paper-thin, ghostly pale, your hair longer now, wild and unkempt, hanging like threads of darkness around your face.

You can barely recognize yourself anymore. Who are you now? A hollow shell of the girl who once laughed under the Texas sun, free, warm, loved.

But now—now you are something else entirely. Your body bears the marks of your captivity—bruises, cuts, reminders of Negan’s rage.

Your muscles ache, protesting every movement as you sit huddled in a corner, shivering in the same clothes he left you with, now ragged and clinging to your bones.

You try to hold onto Joel's face in your mind, but it’s becoming harder. The image of him is fading like the light you once knew. You wonder if he's okay.

Is he searching for you? Does he even know where you are? The thought of him keeps you breathing, keeps your heart beating through the endless fear.

You imagine him finding you—saving you. His arms wrapping around you, holding you close, whispering that it's all over, that you’re safe again. But all you have are those thoughts, like distant stars barely visible in a night sky choked with clouds.

Here, there’s nothing but the endless cold concrete, the bucket in the corner, and the faint, rotting smell that clings to the air. You barely register it anymore.

You’ve learned to survive in this dark corner of hell, learned to please the man who holds your life in his hands. Negan. The name makes your skin crawl.

He took you, stole you away from everything, ripped your life apart. And for what? You still don’t understand why. Why you?

Negan comes every morning. At first, you refused to eat, refused to give him the satisfaction, but after the first time he beat you—after the sharp sting of his fist connecting with your ribs and the choking terror of his threats—you learned to obey.

Now, you force yourself to eat, to keep your body moving, even when you want to crawl into a dark hole and disappear forever. Survival. It’s the only thing left.

Sometimes, he’s sweet, too sweet, sickly almost, like a poisoned lullaby. He’ll apologize, say he didn’t mean it, that he only gets angry when you don’t listen.

Negan strokes your hair, his fingers weaving through the tangled strands, the sickly sweetness in his voice every time he speak to you sending chills down your spine.

You’ve learned to obey, to keep your head down, to be the good girl he expects—because when you’re not, when you step out of line, he turns into something else.

A storm, violent and unpredictable, his fists crashing down like thunder, his words sharp as lightning. The bruises on your skin, purpling and yellowing, are the remnants of his rage, each one a testament to how dangerous he can be.

And yet, beneath the horror, it feels hauntingly familiar. The blows, the threats, the control—it all pulls you back, back to a place you thought you’d escaped. Your father.

His memory clings to you, like a shadow that stretches across your life, refusing to fade. Even though he's dead, you can still feel him—his presence, his hands, his cruelty.

It's as if his spirit never really left, lingering in the dark corners of your mind, waiting to reemerge. You thought you were free of him, free of the suffocating grip he had on your life, but here, with Negan, it’s like you're back in his grasp all over again.

The abuse, the beatings—it’s the same cycle, a vicious loop that you can never seem to break.

You feel his hands around your neck, the phantom pressure tightening like a noose, choking the air from your lungs. He’s gone—dead and buried—but his grip remains. He’s still with you in every bruise, every whispered threat, every moment of fear.

He never truly left.

No matter how hard you try to forget him, to sever yourself from the past, he clings to you like a shadow, a ghost that refuses to leave. Your father—his voice is always there, whispering in the back of your mind, telling you that you are never enough, that you will never be free.

Even now, trapped in this basement, his presence lingers, as if he’s still wrapping his hands around your throat, suffocating you with the weight of his expectations and his violence.

You try to push him away, but it’s like he’s sewn into your skin, a part of you that you can never shed.

At night, the screams from above pierce the silence, wrenching you from whatever restless sleep you’ve fallen into. They are horrible, gut-wrenching screams—women’s screams.

The kind that seem to come from the deepest, most primal part of a person, like their very souls are being torn apart. You try not to think about what’s happening up there, but the screams fill the air, bouncing off the cold, damp concrete walls, wrapping around you like a suffocating fog.

And then there’s the sound that follows—the roar of a chainsaw tearing through the air, a sound so brutal, it feels like it’s cutting through the world itself.

After that? Nothing. Silence so deep, it presses on your chest, and you wonder what horrors have just been erased from existence.

You don’t ask him about it. You’re too afraid of what he might say. Too afraid of the truth.

But the stench in the air the next morning tells you everything you need to know. That thick, metallic odor of rot and iron—it settles in your throat, clinging to you, reminding you of the evil that lives in this house.

You know there is something sinister about Negan. You can feel it in your bones, hide under the smile and the words. You’ve always known.

And yet all you can do is pray. Pray that God will protect you, that somehow you will be spared from whatever horrors unfold above you.

When morning comes, Negan greets you like nothing has happened. He walks in with a grin stretched across his face, carrying breakfast like he’s done a hundred times before. His mood is light, almost cheerful, as if the darkness of the night doesn’t touch him.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me lately,” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction, and it makes your skin crawl. But what choice do you have? He’s too strong. You’re too scared.

Survival means keeping him happy, following his rules, doing what he says, no matter how much it tears at your soul. So you nod and force yourself to smile, even though it feels like your face is cracking apart.

“I got something for you,” he says, and his hand slips into his pocket. For a second, your heart lurches with fear—you don’t know what he’ll pull out. But then, he shows it to you. A pen. And a small notebook.

“This’ll be good for you,” Negan says, placing them in front of you like a gift. “Thought maybe you could write. Draw. Whatever. Something to keep you sane down here.”

Sane. The word feels bitter on your tongue. Like it’s even possible to stay sane in this nightmare.

But you stare at the notebook, feeling its weight in your hands, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, a flicker of something stirs inside you. The pen feels strange between your fingers, foreign, like you’ve forgotten how to even hold it.

You open the notebook, and the blank pages stretch out before you like a vast, empty desert—an expanse of nothingness that almost makes you dizzy. What could you even write? What words could you find to capture the hell you’re living?

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the blankness is the only thing left that’s yours. Everything else has been taken from you—your freedom, your dignity, your body. But these pages, for now, are untouched. Clean. Yours to fill, if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, your voice barely more than a breath. Negan smiled, satisfied with your obedience, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You flinched—just a little, barely noticeable—but he ignored it.

"Now I have some business to take care of," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You behave. Do not do anything you'll regret okay? Can you be a good girl for me again?"

You nodded, your throat tightening as you forced yourself to meet his eyes.

“Good fucking girl,” he said with a grin, the words dripping with his twisted affection. "I won’t be long," he added, standing up from the mattress, his heavy boots echoing across the floor as he walked to the door.

The sound of the basement door closing was like a tomb sealing shut, the click of multiple locks slotting into place one after another, leaving you buried in silence.

The notebook.

It became your only refuge after that, the one place where your mind could escape the prison of this basement. You wrote. You wrote endlessly, pouring your thoughts, your fears, your pain onto the pages like you were trying to bleed them out.

Every word, every line felt like a lifeline, as if the ink could tether you to some version of yourself that still existed somewhere beyond these walls.

You wrote to him.

Joel.

It felt like talking to him, like he was sitting beside you, like you could feel the warmth of his arm brushing against yours, steady and grounding.

You imagined his low voice, whispering comfort, his hand reaching out to hold yours, and for a moment, it felt real. But Joel wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere, and that truth was a cold, jagged edge cutting into your heart.

You missed him so much it ached, a raw pain that twisted inside you, relentless, like a knife lodged deep in your chest, twisting with every breath.

"Joel, please. I miss you. I miss you so much." The words scratched at the paper, desperate, spilling from your soul like a confession. You wrote as if your words could reach him, as if somehow the ink would find its way to him across the miles, across the darkness.

Ever since Joel saved you, pulled you from the wreckage of your old life, you clung to him like a lifeline. He was all you had, the only person you trusted, the only one who truly saw you. You were so dependent on him, as if the moment he stepped out of your sight, the ground beneath you would crack open and swallow you whole.

Without him, you were scared—terrified, really. Scared of the dark, of the silence, of the things Negan might do when he came back. But mostly, you were scared of how alone you felt without Joel. It was a loneliness that burrowed deep into your bones, sinking in like ice.

You wrote everything down, pouring your heart onto the page, as if the words would somehow keep you sane. The notebook became your only friend, your only lifeline.

Each stroke of the pen felt like a small rebellion, a way to remember who you were before this. You wrote about Joel—the way he used to look at you, his touch, his laugh. The life you had together. You wrote about the nights spent on the road, just the two of you, moving from town to town, motels, dusty highways, sunsets that belonged only to you both.

Those memories were sacred, and they felt so far away now, so unreachable. The thought of never feeling that freedom again—of never hearing his voice or feeling his hand in yours—crushed you.

You would give anything to go back, to be on the road with him again, just the two of you, against the world.

Every night, after you wrote, the tears came. Silent, aching sobs that wracked your body, shaking you to your core. You prayed through the tears, but even your prayers felt hollow, slipping into the void.

Negan had taken your Bible, the one Frank had given you, and without it, you felt like a part of you was missing. You couldn’t open its pages and find the comfort you once had.

Now, you prayed in the darkness, with nothing but your tears and your fear to keep you company.

"God, please, if You’re there, save him. Save Joel. Forgive him for whatever he’s done to protect me, to protect those he loves. Please… don’t let anything happen to him. Save him for me. I need him. I need him so much."

And then, through your prayers, in this place, in this basement that smells of damp stone and decay, you mourn them.

Your father and your mother.

But it isn’t just because they were your parents, or because you share the same blood running through your veins—no, it’s something deeper. You mourn what they became.

You mourn the lives they could have lived, the people they could have been if they hadn’t turned into things they were.

You mourn for the little boy your father once was, before life hardened him, before the world broke him into the man who used his fists instead of his words.

Somewhere, deep in the maze of your memories, you imagine him as a child—wide-eyed and innocent, before anger festered in his heart. A boy who might have been gentle once, kind even, before the weight of his own father’s hand crushed whatever light was in him.

You mourn for him because no child dreams of becoming the kind of man he did. No little boy dreams of being a tyrant in his own home.

And your mother—oh, you mourn her too. The little girl she once was, soft and full of hope, long before she learned to bend under the weight of your father’s cruelty.

You can almost see her, a girl with ribbons in her hair, laughing at some long-forgotten joy. But somewhere along the way, life taught her obedience.

It taught her that silence was safer than rebellion, that turning the other cheek meant survival. You mourn for the girl she used to be, the girl who lost her voice and her strength long before you ever knew her.

Some people are not meant to be parents.

That truth settles over you like a heavy, unshakable fog. Your father and mother—they were never meant to raise a child. They were broken long before you came into their lives, shattered pieces trying to fit into the roles they were handed.

They thought if they could survive the same cruelty from their parents, then you could too. They thought they were preparing you for a harsh world, just as they had been prepared, passing down the same legacy of pain and survival.

But some legacies are not meant to be carried.

Some cycles are meant to be broken.

And you—you never had a choice. The cruelest thing about childhood is that we cannot choose our parents.

We are born into the hands that hold us, for better or worse, and we carry their shadows long after we’ve escaped their grasp. You mourn not only for them but for yourself too.

For the little girl you were supposed to be, the happy child you never got the chance to become. The girl who should have danced in the sunlight instead of cowering in the dark.

The child who should have known love, who should have felt safe.

Your childhood died alongside them. Maybe not in the physical sense, but in spirit. It died when the first bruise bloomed on your skin, when the first cruel word cut deeper than any blade could.

You grieve for the girl who once dreamed of a family that didn’t hurt her, a girl who imagined a father’s arms as a place of safety, not violence.

You mourn her because she never had a chance. That girl, that innocence, was lost long ago, buried beneath years of fear and shame.

You feel it now—the weight of all that loss, all that mourning. It presses down on your chest, as heavy as the darkness around you. You mourn for them, for their broken childhoods, for what they became.

But mostly, you mourn for yourself. For the life you might have had, if only you had been born into different hands. Hands that didn’t hurt. Hands that didn’t break.

***

That night, after hours of scribbling your heart onto the pages, exhaustion pulled you into a restless sleep. The dream came slowly at first, like an old memory resurfacing, soft and warm. You were no longer trapped in the basement.

No, you were outside—underneath a sky full of stars, the air cool and fragrant like summer nights back when things were simple. And then, you saw him—Joel, standing in the distance, his silhouette familiar, strong, safe.

"Joel?" you whispered, your voice barely a breath, but he heard you. His head turned, and his eyes found yours, dark and full of something you hadn’t seen in so long. Hope.

You ran toward him, your feet barely touching the ground, heart pounding, tears springing to your eyes. He was here—he was really here. His arms opened just as you reached him, and you collapsed into his chest, your body trembling as he held you tight. You breathed him in, his scent, his warmth—everything you had missed. You clung to him, as if letting go meant losing him all over again.

"I found you, baby girl," Joel’s voice was a low, comforting rumble in your ear. "I told you I’d find you. I’m never leaving you again. Never."

Tears streamed down your face, your sobs muffled against his chest. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but hold him and feel the solidness of him, real and alive in your arms. The relief was overwhelming, like a weight lifting off your chest, letting you breathe again.

But then, something shifted. The warmth of his body faded, the stars overhead dimming, and suddenly, you were back in the basement. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat. You blinked, confused, trying to hold onto the warmth of Joel’s presence, but he wasn’t holding you anymore. He was on the floor, crumpled in front of you.

"No…" You whispered, shaking your head. "No, no, no…"

Joel lay motionless, blood pooling beneath his head, dripping from the corner of his mouth, his eyes closed, his face pale. "Joel!" Your scream tore through the room, your voice raw and desperate. "Get up! Please get up!"

You tried to move, tried to reach him, but your arms were bound behind your back, your body pressed against the cold concrete floor, facedown. You squirmed, panic rising in your chest like a tidal wave. The ropes bit into your wrists, leaving your skin raw, but you didn’t care. All you could see was Joel—lifeless, covered in blood.

"Joel! Please, get up!" you screamed again, your throat burning, but he didn’t move. He didn’t stir.

Through the blur of your tears, you saw him—Negan. He was standing over Joel, his face twisted into a cruel smile, his barbed-wire-covered baseball bat dripping with blood. Your heart lurched as Negan lifted the bat again, bringing it down with a sickening thud against Joel’s skull.

"Stop! Please, stop!" you begged, your voice breaking, tears streaming down your face. You cried and screamed until your voice gave out, until all that was left was a hoarse whisper. "Stop… please…"

But he didn’t stop. He kept swinging, over and over, each hit more brutal than the last. Joel’s body jerked with each blow, but he never opened his eyes. He was gone.

"JOEL!" You screamed one last time, your heart shattering in your chest as the world spun around you. Everything blurred—Joel’s lifeless body, Negan’s twisted grin, the blood, the bat, the horror of it all.

And then, just as suddenly, you woke up.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaving as you shot upright. Your heart pounded in your ears, your skin slick with cold sweat. It took you a moment to realize it was just a dream, just another nightmare. But it felt so real, so vivid, that for a moment, you couldn’t shake the image of Joel’s broken body from your mind.

You buried your face in your hands, trying to breathe, trying to calm the panic surging through you. The tears came again, hot and relentless, and you sobbed quietly, rocking yourself in the darkness.

"It was just a dream," you whispered, trying to convince yourself. But the fear was real. The pain was real. The helplessness of watching him die again and again—that was real.

Just as you were trying to steady yourself, trying to pull yourself back into the present, a voice cut through the silence.

"‘I miss you so much, Joel,’" Negan’s voice echoed in the darkness, cold and mocking. "'I pray for you every night. Please save me.'”

Your heart stopped. You turned slowly, the horror creeping back into your veins as you saw him—Negan, sitting at the edge of the room, your notebook in his hands. He was reading your words, your letters to Joel, the deepest parts of your soul, laid bare and exposed.

"I gotta say," he smirked, eyes glinting with something dark, "you really are somethin’ special, huh? Writing all these sweet nothings to your precious Joel. Too bad he ain't comin'."

Negan’s smirk widened as he caught the fear in your eyes, his steps deliberate as he approached you. You sat up quickly, your body instinctively recoiling from him as he lowered himself to the edge of the worn mattress. The small space between you felt suffocating. His presence swallowed the room, and your skin prickled, every nerve on high alert.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice came out shaky, a whisper laced with desperation.

Negan chuckled darkly, his gaze locking onto yours with a smug, possessive gleam. “Just checkin’ on you, doll,” he mocked, his tone syrupy and insincere, like the words themselves were dripping venom.

You could feel the tension coil in your stomach, your hands gripping the thin sheet as if it could somehow protect you. Negan’s chuckle echoed in the small space, and you saw something shift in his expression.

"You keep callin' for him," he said, his voice lower now, laced with a quiet fury. “In your sleep, you know that? You call his name. Joel.” The name left his lips like a curse, venomous and heavy.

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words sank in.

"You keep thinkin' about another man, callin’ for him when you’re supposed to be mine,” Negan’s voice dripped with malice, and his eyes gleamed as he leaned closer, brushing his fingers lightly against your leg. You flinched instantly, your body recoiling at the touch, trembling.

"I don’t want what’s mine calling for someone else,” he whispered, his fingers tracing your skin in slow, taunting circles. You fought the urge to pull away, your body frozen in place, fear anchoring you.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing so fast it felt like it would leap out of your chest. Your mind scrambled for a way out, for something to say, but all you could feel was the dread crawling up your spine.

"I got you something,” he finally said, breaking the suffocating silence, his voice slick and dangerous. You blinked at him, confused, but too scared to respond.

He stood up, walking toward the door, leaving it wide open for just a moment. The fresh air from outside rushed in, cool against your skin. Your heart pounded in your ears as you stared at the open door, your mind racing. Could you run? Could you grab something—anything—and fight back? But the fear was paralyzing, locking your muscles, chaining your thoughts. You wanted to be brave, to fight, but all you could feel was the weight of his presence suffocating you.

Before you could think any further, Negan returned, the door shutting with a heavy thud that echoed in your chest. He held a package, neatly wrapped, and sat down beside you again, closer this time.

"Here," he said, handing it to you with a twisted grin. “Go on, open it. You finished your breakfast like a good girl.”

You hesitated, eyes darting from the package to his face, trying to gauge his intentions, but there was nothing but malice in his expression. Slowly, you took it, your fingers trembling as you peeled away the wrapping.

Inside, folded carefully, was a dress—a nightgown, white and beautiful, but as your fingers brushed the fabric, you realized how thin it was. Too thin. The kind that clung to every curve, every inch of skin visible underneath. The kind of dress meant to be seen.

Your throat tightened as the realization hit you. This wasn’t a gift. It was a trap.

"Now what do you say?" Negan's voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and expectant.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, forcing the words past your lips. “Thank you,” you whispered, hating the sound of your own voice, hating the way you had to play along.

Negan’s grin widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “Good girl.”

Then, he leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now try it on,” he said, his tone casual, but there was a sinister edge to his voice.

You blinked, confused for a moment, before standing slowly, clutching the nightgown tightly to your chest. You moved toward the large wardrobe at the corner of the room, trying to hide behind it, but his voice stopped you cold.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Negan asked, his voice dripping with amusement. You turned back to face him, your heart sinking.

"To try it on," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

Negan’s eyes darkened as he shifted on the mattress, half reclining now, one arm propped lazily behind his head. His grin grew wider, more dangerous. “I said try it here... in front of me.”

Your blood ran cold. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing tighter, suffocating you. You stood frozen, unable to comprehend what he was asking. What? you thought, your mind reeling, but you didn’t dare say it.

"You heard me," Negan said, his voice now edged with impatience, more of a threat than a request. “Try it here. Now.”

Your legs felt like they were made of lead as you took slow, reluctant steps back toward him, your hands trembling as you clutched the nightgown tighter to your chest. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your skin prickling with fear.

You moved to put the dress over your clothes, thinking maybe that would satisfy him. Maybe he would let you off this time.

But before you could pull it over your head, Negan’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

"What are you, fucking stupid?" he snapped, his tone sharp and cutting. “I said take off your clothes.”

The room spun. You felt like the floor had disappeared beneath you, the world crumbling away as the full weight of what he was asking—what he wanted—settled in your bones. You froze, your fingers clutching the fabric so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

The room spun. You felt like the floor had disappeared beneath you, the world crumbling away as the full weight of what he was asking—what he wanted—settled in your bones. You froze, your fingers clutching the fabric so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

"Don't make me say it again," he said, his voice low and commanding. The authority in his tone left no room for defiance. With a shaky nod, you surrendered to his demand, peeling off the clothes you’d worn for what felt like an eternity.

They were stained and tattered, memories of the darkness that had become your life. The cool air of the basement brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his predatory gaze.

As you stood there in just your underwear, the vulnerability wrapped around you like a heavy cloak. "All of it," he commanded again, his eyes narrowing as he observed your hesitation.

You felt the tremors in your hands as you slowly removed your last layer, exposing your skin to him, a mix of fear and a desperate need to please overwhelming your senses.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the turmoil inside you. You turned away, unable to bear his hungry gaze as you slipped into the dress, its fabric a soft caress against your bare skin, but it was far too revealing, too intimate. This is basically lingerie, you thought, your heart racing as he took in your form.

“Such a beautiful little thing,” he purred, a twisted smile spreading across his face. “Now spin around for me. Let me see all of it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic drumbeat as you turned slowly, the weight of his gaze burning into you.

The dress clung to you, exposing more than it concealed. “All of this is mine,” he said, stepping closer, the words dripping with ownership.

You froze as he closed the distance, his hands trailing down your body, a feather-light touch that sent shivers coursing through you. He brushed away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, the juxtaposition of tenderness and menace leaving you paralyzed.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His breath was warm against your neck, a stark reminder of the power he held over you. “You don’t like the gift?”

You couldn’t respond, fear stealing your voice. Instead, you stood still, feeling small under his scrutiny. He stepped behind you, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, wrapping around you like a vice.

“Why do you want that man when you have me here, hm?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck, each one igniting a storm of emotions within you. “I can treat you better than him.”

Your heart ached, caught in a vice between longing and despair. The tears continued to fall, and you closed your eyes, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you, even as his actions sent icy dread through your veins.

You wanted to scream, to fight back against the helplessness swirling around you, but you were trapped in this moment, bound by fear. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free, the weight of it all pressing down on you, suffocating you.

His lips traced the sensitive skin of your neck, and every gentle caress turned into a reminder of the man you longed for—Joel. It was as if his presence was woven into your very essence, and now, here you were, lost in a nightmare that seemed to stretch endlessly.

With each passing second, you felt a chasm grow between your heart and your body, a space filled with fear and longing that you couldn't bridge.

When his fingers brushed against your breast, you flinched, instinctively moving away, but he followed with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he looked at you like a storm brewing, full of anger and hurt. "What's wrong, hm? You don't want me?" The accusation in his voice stung like a whip, and your heart raced with a mix of dread and sorrow.

You shook your head, but he continued to advance, anger simmering beneath his skin. "Is that how you treat someone acting nice to you?" The slap was sudden, shocking, and it sent you crashing to the mattress. "Ungrateful bitch." The words cut deeper than the physical pain, sinking into your soul and planting seeds of doubt.

As you lay there, you felt your spirit fracture beneath the weight of his anger. You missed Joel’s strong arms, his gentle smile, the safety he once offered. Now, all you could feel was this relentless dread creeping in, wrapping around your throat, tightening with every ragged breath.

"Do you miss him? Or do you miss a dick, hm, little whore?" The cruel words hung in the air, a poisonous cloud that filled your lungs with despair. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face, each drop a silent plea for deliverance from this torment. "No, please... no."

But he didn’t hear your cries. Instead, the cool steel of his belt gripped your wrists, binding you in a way that made the world tilt beneath you. Your heart raced, pounding against your chest like a caged bird desperate to escape, a tempest of emotions swirling inside you.

“No, no, please,” you whispered, desperation clawing at your throat as Negan tightened the belt around your wrists, a cruel mockery of security. Each pull sent a shiver down your spine, not from cold but from the weight of what was to come.

When you screamed, the sound was swallowed by the suffocating silence of the room. A sharp pain flared across your cheek as his hand connected, the sting grounding you momentarily in the chaos.

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of anger and helplessness flooding your senses. You could feel the fabric of your dress riding up as he unbuckled his jeans, the movement surreal against the horror unfolding.

“Stop! Please, don’t do this!” Your pleas felt like whispers lost in the wind, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. You were trapped in this moment, suspended between defiance and despair, fighting against the reality that loomed over you.

“I can’t believe I haven’t tried you for this long,” he sneered, his words slicing through the air like a knife. “God, you must be special for that man to keep you for himself and took you away.” Each syllable was a taunt, a reminder of the love you held for another, twisted into a weapon against you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness that made your skin crawl. “It will feel so much better than what that boy did.” The implication hung heavy in the air, suffocating. You were drowning in memories and fear, lost in a storm that threatened to pull you under.

The sharpness of his voice echoed in your mind, and your heart sank. He knew. He knew about Jamie, the scars etched deep within you, and the thought of it sent a fresh wave of nausea through your gut.

"No, no, no!" you screamed

"Stop! Stop, please!" You screamed as you cry, Negan still pinned down your head, "Shut the fuck up," he said.

You can feel that He positions himself from behind, the tip of his erection brushing against your butt. "STOP! PLEASE!" you shout, tears streaming down your cheeks. Negan grins wickedly, knowing full well the effect he has on you.

He entered you fast and hard, it hurts, but even then, all you can do was just scream and cry, scream and cry, "Fuck, you're so tight!" He groaned deeply as his pace quickened, rough, it hurt you.

“Please…” you whispered, your voice barely rising above the mattress that felt like a heavy weight pressing down on you, smothering any flicker of hope.

Tears flowed freely, soaking the fabric beneath your cheek as you surrendered to the wave of despair washing over you. Each sob felt like a prayer, a desperate plea to the universe to intervene, to turn back time, to rewrite the cruel script that had ensnared you.

“Joel... please... save me,” you begged into the void, hoping him to hear you, hoping he can feel you, that you are here, you're still here waiting him to save you, again.

You need him. You crave him. His strength, his warmth, the way his presence used to make you feel safe, even in the darkest corners of your mind.

***

Days blurred into nights. Negan came to you every evening, his shadow stretching long and cold against the walls as he descended into the basement.

Each time, it was the same—he would pin you down, and did it over and over and over and over again. If you fought back, it hurt more. His fists would meet your skin, and the bruises would bloom like dying flowers under his hands. So, you stopped fighting.

You learned to stay quiet, to turn your eyes toward the window while he took what he wanted. Sometimes you watched the way the trees outside swayed gently in the night breeze, imagining that you could drift away with them, become one with the wind. The numbness crept in, slow at first, then all at once, until you felt nothing at all.

In exchange for your silence, Negan began to “reward” you. Dresses, makeup, things that seemed like tokens of his twisted version of care.

The bruises hid beneath the fabric he chose, and your reflection in the mirror looked like someone you didn’t recognize—someone who had forgotten how to fight, how to scream.

Eventually, Negan moved you to his bed. It was no longer the cold, damp basement floor; instead, it was his bed—his space. He didn’t trust you with a room of your own, of course.

That would mean freedom, something he kept locked away just as tightly as the doors around this prison of a house. It wasn’t generosity that led him to this decision; it was control. He wanted you there, beside him, each night, a reminder that you belonged to him.

And he wanted you to believe it too.

Every touch, every forced intimacy, was his way of branding you, of forcing you to accept his twisted version of reality. You didn’t resist anymore—not after what happened the last time.

Your body had learned to be still, to let the moments pass. Fighting back brought only more pain. And so, you existed, a hollow shell of who you once were, doing what you had to in order to survive.

The house was a labyrinth, locked and fortified in ways that made it impossible to escape. You had tried once—how stupid and naïve you had been to think Negan wouldn’t expect it. There were locks on every door, cameras watching your every move, and nowhere to hide. You had thought maybe, just maybe, you could find a way out. But before you even made it to the front door, he was there. He’d known all along, watching, waiting. The punishment was swift, brutal.

He beat you until you could barely stand. Every strike felt like a sledgehammer to your soul, breaking something deep inside that you feared would never heal. And when you begged for forgiveness through sobs and screams, he looked at you with that same twisted smile. Like he enjoyed it.

After that, you learned. You couldn’t afford to be stupid again. The house was a jail, with walls thick and doors that were locked tighter than your own hope. The CCTV cameras were everywhere, unblinking eyes that saw everything.

Negan didn’t just want control over your body; he wanted your mind too. He played this sick game, pretending you were his partner, forcing you into the role of some perfect little housewife. It was all a game to him—house, husband, wife. He wanted you to take care of him now, as if that was your purpose. As if sparing you from more pain was his twisted version of kindness.

One thing you noticed. No more screams. You hadn’t heard any since he brought you upstairs, but you could still hear them in your mind, could still feel the weight of the chains that used to bind you down there. Negan had a room at the far end of the hall, with a thick iron door, always locked.

You didn’t know what was behind it, but you could guess. Based on everything else about him, the life he lived, the things you glimpsed in passing… you knew he wasn’t just a monster in private. He had power. He had wealth. He had a darkness that ran deeper than you could fathom.

Now, you played along with his sick fantasy. You made breakfast in the mornings, your hands moving through the motions, numb and mechanical. Eggs, toast, bacon sizzling in the pan.

You folded his laundry, cleaned the house, did everything you were asked to do, all with the heavy knowledge that you needed to survive. You needed to be smart.

You cracked eggs into the pan, the familiar sizzle filling the quiet space. Bacon followed, the scent swirling through the air, but your mind was miles away.

You let your hands move on autopilot, stirring, turning, arranging, while your thoughts drifted to Joel again. 

Where is he now? Does he even know I’m still alive? 

You didn’t know what day it was anymore. Time had become an illusion, slipping through your fingers like sand, impossible to hold onto.

Negan’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. He entered the kitchen, and you felt him before you saw him, his presence like a looming storm cloud.

He slapped your ass as he passed by, his lips finding your neck with a kiss that sent shivers down your spine, but not in the way you wanted.

It was always wrong, always forced, always laced with something dark that you couldn’t escape.

You set the plates down on the table, your movements mechanical as you sat across from him. Negan grinned as he took a bite of the scrambled eggs, then paused, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“Why the hell do these taste sweet? Did you put cinnamon in them again?”

You froze, staring at him, your mind racing. You had done it on purpose, hoping the warmth of cinnamon would taste better, make him taste better.

“I told you not to do that,” he growled, his fist slamming down on the table. “I don’t understand why you like that damn spice so much."

“I... I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, but the fear laced every syllable. You’d done it to survive, to cope, to feel something, anything other than the numbness that threatened to swallow you whole.

Negan shook his head, “We’re going on vacation,” he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart skipped a beat. Vacation? You stared at him in disbelief, the word foreign on your tongue, like it didn’t belong here in this nightmare.

Negan never did this—never took you anywhere, never let you out of the house. You’d been trapped for so long, the idea of leaving, even for a moment, felt surreal.

“Vacation?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel fear or hope.

“Yeah, just need to get out for a while,” Negan replied, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease. “You’ve been good this month. You deserve a little reward.” His tone was calm, almost too calm, as if you should be grateful for this twisted gesture of kindness.

You nodded, a forced smile tugging at your lips as you turned away. Inside, your mind raced. A vacation—the word was a double-edged sword, dangling freedom just out of reach but with invisible strings attached.

You didn’t trust it. You didn’t trust him.

By the time you finished packing, your nerves were frayed. You zipped up the small suitcase Negan had given you, staring at the unfamiliar clothes inside.

Dresses, shoes, makeup—things he had forced upon you, things that felt like pieces of someone else’s life. You weren’t sure who you were anymore, let alone what this trip would mean. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you were leaving the house.

As you stepped outside, the air hit you like a wave, crisp and fresh against your skin. The sun was brighter than you remembered, almost painful as it splashed across the pavement.

You blinked against the light, scanning your surroundings, trying to memorize every detail—the street, the houses, the trees. Anything that might help you if you ever got a chance to run.

Negan locked the door behind you with a loud click, the sound startling you back to reality. He looked up, catching the way your eyes darted around the neighborhood, and his expression darkened. He stepped toward you, his presence looming like a shadow.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Try anything, and I’ll kill you. You know I will.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat. Any fleeting thought of escape vanished, crushed under the weight of his threat. He always meant what he said.

With a shove, Negan guided you toward the car, the one you recognized all too well. The first time you saw it parked in front of your house, it was just another car, another passerby.

You never knew then how much it would change everything, how much it would take from you. Now, it was like a cage on wheels.

As the car pulled away from the house, you watched the neighborhood disappear in the rearview mirror, your pulse quickening as each street faded behind you. 

You were leaving. But not the way you had dreamed.

Negan glanced over at you, smirking as if amused by the tension rolling off you. “You made it,” he said suddenly.

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

He chuckled, the sound bitter and low. “You made it to California. Without him.”

California.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. No. No, California. This was the place you had always dreamed of settling down with Joel—the place you had whispered about in quiet moments together, imagining a life of peace and love far from the chaos of your old life.

And now, you were here.

But without Joel.

Your chest tightened, panic bubbling up as you realized just how far away you were from Joel. So far away from the life you wanted, from the man who promised to protect you, to love you.

Instead, you were trapped in this waking nightmare, every mile taking you further from the only person who could save you.

Negan’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “We’ll go shopping first,” he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead. His tone was casual, almost light, as if this was just another normal day for him. But nothing about this felt normal to you.

You nodded stiffly, your mind spinning as the weight of the situation sank in. Shopping? Like everything wasn’t completely wrong? Your chest tightened further, your thoughts pulling you back to Joel—so far away now, so unreachable. You were losing yourself with every mile, every moment trapped with him.

Negan shifted in his seat, his eyes sliding over to you. You felt his gaze before you saw him reach out. When his fingers brushed against your cheek, you flinched instinctively, recoiling from his touch. His laugh was low and mocking, a cruel sound that made your skin crawl.

“Little girl’s scared,” he sneered, his voice soft but dripping with condescension. “Now, you don’t want people in public seeing you like that, do you? Looking all frightened, like I’m some monster.” His words were meant to soothe, but they came with an underlying threat, a warning that made your blood run cold. “Act like you’re my girlfriend. Because you are mine. And if you want to be safe... well, you know what to do.”

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest as his words sank in. Mine. The way he said it, the possessiveness in his voice—it twisted something deep inside you, a sickening feeling that you couldn’t shake.

Negan leaned closer, his fingers tightening slightly on your jaw as he turned your face toward him. “Sweetheart,” he crooned, his tone shifting to something almost affectionate, but it was laced with menace. “You’re pale as a ghost. Put some fucking makeup on later, will ya? I can’t have you walking around looking like you’ve seen a damn corpse.”

You didn’t respond, too frozen to move, but he didn’t seem to care. He continued, eyes darkening as he spoke. “I’m gonna buy you some dresses. Nice ones. Make you look pretty for me. We’ll stay in a hotel for a day or two, just the two of us. Won’t that be nice?” His grin widened, and the weight of his words settled like stones in your stomach.

It wasn’t a question. It never was.

You forced yourself to nod, knowing better than to argue or resist. Not now. Not when you were so far from help, so far from him.

Negan led you through the brightly lit aisles of the mall, his large hand gripping yours, his presence as commanding and unsettling as ever. You kept your head down, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It had been so long since you’d been out in public like this, since you’d seen the outside world beyond the prison of his house. The colors and sounds of the mall felt jarring, almost unreal.

He’d been in control the entire time—picking out dresses, shoes, makeup—showering you with expensive, branded items you had no say in. Every time you hesitated or tried to speak, he would flash that same dangerous smile, and your voice would die in your throat. You just smiled and nodded, doing what you had to do to survive, to avoid provoking him.

Negan was wealthy, more than Joel. The things he bought were far beyond what you could ever imagine affording. He never flinched at the price tags, never hesitated to pick the most luxurious items. But the more he showered you with these things, the more you felt trapped, like he was putting a price on you, buying your compliance with each extravagant purchase.

But you could feel it deep down—something wasn’t right. Negan had never treated you like this before, never taken you out, never spoiled you with gifts. It was all too strange, too sudden. There was an unspoken tension in the air, something lurking behind his actions, behind the forced smiles and fake affection. He was up to something, and you knew better than to trust whatever game he was playing.

When the shopping was over, you climbed back into the car with him, your arms full of bags, your mind full of questions. But you kept quiet. There was no use in asking. Not when the answer would come on his terms.

The hotel room wasn’t what you expected. It was plain, with just a bed, a dresser, and a small bathroom—nothing fancy despite the luxury of the shopping trip. Negan set your bag down, full of the clothes he had bought for you, and locked the door behind him, the metallic click ringing ominously in your ears.

He motioned for you to sit on the edge of the bed, and you obeyed, your body moving on autopilot, fear guiding every step. The room felt colder now, the walls seeming to close in on you as the reality of the situation sank in.

Negan stood in front of you, his dark eyes watching you intently, that familiar threat lurking beneath his calm exterior. He waited for a moment before speaking, as if enjoying the tension hanging between you.

“We’re gonna get some dinner soon,” he said, his voice low and serious. “You put on the dress I bought you. Put some makeup on. Dress nice, dolled up—you understand me?”

You hesitated, confused by his sudden shift in tone, but you nodded. Of course, you nodded.

“I’ll be waiting in the restaurant downstairs,” he continued, leaning in closer until his face was inches from yours. His breath was hot against your skin as he spoke, “But listen to me carefully now...”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his expression darkened, his voice becoming more menacing. “There’s a friend of mine coming here. He’s gonna ask for you to come down to meet me, and you’re gonna act nice, okay? You’re gonna do exactly what I tell you to do.”

You stared at him, fear rising in your throat. A friend? What did he mean by that? Why was someone else involved? None of this made sense.

“And if you try anything...” Negan’s voice dropped to a growl, his grip on your face tightening. “If you even think about running or doing something stupid... I swear to God, I’ll chop you into pieces and ship you to that fucking old man of yours. You understand me?”

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. You just nodded, too terrified to do anything else.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling that twisted smile again before letting go of your face.

Negan walked over to the small table by the window, where he pulled something out of his pocket—a small plastic bag filled with white powder. Your heart sank even further.

He tossed the bag onto the table, along with a couple of pills in a clear container. “Now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement, “you're gonna have a little fun tonight. You’re gonna need this.”

You shook your head instinctively, fear shooting through your veins. “No, I don’t do th—”

Negan’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, threatening look. He stepped forward quickly, his large hand grabbing your face roughly, his fingers digging into your cheeks so hard it hurt.

“You think you get to say no to me? After everything I’ve done for you? You’re mine now, you don’t get to refuse me.” His voice was low, menacing.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to shake your head, your voice trembling as you pleaded, “Please, I don’t want to—”

He squeezed your face tighter, cutting you off. “You’re going to take those fucking pills, and you’re going to snort this,” he snarled, his eyes flashing with cruelty.

Your heart raced as you stared at the drugs on the table. Panic swirled inside you, but the terror in Negan’s eyes, the violent way he held you, made you realize you had no choice.

You didn’t know what he was capable of, but you were sure he meant every word of his threat.

Negan let go of your face with a shove, and you stumbled backward, gasping for breath as your skin stung where his fingers had been. He stood there, towering over you, his presence suffocating. “Go on,” he said coldly, “take the pills. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

With shaking hands, you reached for the pills. They felt like poison between your fingers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Negan, not with the way he was staring at you.

You knew there was no way out of this. You could feel your soul breaking as you placed the pills on your tongue, forcing them down with a dry swallow.

“Good girl,” Negan said mockingly, watching your every move like a predator. He grabbed the bag of white powder, dumping some onto the table. Then, he handed you a rolled-up bill. “Now snort this. It’ll help loosen you up.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t move fast enough. He slammed his hand on the table, making you jump. “Do it!” he barked, his patience running thin.

You shakily took the bill, your mind racing with desperation. Every fiber of your being screamed against what was happening, but you were trapped—cornered.

Slowly, you leaned over the table, and as you inhaled the powder, you saw your friends do this, you have never take it before, your vision blurred with tears, your whole body shaking with fear and disgust.

Negan’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “That’s my girl. Now you’re ready for a good time,” he said, his voice dripping with venom.

He turned and headed the door, “Now, get ready. I’ll see you downstairs.”

The door shut behind him, and you were left alone in the silence of the room. The air felt suffocating, your mind racing with questions, with dread.

You stood up slowly, your body shaking as you moved toward your bag. The dress he had picked out for you lay on top, soft and elegant, but it felt like a costume—a mask you had to wear to get through this night.

With trembling hands, you picked it up and began to change, your mind going blank as you prepared yourself for what felt like the next step in Negan’s twisted game.

You stood in front of the mirror, your hands trembling as you smoothed down the dress Negan had chosen for you. It clung to your body in all the right places, elegant and far too glamorous for a simple dinner.

Your reflection stared back at you, but you barely recognized yourself—pale, hollowed-out eyes, with layers of makeup hiding the exhaustion, the fear. You were doing exactly what Negan had told you to do, like a puppet on strings, hoping that by following his orders, you could stay safe.

A knock on the door startled you. You grabbed your purse, your heart beating wildly in your chest. This was it. You were about to meet Negan’s "friend," the one he’d warned you about.

When you opened the door, your stomach dropped. The man standing in front of you was older, dressed in a suit, his graying hair slicked back, but there was something off about him. His eyes roamed over you, slow and deliberate, starting from your feet and lingering on every inch of your body. The smile on his face was thin, predatory.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, his voice smooth, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You forced a smile, your lips feeling like they might crack from the tension. “Just a second, I’ll get my purse,” you said, retreating into the room. You felt uneasy but tried to convince yourself it was nothing. Negan said you were going to meet him downstairs.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable click of the door closing and locking behind you. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you turned, seeing the man now standing inside the room, the door sealed shut. Panic rippled through you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice shaky, trying to make sense of the situation. Maybe he was just being overzealous. Maybe he didn’t mean any harm.

But he smiled again, that same unsettling smile, and took a step forward. “Negan told you we were going downstairs, didn’t he?”

Your stomach twisted into knots. You forced yourself to nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Yes, he’s waiting for us…”

The man chuckled, low and mocking. “He used the old excuses, huh?” His eyes gleamed with something dark, something vile, as he continued to advance on you.

You stepped back instinctively, feeling the panic rise in your chest. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, just kept coming closer, his steps deliberate. “You’re quite young,” he said, almost to himself, like he was studying you, enjoying your fear. “How old are you?”

You took another step back, the edge of the bed pressing against your calves. “What is going on? Where's Negan?” you tried again, your voice wavering with the growing dread.

But he just smiled wider. “It’s alright,” he said softly, like he was trying to soothe you. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be quick.”

Your blood turned to ice. “What? What do you mean?”

He laughed again, a sick, twisted sound that made your skin crawl. “Of course he never told you. You thought this was just a nice little dinner date, didn’t you?” His voice dripped with condescension. “I heard you’re experienced with older men.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced, trying to connect the dots, and then it clicked—the shopping, the hotel, the dress, this strange man, the way Negan had spoken to you before he left. This wasn’t just vacation.

“No,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “No, no, you’ve got it wrong. Negan said—”

“I know what he said,” the man interrupted, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “But I paid a lot of money for you. You better be worth it.”

The realization slammed into you like a freight train. Negan hadn’t taken you out for dinner. He had sold you.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, shaking your head as the panic clawed at your insides. You turned to run, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back.

“Ooh, fiery, are we?” he sneered, his grip bruising as he pulled you closer. “I like that.”

“Let me go!” you screamed, thrashing in his hold, but he was stronger, and before you knew it, he had tossed you onto the bed. The soft mattress did nothing to cushion the impact, and your body hit with a thud, the air rushing from your lungs.

You scrambled, trying to push yourself up, but his weight was on you in an instant, pinning you down. His hands gripped your wrists, forcing them above your head as he loomed over you, his breath hot and sour against your face.

Your mind spiraled in a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. You’d survived so much, endured so much, and now this? You felt the crushing weight of helplessness pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“No, please,” you begged, tears streaming down your face as your voice cracked. “Please don’t do this.”

"Please, I beg you, sir, please don't" you cry, no God, not this please, no.

He laughed again, that same cruel, mocking sound, and leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered,

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. This won’t take long.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for an escape, but there was none. You were trapped, powerless, and every second that passed felt like a step closer to losing yourself completely.

In that moment, all you could think about was Joel—his face, his touch, the way he’d promised to keep you safe. But now, you were so far from him, so far from everything you had ever wanted. And as the man’s weight pressed down on you, suffocating, you realized with chilling certainty that no one was coming to save you.

You were alone.

IM SORRY BUT THIS CHAPTER LAZY ASF, I SWEAR I WILL DO IT BETTER NEXT CHAPTERS, ENJOY!

[jave1y]

Since yall loved my other post and I might as well lore dump and introduce my ocs

elmur is a 19 year old who was born with a curse that gives him the ability to see beings that normal naked eye can’t see. These other beings include monsters and ghosts. He grew up with azazel and yuria and they became like his own parental figures, since he didn’t have the best guardian when he was growing up. though it’s hard for him to make decisions between the two since polar opposites opposite. Yuria being more laid back and azazel being more stern and serious. But he always has his uncle Dean to be the (well the only good human figure in his life ) elmur is super chill, and he’s also kinda dumb but I love him idk, (also no one can see these creatures other than him)

Yuria is a . Well was a semi famous solo singer that was murdered in the 1980 by a fan on her wedding day. But instead of doing the usual “haunting and being sad all the time”. She takes the opportunity to have fun with her predicament, especially when death (grim reaper or death in general) is waiting for her to move on. She’s semi friends azazel but often gets into shenanigans with him due to their polar personalities. She is very chaotic, but she’s also kind of sassy. I love her. I love my wife. I’m so glad that other people love my wife. Oh and she’s also pen pals with Dean.

Azazel is a being that is known as the outsider which is a monster that is exist in the outside plane, which is where most of the monsters that Elmer can see. It’s a combination of what we see. Basically monsters that just appeared but can’t be seen. They tend to copy humans mannerisms but not all of them are friendly . Azazel is one of those friendly monsters that had basically adopted elmur. He originally knew elmurs grandmother who had unfortunately passed. So taking care of Elmer is like a justice to her. he’s a stickler for the rules and sometimes he doesn’t realize that he’s being too serious with elmur. He’s not really used to it. He’s /srs most of the time, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pissy (think of the narrator from Stanley parable)

Dean is Elmer’s uncle and he already has a lot of personal issues and like Elmur he didn’t have the best life either. He drinks a lot but he also doesn’t want his past to define who he is now. Hes a Divorced police officer and he lives his nephew elmur and his son Travis (and some extra company) Dean is aware of Elmer’s “friends” but he’s supportive of it and doesn’t like to judge or shame elmur. Despite being divorced he’s on friendly terms with his ex wife and they still talk. But Dean is mainly alone when it comes to a social life, which is why he’s been getting random letters in mail from a secretive pen pal. Let’s say on the side of yuria chaotic energy and azazels serious and /srs manner, he’s in between I didn’t be careful someone who is confused about what they want can become confused about what you’re worth

Yeah so those are my bbs

If you have any questions feel free to ask or if you wanna draw my ocs ur absolutely allowed

I love ya

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Extra Extreme Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 19 - Can't Do It Anymore | ‘Ours’

“I can’t do it anymore!” You screamed with tears running down your face. You were grown but you felt like a little girl. Your mum standing in front of you in your bedroom angry as she's ever been. 

“Stop! Stop it, We’re going.” She demanded. She was stern and not going to back down. It was the summer before you left for university. A fresh 18 year old eager to get away from the exact scene unfolding in front of you. Your mum was forcing you to attend a gala event she had every year. She was intimidatingly kind but often kept her feet firm in her way of tough love. You loved a good party, maybe a little too much but forcing a smile and talking about what your college courses would consist of next year to business men that stood too close and inappropriately inspected every inch of you. It was a secret to everyone but your mum and Winnie and even they pretended they didn’t know. The way the sheath dress hung off your body reflecting back at your mum in the mirror only amplified the skeletal arch of your spine.  

“Fine… you want me to go. I’ll fucking go.” You murmured brushing past her heading straight to the en-suite of your room. You chugged a liter of vodka you'd dashed under the sink and popped one too many of your prescribed xanax in an unprescribed way. You collapsed in the bathroom before you could make it out of the house, ruining your night, your mum's prized annual gala, and probably Winnie’s perception of you forever. She had gone to your bathroom initially to steal some of the new blush you had gotten. She was met with something entirely different; finding you laying on the floor. They rushed you to hospital in an ambulance.  

“She’s extremely malnourished.” The attending doctor spoke calmly to your parents outside the room in the corridor. Your dad’s gaze narrowing at you laying in the harshly lit room. Your mum’s face pulling into disgust and shock, offended the doctor could imply something like that.

“She’s just thin. Please.” She scoffed, taken aback that you could be anything but fabulously waift. She hated the way the doctor infered she had not taken care of you somehow. She had given you everything, look at you, you were gorgeous but the hospital gown wasn't exactly chic.

“Ann Marie… listen to them. She’s killing herself. Enough.” Your dad quipped. They loved you in their own ways; your dad thought of you like little girls, your mum as if you were her little dolls. Things slowed after the incident and there was a much closer eye on you. Your mum still pushed, your dad still pulled, and Winnie sat somewhere in the middle. You got relatively healthy, at least enough to pass on scales and keep the chaos at bay but things bubbled under the surface. Suppressing anything that may rock the boat of familial perfection. You and Lauren had just returned to Manhattan after a weekend out east at your parents when she found you in your own sick. Chase had come over the night you returned from the beach. You and Lauren lived together and she wasn’t keen opening the door to see him but he was handsome and a good fuck so she shrugged it off. It wasn’t really him exactly… it wasn’t him. Chase sucked no shadow of a doubt but you couldn’t blame him. It could’ve been any man.  It really could’ve been anyone but you just happened to fall into his terribly mean arms on one night you blacked out and found yourself waking up in his bed. The tectonic plates of the earth shifted, mentally handcuffing yourself to this awful person.

“Still the same for me?” He’d ask you ahead of coming over. He kept tabs on the size of your clothes, the condition of your skin, the way your hair fell. You didn’t eat all day and he fucked the daylights out of you that night after you confirmed you had kept the circumference of your waist just the same as he liked, anything to get him to like you. He shoved his cock down your throat until you were sobbing, he didn't like you, he liked the high of using you. “You want me to love you, Y/N? That’s all you want? Take my fucking cock and I’ll think about it.” He’d mock you, railing into you from behind. You hated that your body craved him. That’s all you thought about. How? How do you get someone like this to like you? Why did you want it so bad? You did it all for him with zero return except for the brutal fuck he'd deliver. Lauren called Winnie sobbing. She knocked on your door early the next day curious to see how the night went but you were there limp in your bed sick.

“Well she’s breathing right? Jesus Christ! What did you do last night?” Winnie screamed freaking out that Lauren had found you like this and yet simultaneously angry with you. This was the second time someone was finding you like this. 

“I don’t know I… I.. she was with fucking Chase last night… fuck!” Lauren cried. The problem wasn’t Chase, what you ate, or your mum, the problem was you. You did it on purpose but no one mentioned it to you. No one said it. Ignorance was bliss. You were discharged again and everything moved on. Texts from Chase still coming in oblivious to the state he walked out on you in despite Lauren’s barrage of messages to leave you alone. You just threw your phone off the bed feeling just the same as the days prior only now slightly  more weak. You curled on your bed just wanting it all to fade away until morning the broke, the annoyingly bright sun refusing to lend you the peace you so badly craved. Why did you want him to love you so badly? Did you really hate him or yourself for being with him. Either way, you just wanted to be loved, that was abundantly clear. You walked into your parent’s kitchen in an oversized t-shirt sleepily and groggy. They made you move back with them for a few months to rehabilitate. 

“Trent Alexander Arnold has pinned one in for Liverpool!” The echo from the TV in the connecting room blasting in the late morning as you reached up into a cupboard. 

“Get in! Come on” Your dad yelled cheering. His loud booming voice making you jump. He heard you fumble the glass of water you were trying to get yourself so he turned to you mid-celebration. “Y/N, you okay? Come watch with me. The kid I swear... He's amazing” He shook his head in disbelief at the goal just scored by the man who would eventually ask him to marry you. A glint flashed in your eyes. 

“He’s cute…” You mumbled to your dad coming over to sit with him analyzing the camera’s close zoom on Trent’s face. His lips curling into the same dimpled smile your daughter had now ricocheting around in your mind finding its permanent home to replay on a loop. 

“Talented.” Your dad corrected you as he looked on more impressed with the tactical skill than Trent’s looks.

“Sure” You rolled your eyes and pulled your legs up onto the couch. Wrapping your arms around your knees.

“About your age you know?” Your dad informed you. That was interesting. You wondered what Trent’s life was like? This stupidly attractive stranger on the TV. You were the same age crying over a pathetic Manhattan party boy last night. Your mind wandered and you began to wonder if Trent lived a life anything like Chase and all the other boys surrounding you; using looks and status to blow through girls and money on nights out. You cocked your head looking a bit closer at his eyes and you felt your heart involuntarily softening. Imagine if he was really really sweet. “How we feeling today?” Your dad intruded the delusions seeping into your brain. You hummed lost in your own thoughts. “Can’t even conjure up a lie for me today?” He laughed sympathetically and quietly turning to face you. 

“Nah.” You finally gave him half an answer. Your eyes fixated on the game now waiting for the camera to catch glimpses of the boy you might’ve just fallen in love with. What if he was nice?  What if he was nice to you? God, if he was nice to you you'd love him forever, and you did. He had a chock hold grip on your heart. 

“Want a beer?” Your dad cut your thoughts off once more. You furrowed your brow confused what he was asking you. 

“Dad?” You snapped out of your reverie about a person you didn’t know feeling stupid imagining a world you didn’t live in, you didn’t deserve that, and certainly the boy flashing across the tv wasn’t going to be the one to give it to you. 

“It’s 8 pm where I am right now.” Your dad laughed again dreaming he was back at Anfield’s stadium tonight instead of on your family’s couch. You hummed, finally wrapping your head around his sentiment. “Let’s go on your thanksgiving break.” He cooed. 

“To?” You turned your body towards him on the couch for the first time taking your eyes off the screen in minutes. You were interested in anything he was offering that might potentially whisk you out of your current place in the world. 

“To Anfield. You’ll love it” Your dad assured you. Loving anything right now felt like a cruel joke but of course you’d go.  8 pm under the floodlights of Anfield with the beer your dad wanted so desperately you watched admiring the boy who would end up being nicer to you than anyone ever had been. 

You changed for the match and you definitely didn’t look good. Winnie FaceTimed Teddy and Dianne for you as you rushed around your hotel room. You did the best you could to not burst right into tears looking back at the cutest face you’d ever seen in your life. The bright wide eyes gleaming mirroring Trent’s exactly seeing her mummy. It was wrong but you hadn’t even responded to any of Trent’s messages from last night yet this morning. You didn’t tell Winnie that. You couldn’t. You couldn’t answer all the questions he had and you didn’t want to answer any more of hers. Honestly, you didn’t know the answers to them. When you arrived at the stadium you prayed for some sort of invisibility shield. That wasn’t going to happen. You were radiating an energy that just reeked of misfortune, you felt eyes burning into you. Trent scanned the stadium for you before you had arrived. Seats left for you and Winnie empty while he warmed up. Marcel sitting there alone also awaiting your arrival. When the two teams lined up ahead of the anthem he finally clocked you. Trent looked fucking livid. You’d never seen him give that face to you. You started crying. You watched him shut his eyes in slow motion, his heart breaking in real time. Winnie squeezed your shoulder. You batted your eyes to try to clear the tears. Your view of Trent blurring then clearing then blurring again. Your heart aching painfully. Trent played incredible. It maybe was the best half of football you’d seen him play. It made you sick thinking maybe you had potentially been a cause for any dips in his form. That not having you around somehow made him better. The second half began. Only a few minutes passed before Trent rocketed home a shot from outside the box. The stadium erupted celebrating the goal and you never felt more silenced. He ran to the corner flag and swung at it with real fire. He screamed while his teammates engulfed him. Media and the crowd probably perceived the celebration as passion but you knew… Winnie and Marcel knew... Jadon who now walked himself into the middle of a horrible situation knew. You sat on your hands watching the game clock tick on. Jadon looked at Winnie and hinted for her to check her phone. No one was really talking between the four of you. It was so awkward. Winnie picked up her phone and nonchalantly tilted the screen away from you, leaning back in her seat reading Jadon's message.

‘Trent knows this is going on, right? He needs to help her, Win.’

Winnie sighed reading it trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over her. Of course, Trent knew. You were getting married. He knew everything, he just had never experienced such a low of yours in real time. It was easy to love someone when you only heard about their past. You can forgive them for something you weren’t even there for. Something you’d never had to have experienced. Trent loved you for all that you are but seeing you wither after the birth of your baby wasn’t on his bingo card. Liverpool won and Trent stood on the pitch hands on his hips staring up into the sky still while the team scattered around the pitch jumping in celebration. They won and yet he felt worse than ever.  Before the trophy presentation he ran down the tunnel. Marcel made you go with him down to meet him. God, there was nothing in the world you wanted to do less than face Trent right now. You made Winnie come with you for moral support. You saw him walk towards you. Full kit, sweaty, perfect, beautiful. You couldn’t believe he was at his very best when you weren’t with him, seeing him in all his glory at the very top and you at your very lowest. Producing a man of the match performance and you producing maybe the biggest fuck up or your life. You were in your own world of thought when his curt words cut you off.

“Where were you?” That was all he said. Cold, keeping his distance from you. 

“T…” you pleaded with your eyes falling into pools. Tears already gathering in your eyes. 

“No, where the fuck were you?” He snapped again. Winnie stood off to the side of the corridor. She didn’t know how to help. She felt horrible like somehow this was her fault. It wasn’t at all but she couldn’t help the guilt she felt having been at the club with you, having drank so much with you. She tried to help.  

“Trent, she was…” Winnie began to try to talk but that was not going to fly. Trent didn’t want to hear from anyone but you. This was for you and him to sort.

“Winnie, let her fucking answer. Where were you? Tell me.” You weren’t sure you’d ever heard this tone of voice. It scared you. You felt your bones shake. It was like you were being reprimanded in a principal's office except you weren’t. You were being reprimanded by your fiancé in front of your sister and friends, somehow making it all the worse. 

“The hotel, the hotel. I swear.” You started to hyperventilate. You were having a panic attack in the tunnels of Wembley. This was a fucking disaster. Trent believed you. He didn’t want to but he knew you. He’d know if you were lying. Your answer flooded out drenched in honesty and fear. You felt your chest start to contract and tighten. He couldn’t look at you anymore. It hurt too much.

“I have to go…” he sighed, running his hands over his head frustrated. He was almost annoyed  that nothing happened. He was wildly relieved you were safe and standing in front of him in one piece but annoyed he couldn’t pick one thing to harp on to decidedly be angry about. All this chaos for what? “I need to go be with my fucking team. Marce is taking you home.” He quipped pulling his jersey over his head revealing his stupidly hot body. You tried to distract yourself but it was hard, he looked really good. 

“What?” You asked utterly confused. What did he mean you were going home? Your mind couldn’t keep up with his. The visual stimulant of his naked torso, your blinding headache, and the noise from a rowdy stadium concocting into a right mess. 

“I don’t want you here.” He shut his eyes saying it. He hated saying it but he meant it. He had a hard time looking at you right now. He was so weak against you and right now he was pissed. He didn’t want to cave, he didn’t want to give himself any more time or opportunity to. The emotions rising in your chest swelled with the bile in your throat. It burned and it hurt. Your brain was completely scrambled. You couldn’t process that he just rejected you, turned you away. To be fair, everyone standing there was surprised.  Trent dapped up Marcel and Jadon and swiftly headed back out onto the pitch. Nothing more said, not even a goodbye. You were completely stunned and frozen in your place. Trent was determined to do anything to get you off his mind but everything reminded him of you. You were ubiquitous. Lifting the trophy was nothing but a burden. It was heavy, he was tired and disinterested. Proud of his team but disinterested. 

Marcel drove you home all the way back up towards Manchester and to say it was awkward was an understatement. You cried about 5 times. He’d just turn the music up a little more each time letting you fall apart. You didn’t want him to acknowledge it. He was doing it for both of you. No one really knew what happened, you included. It was one big blur but everyone knew in a way that you had gone awol last night so Marcel didn’t really have anything to say to you until you finally arrived to your house.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t want to talk but I also don’t want you alone.” Marcel asked you as he pulled into your drive. It was quintessential Marce. He didn’t really want to deal with any of this but he was way too empathetic to just drop it all, no questions asked. He was still your friend, Trent aside. Although right now he felt more like Trent’s brother than your friend. 

“I’m fine. I promise. Thank you.” You lied blatantly getting out of the car and he knew it. You didn’t expect him to but he got out of his car to help you with your luggage. The bags you had filled with outfits you would no longer get to wear this weekend celebrating with Trent now. 

“It’ll be fine.” He gave you a hug and it was like his reassuring words broke the damn down. You began to sob heavily. He stepped back from you not surprised but he was upset that you were upset. He felt bad but he also was a little annoyed with you so he needed to let go. He dragged his hand over his face and pivoted without looking back at you. He turned around though when he opened the drivers side of his car. “I know whatever happened was a mistake, Y/N, but he does a fucking lot for you, ya know? I’m not saying you don’t but he really moves fucking mountains for you and sometimes… fuck.” He sighed looking at you defeated as you stood awkwardly at your garage door awaiting the dagger he was about to twist into you. “I don’t know, you just expect him to. Like you take it as a given, for granite.” You opened your mouth to respond. “I gotta go.” He shook his head and left before you could say anything. Cut to, Trent had finally returned home. It was tense and it was painfully uncomfortable for the fleeting moments before the highly anticipated fight erupted. The second he walked in the door you shuddered. You two stood a good 3 yards apart yelling in voices you never used in your kitchen. 

“You know what that would fucking look like if someone saw any of this?” Trent spat at you frustrated you didn’t understand the point he was trying to make. You had explained to him the extent of your night that you could remember. He was less than impressed but right now he sounded like your mum and it made you feel horrible. Thoughts of all of the times she scolded you telling you ‘what would people think.’ the image of her sat at the edge of a hospital bed appeared in your head. 

“Why do you care what it fucking would look like?” You snapped back at him more annoyed at the remembrance of your mum than him. The sting felt the same no matter whose mouth it was coming from.

“Because I care about you… Do you see yourself lately?  I know with the wedding and the baby it’s stressful but have you looked in the mirror lately? I know how often you’ve been weighing yourself.” The way he said his last sentence was almost threatening. Trent wasn’t dumb and you weren’t exactly trying to hide either. He saw the scale pulled out on your shared bathroom floor every morning. The measuring tape you kept tucked in your drawer just to make sure everything was ‘on track’ lingering after effects from Chase like scars. 

“I can’t fucking look in the mirror, Trent” You snapped and the flood gates opened. You started balling. It took everything in him not to just grab for you. Hold you. Fix this. Tell you it was fine except this time it wasn’t. Nothing was fine right now. 

“What the fuck honestly, I’m at a fucking boiling point. I can't do it anymore. You have a daughter, Y/N! Do you want her to grow up to be like you?” Trent shouted at you, really starting to lose his temper. 

“Do you? Do you want her to be like me?” You asked him incredibly, even more offended than his words echoing your mother’s. Your tears were blurring your vision entirely. You couldn’t make out the face you knew. The face you loved. The one that brought you so much comfort. Right now, your entire life looked to have a smudged haze over it all.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. Can you please not cry all the time?” He pleaded with you having a hard time keeping his distance from you. He was so angry with you but so conflicted with the affection he wanted to show you. You only stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island at the moment but you felt worlds apart.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. This is all too much.” You were sobbing at this point clinging onto the lip of the marble slab countertop.

“No, I am not letting you do this.” He hated when you cried. Seeing you right now so upset made him sick to his stomach but pushed him past his normal point of concern into a state of rage. “Why do you fucking treat yourself like this!?! I don’t fucking understand it!” He continued to seethe with fury. He looked at you waiting for an answer. An incredibly deafening silence falling over the room. 

“Because I fucking hate everything about me. What don’t you fucking understand about that. You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken. It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. Having a baby completely ransacked you. You were far from new. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.

“Why do you always have to guilt me? I didn’t do anything here, Y/N, you did! You did this.” He snapped at you once more, moving to be a bit more accusatory. In a more mindful state you probably would’ve understood his reasoning but it just felt like a personal attack at the moment. 

“I step out of line once and it…” you tried to rebuttal but he wasn’t having it. He cut you off before you could even think of what your next word was going to be. 

“Out of line? Out of line? No, baby.” You heard him use the pet name out of habit and it sent a shiver running down your spine. That was not the way you liked to hear that word. After that, you had an even harder time keeping up with his words so transfixed on the snippy way he had said ‘baby.’ “You went missing and said fuck all untill I saw you in the stadium… you were in London alone. The mother of my fucking child, my baby.” Trent felt like he was about to start crying so he turned away from you dropping his head in his hands. ”My baby, my beautiful girl just fucking gone and you didn’t care! You didn’t care one bit” He whimpered a bit quieter than you’d heard him talk all day. You couldn’t get a word in fast enough before his anger rushed back. “God fuck… why do you not care!?! You not caring hurts me! It hurts our daughter! You can’t fucking do this!” He cried out. You were shaking. Your one hand pressed onto your sinuses attempting to relieve the pressure you thought was going to make your head explode. Your other hand’s nails were digging so painfully deep into your palm you were sure you were about to break the skin. 

“I’m not trying to hurt you! It’s me okay? I know it’s me. I’m shit. I get it. You’ve made that so fucking clear... that I’m not allowed to make mistakes. That I’m not allowed to falter from the caliber of excellence you live in everyday.” Your words fell into a slightly sassier sarcastic tone that made Trent twitch with anger but  then sadness crashed back over you dripping onto your next words. “I can’t handle the pressure T, I really can't. I know that you deserve more than this. You deserve to have someone so much better fit for you. and it's not me” You sniffled out. Your lip quivering, your mascara running. 

“I am done with this. If you fucking still think that I moved you to another country to be with me, I made a home for us here, had a child with you, that I want to fucking marry you is not enough. That's on you. Honestly, I’m fucking done. Have a good fucking time in New York tomorrow.  Don't stay out too late and maybe fucking try to take care of yourself because I’m done doing it for you.” He quipped storming out of the room.  You ran to the kitchen sink and threw up nausea hitting you instantly. Leaning over the deep farmhouse sink. He heard you and shut his eyes. He couldn’t turn back. If he did, he knew he’d cave.  You had originally planned to fly to New York again tomorrow but right now running the fuck away from all of this never felt like such a perfectly yet equally terrible idea. You already had your packed bags by the door the next day when Trent came down early, Teddy still asleep. You had slept in the guest room. Although ‘sleeping’ was probably a stretch. You just lied awake staring at the ceiling wavering in out of fits of tears. You couldn't say bye to Teddy, you didn’t want to say bye to him. You wanted to disappear and leave them so things would be better for them. It was for them you told yourself. Trent looked at you from a distance with a blank face. You bite your bottom lip trying so hard not to fall apart. He let out a deep sigh. He walked towards you and your whole body tensed. He wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder blades high on your back and pressed his lips to your forehead. The embrace felt so foreign. Tears began streaming down your face. “I hate how much I love you and I hate how much you don’t.” The way his lips felt on your skin almost stung. It was one of the most harrowing out of body experiences. It truly felt like that was going to be the last time he’d ever kiss you. That would be your last memory of his lips on you. He could feel how limp you were to his touch. He pulled away with his eyes shut and just let you walk out the door. His face fell. You couldn’t get any words to come out of your mouth. You couldn’t pick your eyes up to see him. He couldn’t understand but the pain you were in was palpable, thick in the room. It destroyed him to see you walking out of your house, your home. He tried so hard to hold it together. He tried absolutely everything he could but he fell to the ground. Crouching with his head in his hands. He began to cry. He felt weak and stupid but in the same way you felt that that may have been the last time together, he felt just the same. Suddenly it all scared him terribly that he had lost you, he had pushed you too far. You were his whole world but he had told you he didn’t want you around, he told you he didn’t want to take care of you. The feelings were still prevalent but it was like his heart was bleeding. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He told you he hated that he loved you. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. A part of you yearned pathetically for him to try to stop you from leaving for this pointless trip. You felt your heartbeat slow to a point where you weren’t sure it was beating anymore.  Your chest hurt so bad it felt like your body might have begun to shut down entirely and with this emotional feeling you thought that it might be the only way out of it. Everything had drained of its color watching the door close to your home, your family, your baby, the love of your life shutting you out as your uber pulled away. 

Trent didn’t tell anyone how bad things really had gotten between you two. He was always private but he couldn’t talk about this. He didn’t tell anyone that his Hollywood film romance was crumbling before you two had even got to the altar. He knew if he told George, Marcel, Tyler, or Jude they’d try to fix it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was so angry. He didn’t love you any less but he just felt helpless. When he went to bed that night he found himself staring at your Van Cleef necklace he’d given you all those years ago. The one. He got so angry seeing it, seeing you left it behind. It felt like a part of you was leaving him, like you had given up. He held it in his hands imagining your warm skin and delicate décolletage it was supposed to be laid over. He was so indignant. Emotionally charged he yanked the necklace apart, splitting it into two pieces. He felt sick. It hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe he just did that. That necklace was your relationship and he just destroyed it. He sat with the two pieces of chain, one in each hand. You two separated. 

You were terrified about leaving Teddy but you couldn’t do anything but leave. You couldn’t move. She would be better off with the loving stable Alexander-Arnold family not the disaster you felt you were at the moment. Dianne had her, well Trent did, but when he was at training she would make sure she was okay. You got to New York and didn’t tell a soul you were there. Not your parents, Winnie, or Lauren. You wanted to be alone. You laid in your new apartment on the king sized bed you’d never even had a chance to sleep in with Trent yet. It was the most chilling depressing way to be reminded he wasn’t with you and that he didn’t want you with him. Did he want it all to really end? You were replaying your last conversations over and over analyzing every word he said and inflection of his voice when a Daily Mail article notification dropped down from the top of your phone screen. 

‘Trent Alexander-Arnold seen out on a date in Manchester with a mystery women ahead of his previously planned summer wedding. Has the American dream come to an end?’

Your face fell. You were pretty sure all the air had left your lungs, your brain short circuited. You zoomed in on the photo only inflicting more pain on yourself. You’d never seen the women in the photo in your life. She had curves and a full figure but still slender in all the right places. She looked like if Instagram was a person. You looked… not like that. A confirmation published globally echoing every thought you’ve ever had. You were not what he really wanted. This was all too good to be true and you were never going to measure up. The thought of him with someone else made you sick. The thought of another woman making him smile was somehow worse than anything else you could’ve possibly seen. He was holding the door for her, dimples deepened in his cheeks, his glowing smile mocking you. He hadn’t smiled at you in days now but that face from the tv was burned into your memory. You were a mess. You couldn’t cope without him. You felt completely lost. You felt like you were a missing person when you weren’t with him. You thought you were going to be sick the longer you stared at the images. You ran to the bathroom. You slipped on a rug and smacked your face on the porcelain toilet. You leaned over the toilet and vomited but you simultaneously could make out the drops of blood dripping off your face onto the seat through your hazy vision. ‘Fuck’ you cursed under your breath. The tears falling from your face dropping down to join the rest of the releases.

You sank into the warm water filled to the brim of the bathtub in your apartment. For some reason that had become your place of habit during whatever chaotic episode you currently were inhabiting. You slipped down into the water, letting the full bath completely cover and engulf your body. You closed your eyes. You could feel yourself crying but you couldn’t tell submerged in the water. You couldn’t believe what just happened, what you had lost in days time. Bubbles rose to the surface of the bath as you opened your mouth and screamed repeatedly underwater. When you emerged from the bath you were gasping and coughing excessively, somehow getting air to your lungs even more difficult now than when you were under the bath water. The tears returned now racing down your cheeks as you sobbed. You wanted out. This is what was best. Just get out, that's what was on your mind. You slid back under the water once more. A rage filled scream muffled by the water filling your mouth. Words repeating in your brain ‘please just get me out of here’ ‘give my baby a better mum than this’ ‘let Trent find someone perfectly matched for him.’

“Hey, you good? What’s up?” Lauren answered a call from Marcel. It was a little odd for him to call her. Naturally her curiosity peaked. Was he in New York? She felt like you would’ve said something if he was. They were on good terms but he was also well aware that she was with Jude now so she didn’t think he’d try to push to hang out now. Her intrigue only growing. 

“Hey, you’re in Manhattan?” He asked hesitantly, also feeling fairly weird about this call but he needed someone to check on you. His anxiety had been piling up over the last day or so. Lauren didn’t even know you had come to New York. She was shocked to even hear that let alone the next things about to come out of his mouth. Again, you just wanted to get out of Liverpool. You’d told no one. It had been a little over a day since you had arrived. You didn’t reach out and you hadn’t heard from anyone back at home either. Well, maybe from Marcel and Dianne but you had selfishly and unfairly chosen not to respond to either. Really, you were fixated on the fact that most noticeably you hadn’t heard from Trent. You canceled any of the appointments you had planned to attend for wedding planning opting to rot in your bed in hopes of achieving escapism. 

“I need you to go and check on Y/N. Trent said she flew to go over some wedding stuff but she hasn’t responded to me. He hasn’t either to any messages. Something is going on with them. There was this big mess before the match this past weekend.” He rambled on frantically trying to explain best he could but really emphasize that he just needed Lauren to find you and make sure you were fine, why didn’t really matter. She was confused to say the least. Even when you and Trent had stupid bickering fights she’d still hear about it. Yet this? This.. she didn’t hear a peep and this was far different from bickering over who forgot to unload a dishwasher. Lauren agreed, remembering that she had a key to your new apartment in Manhattan in case someone needed to get in when you weren’t there. You might’ve been there physically at the moment, but you were far from being there mentally that’s for sure. Lauren hurried the fastest she possibly could up to your apartment, the urgency in Marcel’s voice making her incredibly nervous. Her worst fears fueling her speed. She unlocked the door and walked inside only adding more confusion and fear to her scrambling brain because your phone's location had said you were there but the apartment was empty. It was quiet until she heard water in the bathroom. You opened your eyes beneath the surface of the water in a moment of desperation trying to stop overthinking what you were doing only for you to find yourself gasping and in taking a ton of water when you saw Lauren’s figure blurred above the water beside the bathtub.You didn’t have a moment of time to even react before Lauren frenziedly reached into the full tub and yanked you out aggressively immediately wrapping you in her arms over the ledge. Your soaking wet naked body drenching her dry clothes. She dragged your very limp body out. 

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on!?!?!” Lauren screamed, starting to uncontrollably cry. It didn’t look good. You felt so young again saved by Lauren once more. You blinked your swollen eyes trying to clear them of the water blurring them. You slumped back onto the cold side of the tub on the bathroom floor. She shook your shoulders trying to get you to come to and answer her. She was absolutely terrified and rightfully so. “Okay, okay. Jesus!” She ran her hands over her head in panic and shock. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll… erm… I’ll call T.” She rattled off trying to think what to do. She knew that’s what this was about.  

“You can’t!” You attempted to scream at her but you didn’t even have any strength left shaking from the shock and from the cold air hitting your wet skin. 

“Shit…” She cursed. Laurens chest started heaving. She was trying her very hardest not to fall into her own panic attack finding you like this. “Why, Y/N? Why?” She tried to be sensitive but she was angry for finding you like this.

“He ended it. He’s done…” You whimpered out devastated hearing each word fall out of your mouth. You felt like you were going to throw up imagining life without him.

“What do you mean he's done? You’re getting married so soon. Just try to relax here.” Lauren asked, perplexed because Marcel said things were off, not that you and Trent had split. 

“No… we’re not, okay? Just shut up, please!” You wailed. Heartbroken by the reality of what was all setting in now. Not only what was going on between you and Trent but the situation you had just put Lauren in, the way you left your daughter, the state you were currently in. Tears cascading down your face with no sign of stopping any time soon. 

“Hey! Enough. You’re not doing this.” Lauren scolded you demanding you cut this shit out immediately. She stood up stoic as ever just staring at you.

“You sound just fucking like him.” You screamed back at her dropping your head back behind you feeling incredibly dizzy. You wiped at your face, unable to stop the emotions flooding out of you.

“Y/N… no. We’ve done this. You’ve done this over really shitty things. This is and will not be one of them. You’re not doing it. Get up!” She continued to yell at you sternly commanding you with a scowl on her face. You looked at her confused that she was angry at you. Everyone was angry at you and the only thing that could possibly make it better was rewind time to go be back in your bed at home with your daughter and Trent but that was miles and miles away and probably not likely to happen again. Lauren made you stand up with her help on shaky legs, forcing you under freezing cold water for a moment in an effort to practice some sort of distress tolerance. She sat on the edge of the sink as you stood with tears falling at the same rate the water did from the shower head. She didn’t trust you right now to leave the room. You got out and wrapped yourself in a towel and sat yourself on your bed shaking. Yes, you were cold but also just riddled with so much anxiety. You couldn’t believe you had ruined everything. You had everything you could ever want. You sat there for a long while trying to explain the situation to Lauren through several breaks unable to calm your breath. Although your story probably was a little one sided as you really only relayed the more harsh things Trent had said. ‘I don’t want you here,’ ‘I’m done with this,’ ‘I’m done taking care of you.’ And then of course, you had to show her the Daily Mail article that only ignited another panic attack to crash over you. You were having heart palpitations. There was a laundry list of reasons you probably should’ve gone to the hospital but at the moment you couldn’t move your body and sadly, you didn’t want the help. “He’s not done with you…” Lauren whispered softly, helping you lay down in the big bed taking your phone from you, clicking the power button and watching the screen illuminated with the photo of Trent and the women go black. “He’s really upset, Y/N, He’s allowed to be. I’m sure a lot of it was said heat of the moment but you fucked up and he’s concerned but he’s not done. He loves you more than frankly I ever knew people could love each other. I know he isn't done.” She cooed with a sad sympathetic smile. She looked next to your bed on the bedside table and saw your engagement ring in a little jewelry dish. “Please put this back on, please.” She put the ring back on your finger where it belonged for you and kissed the back of your hand before wiping a falling tear. You took it off because it was making you nauseous that he had promised you a life and you accepted it only to destroy it all. “He’s not going anywhere, I am not going anywhere, and Y/N, you…you are not going anywhere. You are here and we want you here.” You could hear a tremor in her voice as she sat next to you rubbing your back. You weren’t sure when the last time you slept was so you passed out finally feeling her warm comforting touch on you. You were fast asleep when Lauren got up and called Jude from another room. She roughly explained the situation, she didn’t speak too much about you and Trent’s kick off because she didn’t think she had the full story yet. She began to cry when she relayed the terrifying situation she had just gone through arriving at your apartment. Jude was shocked, gobsmacked, massively concerned but more so helpless listening to Lauren sob over the phone. He didn’t know how to help from where he was. 

Back in Liverpool, Tyler had come over to your house to talk to Trent about some end of the season things they needed to get squared away. He sat with Teddy bouncing her on his knee as they had a unnecessarily tense conversation. 

“Yo, what’s with you?” Tyler quipped looking at Trent confused. He was being particularly snippy with him and all his brother was trying to do was his job. Trent didn’t need to be such an asshole to him. 

“Ty, I’m losing her.” Trent sighed scrolling on his phone zooming in on your location to make sure he knew you were at the apartment he had gotten for you at least. He didn’t have the courage to text or call you yet but he needed to know where you were. 

“What are you on about mate?” Tyler asked, incredibly confused. Marcel had mentioned a tiff at the game but like everyone else around you two there never were any really big squabbles so this was definitely a bit of a surprise. 

“I can feel it, bro. Since we had Teddy all this stuff she warned me about, things she had dealt with when she was younger all started flooding back. I always knew like from the day I met her, she wasn’t like the most confident person in the world but since she had the baby she’s just not the same. I hear her get up in the middle of the night, I see her not eating as much, she’s sleeping way more and I can’t do anything. There’s nothing to say even. She’s like a shell of herself, bro. I’m terrified.” Trent expatiated at length but vaguely touching on the slow decline you had been on postpartum. 

“I haven’t seen it to be honest.” Tyler responded hesitantly tilting his head slowly trying to rack his brain to think if he had noticed any shifts in your behavior. 

“That’s the fucking problem. She’s fooling everyone. It’s fucked. Like I get it she looks good. She always looks good, she’s perfect but it’s not right. Something's not right and I’m getting worried. I was absolutely fuming after the final and I just didn’t want to talk to her to be honest but then she left for New York… and…” Trent rambled half ass explaining the situation at hand but leaving out the part that you two hadn’t spoken since you walked out of the house. 

“Well you love her, you can’t just dip because it got hard.” Tyler was very quick with his response. He wanted to make sure Trent wasn’t trying to jump ship considering at the very moment he was holding the child you shared.

“I’m not dipping. I’m never fucking leaving her. It’s just such a mess. It felt like it went 0 to 60.” Trent dropped his head back onto the couch cushion in despair so confused and conflicted on what he was supposed to do next.

“Well, first off, good. If you’re gonna marry her, you’re buying into all of it, mate. It’s not your responsibility to heal her of something but it’s your responsibility if you really love her to get her to the people that can if she’s not willing to do it herself. You love her and she’s the mother of your child and if she can’t see that… you need to make sure you do everything you can to show her there’s no other possible feeling there but your support.” He looked at Trent with a lot of sympathy but Tyler really was starting to worry about you. His brain switching gears from the assistance to his younger brother to a growing anxiety about the girl he picked up from the airport and never left all those years ago. He started to remember little things here and there, comments made or small actions that felt like nothing at the time but maybe cumulatively he should’ve caught on. 

The next day after Trent had a big think, he remembered that one of George’s cousins ran a clinic in Liverpool so he figured he could start there. He asked George for her number and she agreed to meet him happily willing to help. He at least wanted to learn what options he even had. He wanted to know a simple answer of what he was supposed to do but he knew that wasn’t the reality.  The photos of their meeting hit you like a ton of bricks. You thought he was seeing someone else, taking your night out and spitting it back at you. Showing you he could disappear just the same and rub it your face simultaneously. That wasn’t the case at all though. He wasn’t thinking about her in that regard in the slightest; the only thing he could think about was you, you 24/7. Unfortunately, he wasn’t aware of what was happening in your apartment at the moment which probably wouldn’t have given him much peace of mind. Ignorance was currently a mild form of bliss until he got home seeing he had a missed call.

After Lauren spoke to Jude she texted Marcel updating him in a fuzzy but still transparent way. She didn’t think she could handle another call after the emotional one she had with Jude. Eventually, Lauren mustered up the courage to call the one person she knew she had to… Trent. Her legs bounced in anxious anticipation but he didn’t answer her call. She felt her stomach drop. Maybe things were that bad. Maybe he really was done. He couldn’t be, she’d kill him, so she told herself she’d call once more but after that if he didn’t pick up, if he didn’t want to talk then she would resort to getting Dianne’s number from Marcel. This couldn’t go on any longer. She didn’t want to press but this needed to be sorted. Trent picked up the second time she rang but didn’t say anything once he answered for a little while so Lauren didn’t say a thing either. The line was silent until Trent's desperation outweighed any anger he had been harboring.

•

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Next part - Chapter 20 xx

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | gif credit

chapter summary: Somehow, you realize you've accidentally ended up spending almost every weekend for the last month and a half with either one, or all of the Millers. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.7k chapter warnings: some angst, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts (but no smut), referenced parental neglect, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues (shocker!) & a fear of intimacy. a/n: this chapter is so disgustingly sweet it might give you a cavity. truly. but its also a little self-indulgent because joel is in my dream blunt rotation :/ please be patient with updates because i have a career/social life/apartment, and am a perfectionist! i promise i will always (try) to make the wait worth your while. Also, here's a link to the song Joel plays on guitar, since it's not on Spotify so I couldn't add it to the playlist.

-April 19, 2003- 

“Well, that was awkward.”

Obviously, Joel thinks to himself as Sarah turns to watch the retreating form of her teacher, while Joel stares straight ahead at the crowd in front of him. At first, he had thought she was just being polite. It was the right thing to do, to say hello to a parent and a student if you see them outside of class. But…they were seeing each other at a bar. And she’d asked him to dance. 

We just got here, maybe later? Joel can’t even remember what he had said, something along those lines. It wasn’t a flat-out refusal, but he had been acutely aware of Sarah’s eyes boring into the back of his head from where she sat beside him, and he sort of blacked out, couldn’t recall what had caused her to get the hint, to walk away. 

Joel grunts an affirmation to Sarah, and drums his fingers against the tabletop. There’s a dance floor full of people in front of him, all under various levels of intoxication, all of them dancing. 

“Do you believe me now?” Sarah asks. 

“I never said I didn’t believe you.”

How he had allowed Tommy and Sarah to talk him into coming here tonight, he’s not sure. Probably, it had something to do with how much he loved them both. How he would, ultimately, do whatever they asked if he knew it’d make that happy. But still, honky-tonking is the last thing he wants to be doing at the end of a long week. 

There was pretty much only one decent bar in town, so he wasn’t exactly shocked he had run into someone he knew. Everyone came here – to dance, to drink, to eat, or to drown their sorrows. To see their friends, or even to find someone to take home for the night. And over the years, as a frequent customer, Joel had used this place to do all those things.

Tonight was special though, a little more family friendly. It was swing night. It happened once a month, and Joel had always made a point to take Sarah a couple times a year. When he was young, his mother had taught him and Tommy to dance, and he felt it was only appropriate to pass the skill along, even if it was almost obsolete. He hoped Sarah would be able to do the same someday, if she ever had children of her own. 

“Will you dance with me, at least?” Sarah asks.

“Of course I will,” Joel answers.. “But let’s wait for Tommy, he’s ordering our drinks.”

“You mean your drinks.”

“No, you got a Shirley Temple.”

Sarah narrows her eyes. It’s the same expression that Joel has only seen her use recently, and he actually prefers it less to the eye roll. This time, he’s glad it hasn’t come with a question from her, because when it does, it’s always a little more frightening. “Come on, you know that’s not the same.”

Before Joel can respond, he’s cut off by Tommy’s voice. 

“Look who I found.”

This is what he and Sarah have been waiting on, and Joel turns to sees Tommy with all three of their drinks in hand. Over his shoulder, there’s a woman who looks vaguely familiar, wearing daisy dukes and a plaid shirt. After a second, he realizes it’s you.

Most of the time when Joel sees you – from across the street, of course – you’re in a power suit, a pencil skirt. Sometimes, it’s more casual – athletic clothes. There was also that black silk robe he can’t seem to shake from his memory. But this is so…different. It’s clear you’re trying to blend in with the crowd, but you don’t. Not because you’re not pulling it off – you definitely are, effortlessly – he’s just pretty sure if he walks into any room you’re in, his eyes will always be drawn in your direction. 

Joel doesn’t see, but rather feels – Sarah recognize that you’re in front of her, because when she does, she’s tapping him on the arm before he can utter a greeting. “Dad, can I get out and say hi?”

He’s standing to let her out just as you step closer to the table, and you come chest to chest. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hi, Joel,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your eyes remain locked on his just a moment too long, before Sarah is wrapping you up in a hug, and you’re focused on her when she draws back. “How are you?” you ask. 

Joel doesn’t hear Sarah’s response, because his brother is pressing a drink into his hand - a Jack and Coke, same as what you and Tommy are drinking. 

“Sit down, please!” Tommy encourages.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “This looks like a family thing, I don’t want to-” 

“Please!” Sarah exclaims. 

“What she said,” Tommy seconds Sarah’s sentiments.

For a second, you seem to contemplate the offer, and then you accept the invitation, sliding into the booth across from where Sarah has settled back next to her father. Joel makes eye contact with his brother, sitting next to you. Tommy’s eyebrows are raised suggestively, and there’s a playful smirk on his face when he tilts his head in your direction. Joel gives him nothing, already irritated by his brother’s goading. 

“Is that a Shirley Temple?” you point to Sarah’s drink. When she nods, you continue. “I haven’t had one of those in forever,” you say. 

“Want a sip?”

“Sure,” Sarah slides the glass across to you, and you sip from the straw, pondering. “I should’ve gotten one of those instead. They were my favorite growing up.” 

“Can I have a sip of yours?”

“No,” you and Joel say at the same time. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” he adds.

“You always say that, but how can you know?”

Joel sighs. “Okay, fine. Try mine.”

Sarah seems pleased to get what she wants. When the bitterness of the whiskey registers, the triumphant expression leaves her face completely. 

“Told you,” he says. Sarah grimaces, accepting defeat, and returns to her beverage. 

Tommy leans forward, urging Joel to start making conversation as if this is a date and it’s his responsibility. But before he can think of anything, Sarah pipes up. 

“Guess what?” she asks you.

“What?”

“My teacher’s here.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Joel takes a long pull off his drink, hoping it’ll loosen him up a little. 

“Yeah, she tried to hit on my dad.”

Joel feels the cocktail of whiskey and soda get caught in his throat.

“Oh….” you sound intrigued, and you lean forward. He wonders if this is the dynamic between you and Sarah when he’s not around. Like you’re two friends, engaging in some harmless gossip. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between him and Sarah. 

Sarah bobs her head once. “She has a thing for him. I can tell.”

“What makes you think that?” his brother joins in, moving closer to Sarah, crowding you between himself and the wall and putting his elbows on the table. Joel feels a flash of envy when you shift your attention towards Tommy.

“She just asked him to dance.” Sarah looks over her shoulder, nods her head towards the woman in the corner of the bar who’s probably already focused on his table anyways. Joel already knows what you’re seeing. Miss Davis is pretty, bubbly, outgoing. Probably about your age, if he had to guess, though it’s hard to say how old you are. He imagines he has ten years on you, give or take a few. And for all intents and purposes, Sarah’s teacher is the type of woman he should be interested in. 

“She’s pretty,” you say it like you’re appeasing Sarah, but you’re looking directly at Joel. He’s not sure why you kind of frighten him a little. You’re sweet, he knows, even if you’ve tried to tell him otherwise. But there’s something else there, enigmatic and alluring, that continues to draw him in. 

Tommy chimes in. “So are you gonna dance with her, Joel?”

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah says dramatically. Her face drops for a second, though, her shoulders slumping as she angles herself towards him, lowers her voice. “I mean, if you want to, that’s fine, I guess. But I….I don’t know.”

Joel is taken aback by how long this conversation has gone on with absolutely no input from himself. Not to mention how honest Sarah is being. She doesn’t usually have much to say about his choice in women – he can usually just tell what she thinks. For her to express something so directly makes him realize how serious she is. But at the moment, he can’t find words to assure her everything will be fine. 

It must be his lack of response that causes you to lean across the table and speak to Sarah. “You know, that’s valid,” there’s a tenderness to your tone. It dawns on him that you’re trying to comfort her. “It is kind of a conflict of interest.”

“Right?” Sarah perks up, just slightly, you’ve given her some support. “It’s one of those things you said you had going on at work the other day an….an ethical…” 

“An ethical dilemma?” you finish her thought.

“Ethical dilemma! That’s it.” Sarah turns back towards Joel. “I think it's an ethical dilemma.” 

For just a split second, he wonders why he’s been letting his already-precocious child hang out regularly with a lawyer. He’s accidentally creating a monster. But thankfully, Joel is finally able to find his voice. “There is no ethical dilemma, because I wouldn’t ever consider it.”

That seems to placate Sarah, and hopefully everyone will decide to drop it. Joel catches your eyes, and there’s something akin to wistfulness there, chin propped on your hand, before you blink once and focus back on Tommy, who's asking you a question. “So, are you here alone?”

“Is it that obvious?” 

“Not at all,” Tommy smirks, not dropping his eye contact with you. “...It’s just surprising, is all.”

Joel stiffens.

“Oh, well…” you smile a little. “I’m just trying to get to know the town a little better. Trying to engage in the community, I guess. But…I’m not sure if I am doing that great of a job fitting in.”

“You are,” Joel interjects, and maybe it’s a little forward, but he’d rather say it before Tommy does. “That’s a nice flannel.”

“Thanks,” You look down at your oversized plaid shirt – the sleeves rolled up to the elbows – that hangs open over a tight white tank top. Joel can see a sliver of the black lace bra you’re wearing that pokes out above the low neckline. He wonders what it might feel like to press his face there, to feel your fingers carding through his hair, but does not allow himself to entertain the idea for very long. Not the time. “I actually had to go and buy it because I didn’t own any plaid. And by the looks of it,” You gesture towards the dance floor. “I need to invest in some cowboy boots, too.”

“One thing at a time, right?” he asks, and you agree.

“So what are you all doing here? Family outing?”

“We actually had to drag this one kicking and screaming out the door,” Tommy points to Joel. 

“You did not,” Joel defends himself.

‘We kinda did,” Sarah says. “Do you know how to dance?”

You shake your head no, look at the people twirling and dipping and dancing in pairs. “Not like that.”

“It’s really easy! I can teach you. My dad taught me.”

“Cute.” Joel looks towards Sarah, and catches you staring instead. Your eyes flit back immediately to his daughters. “But I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sarah says like it’s already settled. Joel knows he’s spoiled her, that she ultimately gets what she wants. He worries sometimes that others won’t find her quite as endearing. 

“Sarah,” he warns. “You’re making it sound like she doesn’t have a choice.”

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass. “It’s okay. You can teach me. Might as well learn, if I’m trying to fit in.”

Sarah seems satisfied.

“Joel tells me you grew up in New York City.” Tommy says it, and Joel notices you raise your eyebrows at the implication. He’s talked to Tommy about you. And now you know. He’s pissed at himself for doing it, but at the time he’d been drunk, a little more chatty and vulnerable than usual, and had mentioned you more than once. Too much to be a coincidence. The issue was, Joel had never expected you would talk to Tommy again. If he’d known you would, he wouldn’t have said anything. He doesn’t want to imagine the damage he had done when it was just the two of you, alone at the bar. But even now, he’s completely at his brother’s mercy. 

“Yep,” you nod. 

“You don’t have much of an accent,” Tommy remarks. 

“Not everyone has them.” 

“That’s fair.”

“I did, uh, go to a boarding school in a different state, though, so I wasn’t around it too much.” 

“Boarding school?” Sarah turns to Joel.

“Basically you live at school,” you answer her question. ”Kind of like college, but earlier. I started going when I was nine.”

Sarah frowns. “Wouldn’t you miss your family?” 

“Yes, and I did.”

“So why would you go?”

“Well…” you trail off, shift your weight. “It wasn’t up to me. My dad worked a lot, so it made sense.”

“What’d he do for a living?” Asks Tommy. 

“He’s a criminal defense attorney....owns his own firm and it does pretty well, so…” you shrug. “He was very busy.”

“And that’s why you’re a lawyer? To work for your dad?”

“At one point, that was the plan, yes."

“What happened?”

The question appears to make you uncomfortable, you cross your legs and glance down at the table. “Uhm….pass.” Joel sees your face go blank for a split second before you look up with an easy smile. It’s like the desolate look you’d been wearing was never there, and you point to your drink. “I’ll need a few more of these if you want that story.”

“Might as well order another round,” Tommy flags down a waitress.

You have one more drink, but you don’t really touch it as the four of you continue to talk. Joel has two more, and Tommy has three, because he’s Tommy, and also not driving. Both you and Joel also have to vehemently refuse his request to do a round of tequila shots. 

After a while, Sarah gets bored, then insists on teaching you to dance. You agree, but seem awfully reluctant. Joel wants to pull you aside and let you know that you don’t have to entertain everything Sarah offers, but once you’ve stood up, and he watches her arm link through yours as you both walk to the dance floor, he can’t bring himself to intervene. 

He’s never seen Sarah be so taken with someone before, and he’s filled with a vague sense of regret. He always thought that she was content with just him and Tommy. Maybe she has always needed more. It’s partially his responsibility, Joel thinks –  what could he have done to stop her mother from leaving? Even if he could’ve stopped it, they would’ve been a miserable couple…which might have been more damaging to Sarah than her mother not being around at all.

Once you’re long gone, Joel can sense what Tommy is thinking before he even opens his mouth. 

“Shut it,” Joel says before he can even hear his brother's ribbing. 

“I wasn’t even gonna say anything about that!” Tommy raises his hands, but Joel knows he’s lying.

“We should go over there,” Joel says. He trusts you, but in a bar full of drunk people isn’t interested in being far away from Sarah for too long. Both he and Tommy abandon their booth to mosey their way towards the dance floor. 

Sarah has taken you into a back corner, far away from the band playing, where the crowd has thinned a little. There’s room for him and Tommy to lean up against the wall and watch you both. 

Both your hands are clasped with Sarah’s, and she’s teaching you the counts, the steps, while you study the way that your feet move.

Joel has a feeling that if it weren’t for his daughter, you wouldn’t have hung out with his family for so long. It’s just like the hike, and as usual, he feels more like a third wheel than anything else. You’re right that you do look a little out of place here. Maybe you don’t belong,  but he likes it. You’re wearing a pair of beat up hi-tops, which are a sharp contrast to Sarah’s baby blue cowboy boots that are covered in rhinestone butterflies. He’d gotten them for her for Christmas that past year, and she only wore them during special occasions like this.

Joel is doing the best he can not to think about the way your legs look in those fucking daisy dukes. All on display, and he wonders what it might feel like to drag his tongue up the soft skin of your inner thigh, feel you quiver and whimper as he works his mouth closer to– Enough. He’s disgusted with himself for thinking about you like that right now. 

“Dad, look!” Sarah says, and it seems you’re catching on all right, but none of it looks graceful. Sarah’s trying to lead – which she has never done – so she falters often, and also can’t quite reach all the way above your head when she tries to spin you around. “Oh no, look at his face!” Sarah points. You turn his direction, and Joel realizes he has to neutralize the grimace that has crept onto his visage. “We definitely aren’t doing good.”

“I’ll get the hang of it,” you turn back to Sarah, assure her. “You’re a good teacher.” You’re being nice. Too nice, humoring her and laughing it off, even if she’s making a fool of you both. But you don’t seem to mind, because it’s making her happy. 

All of the sudden, the toe of Sarah’s boot catches on the scuffed wood floor and she lurches forward. Joel immediately pushes himself off the wall as though he could close the space and catch her before she faceplants, but he can’t, and he can already see a vision of himself sitting in the emergency room at 2 a.m waiting, while Sarah holds an ice pack on her nose. But you reach out before the image is fully realized, arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Careful!” You warn. And even though you shuffle forward with the weight of her, you keep her from falling. Once she realizes she’s safe, Sarah giggles and throws her head back, her eyes catching your own. 

He’s not sure what makes him do it. It could be the liquor, the way you look, the unspoken pressure from Tommy. Or maybe he’s just been wanting an excuse to be closer to you. Most importantly, at this rate, he feels like Sarah is going to hurt herself and also you in the process. Regardless of what the reason is, Joel decides to step in. He walks onto the dance floor.

“Alright,” Joel says once he’s gotten closer, looking at Sarah. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

“What?”

He halts in front of his daughter, jerks his hand. “Move. I’m takin’ over.”

Sarah rolls her eyes, but smiles a little, and drops her hands from your shoulders. Joel offers you his hand. “You mind?” 

You look between Joel and Sarah, and she gives you an encouraging nod. “He taught me, he does know what he’s doing.”

“Well okay,” you take Joel’s hand. “You better not embarrass me,” and then you actually fucking wink at him. Already overwhelmed by the delicate weight of your hand in his palm, it almost sends him over the edge. He’s lucky he’s in public, with his family, because he doesn’t think he’d behave himself otherwise.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Joel answers. “Besides, I don’t think anything could be worse than what I was just watching.”

You giggle, and step forward when he tugs you just closer to dance, taking you fully in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sarah dragging Tommy onto the dance floor. Everyone is taken care of.

You’re smart. And because of it, you’re a fast learner. Even people who can’t really dance can usually figure this out, himself included. But in Joel’s opinion, it’s always been less about getting the steps right, and more about who’s keeping him company. 

And you’re great company. 

Eager, willing, gentle…soft. He’s embarrassed at how long it’s been since he’s been this close to an adult woman, and normally he might be a little nervous, but instead, he just feels…comfortable. 

But Joel is a selfish man. He always wants more. Wants the band to play a slower song, so then he’d have an excuse to pull you closer. Wind an arm around your waist, whisper things in your ear that no one else could hear, and feel your breath hitch when they register. But this isn’t really the dance for that, and the rest of his family is just steps away. He’ll have to compromise – which he doesn’t like. 

“I’m going to dip you,” Joel says, matter-of-factly.

“No you’re not.”

“I am,” he insists. “It’s essential.”

“I seriously doubt that.” 

“Look,” he tilts his head to Tommy and Sarah, and the latter is laughing as she pitches all her weight backwards into his arms. He nearly drops to one knee to catch her, she’s still so petit, but their form is actually pretty good. And they aren’t the only people in the room doing it. 

“Okay,” you say, and give him a warm smile for a split second before becoming stone-faced. “But if you drop me-”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Joel drawls.

He puts his arms around your waist, one of them catching the middle of your back, the other on a patch of exposed skin on your hip – your tank top has ridden up slightly with all the movement. You dig your fingers into his biceps, cling to him like he had hoped you would.

And even when he draws you back up, eyes locked with your own, your grip remains the same. You stay close. 

“My turn,” Tommy interjects, and Joel can’t help the dirty look he gives him over your shoulder. He’s playing the annoying little brother, doing everything he can to piss him off. His brother wants to see Joel break, but he’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

Plus, Joel is happy to dance with Sarah, which is the whole reason they came here in the first place. She’s so excited to be there, and he wonders if there will ever be a time when she’s too grown up for things like this. He hopes not. 

He ignores the sound of Tommy’s laugh mingled with your own. You were not laughing that much with him, and that causes a pang of jealousy. Joel doesn’t like acknowledging it, but he’s always resented Tommy for his ability to be the charismatic one, the charming one, the happy-go-lucky one. Even when they were kids. That’s what it’s like to be the oldest sibling. Never as fun, always more practical, more serious, the voice of reason. Always in service to their siblings, all in the name of love. 

Eventually, you and Sarah are back dancing together, and since you’ve had some practice separately, it’s not as sloppy as before. It allows Joel and Tommy to return to their post against the wall, just out of earshot.

Joel feels his brother’s eyes on him as he watches you and Sarah. “Dude,” he finally gives in, looks over at Tommy. “Just ask her out already.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Tommy-”

“You’re into her.” 

“Maybe,” Joel says, because he knows it’s pointless to lie. “But she’s got a boyfriend.”

Tommy elbows him. “So what?”

“I know you’re alright bein’ a homewrecker but I-”

“It makes sense Joel. She’s fuckin’ smart, and funny, and pretty. And Sarah fucking loves her-”

In any other situation, he would’ve acted weeks ago. But he’s starting to understand why he’s dragging his feet. Tommy’s right. Sarah adores you. Joel will fuck something up, it’s inevitable. And when you decide you never want to speak to him again, Sarah will lose you too. He’s already let her down enough. 

“I should’ve never fuckin’ told you–”

“Take her to drinks, to the movies, dinner, show up at her house with a bottle of wine, hell, something. If you don’t ask her out already, then I will.”

Joel punches his brother on the shoulder. It’s not enough to incite an actual fight, but it’s definitely not playful. “Ow!” Tommy grips at his arm. “What?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, he rolls his eyes. 

“Speaking from experience, I’m surprised you haven’t already,” he raises an eyebrow.

“Once, Joel. That was one time. Will I never hear the end of it?”

“No,” Joel says. “And I see what you were doing tonight, too. Don’t think you’re slick.” he hopes to change the subject, and it seems to be working. 

Tommy sets them back on track. “Well, I was just trying to get you to wake the fuck up and see what’s in front of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happens when Sarah grows up? Goes to school, leaves the house? Then, what are you gonna do? You’re just gonna be alone?”

“You are treadin’ on some mighty thin ice, Tommy,'' Joel hisses. ““You barely know this woman-”

“I’d like a family, too, Joel. When that happens I won’t be able to keep you company anymore. You might want someone else. And maybe it’s not her, fine. But there should be someone.”

For as much as he hates to admit it, Joel knows Tommy is right. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 25, 2003- 

It’s six at night. and you’re already in your pajamas. 

A couple years ago, you would’ve thought that was pretty sad. These days, it’s only a little sad. You prefer things this way. That’s the perk of being an adult living alone. If you want to put on pajamas before the sun sets on a Friday night, you can. If you want to get stoned on the back porch of the house you bought yourself, you can. If you want all those things to happen while you watch the sunset and listen to yacht rock, you can. And you’re going to. 

You’re toying with the new digital camera your brother bought for you. Vincent likes to argue with you, but he always feels guilty after a conversation gone wrong. Rather than use his words, however, he just buys you gifts. You had apologized over the phone a few days ago…this was his way of doing the same. The shutter clicks as you snap a photo of your backyard, and you look at it in the viewfinder before discarding the camera on your coffee table.

Martini is on the porch with you, doing that thing where he stands just out of reach but chirps at you until you pet him. When you reach out, he moves away. He’s not great at accepting what he wants. Maybe it’s why he’s sort of the perfect cat for you – you’re the same. 

You light your bowl, and you’re mid-inhale when you hear someone call your name. 

“Hey!” 

At this point, you’d recognize Joel Miller’s voice anywhere. You don’t want to admit it’s because you’ve tried to commit it to memory, daydreamed about how it might sound for his smooth lilt to read you a book until you fall asleep, or listen to him take a phone call in the other room. 

Realizing it’s him, you inhale sharply, forgetting what you’re in the middle of and taking a much bigger hit than you had intended. You begin choking violently on the smoke while simultaneously scrambling to hide your piece and the related paraphernalia sitting out, and manage to do so just in time for him to round the corner. 

You scramble to hide your bowl under the pillow of the outdoor couch you sit on, just in time for Joel to appear at the screen door. 

“Hey,” you say, covering your mouth. Your throat burns, and you cough again. Stay cool, stay calm. Everything is good. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I tried your front door and you weren’t answering, so I thought I’d see if you were back here.” It’s hard to see him from here, through the door, and he’s backlit by the sun that’s shimmering behind his dark hair, catching it in a golden halo. 

You rise to open the door, and when you do, he continues. “I’m here to pick up Sarah’s soccer jersey.”

Right. Of course he was. She had left it a few days before, and you had assumed she’d come get it before her game on Saturday but it didn’t dawn on you until now that she ever had. 

“I would’ve sent her, but she’s at a sleepover tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, standing in place. You’re trying so desperately to act normal, words evade you.

Joel squints at you, a slight smirk on his face. “I didn’t catch you off guard or anything, did I?’

“No, no, not at all,” you lie. “Come on in.”

Joel steps over the tiny dish of cat food you’ve left on your back step for the stray you feed, and into the screened-in porch. Now that he’s under the dim light, you get a better look at him. A loose-fitting flannel hangs open over a worn green t-shirt that barely meets the top of his jeans. His hair is damp, like he’s just showered, and he smells clean. In any other situation, you’d want to climb him like a tree, and he’s not even trying. But right now, you’re just doing your best impression of a sober human that is definitely not doing anything illegal. The truth is, you should’ve made him wait outside.

“This is nice,” Joel says, looking around. And you really wish he wasn’t because you notice that you left the clear plastic baggie containing your weed out on the couch. It sort of blends in with the green floral pattern, so you hope for the best, because there’s no way for you to sneakily grab it without drawing his attention. “I didn't know this was back here.”

“The last owners added it on,” you say, because that was the type of thing the realtor had said to you about the features of this house. And you supposed a carpenter or contractor would probably be interested in it. It was a good distraction.

“I can tell. Looks new,” he looks up towards the wooden beams that span the ceiling. The top of the porch is still covered, so during the few times it’s rained, you always sit outside to listen.

“I’ve got her jersey in the kitchen,” you tell him. “Wait here.”

It doesn’t take long for you to pick out the bright blue athletic gear from your pile of dry cleaning. It stands out against all your neutral-colored pantsuits. Joel has his back to you when you return, one of his hands clenched into a fist. 

“Here,” you say, and he turns. 

“You had it dry cleaned? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I kind of wasn’t sure if it was safe to run through the machine,” you explain. “But now that I’m thinking about it….it wouldn’t make sense to give a bunch of 11-year-olds dry clean only jerseys.”

“It wouldn’t. But it’s probably more convenient than scrubbing the grass stains out yourself.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Unfortunately. But again…thank you.”

“Of course.”

This is where Joel should leave, walk across the street, and go home. And he does, well, at least, he starts to. He steps away, reaches for the handle to your back door, and then pauses. “You know,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “The Watsons were tellin’ me the other day you’ve been complaining about a family of skunks living under your house?”

You freeze, recalling the lie you’d come up with on a whim when your sixty-year-old neighbors had started asking too many questions. 

“Well, it does smell a little over here.”

“Uh-huh,” you give him nothing.

“Something like that….you should really call animal control. Get rid of the problem,” Joel’s facing you now, eyebrow raised. 

“If I call animal control…they’ll just kill them,” you answer. “And I don’t want that. So…I think I’ll just have to live with it.” 

“That’s fair,” Joel says. “But you know, Sarah’s over here all the time, and I’ve never heard her mention it.”

At this point you know he’s just fucking with you. But years of remaining stone-faced through business negotiations and family dinners has prepared you for this, so even if you’re a little stoned, you’re not going to let him win. 

“Yeah, it sounds like a coincidence. But they’re never around when she’s here,” you say, in your own defense. “Ever,” you add for emphasis. 

“I guess that’s good.”

You both stare at each other for a second, and your blood buzzes slightly because even though this is just a playful standoff, you’ve never made such intense eye contact with him. It feels electric. After what feels like an eternity, Joel lifts his hand from his hip, and you see what he’d been holding in his fist, now pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He raises an eyebrow.

When you see the plastic baggie dangling in front of your face, you purse your lips. “Alright, you got me,” you lift up your hands, but snatch the bag from him. 

“And here I thought you were such a good girl.”

You don’t even want to acknowledge the full body chill that runs down your spine at the sound of those two words, coming from him. Snatching the bag back from him, he gives you a cheeky smile. “If you give me a hit, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your jaw drops, and you look up at him. “Oh, you’re trouble.”

“I’m not the one lyin’ to my neighbors.”

“And I’m not the one snooping through my neighbors' things.”

“It was right out in the open.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered at all. But it’s Texas, so you can never be sure. “Okay, fine,” you say. “If you want….I could roll us a joint. Unless you have other plans.”

“The alternative is a house to myself for the evening and some chores, so…yeah. Whatever you’d like.”

“Great.”

Joel follows you to sit on the couch. As you settle on opposite ends, he speaks up. “So you think you could explain to me why my daughter keeps tellin’ me she wants to be a lawyer?”

You snicker. “Believe me, Joel. I’ve tried to talk her out of it already.”

He chuckles. “It’s okay. Probably a more lucrative career than what I’m doing. She’s really taken a liking to you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her warm up to anyone so quick.”

“Well, I’m the first adult she knows that’s not an authority figure.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“I remember being that age,” you look down at your work. “It’s nice to have someone older to relate to, who you can talk to without being afraid of getting a lecture.”

“She probably needs it,” Joel says. “She told me you talk about girl stuff. I’m not so great at that.”

“I don’t know,” Your tongue darts out to wet the edge of the paper and finish rolling the joint. You put it between your lips, and rummage through the drawer of the coffee table to find your lighter, gesture between the both of you. “This is about ninety percent of how I spent my time with my friends at her age…and so far you’re doing alright.”

“Now you’ve got me worried about what’s going on at that sleepover.”

“Okay, well, I was maybe a little older. And with her? You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you shake your head. 

He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes glow with the reflection of your lighter as it’s flicked on. “I don’t know.”

“She’s fine, Joel,” you say, bringing the lighter closer and shielding the flame from the calm breeze of the evening. “She’s great. Really.”

“She is,” he agrees. You inhale, let the smoke settle in your lungs for a moment, before exhaling. You take your time, feeling warm from the weed and the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you, and he accepts the joint when you pass it over.

“I really didn’t really expect this from you,” he exhales, studying your handiwork before taking another puff. “You’re pretty buttoned up.”

“This is hardly rebellious.” Instinctually, you like the idea that he thinks you’re buttoned up. Deep down, however, you don’t actually want him to.

He looks so dreamy, the smoke curling though his eyelashes, tracing along his defined jaw, and then up, up, where it settles and shifts under the porch light, before disappearing completely.

Martini, who has been in hiding, hops up on the couch, and Joel reaches out, your cat nuzzling its face into his palm. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he mumbles. And then, like some sort of magic, the cat plops down on Joel’s lap. 

“I do…but…” you say out loud, then trail off because you’re in such shock. You glance up at Joel, who looks confused. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen him do this.”

He passes the joint back to you. “Do what?”

You take a final puff, and then put it out in an ashtray. It’s only about half smoked, but you can get into it later if either of you wants to. Plus, you’re more interested in what’s unfolding in front of you. “I kinda want a picture of this.”

“What?”

“I’ve had him for five years and he’s never sat on my lap like that,” you say, and you can’t keep the resentment from dripping into your tone. “What makes you so special? I’m a little jealous.”

“Of me? Or the cat?”

Something honey-thick drips down your spine at his words. You can’t conjure a witty response, opting instead for: “Shut up.”

You snap a couple photos while Joel’s still laughing, one hand on his chest, the other on Martini’s back, and then put the camera down, and lean against the back of the couch, curling your feet underneath you. 

“You’ve got a nice view of the sunset,” Joel says softly.

There’s a distant fear you might never get to see him like this again, and you want to take him in fully before you drag your eyes to see what he’s looking at. Your backyard slopes down into a small patch of woods, the sky opening even wider to let in the aureate light. 

“I know,” you agree. “It’s why I spend so much time back here.” The high continues to settle over you, strokes your shoulders, tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Surprised you like things that are so peaceful…being from the city and all…”

“The city is peaceful,” you say, thinking of the leaves swirling from the trees in the fall, and the snowflakes falling onto your family's porch in the winter, melting on the tip of your nose as you lean over the balcony to see the glittering lights below, car horns and engines and sirens piercing the darkness, white noise. “In its own way.”

“You miss it?”

“Everyday,” you say. 

“What do you miss the most?”  

“Uhm…probably the bagels,” you lie. Well it’s true. But it’s not what you miss the most. You think of your brother, flopping onto your bed on a Saturday night – a rare weekend when you visit home – and you’re trying to read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn for school but he’s begging to take you around the corner to get a milkshake. It’s the image of him you’ve so desperately tried to cling to and the recollections you share with him have only gotten more and more unpleasant as time goes on. “The bagels here suck.”

“Really?” Joel seems amused by that. 

“And uh…I don’t know. It’s part of me. I have a lot of friends there, a lot of good memories,” you smile to yourself, lean forward towards him. “I had this apartment before I graduated, right? It had the best view of this little Italian restaurant, and I’d sit and watch people through the windows, eating and talking. I was supposed to be studying, but…it was great. I loved it.”

“What’re you doing here, then?” Joel asks, and you look back at the sunset. Here you are, waxing poetic and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice. “You runnin’ from something?” You look over to find he’s staring at you. Like he knows you aren’t being honest, and he’s asking you to stop lying.

So you do the only thing you can think of, which is to ask him a question in response. “What makes you think I am?”

Joel considers this for a moment. “I don’t know. I grew up in Austin. All my friends are here, my family. If I ever moved someplace else….it’d have to be for a good reason. And even if I did, I’d be lonely.”

You stare down at the floor. “Maybe I am.” Lonely? Or running from something? The answer is both, you know, but you’re not going to clarify. “My family. Things are pretty fucked. I thought distance would help, and it does, a little. But….that shit still follows you anyways. They’re always with you, no matter what.”

Joel nods. 

“But… I have a life here. When I lived downtown, I definitely did. I don’t mind the quiet, and….I have friends.”

Joel looks at you. “You got a boyfriend, don’t you?”

Why would he think that-oh. You had tried to forget it, the morning he’d caught you still wrapped up in your robe – not the fluffy fleece one you liked the most, but the one you specifically only wore when you had guys over, cause they loved that shit.

“Oh, right,” you say. “Bradley. Yeah, uh. He’s…he’s….not my boyfriend. But…” you shake your head. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure it ain’t that hard to explain.”

“I mean…” you avoid his eyes. “He’s kind of an asshole, but we’re not really commited to each other in a meaningful way. Plus, he’s not around that much which is kind of perfect…for me.”

“Really?”

“Less to worry about,” you answer, purse your lips. “But…I don’t know. I sorta wish he got my heart rate up a little more.”

“He’s not your type?”

“I don’t really have a type,” you shake your head. “I like what I like.”

Joel rasps. “I feel the same,” and he’s made sure your eyes are on him when he says it.

You swallow, nod, smooth your hair back. “Anyways. Why’re you asking me all this?”

Joel doesn’t seem to find an answer right away. You narrow your eyes at him, studying his face, looking for something that will give him away. It’s a trick you’ve learned…silence…a bit of skepticism. It makes people uncomfortable. And Joel shifts his weight, squirming beneath your gaze. Until something in his face shifts, and he smiles….just a little. 

“So that’s where Sarah learned that.”

“Learned what?”

“That look you’re giving me.”

“What look?” 

“Like you can see right through me.”

“Can I?” You narrow your eyes further.

“You’re tryin’ to.” 

He’d done a good enough job of avoiding your question, and you’re not gonna ask him again, and instead opt for a different one. “So what about you, then?” you poke his knee with your foot.

“Oh, I’m not answerin’’ that.”

“What? I just told you, that’s not fair.”

Joel runs a hand along his jaw, ponders. “Most women don’t want to be with a man who already has a kid so…things on that front are not always easy.” 

“I have a hard time believing that. I mean, don’t you have an upcoming date with Sarah’s teacher or something?” you tease.

“That’s not happening,” he assures you. “But….I work so much these days I don’t have the capacity for much. So I get what you mean, sometimes it’s easy to not get emotionally involved but…I’ve never really been great at that.”

“You’re a relationship guy?”

“I mean, Tommy has been pestering me about this lately. Says at this rate, once Sarah’s grown, I’ll end up old and alone. Annoys me to hell, but he’s right. I wouldn’t mind…some kind of companionship. Someone to tell you you’ve done alright at the end of the day.” 

“You sound awfully romantic,” you at him blink slowly.

“I can be, when I want to.” Joel rolls his eyes. “But right now…I think I’m just stoned.” 

That makes you giggle. So he’s just being honest. “I didn’t really see much great come from settling down when I grew up, so I’ve always been a bit of a pessimist when it comes to love. What you’re saying….it’s a nicer way to think of things.”

You rarely connected with the men you dated. You chose to date douchebags, to date cheaters. It was better that way, to know up front what you were getting yourself into. The best ones didn’t ask for much, just the odd fuck here and there for a couple months, and you’d step away when things were no longer fun, if they evewere to begin with. 

Actually getting married, settling down, didn’t feel like a real possibility for you. So you’d never allowed yourself to indulge in what seemed like a fantasy. Some women aren’t meant to be a part of a family. Your father had told you once – during one of few times he’d attempted to comfort you after your mother didn’t call on your birthday – as if it excused his own neglect. 

“Yeah, and it hasn’t all been bad. I mean, I’ve had a couple good girlfriends over the years. They were sweet, fun. I enjoyed the time I spent with them, they just…never made it through the real litmus test.”

“Sarah?”

He nods. 

“It would be hard, I imagine. For her. Accepting someone new into her life.”

“Yeah.”

“You really care about her,” you say. “About how she feels. It’s nice.”

“I’m doin’ my best.”

The way he talks about Sarah makes you nauseated. It’s something pure, and you can��t help but feel bitterly nostalgic. 

“I wish my dad would have been like you.”

It slips out, and you immediately regret it. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten stoned with someone else, and you’ve forgotten your filter. And even though you’ve already divulged more to him about you than you normally would, this feels like too much all of the sudden. 

This isn’t something you can backpedal, and before you know it, Joel is leaning towards you. There’s concern written in his features, he wants to comfort, and you thank God for what happens next, or it all would’ve been too much.

His shift in weight causes Martini to jump off his lap and sprint to the door of the porch. He stares at you and then meows. 

Even though Joel isn’t touching you, you have to tear yourself away from the hold he’s got you in. ““I gotta let him in, or he’ll get annoyed.”

You move to open the door, and the cat slips inside.

“Is that a guitar in there?” Joel asks, catching a sliver of the gleaming body in the dim light.

“Yeah.” 

“You play?”  He questions, and you come to sit back on the couch. 

“Not anymore. It’s more of a decoration. How about you?” 

“A little.”

“A little?”

“A lot.” Joel smiles, looks at the ground like not sure why he’s telling you this. “I actually uh, used to want to be a singer.”

“What?” you ask. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Joel shakes his head. 

“Joel, what?” you put a hand on his arm and lean forward, then look at the guitar.

“Why not?”

“I was…young when I had Sarah. And I had to do something that could actually help us get by.”

“Okay well, you have to play me something, then,” you rise to step inside and retrieve it off the wall. 

“No, no-”

“Come on, please?” you ask. “Don’t be a tease.”

Joel just stares as you bring the guitar out to him. 

“Although this might be out of tune…” you strum once, and wince at the tinny sound it makes. “Definitely it is.”

“Here,” Joel takes it from you. “I can do it.”

It takes him a moment, but he’s plucking the strings in a way that feels so instinctual, purposeful, you can already tell he knows what he’s doing. Once he’s finished, he strums a few chords, and everything is magically in tune. 

“Alright,” you prompt, when he hesitates. “What are you gonna play me?”

“You know any Neil Young?”

“Of course,” you answer. 

Joel nods once, looks down at the guitar, and starts playing. You’d recognize the opening chords to anywhere, but he somehow makes them sound even moodier, and bittersweet. 

Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say…

He can sing. You’re taken aback. You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s definitely better than that. Deeper, raspier, and now you have new information about him that’s going to bounce around your brain when you’re bored during meetings at work, while you’re lying in bed at night, trying to sleep. 

Because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dance again…

You shift your weight, sling your arm over the back of the couch, and rest your chin on your hand. Suddenly, you’re feeling a little tired. He’s all-but putting you to sleep and, somehow, that feels like the highest compliment you can give. It could be because you’re stoned, but you feel warm all over. You close your eyes, just listen, until he’s finished.

Even after he’s finished, you keep your eyes closed, settling. Until you feel something graze against the back of your hand. Joel’s. He’s matching your own pose, facing you, but reaching out…

“That was nice,” you say, earnestly. You’re good.”

Joel smiles bashfully, tugs your hand from beneath your chin and pinches your index finger between two of his own. Your nails are painted a glittery purple, and Joel studies them. Sarah had painted them earlier this week when she’d hung out after school, and had picked out the color. 

“So are you,” he shifts closer. 

He’s not quite close enough to kiss you himself. But it’s enough…he’s just giving you the chance to lean in, to close the gap. The proximity makes you dizzy, and you’re a little overwhelmed. It’s too much. It’d be too much. You can’t. You’re afraid of what he might do to you.

“We should be good, then,” Gazing at him from under your lashes, you pull back just enough. It’s not a rejection, and you can tell he doesn’t see it that way either. There’s a mutual understanding, you’re on the same page, but you aren’t quite sure what it is. The warmth of Joel’s hand leaves yours, and a part of you is filled with regret.

And then, like it never happened, the two of you spend another hour talking. He’s engaged, intuitive, thoughtful, funny. By the time he excuses himself, long after the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, you feel like he’s an old friend. An old friend you want…badly, but, you know him on a level you hadn’t before.

“Gotta be up tomorrow for a soccer game, otherwise I’d stick around,” Joel says as you’re guiding him to the front door.

“It’s alright,” you say. “You’re welcome to do this anytime.”

“You sure?” he tilts his head, leaning against the doorframe on his way out. “You might regret offerin’ that….”

“I won’t.”

--

part iv

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha

[cloveroctobers]

FEBRUARY FLUFF — JUAN “JUICE” ORTIZ.

A/N: Juice was always my man when it came to SOA and I’ll forever be traumatized and bitter over his storyline + how he was treated. That’s probably one of the reasons why I’ll never do a rewatch tbfh. In my mind he’s thriving and I’ve always wanted happiness for him and that’s what he’s gonna get here! Also my first time ever writing for this man so go easy on me although this is more HC (my version) form. Have a happy love day whether it’s with a significant other, family, friends, or just yourself! know that you’re always worthy and capable of receiving and giving love and not just on this one day of the year 🩷🫡

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + I’m using: 19. "can i see your hand?" / "sure, why?" / "so i can see how well it fits with mine." + 35. "let's take a stupid walk for our stupid mental health!"

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩

When you got word from your mother that Juan was back in town for good, you had to see so for yourself.

January’s always been gloomy but when you came face to face with the man you haven’t seen in years at the front door of his mother’s, you wanted to collapse but managed to keep your composure.

Juan’s sad but somewhat still warm eyes are unsure at first, taking in your facial expression but you clear his concerns as you’re yanking him tightly to your body in a tender embrace.

And he feels like he might just break down himself in your arms.

You were just what he needed.

The both of you had to make up for lost time and Juan had to keep convincing you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Things didn’t work out in his favor in California (little did you know, he barely made it out alive) and Juan never wanted you to visit, although your older brother and his girlfriend, Saskia lived out there—which means you took trips but in a sense you learned to accept that was Juan’s way of protecting you from the demons that latched onto his soul.

You couldn’t take it personally since Ms. Hilda, his mother never visited either but spoke to him every couple of months—which may have been hard or if not harder for her.

Although the both of your mother’s were good friends that didn’t mean the both of you didn’t have your share of childhood trauma’s (because of them) that bled into your adulthood.

Nonetheless the both of you spent a month reconnecting, taking each day by day as it took to rebuild a friendship.

It felt right having Juan back in your life and he can honestly say the same.

“I never knew how much I missed you until I saw your face again,” he said to you over the phone one night.

Juan’s always been a sweetheart and never had an issue expressing his love for you to the point many kids back in school questioned if you were dating.

It never happened but that didn’t mean Juan didn’t want it to yet you found yourself in a few relationships here and there. Which was brought up by your mother during a birthday dinner for your brother (who was visiting) that February.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re still single. I mean hell, when is anybody going to give me a grandchild?” Your mother chatted over a glass of Cabernet playfully glaring at your brother who cleared his throat before setting her eyes back on you, “You know I saw Marlon just the other day?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at this. You’ve only been at the table for ten minutes, supposedly going over the menu and yet here your mother was worrying about children and your love life.

And she just had to bring your college ex into it.

“Really,” you gave faux interest as you viewed the entrees.

“Mhm. He’s been divorced for a few years now and he’s single. I even showed him a picture of you to see if he remembered you. He laughed about it and said he thought you were with Juan now.”

Your brother is coughing now on his own drink and his girlfriend of four years is patting him on the back.

Glancing to your right you stare at Juan rubbing at his face in thought, who mentally seemed to be having a tough day today. He stayed at your house last night and apologized over breakfast about how he got into these dark moods.

You assured him that he didn’t have to apologize for his feelings. Asking if he wanted to be your plus one tonight, only if it was up for it.

He’d push through it for you because he was devoted to being near you as much as possible since he didn’t want to lose anymore time with his best friend.

How would Marlon assume this? You’re turning back to your mother now, furrowed brows while you reply, “why did he think that?”

“He said he saw the both of you running around the park together. He wanted to say hi but you and Juan seemed to be racing and he didn’t want to interrupt.” Your mother informs, staring at you two underneath her eyelashes with her lips moving back to the rim of her glass.

This didn’t make you feel any sort of way because you also haven’t seen Marlon in years either. You weren’t really checking for him but—the breakup didnt turn sour—it was mutual! however it was interesting to see different perspectives on how people viewed you and Juan.

Juan was gone from New York by the time you both reached your early twenties and by then you were still with Marlon. Juan would visit up at school and hung out with you two a couple of times! even when Marlon tried to put him onto some college girls…there was a part of Juan that felt like he was guilty of something.

Even when he engaged in activities—sure it may have felt great in the moment but he always ended up feeling like shit since he wanted it to be you.

So yes you were part of the reason why he got out of New York and to find a better sense of direction for himself.

You’re shrugging your shoulders redirecting the conversation, “well..I’m sorry things didn’t work out with his wife.”

“Are you?”

“Mom! Chill.” Your brother stepped in which you were somewhat thankful for. Why were you always getting shit on when you knew it was on the tip of your mother’s tongue that your brother “should” be thinking about marriage since she hinted at you once before during your girl’s day.

Although you and your dad both were aware that your brother didn’t want to get married.

“I’m just saying you should think about it or what about that guy from high school? The funny looking one.”

“They were both goofy to me. Especially Stu.” Your brother snorted while you shielded your middle finger from your mother to direct at your sibling.

Your first boyfriend was senior year and he cheated on you with a redhead because he got dumped prior to asking you out. It made sense to him but definitely not to you.

Yeah that’s highschool stupidity for you!

Juan shuddered at the mention of your first boyfriend, “man that guy? He was ridiculously obnoxious in and outside of class and hung out with that other guy…the one who gave me serious serial killer vibes.”

“You did always say that,” you laughed to yourself and couldn’t deny it. You never wanted to be alone with Stu’s best friend at the time, the way his dark eyes bored into yours always made you feel uneasy.

“He’s harmless!” Stu would persuade you before always leaving you with him for at least a minute or two.

Your mother pried, “Well where is he now?”

“Hell if I know? Probably married to another redhead with three or four kids? Still possibly cheating? What is this, a walk down memory lane?”

Juan could sense you were getting agitated about this and placed his hand right above your knee which made you exhale.

Your mother is raising her hands, “I’m just looking out for you and your brother’s happiness. That’s all.”

“I am happy. Go dig in his business then, it’s his birthday anyway.” You suggested while your mother just scoffed.

Raising your brows, your mother continued knowing that you were always ready to challenge her, “I will but when’s the last time you’ve been in a serious relationship?”

“Are you the expert when it comes to relationships now? You waited six months after the divorce from dad to get married to someone else. You settled for dad’s bullshit for years and now suddenly you want to micromanage what goes on in mine? Are you keeping this same energy with your step kids?”

Your brother is calling your name as a warning now but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t triggered.

growing up having your mother constantly in your ear saying to you, “you’ll never get a bf because of xyz.” Simply from little stupid things you would do as a pre-teen to teenage years was damaging because you were just an insecure kid not worrying about romantic relationships in the slightest. Although you had a mother who seemed to be more concerned about the male gaze for you.

So what if your room got messy? So what if there were days where you didn’t want to be bothered with your hair? Or was too much in grown folks business when your mother would gossip on the phone about inappropriate subjects right in front of you! while also bringing up all of your business to her friends or family members like some sort of humiliation tactic and then never taking your emotions into account when you voiced your discomfort?

Don’t get it wrong, of course you had love for your mother but you couldn’t erase what was said and done. A list of things that still stuck with you and things that you should perhaps just “let go of,” yet she still felt comfortable to talk about your love life like you were some low self-esteem kid.

You never had that relationship where you felt safe to share anything with your mother because of her critiques.

“Hold on now, I’m just trying to make conversation—

“You don’t need to. Not when it comes with an opinion i never asked for to match.”

Then comes the tears and Saskia is tending to her, whisking your mother away to the bathroom with her crying to Sas about how she, “tries to be a good mother and these are the things she gets.”

“Did you have to do this on my day?” Your brother sighs while your eyes are in slits.

“You and dad are the exact same, always expecting me to just take it. I don’t give a damn if it was Easter, if she’s coming at me then I’m going to let her know. I know she’ll always be mom but she refuses to ever see my side on anything.”

“Why does it have to be about sides? We’re family at the end of the day.”

The famous excuse for it all so it seems!

“And we must always be on some we are the world bullshit too, no matter what huh?”

Juan covers his snort at this, which earns him a look from your brother, leaving Juan to mumble out an apology.

It’s quiet for a moment as your brother tries to figure out how to make this okay but you don’t want to stick around to continue this dinner. In your eyes it felt ruined already.

Only seconds pass when you decide it’s best if you go. You’re on your feet, slipping back into your outerwear before wrapping an arm across your brother’s shoulders squeezing him as you peck his temple.

“Love you, mean it. I’ll take you out myself at another time.” You say as all your older brother can do is nod his head, briefly resting his hand on top of yours before you let go.

You’re peering at Juan who’s still seated and say, “want to take a walk with me?”

“Sure, whatever you want, yeah!” He sits up before grabbing his beanie and jacket, “I don’t care.”

You quickly begin to walk off before your sas and your mom come back, sending a silent message to your old friend that you’ll be outside.

Your brother tells Juan, “look after my sister, okay?”

“You got it,” Juan says, wishing the older man another birthday wish before making his way out to you.

The both of you are now walking side by side, enjoying the city’s lights and each other’s company.

“Thanks for coming with me. The longer I sat there getting into it with my mom the faster my brain was telling me to get the fuck out. I figured: let's take a stupid walk for our stupid mental health!"

Juan chuckles at this, “I know what you mean. I also had a disagreement with my sister too before I crashed at yours.”

That revealed just a dash about what led to Juan’s mood last night.

“Yeah?” Your eyes peep to the left of you at the beanie-wearing man, “You want to talk about it?”

It wasn’t much different with what went down with you and yours. Except Juan’s mother was the one to break it up and scold him for defending himself against his sister.

She still felt like he didn’t have himself together (despite the fact that he was now working at a mechanic shop and had a side tech gig at an outlet mall—paid under the table now! If you’re talking about his mental then that was a different story!) either and was the main one who told him not to go out to California. She begged him to stay and that began their estrangement.

His sister blamed him for his own unhappiness and if he would have stayed here maybe he wouldn’t have dealt with that darkness charming brought him.

Which hurt to hear.

He walks even closer to you now as he said, “nah, not really if that’s okay?”

“What?” You lightly bumped his shoulder, “Course it is, just know you can when you want to.”

He gives you a lopsided smile, “Thanks.”

You loop an arm around Juan’s waist, resting your head against his shoulder, as you blended into the city together.

Juan’s dreamed of times like these except you were miles apart but hearts still in sync.

The silence between you two lets you know that you’re both holding onto something so heavy but find that it doesn’t weigh as much when you’re both near each other.

By the time you’re making your way back to your side of town, one subway ride later and more miles to walk back to your place—the night feels like any normal routine.

Eventually the both of you fall into chatter and soft smiles as you continue your rest on the subway, head tucked underneath juice’s chin that his facial hair still pricks your thick hair but you don’t mind.

You’re both laughing about old times when you reach your 1975 raised ranch, half standing on the steps and you’re wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you coming in?”

The last thing Juan wanted to do was head back to his ma’s side of town so a dip of his head was all that you needed, sending him a smile and a nudge of your head to welcome him back inside.

“We gotta eat something although you’re really not supposed to eat after seven…”Juan says to you after kicking off his shoes and heading straight from the main entrance pass the living room right to the kitchen.

“I forgot how much of a health freak you are.” You tease, hanging up your coats in the near by closet.

Juan’s mumbling to himself as he moves around the cut off kitchen, “And you need more fruits and veggies in here. What’s the point of having a juicer and having nothing to use it?”

“My common law sister in law? If you believe in that sort of thing! got it for me. It works as decoration,” You argued, “I can just go buy me a fruit or veggie juice.”

“And be wasteful of this beautiful gift?”

“If you want it, I’ll regift it to you for a belated Christmas gift then.” You sass, going to lean in the archway.

Juan shakes his head while he’s eyeing all the ingredients he’s laid out on the counter, “no point in doing that if I’m just going to be over here majority of the time anyway.”

“Oh is that right?”

“I mean…yeah…if you’re comfortable with that.”

You roll your eyes, “I’ll take you for as long as I can have you, Juanie and you know that.”

He casts a smile over his shoulder at you before waving his hand along formally towards the dining room, “have a seat. This won’t be anything extravagant since your selection of food kinda sucks…we’ll talk about that later but I need my work space clear.”

You saluted, “heard chef,” before you walked into the next room over.

Which leaves you to send off a text to your brother letting him know you both made it safe before choosing to browse social media.

The words of your mother did get into your head as you’re sitting here searching up your two exes and you laugh to yourself at how foolish you were being. You haven’t though about either of those two in a long time, not in the same way you thought about Juan nearly every day.

Yet here you were letting your mother get into your head again: about two men that didn’t hold meaning to your life now.

“Bon appetite.” Juan tells you after awhile, placing the plates down on the table and picking the seat right next to you.

“And what do we call this meal?”

“P.O. In 10. Which stands for: party’s over in ten minutes.”

You both stare at each other and let out a laugh, “how clever.”

A struggle meal of: ground turkey on ranch Doritos topped with cheese and left over black olives with a side of strawberry moscato was your dinner for that night and you didn’t dare complain.

Juan’s gone into one of his rapid conversations of one of his old friends, a guy named chibs that he would have loved for you to meet and of course you find it sweet that he still found someone to speak highly of when he’s vaguely told you that all was not well in charming.

“can i see your hand?" You suddenly ask the man who’s grown out his hair and sported facial hair that made him appear older.

Juan’s finishing off the last of his homemade nacho’s, stuffing his face but doesn’t hesistate as he places his smooth veiny but much larger one into yours, “sure, why?"

You’re tracing the lines of his palm and recall the time the both of you went to a palm reader on senior skip day for shits and giggles although Juan seemed to believe every word the lady said.

He said he had a great tía from Puerto Rico that he met once or twice who was very spiritual but different from a palm reader. His mother got pissed off when she brought her work to the house that one time when she was supposed to be looking after him and his sister.

That soon became Juan’s job.

You wondered about how these hands had to scrap their way through just to survive.

Then you explain, “so i can see how well it fits with mine." Before interlacing your right with his and Juan can’t help but to grin at you.

And there’s that boyish smile that spreads to the corners of his eyes that you can’t resist while he speaks with you, “You’re so cute, you’re corny. If you wanted to makeout, all you had to do was just say so.”

You don’t think about it, “alright, maybe I do.”

“What?! Don’t joke like that.” Juan’s eyes are wide now, ready to slip his hand right from yours.

“I’m not.” You lift your shoulders as Juan sits back in the chair with a sigh.

Juan’s staring at you with a curiosity that makes you want to look away but you can’t.

“What if all we needed was to just be honest with ourselves and look at what’s directly in front of us.”

“…I don’t follow.”

“Us, Juan! I always felt like i was waiting for something, even with the others after Stu and Marlon. There was always this pull and maybe that was you…and if this is all in my head just say that. You can tell me.”

Juan rubs at his face in thought. He already knew how he felt about you and how it never went away.

“No…it’s not all in your head. I don’t know if you know this but…you’ve always been it for me and I—learned to be okay with just being your best friend since that’s what you always wanted from me. I thought moving across the country was the answer but that only hurt us more.”

“Part of me felt like you didn’t care who I was with. You just took it for what it was.”

“You’re so wrong,” Juan scoffed out some laughter, “I just wanted you be happy and not be selfish about wishing it was me that got to do everything with you all the time. They took my space.”

You instantly reply, “Never could.”

“No?”

“No, blockhead.” You lightly grip and shake his shoulders.

“Now we’re down to the insults I see.”

You shrug with a smirk, “Let me kiss you…just to see.”

“See what?” Juan felt his heart hammering in his chest now, “That we’re completely in love with each other? A kiss won’t tell me what I don’t already know, babe.”

A scrunch of your nose is present, “Not you sounding like you don’t want to kiss me—

“What—no—

Sighing you got up from the chair and plopped right down in Juan’s lap, wrapping your arms across his shoulders and staring into his eyes that softened as they settled on your close proximity.

“You smell nice,” he awkwardly says, carefully placing his hands right down on your hip.

You laugh as you move your hands to cup his face, lightly caressing your thumbs over his facial hair, looking at his lips and then back to his eyes before you lean forward to place your lips right on his.

His hands tighten around you but his shoulders seem to relax. Juan can’t hold back the moan in the back of his throat that escapes his parted lips but that doesn’t stop him from kissing you back.

There’s tongue in there somewhere in the mix and the hold the both of you have on each other is enough to erase the miles that were once placed between you.

His hooked nose brushes against yours as you pull back, eyes closed and trying to catch your breath. His forehead rests against yours and Juan has to clear his throat and blink several times in hopes of getting rid of the static that sits in the center of his bottom lip.

“Wow,” he exhales with a grin while you’re playing with the strand of curls at the back of his head.

A satisfied smile is on your face, “What was that shit you were talking?”

“I wasn’t talking shit,” Juan frowns, “I was just saying that my heart already knows what it wants without putting my lips on yours. I loved you the moment your mom forced you to be my friend.”

You shake your head with a smile, “that didn’t take much force, Ortiz. I always thought you could be the one.”

“And…you never said anything why? That would have saved us a lot of time!”

You shrug, “I think our love story is meant to start now.”

“Nope it’s been a W.I.P. but now the progress is actually progressing…”

You squint, “With both of us tasting like Doritos and strawberry wine?”

“If it makes sense to mother universe then who am I to argue with her?”

“At least one of us gets it then.” You kiss his cheek and go to move off his lap but he yanks you right back, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, that maybe love’s always got our back in the end.”

“So…that’s what’s poking me right now?”

Juan feels his face burn, “Sorry—I—couldn’t help it.”

“I could—

“No. Nope. Not yet, let me just hold you and get used to the fact that I get to kiss you from now on. If…we get to labeling each other that is.”

“You want to be mine, Ortiz?”

“Don’t tell me you can’t tell.” He groans pressing his forehead into your shoulder leaving you laughing.

“Only if I get to be yours.”

“Fuck yeah!”

You nuzzle your face against his profile as you hum, “I’ll love you even more for the rest of my life Juan Carlos Ortiz…sounds like a plan?”

And he feels his heart swell at that, knowing that he didn’t have to be alone anymore the longer he had you in his arms.

“Sounds like the best plan, yet. And I love you too, so much.” He gently says into your ear before you turn to him again, capturing his lips once more.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩

February fluff anthology series continues here.

[narrators-journal]

20$ make a fella holla

I don’t know if it’s obvious, but I can never describe Senku’s fucking hair. It’s just...how do you describe that shit??

Regardless, I hope this is a fun read, I just kinda had fun with it, tried to make it amusing to read, just a lil fake dating romp <3 Hope the romantic tone is there though at the end! I thought it was a pretty cute lil moment, at least.

Some people loved weddings, with the belief that they were the perfect time to bask in the love of your partner and joy of your family. Some, believed the events to be garish, stressful, exhausting nightmares for everyone involved. Which, was more or less the group you fell into.

Though, of course, you had no real issue with weddings, and someday may also wish to be married to your own future partner. But, that didn’t keep the sudden invitation to a family friend’s surprise nuptuals from coming out of left field.

So, befitting someone in your panicked position, you scrambled to find a date to accompany you to the event. Someone, anyone who could make sure you couldn’t be paired off with a complete and total stranger for pictures, and that no well-intentioned aunties, or eager, nosey grannies could offer potential dates and suitors.

Alas, your boyfriend had dumped you a month before, and none of your friends were free to attend with you. “When does this crap end? I’ve got a project to get to.”

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Senku, will you please quit complaining already? Do you have zerofucking social skills?” You hissed back in a similarly quiet tone your date at the reception table. Aka your roommate, Senku Ishigami. A slightly eccentric, odd-haired 19 year old science prodigy on his third year of college, and your last fucking nerve at the moment.

But, your annoyance seemed to simply bounce off of your ‘boyfriend’ as his crimson eyes glared back at you as he muttered quietly, “I do, but this is damned boring. Plus, this tuxedo is itchy as hell. I did my bit, why don’t we just leave already? The ceremony’s over.” “Because that’s passive aggressive and rude, Senku. Have you never been to a wedding?” You asked back, but before your ‘boyfriend’ could shoot back with some explanation about the useless nature of such events, one of your tablemates asked, “So, how long have you two been together?” in an attempt to start some less hissed and angry conversation. “Oh! Uh, about…” While you scrambled for a good answer, Senku jumped in to save you, “Going on two years soon. A little under a month before that marker, actually.” He answered, his boredom well hidden under his usual cool, unbothered demeanor as he spoke, but it still irked you.

Almost as much as his claim did, honestly. God, why am I not surprised that he doesn’t give a singular fuck about the plot holes I’ve gotta patch up if someone asks for details?You mentally fumed as your expression remained politely chipper and joyful as the woman across from you continued to ask questions. “How ever did you two meet then? I hope I’m not rude, but you two don’t seem like eachothers ‘types’.” She hummed, but before you could toss out some bland, cutesy meet-cute plot, Senku spoke once again, “Oh, kinda creepily, actually. She needed a room mate, I was just the person to take her offer.” Why not just admit I’m paying you to be here too?!“We didn’t like eachother at first, I usually don’t like super extroverted girls surrounded by dramatic friends and shit. Which, at first, that’s what she seemed like. I mean, jeez, let loose a machete-wielding maniac on campus and she’d have been prime ‘hot bimbo victim’ material.” Oh my fucking god, Ishigami, what next? Calling me ‘the old ball and chain’? How is this supposed to be believably romantic?!But, of course, the man continued regardless of your attempts to psychicly blow him up. “But, a month or so in, I realized my assumptions were wrong. She’s actually quite a funny, charming girl, with a good head on her shoulders, and some intellegence to her. And...well, y’know, I asked her out from there. Though, I have no clue why she agreed to date my ass, but she did! And I’ve held onto my title since then.”

As he spoke so easily, you were stuck with a nerves-laced smile the entire time. Only able to muster the occassional giggle to try and sell the romance in his take on your actual situation. Because, what else were you to do? Correct your boyfriend on your meeting story? That’d just out how fake the two of you were in an instant, so you mostly focused on your bland wedding reception food and tried not to give your room mate dirty looks as he spoke.

Thankfully, though, the woman across from you two seemed at least a bit charmed, or at least amused by the romantic twist on how your initial meeting with the odd-haired scientist. So, you could let out an internal sigh and redirect the conversation away from your ‘love story’ before Senku could cook up any other questionable tales. But, as you sat there in polite conversation as you ate your fillet mignon and mashed potatoes, Senku’s story was able to settle into your mind. Allowed to stew and marinate as the reception continued.

Why the hell would he got down such a weirdly honest route? He seems more the type to claim we met on tinder, not that weirdly sweet tale of growing to like me from an awkward set up. You asked yourself. Because, in the two years you’d had the man as a room mate, he had always favored blunt honesty over sugar-coating anything, so, it was odd that he had such a long-winded lie at the ready. And it you couldn’t explain it away as him having ‘prepped for the role’, you had to fight him just to put on a tux and pull his gravity-defying hair into a ponytail so he didn’t look weird in any wedding photos. He wouldn’t bother with that type of preparation. So...what? Was he being...honest?

It wasn’t an entirely comfortable realization to come across. Even if Senku had his moments of being attractive, and he was a pretty good room mate, he had the tact of a brick, and a blatant love for science over any living person, least of all you, right?

God, get a hold of yourself, girl.You chided yourself with a small sigh, only a glance thrown to your date to briefly study how he sat and ate his food, that glint of boredom back in his cherry-colored eyes. This isn’t some rom-com fanfiction. Your roomie hasn’t been harboring some deep love for you for two years unless your a beaker of nitroglycerin. You reminded yourself firmly, the flustered butterflies in your belly squashed coldly as you returned to the food in front of you.

Though, after a moment, you did dare another glance to your pretend boyfriend beside you, and this time, those crimson orbs looked back at you. And, as if the scientist had suddenly learned to read your mind, he leaned over until you could feel his warm breath tickle your ear when he whispered, “What’s with the weird looks? Surprised the unfeeling scientist has a heart?” in a playful,flirtatioustone that was almost alien to hear mixed into his voice. A tone you had heard plenty of time in your life, but still managed to cause you to gasp, and choke on your own spit. Like a true charmer.

“Oh! Oh shit, are you choking on something, hon?” Senku asked, instantly on his feet as you coughed on your surprise, “Jesus, maybe this is a good time to go. With your luck, dear, you’ve got a cold brewing.” He said, at least decent enough to fabricate some form of a lie before he took his opportunity and almost drug you from the reception hall just as you got your breath back. I’m going to kill this bastard.

[ripmyselfxd]

10 Things - (Lamine Yamal)

Pairing - Lamine Yamal x fem!Track runner!reader

Summary - After you broke up with Lamine, you see him back at school and he reminds you of a certain song

Warnings - Swearing, angst, Lamine being a meanie

A/N- Just so you know, Lamine Yamal is NOT this mean in reality, this is just a story so calm down people.

You did NOT want to go back to school, for two reasons, 1. Who wants to go to school on a Monday? And 2. You would see your now ex-boyfriend- Lamine Yamal. You dragged yourself out of bed, putting on some clothes and heading to school.

————————————-

It was a long day of school before you got out of school, and yet you didn’t leave school because you had track practice and then a track meet. You weren’t looking forward to that meet because you were sure- positive- that Lamine was going to be there. Practice went by slow, the air was filled with tension as the other teams showed up for the meet. 20 minutes until the meet starts, then 15, then 10. It was all going by so fast, minutes felt like seconds, ticking by as you waited for you boyfrie- ex to arrive. You were losing hope, but then, he arrived! With… a girl. His arm was warped around her waist and she was pulled close to him, you weren’t mad, oh no, you were furious. How could he do this?! You put your air pods in, warming up for the meet. Suddenly, as your playlist was rolling, 10 things I hate about you played through your ears.

10 your selfish- he would always talk about his goals, his wants, his needs. Not yours, his.

9 your jaded- he was so sweet, kind and caring at the beginning of your relationship, overtime it’s like he became… dull, unhappy, and unenthusiastic about your relationship.

8 the dumbest guy I dated- he was an awesome soccer player, that was true. But he forgot what 5 x 9 is, he is 19 and he forgets his math facts? He wasn’t even willing to learn them again for Christ’s sake!

7 talk the big game till your naked- he was so confident on the pitch, at school, everywhere. But in bed, he was a scared little coward, he couldn’t even go two full rounds, and that was annoying to you.

Only 6 seconds and I had to fake it- on the outside you and him looked like the perfect couple- Ken and Barbie some say, but in reality, you had fights almost every night about random things.

5 your toxic- he became so toxic towards the end of your relationship, not letting you hang out with ANY of you guy friends, saying you where ‘cheating on him’ and it ‘hurt his feelings’

4 can’t trust you- he accused you of cheating but he was the one sneaking out late at night, he was the one making excuses to go to the restroom, only to be on his phone, he was out until 3 am.

3 you still got mommy issues- he went and cried to his mommy whenever something didn’t go his way, pouting and being like a big baby, not handling it like a real man.

2 you talk bullshit I can’t undo- he said things at parties that got you in big trouble, almost kicking you out at sometimes because he was drunk and picking fights with random guys.

1 I hate the fact that you made me love you- you don't even know how he got you to fall in love with his greedy, selfish, self. You hit yourself on the head because of how naive you were when you said yes to him.

You look up at the stands, seeing him looking at you smiling. You focused on the meet, him focusing on how he should have been a better boyfriend. He wants you back and you know it, but you won’t give in because you know if you take him back, in a year your going to be back at this track field, listening to this same song, 10 things.

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part |Chapter 18

Chapter 17 Chapter 19

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 18: I ain’t sleeping with Hershel

Summary: The group is hopeless until they find the prison, now they try to build a new home. While which one of them have to deal with their own issues.

Warnings: swearing, outbursts, walker killing, blood, gore, nightmares, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby being possibly dead, misunderstanding, fights, reader can be a brat, insecurities, jealousy (nit the reason for insecurities), reader and Lori implying Daryl would substitute reader for Rick (that’s a joke). Minors do not interact. (I probably forgot something because this chapter have a lot of things happening)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 4,615

A/N: Not proofread. Not one of my best writing. This was a chapter I was expecting to write since I started, and I’m a little disappointed on how it came out. My summary also sucks.

It had been 8 months, 8 long months of survival on the road, finding shelter here and there but never for too long. You had found a house near a small road, the men and little specimen of man (Carl), went to the house to clean it of walkers. You preferred being in action, killing walkers and shit, but Lori had a enormous belly, soon she was going to give birth, so all care she could have was necessary, so you’d better stay behind and take care of her.

Hershel was trying to teach you how to deliver a baby, well you knew the basics, you had already helped many puppies and kittens born. Ok, it wasn’t the same thing, but… you had also told Hershel you didn’t know if you wanted to do this. She was your sister-in-law, medically speaking you shouldn’t perform any surgery on her. ‘If something happens to me, I need someone that’s going to be able to do so.’ He used to say, and you would always say the same ‘nothing is happening to you, I’m protecting you.’. To which he always replied he was too old, and you couldn’t protect him from that. Being responsible to act on big medical ‘events’ of the group still made you nervous and uncomfortable, you wish you had an actual doctor in the group so you didn’t need to be one of the docs and be put in the same level as Hershel, when you clearly wasn’t. You still doubted your abilities as a vet, which you studied to actually be one… how could you take care of humans? You knew it wasn’t like there was many doctors around, so you’d have to do.

You entered the house carrying all the things you’d need, it was a lot of things for people that didn’t have a place to live. There were days since all of you had a decent meal, everyone looked apathetic, as if life had been drawn from you. You gathered around what looked like a living room, silent… Daryl sat by your side, an owl at his hands, plucking it. You used to love owls, so beautiful and majestic, symbol of wisdom… but at this moment you couldn’t care less and was even proud your man had caught it.

You noticed Carl at the corner near Beth, he had a can of something in his hand and was opening it. Was it dog food? God, how did you end up like this? You’d eat it and wouldn’t complain. You’d be happy to have whatever in your stomach. Looking at that food, you remembered Luna and how you had missed her all those months… before you could go deep into your thoughts you got startled when Rick took the can from Carl’s hand and threw it to the other side of the room, making a resounding noise that echoed around the house.

What was his problem? That was food, regardless of what kind! You were ready to get up and tell him off, but Daryl grabbed your hand and motioned with his head for you to not do that. You deep breathed and started counting… until T. announced there were a large group of walkers coming and you need to flee as fast as you could.

At some point you stopped again to make some fire and cook the owl Daryl had killed. Owls were mostly made of feathers, there was little meat, but beggars can’t be choosers… so each of you got your small share of it.

“Let’s go hunt something.” Daryl told Rick. “The owl wasn’t even a starter.”

“I’m going with you.” I promptly said, but I already knew they would refuse my company, again. They often did it, and it was annoying.

“Stay with Lori, she might need you. Besides that you’re better trained than the others, I need your protection here.” Rick stated and you just rolled your eyes.

“You don’t even believe your own words.” You said, then you turned to the hunter. “Don’t take too long and bring something delicious, ok?”

“Yes ma’am! I’m at yer orders.” He kissed your temple before taking his crossbow and disappearing with Rick.

You stayed behind with the others against your will, you crossed your arms and observed the two men disappearing in the woods. Soon Lori, Carol and Maggie joined you. “Stop pouting, they just went hunting.” Maggie elbowed you playfully.

“Without me.” You stated. You got frustrated every time they left without you, especially Daryl. “They spend more time together than with me! It’s like they’re substituting me.”

“Seriously, Y/N/N? Are you jealous of them?” Carol asked with a smile of amusement.

“Rick can substitute you, but Daryl can’t…” Maggie affirmed. Rick couldn’t, he was substituting you… it was rare when he seek you to talk or advice.

“Rick, it’s true. But Daryl… I don’t know, Rick has a quite beautiful ass.” Lori joked, Rick and she were still not talking, but moments like this would bring her some sense of normalcy, just as if they were friends gossiping in the kitchen and there were no walkers around.

“Hey! I have a beautiful ass too.” You protested.

“Of course, you’re siblings.” Lori shrugged then she put one of her arms around your waist. “You worry too much, they’re men. They need this time away from us. Besides… I need you here, I feel better with my sis and the baby too.”

“Ugh… you always know the right words to convince me. Ok, let them be. I’d rather pass my time with my girls.” You told them and hugged Lori resting your hand on her belly.

“Or boy.” Lori completed, because you didn’t know the baby’s gender.

“Nah, I have a feeling it’s a baby girl. So, I prefer to pass my time with 4 of my favorite girls.” You said a grin on your face.

After a time, that felt like eternity, they came back with news that they found a place, a prison and you could stay there and make it your home. You just had to… take it back from the walkers.

You had to work together to take the yard. First you had to cut the fence so you could enter and after it you needed to close it again. That wasn’t the most difficult part, there was no walker in the corridors around the fence, but the yard…. It was full of them. Also, one of the gates was open and it needed to be closed otherwise you’d not be able to fight all of them. Rick wanted to close the gate while the rest of you distracted the walkers and covered him. The plan was perfectly executed and you could all clear the yard out of walkers.

It gave hope to all of you. If you could clean part by part, soon you’d have a place you could call home. A safe place to live. A place for Lori to have the baby, a little bit of the domestic life again. Later that day you were all reunited around the fire, eating the little hunt Daryl and Rick got earlier. Some chatted, Beth sang a beautiful song… Rick was near the fence that separated you from the walkers on the patio, it was safe, he could come to the fire, but he wouldn’t. You could go and try talking him into resting and relaxing near the bonfire, but you knew he wouldn’t listen to you. He never did. Not anymore.

Daryl was on top of a toppled bus, watching or something. Carol went there to take some food for him. They had developed a nice and kind friendship since the farm, you were glad he was getting close to everyone in the group. Even though you sometimes felt jealous, you just pushed this feeling to the coffins of your mind and didn’t think about it. You knew him, you trusted him. You knew Carol, she was your friend. Besides that you were also jealous of him and your brother, so this wasn’t something you had to take seriously.

Later that night, you were laying on a blanket close to the fire and in Daryl’s arms, and you couldn’t help but think about the future. “Do you think we’ll be able to make this our place?” You asked him, your hand playing with a thread from his poncho.

“Ya’re the positive one ‘ere. Don’t you think we’ll make this place our home?” He told you. You had changed during the last months, all of you. You and him, you that would always reassure him, not the opposite. You used to always see things on the bright side of it, but you found closure and lost it so many times already, that you didn’t know if you could be like that again.

“I dunno. It’s just… we’re looking for a place for so long that it all just seems unreal. It’s like tomorrow I’m opening the eyes and we’ll still be on the road, or maybe something will happen and we’ll need to leave.” You tried to explain what you were feeling, but that wasn’t even the start of it.

“We’ll be fine. We can do it. I know. We’re making it a home.” He told you, he didn’t even know if he believed in his own words, but he trusted Rick and he said it would work. Also, he’d do anything to take those worries from your mind.

You snuggled into him and the warmth of his body and his unique scent, even when you didn’t have a descent bath in ages, engulfed you in comfort. After some time of comfortable silence between you, you drifted to sleep letting the exhaustion take you.

The next day you needed to take the patio and try to clean one of the cell blocks. Rick, Daryl, T.Dog, Glenn, Maggie and you worked together on taking the patio while the others kept at the fence trying to distract them. You used your crossbow and knife, you also had a gun, but all of you would rather not use it, since you were low in ammo and of course it attracted many of the dead if you used it. Some police walkers gave you a hard time, but soon Maggie discovered how to kill them and it became easier for you. As soon as you finished, you entered Block C and killed the few remaining walkers that were still inside.

After, all of you started to enter the Block and settle in, bringing your belongings and cleaning what you could and the best way you were able to. While that the men started to carry the corpses from the block and from the patio so they could burn them and finish cleaning the place you already had. You chose a cell in the upper floor, you looked at it and could already see you and Daryl living there.

You let your belongings outside of it and started to clean. You shook the bedsheets to take away the dust and then arranged it all again. The bunk was rather narrow, but you two pretty much slept so into each other that it wouldn’t be a problem and you could arrange it in the future. For someone that the day before wasn’t so sure if you could make this place a home, you were very excited.

You heard some cries coming from some cells away from yours, you walked there and found Lori. Carol was squatting in front of her, trying to comfort the pregnant woman. “What if the baby is dead?” She cried. “I feel like there’s something wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong. You’re good, the baby is fine. Your belly is perfectly normal.” Carol reassured her.

“Yeah” you intervened, sitting by your sister-in-law side and caressing her back. “Don’t worry. I’m a doc, ain’t I? I’m saying it and you can trust me.” You weren’t sure of your words, you were not this confident about treating people, but you wanted to soothe Lori in some way. “Do you want me to take Rick?”

“No! Not him. I… bring Hershel, please.” She asked, Rick wouldn’t give her any comfort. He didn’t even hug or kiss her in months… what good could possibly do having him around right now?

“Ok. I’m gonna take Hershel.” Carol got up and left to find the old man.

When the doctor of the group arrived, you left to give them some privacy, even though you already knew her worries.

Later that day everyone that hadn’t claimed a cell yet, was claiming one and preparing to have a well deserved rest after such hard work. You approached Daryl, excited to tell him about the cell you had arranged for both of you, but you weren’t expecting his answer. “D., I cleaned that one for us. We just need to take our things there.” You said pointing to a cell further in the end of the corridor upstairs.

“I ain’t sleeping in a cage like a damn animal.” He was quick to answer, giving you his back and going to a place on the stairs where he’d placed a mattress and his things. He didn’t know his words had come so harsh, he didn’t even reflect about it before saying. His aversion was exclusively, because his brother had already been in jail, also being on jail was something that everybody where he came from expected from him, even though he had never been, not even because of bar fights or shit, and let’s say that the Dixons never ran from a good fight.

He had hit right at your feelings. You were taken aback by his harsh words, you weren’t expecting this. You were tired, the last months had been exhausting and for the first time in months you had a safe and rather decent place to rest. You turned your back and walked in the direction of the cell. When he turned back he saw you getting distant, with your back turned to him, he didn’t see the hurt you were feeling, but he was also with questions on his mind, why wasn’t it obvious to you that he didn’t want to sleep on a cell and neither alone? He had no reaction.

‘Maybe she needs some time alone’, he thought throwing himself at the mattress not even caring about taking off his boots.

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me’, that was what was in your insecure ass mind, everything was so good, so why couldn’t you just get over it.

You took your things from outside the cell and entered it, throwing you shoes anywhere and after jumping on the bed. This was the most comfortable bed you had had in months, but you felt there was no joy in it, if you weren’t sharing it… well at least he had his own mattress all alone somewhere. The exhaustion took your body and soon you drifted to sleep, but that didn’t mean it would be a good restorative night of sleep.

You were at the prison patio, the sky was cloudy and the air was sultry. Near the gates you saw a group of people, they were inside and had their back turned to you… but their silhouettes were so familiar… one of them wore a fisher hat and wasn’t very tall. “Dale? Is that you?” You asked, it just could be him, but how was it possible. Then they turned one by one…

Dale with his guts falling outside his stomach, a walker. Also, Amy, Jim, Jacqui, Sophia, Jimmy, Shane and Patricia. All of them walkers, even Amy, Jacqui, Dale and Shane that you knew there was no chance of being there. And then, contouring them, came a dog, a german Shepherd, your Luna and god… how you missed her! But she wasn’t her anymore, she had also become a walker version of herself. You didn’t even know if the animals could be affected, but you didn’t have time to care, because she ran in your direction and jumped on you.

You woke up sitting in the bed. You were sweating. A scream caught in your throat, unable to get out. That was better, you didn’t want to wake everybody up. One hand on your chest feeling a burning sensation you always woke up with when you had nightmares. The other hand on your mouth muffling your sobs. You were tempted about getting up and looking for Daryl’s arms, but you resisted the urge. He was the one that made you sleep alone. You weren’t thinking straight. It wasn’t that you never had nightmares sleeping with him, you still had them from time to time, but at least you were in his arms and felt protected. It didn’t let you sink in your intrusive thoughts.

After some time, you didn’t know how long after, you laid again in bed and tried to think about anything else else that wasn’t that nightmare. It would be good if you found the infirmary, you would complain if the library was still good and had good books, you’d love if you found some ammo…

You woke up with the sun touching your face, you felt as if you had been hit by a truck. Your body was painful and you were super sleepy. You put your shoes on, the gun in the holster, the knife on your waist and the crossbow across your body. You left the cell while you made your hair into a ponytail and walked to the stairs. Daryl was already up, he stopped everything when he saw you. You looked at him and remembered what you went through having to sleep by yourself. “Good morning.” You said, you were still a polite person after all, even angry at your boyfriend.

“ ‘morning pup.” He caught you when you passed by him, before you could finish descending the stairs. Both of his arms wrapped around you, he pulled your back against his chest and his face on your shoulder.

Ok. You were not understanding him at all. The day before he pushed you away, and now he’s all lovely to you. You inhaled, and delicately you took his hands from you and left his embrace and went down the stairs. He didn’t understand a single thing. You loved morning hugs, you needed them to start your day and he was there giving you that without caring if anyone would see and he would feel embarrassed, so why were you so cold?

You walked to the common area where most of the awake people were gathered, you didn’t have anything to eat, but it wasn’t any news. You saw Rick, wished him a good morning and hugged him. Ok, now Daryl was remembering every step he gave in the last months just so he knew exactly what he did wrong. “Your eyes are swollen, have you been crying?” Your brother asked, first time in a long time he noticed something about you.

“No, why would I? Just If I was too happy we have a decent bed to sleep after a long time.” You said, a tad bit of acid in your tone. Your brother knew better than pushing you, so he let it be. He looked at the archer, which he discovered to be a good friend after many months on the road, and Daryl’s eyes showed he was as clueless as him.

You soon start talking about going further in the prison and cleaning other places, finding new places and supplements. “ I’ll be very glad if we find the library!” You said getting a little bit excited just by thinking about having books to read it.

“Oh it would be fantastic!” Hershel agreed. “I haven’t found a single good book the whole time we were in the road.”

“Alright” Rick said after you finished talking about everything that you could find in the prison. “I think we can go.”

“Don’t go.” You heard Daryl by your side, a gentle hand on your upper arm.

“Why shouldn’t I, Dixon?” God, he was so screwed… now he knew he was the problem, you almost never called him Dixon, not even in a sweet playful manner. So he knew it.

“Ya don’t look good.” He tried again.

“Well, good thing I’m going to kill walkers and not to a fashion show.” You faked a sweet smile.

“Wha’s up with the attitude?” He asked, he himself already getting annoyed.

“Just, I’m tired of being left out. I’m no damsel in distress so you have to tell me all the time to stay behind. Also, I’m not staying to be ‘protected’ by a 12 year-old.” You finally took a breath between your words. “ ‘sides that you’re not my father, nor my husband to tell me what to do. Even if you were…”

“Are you two done?” Rick tried to intervene while everyone watched the discussion without understanding a single thing, just as lost as Daryl was.

“Shut up Rick, I’m not over.” Your brother’s eyes popped and he was ready to tell you off.

“Also, you are taking Hershel with you, an old man, but the idea of me going is so absurd! No offense Hershel, but you guys are taking our best doctor in a risky mission. And I should not go, because I don’t look good?!” You vomited facts all around that weren’t needed to be said, none of those people around you were the reason you were so pissed off. Maybe Rick, because he was always leaving you behind.

“Well, I ain’t sleeping with Hershel!” Daryl blurted out the sentence, losing his temper.

“Neither with me, apparently.” You retorted, and realization hit him.

“That’s why ya’re upset and causing an scene?” He threw at you.

“Upset? I was upset yesterday. Now, I’m angry.” You took a breath and just as if nothing had happened you told the others. “I’m waiting for you on the patio.”

You left and everyone stayed behind sharing looks and glances between them. Daryl grunted in frustration, god damn, he thought you wanted to be alone the day before, but in fact you probably understood he didn’t want to sleep with you.

“When you wanted relationship advices you should have asked Hershel, not me.” Rick patted his shoulder before leaving.

“Yeah, guess so.” Daryl mumbled under his breath.

“Son, you two need to communicate better.” Hershel said to him. “Also, be grateful you don’t sleep with me, I snore quite a bit.” The old man joked.

Daryl breathed one more time and looked around, his eyes landing on one of the bulletproof vests that you were able to find. He took it and his crossbow and left block C, joining you on the patio. He came in your direction holding the vest and you almost rolled your eyes.

“Hands up.” He said.

“I’m not wearing this shit. It’s heavy and I can hold myself well without it.” You said.

“Yes, you are if ya wanna go inside with us.” You laughed.

“And what are you going to do? Are you going to lock me up in a cell.” You teased.

“If ya continue to act like a fucking brat, yeah” he said. “Now put yer arms up. We’ll talk later. We suck at communication sometimes.”

“You two, stop it. We have work to do.” Rick told you, a finger pointed in your direction. “Watch duty for both of you tonight, and you better make up.”

You rolled your eyes and put your arms up, Daryl slid the vest through your arms and then adjusted it on your body. “Stay close, and dun do anything reckless, ‘kay? I ain’t protective ‘cause I think ya’re useless. It’s ‘cause…” ‘I love ya’, he completed in his mind. Why was it so easy to tell you while you were sleeping, but so difficult to say with you wide awake. “… I can’t lose ya.”

You really wanted to be mad at him, but you just couldn't. You almost broke when he back hugged you earlier, and now even if he called you a brat, and was even harsh, you just couldn’t when you saw his blue eyes soften on you. You had really been a brat, but who wouldn’t in your place? Rick retold all of you what you were supposed to do and reaffirmed you shouldn’t leave formation, and like this you entered the building.

It was very calm at first, no walking corpse on sight, but soon they started to appear, small groups of them, you killed one by one. You used the crossbow to stop them from coming closer, but when they did you’d use your knife. That was great until a group of them separated all of you. “fuck…” Where was everyone? You kept walking in the dark trying to avoid the walkers and killing them before they’d kill you.

You walked on your side trying to maintain your eyes everywhere until you knocked into something and almost panicked before discovering the something had arms and wrapped one around you and covered your mouth immediately so you didn’t scream. “Told ya to stay close.” Daryl whispered.

“I can guarantee, I didn’t separate from you on purpose.” You whispered as soon as he took his hand from your mouth.

You continued to walk together, till you reunited with the others and… the worst had happened. Hershel was bitten, god damnit! Couldn’t they just say no to the old man and have left behind? You were all cornered in a corridor when you found the cafeteria, without much thinking you all got inside and ran to Hershel’s aid.

You ripped the leg of his pants and looked at the bite. Fuck. Your doctor was bitten. You had to be the doctor. ‘Think fast! Think!’, you repeated it like a mantra inside your head, and then the idea hit you.

“A BELT! Someone give me a belt!” You commanded and Rick was fast to give you his. “I’m sorry Hershel, we have nothing to lose anymore, so I need to try this.”

You put the belt around his leg and restrained his blood from flowing. “Rick, you do it. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do it in one.” Rick took his hatchet and did what he had to cutting off the bitten part of Hershel’s leg. The doctor got unconscious, Maggie was despaired and blood was everywhere. Suddenly you heard a sound coming from the very end of the cafeteria, most of you aimed your weapons in the direction of the sound just to be met by 5 strange faces and none of them belonging to a dead person.

“Holy shit!” Exclaimed a ginger man.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Till THE DEAD do us part Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2 @royaltysuite @isakyakiisak @milopenne @celtic-crossbow @mel-wcst @gabriella-aesthetic @duckybird101 @the1eyedmonster16

Some of you I wasn’t able to tag, I’m sorry.

[weixuldo]

Allow me// ch 10

Vader x Reader

a/n: so in this Vader is just a lil delulu… he still thinks Padme didn’t love him fully, but its only cause he’s been under the manipulation of the emperor for so many years. also ngl this ch is a lil disorganized at the beginning oops: just lots of vader overthinking

Slight NSFW

warnings: cursing, kissing, grinding, premature ejaculation lol

_____________________

Vader found that the longer he held his position- the more trivial certain matters became.

For years he had been hearing the same complaints and issues circulate through the ranks in different forms. It was old. 

He often let his mind wander during the frequent “highly classified” meetings; nowadays the main thing he would think about was you. He just couldn’t get you off of his mind, ever since that night when he showed you his face. 

He hadn’t removed his helmet since then but he still saw you as much as he could. Of course he already had an inclination towards you even before the reveal, but your reaction to him just kept looping in his head. 

You weren’t scared or disgusted, you didn’t ogle him as if he were some horrible specimen from another system. 

No. you continued to look upon him with the very same expression that you always had- you accepted all of his flaws… you accepted him.

Never in his time as Vader had he yearned for the attention of another being, but you were special. 

He knew the interest was obviously reciprocated but he couldn't tell to what extent. No matter how much you said you cared- how much of that was true?

It pained him to dig up memories of the past, but they were still a part of him- of Anakin…

He believed wholeheartedly that Padme loved him unconditionally and yet she still denied him. In the end her promise of everlasting love was just an empty one. 

But you seemed to care for him regardless of what he did- there was no hiding what he had done as Darth Vader, everyone in the galaxy knew his infamous name.

But even with all his controversial history, your eyes still lit up when he would walk by, your force signature still felt refreshing and flowery, you still found time to ask him how he was doing, you still invited him into your room…

He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to ask you the extent of your feelings until he was more certain of the answer, but of what he could see; it seemed that you were offering him unconditional admiration- something he had chased after all his life. 

Of course a while back you told him that you were his, but he couldn’t help but over analyze that phrase; did you mean you were his in the sense of his personal mechanic; professionally (and sometimes flirtatious sense)? Or in the way that you were really his?

And were you just saying that because you feared denial? No. You were more authentic than that.

So why could he not shake the feeling of worry that washed over him when he would imagine asking you how you saw the dynamic?

_______________________________

You entered his private sector with a warm signature; even inside of his chamber he could feel your electrifying presence. 

As soon as he finished his thought he motioned for the capsule to open so he could meet you halfway. He stepped over the mechanical barrier and straightened his cape before strutting towards the door that you were behind.

You reached for the button to open the only obstacle between you and the man you so desperately wanted to see. 

He slid the door open before you could, making you jump. 

“V!” you smiled, walking past him into the room he occupied. 

His watchful eyes trailed all the way down your body before responding.

“Y/N, how are you today, my dear?”

“I’m good, I got all of the work done so now I'm here to bug my favorite man in the galaxy”.

You and Vader had been exchanging more playful banter (flirtatious, even) and Vader felt like his awkward 19 year old self trying not to blush when you would say things like that.

“Ahh, I see, you just want to distract me from my duties- like running the empire…You must be a rebel spy, my darling” he quipped back. 

Your cheeks warmed at his playfulness; it was a rare thing to have Darth Vader sharing jokes with you. 

“Oh no, my dear” you taunted back using the name he often called you.

“I wouldn’t dream of attempting to infiltrate the almighty Darth Vader’s fortress of a mind…” you said with doe eyes and a stupid half smile. 

He stepped closer and tilted your chin to look into his lenses, “what if I told you that you already have”.

In a moment of pure need, you stepped closer to him and pulled his helmet down to face you and kissed him over the grated mouthpiece. 

You heard the familiar sound of his respirator work a little harder to keep up with his quickened breathing. 

A few weeks ago or even days, you would have completely freaked out and done damage control immediately.

You would’ve tossed out every apology in the book and asked if that was alright; but now you didn’t need to – you could feel his desire lurking in the force around you. 

He stood stunned for a moment before picking you up and carrying you towards his meditation chamber. 

“V, what are you-”

“If you want to kiss me, I should at-least give you a proper one” his deep voice boomed as the top of the chamber descended. 

Soon the air tight seal was in action and a claw-like mechanism from the ceiling came down to remove the helmet. It was only the second time you were seeing his naked face and you were even more excited than the last time.

When his face was finally revealed he blinked a few times, trying to get accustomed to the brightness, before his cerulean blue eyes honed in on you; your hair, your brows, your eyes, your nose, your lips…

“May I?” he asked, waiting for the signal to capture you in a deep kiss.

You nodded furiously and draped your arms around his armored shoulders, before his lips met yours.

Sparks flew.

Sure, the first kiss was a lil too soft and a lil odd, but after you figured out a groove with each other, the kisses became ravenous. 

When was the last time he had felt the sensation of another’s lips on his own? 

He couldnt help but rake his gloved hands up and down your back, pulling you closer to him. He was in heaven, nothing could beat this feeling. 

His insatiable need for you made your core ache for him. Maker, how you wanted to fuck him so badly. Your thoughts raced through your mind and you let a small moan slip against his mouth. 

Fuck. 

Vader felt his pants grow tighter and his dick throb. You were so enticing. It had been so long… so long. He felt like he would combust at any moment. 

He broke away from the kiss to keep himself at bay as he let the building sensation of an orgasm subside. Of course he was embarrassed that he almost got to that point by simply kissing; but to be fair, he had gone from no skin to skin contact in years, to…this.

You, on the other hand, had more experience with this thing than he did.

You placed a gentle hand on the side of his face and breathlessly asked, “Why’d ya stop?”. 

His eyes faded into the beautiful blue you had seen the other day before he attempted to answer; he was cut off by you starting to grind your hips into his, as you dragged your core against his codpiece. 

Vader’s eyes momentarily rolled back and an exquisite noise escaped him before he gripped your thighs tightly and began to kiss your neck.

“Oh, Vader- that feels so-”

Before you could finish your sentence he clawed his hands down your back (not hard enough to hurt) and plunged his face into the crook of your neck as his body jerked forward. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t hold out any longer, not with you in his lap. 

He came. Hard.

He didn’t even know he still could; it felt weird… the burns of Mustafar made the familiar sensation feel a twinge different. It wasn’t bad by any means, just…new.

After the overwhelming feeling passed he exhaled sharply before tapping your thigh twice. 

You had no idea what just happened and if he was ok or not, so when he tapped your thigh you took that as a sign to get up. 

“Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?” you asked, genuinely worried. 

“No, I-I mean yes! Well no, you didn’t do anything wrong and yes I'm alright. I just remembered I was supposed to discuss a new tactical plan with one of the Moffs. My apologies my dear.” 

and without another word, he left as quickly as he could. 

Only you remained in the meditation chamber, feeling confused and a little sad. 

You worried you had been too forward and upset him- but he assured you nothing was wrong… So you ended up chalking it up to a loss and going back to your quarters with a walk of overthinking.

Did he not like you being like that with him? He didn’t stop it before though…

When you got back you decided just to go to bed- it was pretty late anyways.

_____________

Vader forcefully slid the heavy door to his private room closed and marched up to the platform where he dressed and undressed. 

He called upon the droids to begin undressing him and stood in shame as they disassembled him. 

When they removed the codpiece there was a damp spot on his pants. Great. 

He was glad the droids couldn’t talk (to him at least, they probably exchanged quips about him all the time). 

Since it was late and his duties were fulfilled for the day he opted for a bacta soak- he needed to get clean and to think (as if he weren’t already torturing himself with his thoughts). 

The droids strapped him into his harness and soon his body was submerged in the soothing bacta; the most relieving feeling.

He took a deep breath through the large oxygen mask covering most of his face; what the fuck just happened?

Obviously he knew he came- that was pretty damn evident. But why? (also evident).

He cringed again at the image of him cumming from kissing… was he really that pathetically desperate? 

You probably went back to your room laughing at him. Fuck. What if you thought it was gross?

He groaned and thrashed in his tank at the embarrassing scenes. 

Should he address it to you? Or just act like it didn't happen? Would you bring it up?

He attempted to enjoy the rest of his soak; it wasn’t successful. 

_____________________

You woke up to your details for today; it was an uncharacteristically complex task.

Of course you didn’t mind the difficulty, but what bothered you was that it wasn’t even one of Vader’s machines. In fact it was a totally different department deep down in the belly of the ship… probably the furthest from him. 

You thanked the messenger droid and got ready to go. Unfortunately, you couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from barging in; he must really be mad at you to not want you near him.

Did he think you were gross or shameless for what you did?

All you did was kiss… and he was the one who brought you into his chamber. 

He promised you that he wouldn’t let any harm come your way, so you weren't worried for your life; you were worried for your position.

Would he send you back to your own system or transfer you to another unit far, far away from him? 

Maker, what was going on.

***

a/n: ahhh yes, the ever loved miscommunication trope- both y/n and vader need to stop overthinking (also the way they’re both thinking the other thinks they’re gross lmfaoo). i was gonna make this ch longer but then i thought it was alr a little long 😳 ty for ur support and the patience for my shitty upload schedule!

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 13

chapter 24:

1. sirius 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 james being codependent af

2. ooo reg you’re so close babes. think about that just a little more. he realizes he cares about how james treats him and feels about him. reg just almost gets it

3. “He thinks the arena makes everyone a bad person while they're here. The only exception to the rule is James. He's the only person who could drag himself through all of this filth and cruelty and still hold onto his shine.”

4. ☺️ this “without hesitation” line is gonna bite us in the ass, isn’t it?

5. they’re talking about what their life without tragedy would have looked like. and damn. i’m not okay. their life would have been so beautiful

6. “"In that life, I do," Regulus whispers. "I let you do whatever you want, and when you want to dance, we dance."”

i’m NASTY sobbing over this line. like, snot coming out of my nose sobbing

7. “Regulus said James was his first love, didn't he? James would give anything to be his last.” 😀😀😀 holy shit that hurts

8. that nightmare was VILE

9. god, reg was practically sobbing to hold james’ hand. why is the world cruel to them??

10. 😐 i am unamused. another fucking spider

11. “"Have a go at me. Don't thank me or anything. It's always you're so stupid, James; it's never you looked so sexy and heroic while saving everyone from the murderous spider, James."” PFFFFFTTTT

12. it hurts to read it, but i also have always known that if reg wasn’t called into the hunger games, james would have died for someone else. like he said, either peter or vanity

13. god, peter’s story line and character fucking hurts. his family was mathias, irene, vanity, james, and even reg. this hurts like hell

14. NOOO PETER!!!!!

15. THEY MADE IT!!! THEY SURVIVED! THE GAMES ARE OVER!! THANK GOD!!

16. 😀😧 the rule change is REVOKED??? IM ABOUT TO LOSE MY FUCKING SHIT!! IF I WAS IN THIS UNIVERSE, ID PERSONALLY BE THROWING HANDS WITH SLUGHORN!! I BET SIRIUS HAS TO BE PHYSICALLY RESTRAINED!!

17. “"You're hesitating, love," James says softly.”

SCREEEEEEEEEEECHH

18. “"Axus got me on their way into the water. At least it was your dagger, I suppose," James says with a weary chuckle, his throat bobbing on a harsh swallow. His mouth quirks up a bit at the corner, gentle and lovely. "Maybe this makes me insane, but if I'm honest, I wish it had been you."”

oh no, make no mistake james. this very much does make you insane

19. and james is compared to the fucking sun going down again. i- i’m not okay

20. i need therapy for my trust issues. i trusted my ex best freind who outed me. i trusted my old roommate who i recently found out had a notes app list of everything she didn’t like about me this year. and most importantly, i trusted zar. i trusted that this fic wouldn’t do this to me.