#I’ve just been eating and sleeping and trying not to kill myself

[cielphantomvibes]

yeah so my life is over

[meo-eiru]

The most beautiful pearl

That was the day I met Dana, a maid with commoner blood.

It wasn’t common for maids from lowly backgrounds to work directly for me, but apparently she started working in the estate years ago and slowly rose up in the ranks thanks to her diligence and determined personality.

Dana was nice, she would always pay attention to my needs and work extra for my comfort. Personally delivering all my meals, helping me dress up and preparing my bath all by herself, staying by my side until I fall asleep…

“I really appreciate you Dana…” I say sleepily, my body engulfed in the soft blanket Dana prepared for me as she sits by my side.

“You do my lady?”, I nod.

“I don’t have many people I’m close with, but you’ve been so nice to me for the past 3 months…”

“I’m your handmaid, my lady. That much is to be expected.”

“But you’re so much more attentive than any of my other maids. It has barely been 3 months but I don’t know what I would do without you…”

“…I’m glad to hear that my lady.” She stops for a second as if to think. “Don’t worry I will always be by your side…” Dana answers me gently. My tired eyes fail to read her face in the dimly moonlit room, but I go to sleep with a smile on my face, imagining her doing the same.

.

.

.

.

I look down at her, watching her slowly breathe in and out with that foolishly innocent expression on her face. The suffocating uniform I had to wear to hide my adam’s apple and chest is unbuttoned to let me breathe. A sharp knife shines in my hand, reflecting the moonlight decorating her fancy room.

516 times. I’ve tried to kill this woman exactly 516 times. I raise my knife. “This time I will do it” I think to myself. You shift in your sleep, probably deep in your happy dreams. You don’t sense anything, unaware of the danger I hold.

“I will do it… I will…” I repeat in my head yet my hand won’t stop shaking.

“Damn it…”

.

.

.

.

“She has so many openings, does she have no survival instinct? It feels like she could die if she fell down tad too hard” I think to myself as I pick up her dinner. A small bottle of poison I’ve failed to use so far and my knife are tucked deep in my apron. There are a few servants around chatting but no one seems to suspect anything from the lady’s personal handmaid.

“Hey did you see what Lady y/n was wearing today? Haha is she trying to catch someone’s attention going out like that?”

“Right? If she bent down a bit we could even see her cleavage!”

Huh?

Those two… are they new recruits? I did hear that despicable man hired a new batch. What do they think they are doing spouting such nonsense?

“She already looks so naive, I bet she wouldn’t be able to do anything if I just cornered her right?”

…

“Dana, did you get some of the tomato sauce on your sleeve?” you ask innocently, happily enjoying your lavish dinner.

“It seems so my lady. I will clean it tonight don’t worry.” I quickly answer with my usual smile.

“Haha don’t tell me you wanted to try some! You could’ve just asked me, here.”

“I-I couldn’t possibly my lady-“

“My arm will get tired if you don’t take it~”

I sigh and lean down to eat the bite you so graciously offered, it doesn’t have poison anyway…

It truly is delicious, enough to drive a commoner to tears, but this quality is just the norm for you.

.

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.

.

I once again stand above you. “This time… this time for sure…” repeats in my head as I raise my knife. This is the 520th attempt.

You sleep peacefully under me as I clench my teeth, my hand refusing to go down.

It’s always the same thing. I stay by your side until you fall asleep, I get up and raise my knife, I watch you sleep without a worry in the world and go back to my room after another failure.

I sigh and prepare to get up, I’ve despised you for longer than you know for making me feel this way.

“Dana…?”

“!?” You’re awake? Why are you awake!? You never wake up at this hour!

…What are you looking at?

My eyes follow your gaze and land on the knife I’m holding up.

“W-what are you doing Dana!? N-no someone help-!”

My free hand quickly covers your mouth as I whisper yell “Be quiet!”. You continue flailing your arms and legs, trying to push me off. Since my other hand is still up I can’t hold you down properly.

“Stop fighting me! You don’t have the right to-!”

You manage to push my hand off your mouth but your nails catch my open collar, accidentally ripping a button. For a second your eyes widen and before I can register what’s going on you grab my clothes.

“!!”

In a moment of panic I throw the knife and pull away to cover myself.

“D-Don’t look!”

If you do they’ll take you away from me.

“Y-you are a man?” You ask while sitting up, clearly on guard but you make no motion to run away. Maybe seeing my panicked state made you feel less scared.

I don’t answer and just stare at you. I wonder what my expression looks like? My panic and anger must reflect on my eyes as I cover my chest. My knife… is at the other side of the room, tsk.

“B-But why…? A-and that knife… were you trying to…? I… D-did I do something to offend you…?”

Your voice is shaking as you ask questions after questions, tears slowly spilling out. I’m sure you must feel so scared and betrayed. Good, that’s what I wanted.

Yes, what I wanted…

What I wanted?

Anger boils inside me. A part of me feels satisfied for making you experience such betrayal, but the other half feels anger. A privileged person like you who lives life without a single worry doesn’t deserve to cry like a victim.

“Stop crying!” I lunge forward to grab your neck and push you down. You look up to me, clearly scared but my hand doesn’t squeeze your neck.

“You don’t know anything!” I bite my lip, wanting to scream but also not. I hate this, once again my body refuses to listen to me.

“You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know what your family has done! You don’t know what you have done to me!!”

My hand presses down harder.

“I already had nothing but you ruined me beyond repair!” I try to keep my voice low to not alert the other servants yet I can’t prevent it from shaking as I let my anger out.

“You don’t know anything…”

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“Dana”

A name unfit for a boy, and this disgustingly beautiful face that resembles hers were the only things that wench left behind with me.

I didn’t know anything about her. All I knew was that she treated me like the girl she always wanted to give birth to and that I must never leave the wooden box she called “home”.

She hated me, it was only obvious. Even when I was barely able to speak it wasn’t hard to understand she actually wished for a girl. Although, maybe thanks to this face of mine, she enjoyed putting me in dresses and forcing me into the life she dreamed of.

“Dana, mommy has to deal with some surprise visitors so stay in this closet and don’t make a noise just like how I taught you before alright?”

Those were the last words she uttered before kissing my forehead and closing the rusty closet doors. Then it was arguing, screams, red and silence.

The fact that she used to work in your estate because she was in debt to your father, that she ran away pregnant without actually paying it back and was being hunted down were things I only got to know later in life.

It seems they were unaware she was even pregnant and didn’t notice the child she so hurriedly tucked inside the old compact closet.

Such sad excuse of a life, at the end she wasn’t able to accomplish anything. All she had was a son who believed she hated him and thus hated her back. A son who didn’t even care about the effort she put into keeping him hidden and safe.

A son who returned to the estate she once escaped from.

It wasn’t too hard to get registered as a maid with such face and height. My plan originally was to slowly go up in ranks until I reached that filthy man and stab his chest the same way his henchmen stabbed that wench’s.

But then I met you.

The precious young lady of the estate, loved by all the workers and her parents. A lovely person who was sailing through life with no hardships, a being sure to be missed if lost.

I thought if I killed you the same way they killed that wench, that filthy man would experience so much pain he wouldn’t be able to forget about it for an entire lifetime.

So I started working to be your handmaid instead, and you quickly inflicted another type of anger into me.

I hated that you were oblivious to the pain others felt, I hated that all you knew was comfort and love, I hated that you never experienced what a broken heart felt like.

I hated how you smiled at me like you couldn’t do without me, I hated how your hair felt so soft in my hands as I brushed it, I hated how you happily ate the sweets I secretly took from the kitchen just so you could have some more, I hated how good you smelt right after I washed you, I hated how soft your skin felt against my fingertips as I helped you dress up-

“UGH!”

I gasp, sitting on the bathroom floor. Looking at the toilet seat filled with my insides and wiping my mouth with a shaky hand before flushing it down.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this…

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.

.

.

You look up to me with shaky eyes, body barely moving.

“I-I’m sorry-“

“Don’t pity me! I’m not someone who needs your pity!”

You flinch as I raise my voice. I feel so disgusted, my voice shaking with anger.

“At least I still had control over myself when all I had was hate… At least I was somewhat “normal”…”

My eyes never leave yours, your gaze only making me feel more agitated.

“I wasn’t supposed to feel like this… why did you have to wake up now…”

A tear threatens to fall from my eye.

“If only you just continued sleeping… then I could’ve continued staying next to you… I could’ve continued being good for you…”

“Dana I’m sorry-“

“I said I don’t want to hear it!”

I lower my head, not wanting to see the face you’re making.

Then an idea comes to my mind.

“Are you really sorry? Do you want to make up for it?”

I grab your face before you can answer.

“!?”

I slowly pull away to speak, your taste lingering in my lips.

“Then don’t report what happened today and let me continue staying by your side.

I lean in closer and look into your eyes.

“The only way you can atone for your sins is by accepting this twisted love of mine”

[saturdaymournings]

Fuck EVERYONE who ever taught me to hate myself. I was never like this before and I never deserved to feel this way about myself. The hardest part of this is the fact that I know it’s just been instilled in me! I could have been different. Fuck, I was different! I was happy to just exist as myself. I didn’t care what other people thought. Now I’m just like you. Fuck you for taking that away from me

[shaunasrabbit]

Late Night Visit | QZ!Joel x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI. Part IV.

Summary: You and Joel go to Bill and Frank's.

Tags: No use of y/n, canon-divergence (Bill and Frank are alive because I'm not killing my gays during pride month), reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns (also wears a dress for like 2 seconds), some physical descriptions (has a bush because #bushnation and is curvy if you squint), age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his 50s), alcohol consumption, bratty reader and mean!Joel, dom!Joel, verbal degradation, like one tiny little sexy smack, choking, spit, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of good girl and other pet names, oral (f!receiving), spit, light biting, finger sucking, unprotected piv, the pullout method (don't try this at home), f!masturbation, uhhhhh sexy use of duct tape lol and subsequent breath play, cum eating. If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~9.7K

Read on AO3

A/N: I was having a fuck ton of fun writing this chapter and I didn't realize how long it was getting so I'm sorry or you're welcome idk. It felt necessary to dive into the reader's backstory a little as so many things were brought up for her at Bill and Frank's. I hope you enjoy getting to know her a little more. I definitely did. Also, a massive thank you to everyone who has been keeping up with the series and reblogging/commenting. I appreciate you so much. Lightly proofread this myself, so my apologies for any typos. All on me. As always, likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are welcome. Thank you for reading! Divider by @/saradika-graphics

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After sleeping on the cold, hard forest floor for a night, you’re thrilled when Joel says there’s an old Girl Scout camp to crash at.

The two of you have been trekking to an unknown location for a day or so and you’re ready to just get to wherever you’re going. Joel’s being reticent about sharing details of the run you’re on which is out of character. He’s generally open about the logistics of a job, but you’re not pushing it, too desperate for the work after being blacklisted by Wade. Plus, you get to escape the crowded, stressful QZ for more than a day or two. Any amount of time away is a real treat.

The sun is tucking itself behind the horizon by the time you get to the camp. Tiny, wooden cabins create a perfect circle around a firepit, filled with ash and a few charred animal bones. A pang of nostalgia hits you like a punch to the gut.

“You know, I used to be a Girl Scout,” you whisper as you do a perimeter check alongside Joel. Talking helps you not think about the chance of seeing infected. You passed through a small town a few hours ago and had a run in with two clickers, but both of you came out entirely unscathed. 

Joel hums before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Must not have been a real good one,” he retorts before putting his pistol back in its holster. “I’ve seen you tryna tie a knot.”

You roll your eyes, trudging up the steps to a cabin. With a soft grunt, he follows you up the short flight of stairs and you can hear his knees crack. It’s a miracle he can fuck you as hard as he does considering his age. Joel unlocks the door with a key that he fishes out of the inner pocket of his tan leather jacket. This must be a regular route for him and that calms any wariness you had about the job.

“Yeah, no. I kind of sucked,” you admit as you follow him inside. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches and you wonder if it’s a hint of a smile. “I quit when I was like…eight, maybe? Nine? Worst Brownie in my troop. I barely had any badges.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me.” 

When he turns his back, you give him the middle finger and another eye roll. 

There’s a part of you that’s still pissed about what happened last week with Wade. Still embarrassed that Joel acted like your protector, like you couldn’t handle yourself, but there’s a bigger part of you that’s so turned on by the idea of Joel wanting to fight someone on your behalf, like he was telling Wade not to fuck with what’s his. You know you’re not his, not even sure you’d ever want to be, but each night for the last week, you’d play with your clit while thinking of Joel coming into your apartment with bloody fists and fucking you, smearing it all over you. Marking you. Your cheeks get hot just thinking about it.

Joel locks the door and shoves a rusty chair under the handle although it’d be useless considering the two massive windows in the cabin. At least the glass is intact so you’d hear someone, or something, coming. You scan the room. Two sets of dusty bunk beds, a wooden chest, a couch with torn upholstering, a dresser with peeling paint, a narrow nightstand adorned with two candles with crispy wicks. Joel lights the candles before heading to the dresser, pushing it to the side with great force and grit teeth. He reaches down and lifts the loose floorboard, pulling out a hunting rifle with a scope and a box of ammo. You watch as he loads the magazine, his face lit by the warm candlelight. 

“We’ll—”

“—sleep in shifts. I’ll take watch, you take watch. Yeah, yeah. I know,” you finish for him, irritated that he bothers explaining shit you already know.

Shooting you a dirty look, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, Joel sits on the couch and spreads his legs wide. You think about crawling onto his lap, but restrain yourself, taking a seat next to him instead. 

“Was gonna say we’ll leave when the sun rises. We’re makin’ real good time. Less obstacles than I thought,” Joel says, eyes flickering over to you as you pull your legs up and tuck them under you. 

“Where are we headed anyway?”

“Bill and Frank’s.”

“That was really helpful. Great explanation, Joel,” you deadpan, giving him an exasperated look. You realize suddenly how tired you are. “Who are Bill and Frank, and where are we meeting them?”

Joel is visibly annoyed, sitting next to you with his jaw clenched and his arms crossed. 

“People I trade with. Meeting ‘em at their place in Lincoln.”

“Lincoln,” you mutter to yourself as you get up and head towards your pack, pulling out a map. Tracing your finger from Boston to Lincoln, you purse your lips. It’s only about fifteen miles from the QZ. “This is like…a six hour hike. Why were we walking for a whole day?”

“Now, why the fuck d’ya think we’ve been taking the long way?” he spits.

“Raiders, infected, rubble, people like us.” Your face is hot, embarrassment settling in your throat. 

Joel hums in response, giving a small nod as you walk back over to the couch, collapsing on it with a sigh. It can never just be easy. Nothing can. How nice would it be to be able to hop in a car? The drive would be what, forty minutes with traffic? Maybe less? You would be able to listen to music, stop for lunch at a diner, put your hand on Joel’s thigh while he drove. But you can’t do any of that. Not in times like this. Not when Joel is just a man you work with, a man you sometimes fuck. Nothing else.

“Get some shut eye,” he grumbles, standing up. Your eyes drift to the way his shoulders slump and his heavy eyelids. “I’ll take first watch.”

You shake your head and stand up, too. Joel spent the whole day guiding you with strict vigilance. Always alert, always on. You’re the same whenever traversing out of the QZ, but you feel like it weighs on Joel heavier for some reason. 

“No, it’s fine. You rest. I can watch,” you say. “I got it.” 

For a moment, you think he’ll protest, your eyes searching his face, but he doesn’t. He just nods and blows out the candles before lying down on one of the bottom bunks. Boots still on, pistol still strapped in its holster. Closing his eyes, he lets out a heavy sigh, giving in to his exhaustion.

“Get me up in four hours.” It's a demand, not a suggestion. 

“Mhm.”

Four hours go by quickly, but you can’t bring yourself to wake him up despite the lethargy that threatens you. 

To your surprise, Joel is fast asleep. You realize that you haven’t ever seen him sleep, generally back before the sunrises while working. The one time you spent the night together, he let you rest. Your chest tightens at the memory of the weight of Joel’s arm draped on you while you slept. 

Joel mumbles in his sleep. If it were anyone else, you’d probably find it annoying, but seeing this gruff, hardened man babble complete nonsense and twitch with his eyes closed is endearing. You wonder if he’s like this in his apartment in the QZ or if his nightly glass of whiskey knocks him out hard. 

While he rests, you keep a firm grip on the rifle, periodically scanning the outside through the windows, being sure to walk quietly across the weathered floorboards. They’re creaky, but you do your best not to wake Joel.

At some point, your mind wanders to the last time you fucked Joel. Maybe you’re bored, but you can’t stop thinking about Joel counting, only letting you come when he got to three. You think about being on your knees for him, the weight of his cock smacking your tongue before he came down your throat. Pressing your thighs together, you feel slick gather in your panties. 

You look over and see Joel’s body limp with sleep, and figure he won’t wake up for a while. Okay, you have time. Just go in the closet and get yourself off before he wakes up. Considering how turned on you are, it won’t be that hard, right?

Fuck it. 

Exercising extra caution, you get up, setting the rifle down on the couch. Your pistol is in your ankle holster, so you’re still armed. Slowly, you open the door to the closet, eyes closing tight and your lips curling inward when the hinges squeak. You slip in and carefully shut the door. With urgency, you unbutton your pants and shove them down along with your underwear, leaning against the wall.

Your middle finger slides down your slit and fuck, you are soaked. Holding back a whimper, you begin to rub your clit quickly, trying to make it fast. Shutting your eyes, you picture Joel’s hand instead, how it would feel for his calloused fingers to be playing with you instead.

He’d whisper things in your ear. He’d tell you it’s pathetic how wet you are for him, tell you to be a good girl, tell you that you look pretty while moaning for him. Right now, you do feel pathetic, getting yourself off while Joel is asleep in the next room. For some reason, that just gets you closer to your release. 

What if you went out there and woke him up by straddling his lap? You want to kiss down his sharp jawline, grind on his bulge, and ask him to fuck you. 

What you want the most, though, is for Joel to kiss you. It’s only happened twice during the same drunken night. Joel was wasted and so were you, practically falling into each other on the way to your apartment. It seemed like an accident when his lips met yours the first time. He hurriedly kissed you again like he was trying to figure out if it had actually happened. 

As he was leaving, once the two of you were dressed, you went to kiss him goodbye. He turned his head, your lips awkwardly meeting his cheek. You brushed it off even though you were humiliated. What else could you do, though? You acted like nothing happened. Joel did the same. 

Now, here you are, thinking of kissing Joel hungrily while riding him, watching his eyes shut as he groans and spills into you. It sends you falling over the edge. Your pussy spasms and you clamp your hand over your mouth as you come, trying to stifle your cries. You rest your head against the wall, panting with your eyes closed. If Joel had been the one giving you that orgasm, your legs would be trembling, but your own hand can’t compare. 

You pull up your pants, buttoning your jeans, and slip out of the closet. Returning to the couch, you sit down and move the rifle onto your lap. Joel groans in his sleep and you continue to fantasize about hearing him groan in your ear as his cock plunges in and out of you.

Before you know it, the sun begins to rise. Joel jolts awake, his hand instinctively going to his pistol. When he realizes all is well and that you’re wide awake, sitting on the couch, the tension dissipates from his body. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you tease, a playful smile on your lips. 

“Jesus.” Joel rubs his eyes. His voice is gravelly, heavy with sleep. “Why didn’t ya wake me up?” 

“You were out like a light. Didn’t want to wake Sleeping Beauty,” you reply. Your eyes shift down to the obvious bulge in his jeans. Raising an eyebrow, you smile and nod towards his pelvis. “Good dream?”

Joel glares at you and then rubs his eyes with his palms like he’s trying to get knead the night away. You find yourself a little enchanted by him like this, tousled hair, hard cock, prominent lines between his brows from his face being pulled tight all night. You want to drop to your knees in front of him and beg for him to fuck your mouth. 

“Jesus, it’s the ass crack of dawn. ‘Nough of that,” he scolds. “Y’should’ve gotten me up. What if you had fallen asleep and gotten us killed?” 

“Well, I didn’t fall asleep and I didn’t get us killed,” you answer simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“Now I gotta deal with you being tired and grumpy all day,” Joel grumbles and stands up, his joints cracking. He walks over and rips the rifle from your hand while you shoot him an amused look. He mutters, “Piss me the fuck off.”

“I think you’re projecting, Joel. You’re always the grumpy one,” you say, brushing off his last comment. Joel’s snide remarks don’t hurt your feelings anymore, not when you know how he praises you when he fucks you.

Good girl. Did so good. Look so good like that.

Darlin’. Baby. Sweetheart. Sugar.

Your thighs clench just thinking about Joel’s gruff voice in your ear.

“Just shut up and lay down. Thirty minutes and then we gotta get movin’,” he says, slinging the rifle over his shoulder before moving towards the door to take the chair out from under the handle. “Gonna do a perimeter check. Thirty minutes.”

You roll your eyes but do as he says, taking off your jacket and lying on your stomach where Joel had been sleeping. It’s still warm from his body heat. You bunch up your jacket and use it as a makeshift pillow. Sleep takes you gently away. 

“C’mon. Up.” Joel jostles you awake, earning a groan from you. Your eyes are narrow when you glance up at him. He’s much more awake now, pack already on and rifle slung over his shoulder. “Let’s go. You’ve already wasted our time.”

Rolling your eyes, you get up and stretch, shrugging your lightweight denim jacket on. Snagging your pack, you follow Joel out the door. Spring has arrived and the early mornings still have a bite to them, but when you step outside, the sun is higher than it should be if Joel had only let you sleep for thirty minutes. You let the warmth of its rays wash over you, smiling to yourself. Thirty minutes, my ass, you think before slowly jogging to catch up to Joel who has already started walking.

It takes you about two hours to get to your destination. The hike was fairly smooth, only stumbling upon a few stray infected. Nothing that you and Joel couldn’t handle. The two of you were quiet. Joel was annoyed with you, you could tell, and you were exhausted. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

You approach a small town, surrounded by a fence with barbed wire and a sign that reads DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE. Joel tells you to stay put as he walks toward the box with a keypad, typing in a code. As the fence opens, a burly man with maybe one of the biggest automatics you’ve ever seen comes barreling out of a gorgeous, white colonial style home with gray shutters and a large American flag above the porch. The man has shoulder length hair, a scruffy beard, and wide shoulders. He sports a scowl and his gun is pointed directly at you. For some reason, you don’t feel fear, just tension. Joel’s with you. You’re fine.

“S’me,” Joel calls out, waving a disarming hand in the air. 

The man lowers his weapon and you trail behind Joel, shutting the gate of the fence behind you. It clicks locked. You’re taken aback by the sight in front of you, mouth slightly ajar. Shops, although empty, with fresh paint, potted flowers, meticulously cut grass. It’s almost like stepping into the old world. If you closed your eyes, you’re sure you would hear children playing, inane chatter, life before it all went to shit. 

“Hey,” Joel barks, snapping his fingers at you. You didn’t realize you were in a trance. “Keep walkin’.” 

The man meets you by the picket fence in front of the house with his frown and weapon, giving Joel a nod and a handshake. You’re not listening to whatever they’re talking about, standing behind Joel with your eyes still roaming your surroundings, in total awe of whatever the hell this is. 

“Bill, this is—”

You cut Joel off and give Bill your name along with something that resembles a half smile. Bill nods. A man of many words, apparently. The three of you walk inside and the smell of apple pie lingers in the air, making your stomach quietly grumble. You realize you haven’t eaten yet today and apple pie, something you haven’t had in twenty years, smells divine.

“We freeze the apples,” a different man says as if he could read your mind. Frank, you presume, has walked in from the kitchen. His hands are on his hips, smiling, and his beard is well trimmed, a stark contrast from Bill. He steps towards you and takes your hand, “I’m Frank.”

You introduce yourself and smile, putting your other hand over Frank’s. Warmth radiates off of him and he reminds you of someone, but you can’t quite place who. You drop hands and Frank greets Joel, pulling him into a hug. You’ve never seen Joel hug someone before. You’re almost envious, wondering what it would be like to have Joel hold you outside of fucking you. 

“Well, come on in. I’ll give you a tour,” Frank says, putting a hand on the small of your back to guide you into the living room.

It feels like a home. A real home with decor and tchotchkes, paintings and collages, records and a piano. You’re not sure you said anything besides holy shit and wow the entire time Frank was showing you around. Back in the dining room, Joel and Bill are sitting at the table, both looking incredibly stern, but there’s no tension, no malice. It’s just serious. It’s business. They’re checking things off of a list on a notepad and drinking whiskey—neat and on the rocks. Just how Joel likes it. 

Putting your hands on your knees, you bend down to look at the various spirits on the brass bar cart. You can feel Joel’s eyes on your ass.

“Fuck, this place is incredible,” you gush. “You guys looking for a third?” 

“You know, you’re not quite our type,” Frank chuckles softly, leaning against the archway. 

You smirk at him and straighten your back. “Yeah, I figured.”

Joel’s looking at you from the table, pen idle in his hand. When you glance at him, you think you’re going to melt into those brown eyes of his. They look softer here, illuminated by the warm sun filtering in through the sheer curtains. What would it be like to sit across from Joel at a table like this and drink coffee in the morning? What would it be like to sleep beside him in the master bedroom with its canopy bed and venetian carpet? Is Joel wondering the same thing right now as he stares at you? You make yourself sick with these thoughts. 

You almost forget Bill and Frank are there until Frank breaks the silence. “I’m going to take you to the boutique down the road, then you two can shower and freshen up before dinner. Does that sound okay?”

Nodding, you follow him out the door. The town is quaint and somehow so well-kept. You walk in silence, taking it all in, while listening as Frank explains how he and Bill met and how they fixed up the town. It’s a love story. An apocalyptic one, but still one nonetheless. Until now, you didn’t think those existed anymore.

Frank opens the door to the boutique and your eyes widen at the sight. Racks and racks of women’s clothes, a wall of accessories, a case of jewelry, boxes of shoes, and makeup.

“Holy shit,” you say under your breath for the hundredth time today. 

“Take whatever you need, whatever you want. It’s free,” Frank offers with a wink, walking up behind you with his hand on his hips.

You turn to look at him, brows raised incredulously. 

“Are you serious?” you ask. He nods. “I don’t even…thank you.” 

Frank doesn’t say anything, just smiling as you start to look through the racks. The clothes are dusty and some of them have tiny holes from moths, sure, but they’re in good shape. Much better condition than anything you have back in the QZ. Plus, they’re actually cute. You were never old enough to go shopping at boutiques like this, your teenagehood soiled by the outbreak before you even got the chance. 

“So,” you start, rubbing a silk dress between your fingers, “how did you guys meet Joel anyway?”

“Well, I started talking to Tess on the radio,” he says and you stop moving altogether. Tess. “Bill hated that, as I’m sure you can guess. When we actually met Tess, along came Joel. You know how that is, wherever Tess is, there Joel is.”

Tess. You met Tess when you met Joel a few years ago. It had been a year or so after you started smuggling that you started working with their crew. Joel’s a damn good smuggler and you practically needed recommendations before he let you in on jobs. You were younger then, in your mid-twenties, and had to prove yourself to be an asset and you did. Tess recognized this, giving you credit where credit was due, but she was never particularly nice to you. Neither was Joel. Eventually, you started going on regular runs with Tess, Joel, Adam, and every now and then, a few others.

Adam was a few years older than you, but still much younger than Joel and Tess. The two of you stuck together if you ever needed to split up in pairs. So yeah, you get it. Wherever Tess went, Joel went. You could tell he was always particularly protective of her, but they had known each other for years. They trusted each other; it made sense. You never thought too much about it. 

About six months ago, Tess stopped coming around. Joel’s moods were worse than usual after that, but you didn’t say anything to him about it. You wouldn’t dream of it. Frankly, it was none of your business, but you were curious. When you brought up Tess’ absence to Adam, he said that there were logistical and financial disagreements among some of the group members. You didn’t believe it, but you let it go. As long as you were getting paid, what the hell did it matter?

Something sour bubbles in your belly at the thought of Tess and Joel. You ignore it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of you with their bright colors, patterns, and soft fabric. 

“I’m a little surprised Tess isn’t here with you two,” Frank says and you look up to meet his gaze, giving him a small shrug. He smiles and nods, dropping it altogether.

You pick out a few things to try on. Jeans, tank tops, t-shirts, a few blouses, new boots, even a dress and a pair of heels. You also snagged some new underwear and a lacy bra. In the dressing room with the emerald green, velvet curtain pulled shut, you strip. Trying on each of the pieces one by one, you admire the way they hug your waist and accentuate the curve of your hips and ass. When you get to the dress, your breath hitches. You haven’t worn a dress in years. The low, square neckline makes it hard not to stare at your own breasts. The black dress is short, landing above your mid-thigh and you notice how nice your plush curves look. You smile to yourself, thinking about how amazing it would be to have somewhere to actually wear this.

When you come out, Frank’s holding you a bag and you dump your findings in it. Before you leave, you stop and look at the makeup, grabbing mascara and blush. 

“Do you think I’m going to get an infection from how expired this shit is?” you ask.

“It’s possible. I guess you have to decide if it’s worth the risk.”

When you get back to the house, you can smell whatever Bill is cooking. Some sort of meat. Maybe duck? You aren’t entirely sure, but it’s divine and you’re reminded again of how hungry you are. Frank tells you that you can shower as Bill makes dinner, pulling a fluffy bath towel from the linen closet and showing you to the guest bedroom that you’ll be staying in.

“Unless you and Joel are sharing a room?” Frank asks, uncertainty clear in his voice. 

“Definitely not. Unless you want him to kill himself,” you reply with a short laugh and shake your head. The words tumble out of your mouth when you say, “Thanks for the clothes and the shower and for having me here.”

Frank just smiles, resting a hand on your shoulder and giving you a smile that says you’re welcome. 

You head into the bedroom, noting all of the decorations and the matching furniture set. Tears well up in your eyes as you look at the clean sheets, thinking about how you can’t wait to fall into the fluffy pillows tonight. 

In the shower, you cry and you cry hard. It’s just overwhelming, being in a place that feels incredibly normal and reminiscent of a time that’s so far away, so far gone now. You let yourself drown in the emotion as the shower pelts you with hot water. 

When you get out and wipe the condensation off of the mirror, you examine yourself, grateful that your eyes aren’t puffy. You attempt to dry your hair with your towel and put on a coat of mascara. That small touch makes all the difference and you realize that you haven’t felt this pretty in a long time. Sure, you know you’re desirable. You would fuck you, but this feels foreign. It feels luxurious. 

You get dressed and pull on a new pair of jeans that hug your ass perfectly, pairing them with a tight, black long sleeve. It has three buttons by your breasts that you leave undone to accentuate your cleavage. You tie it all together with new boots and a dainty necklace. Stepping back, you take in your reflection. Again, you’d fuck you. 

Stepping into the hallway, you see Joel leave his bedroom at the same time. Your pussy pulses and your chest tightens when you see him. His beard is trimmed and wet curls are falling on his forehead. The clean flannel he’s wearing hugs his biceps and you want to sink your teeth into them. He looks less rugged, more domestic in a way that makes your heart hurt a little.

Joel’s eyes travel down your body, lingering on your breasts for a moment and finally, he meets your gaze. Both of you stand there, just staring at each other before he clears his throat.

“Y’look, uh…clean,” he says, voice low, and he runs his tongue over his teeth. 

“Yeah, you too. For once,” you tease although your tone is flat.

He motions towards the stairs. “We should—”

“Yeah.”

The two of you head downstairs and see Frank carrying dishes to the dining room table. It’s set with frilly placemats, wine glasses, and two long candles dripping red wax onto glass holders. Your eyes are wide when you see the food laid out in front of you. It’s duck, as you suspected, with mashed potatoes, gravy, and asparagus. Plus, an unopened bottle of Beaujolais. 

“Ready?” Bill asks, uncorking the bottle and pouring everyone a glass. 

You nod and approach the table, but before you can pull out your chair, Joel does it for you. Raising an eyebrow and glancing at him, you take a seat.

“Such a gentleman, Joel. On good behavior today?” you whisper so only he can hear. 

“Will you shut it?” he hisses back, passing you a glass. 

“There we go,” you say back, smiling more to yourself than to him. “That’s more like it.” 

The four of you settle and Frank picks up his glass, raising it to initiate a toast. You’ve never even toasted to anything before and though you’re almost thirty, you feel like a child sitting at the adult table during Christmas dinner. 

“To new friends,” Frank begins, nodding towards you before looking at Joel, “and old friends.” 

Your face gets hot as the four of you clink your glasses together and mumble cheers. The first taste of wine you have is more of a gulp than a sip and if it weren’t incredibly rude, you would’ve finished the whole glass in one go. It’s better than any alcohol you’ve consumed in the QZ and while you could smuggle better shit in, you have other priorities like the medication for Susan. After tasting this though, you think you’ll ask Frank if there’s something you could trade for a bottle. Maybe two.

Frank, Bill, and Joel chat about supplies while you sort of listen, focusing mainly on the delectable food in front of you. Again, this meal is better than anything you’ve had in the QZ and truthfully, maybe even better than anything you’ve had in your whole life. You have to consciously pace yourself so you don’t scarf it all down in under five minutes.

At some point, Joel kicks your shin from under the table, grabbing your attention. When you give him a look that says what the actual fuck, he nods over towards Frank. You realize then, totally fucking embarrassed, that he asked you a question and you didn’t even register it.

“I asked where you’re from?” Frank smiles, patient and warm. When your eyes dart over to Joel, he’s biting back a smile while chewing and looking down at his food.

Asshole. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. You take a sip of wine, your glass nearly empty. “I’m from Portland. Maine, not Oregon.”

As you speak, Joel’s eyes flicker to you and he stops chewing to listen to you. It’s the first time you’ve ever shared any personal information with Joel and even now, he didn’t ask, you’re just answering someone else’s question. Something about Joel knowing anything about you makes you uneasy. You figure it’s because all you’ve learned about him has been through other people.

“Beautiful place to grow up,” Frank says, pouring more wine into your glass. You smile to say thank you, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Did you spend a lot of time on the water?”

“Yeah, my dad was a fisherman.”

Bill nods in your direction. With his mouth full he says, “Great skill to have in times like these.”

It comes in flashes. The feeling of cold sunscreen on your back, the gentle sloshing of the boat that rocked you to sleep like a baby, lobster shells cracking like ribs. You think about your dad with his toothy grin. The scent of fish that lingers. You start to feel sick.

Maybe it shows on your face, the way you’re solemnly reminiscing, because Joel’s boot meets your leg and strokes it lightly, like he’s patting you on the back. When you glance over at him, he’s looking down at his plate. It was probably just an accident, you tell yourself.

You take another sip of wine like it’ll wash away your thoughts. It pools in your stomach, that deep warm feeling you’ve come to appreciate during times of discomfort. 

“You think that until you eat so much fish that you’re pretty sure you’re going to get mercury poisoning,” you attempt to joke, but you know your tone isn’t convincing. It comes out more sad than anything.

“Guess there are worse ways to die,” Joel mumbles. 

You laugh. You don’t mean to, but it just comes out. Frank joins you while Bill and Joel are silent, staring at each other like you and Frank have lost it altogether. When the laughter dies down, Frank changes the subject like he knows you’d rather not talk about yourself anymore. You mentally thank him for it.

Three bottles of wine later, dinner ends and you feel fatigue overtake you. After helping Frank with the dishes, you excuse yourself and head upstairs to the room you’re staying in. You strip off your clothes, only clad in your new matching bra and panties, before collapsing in the bed. You tell yourself that you can take your makeup off tomorrow. 

Snuggling into the sheets, you take a deep breath. You hadn’t expected the day to exhaust you quite like this. Working as a smuggler usually meant life or death situations and risk. Here, you feel safe, but you feel like you’ve expended more energy than ever before. The entire experience of being in a place like this, a place so resonant of a life you could’ve had, has weakened you. Each step you took in this sanctuary weighed a hundred pounds. Your limbs feel heavy and you’re thankful for a few hours of uninterrupted rest.

The wine from dinner hit you so hard that you don’t hear him come in. It isn’t until the bed sinks in next to you that you realize you’re not alone. Waking from your slumber, you instinctively turn to reach for the pistol in your pack that you’ve strategically placed next to your bed. Even if this is the safest you’ve felt in years, you’re still on edge. Force of habit. A firm hand grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Stop,” he demands. Joel loosens his grip on you and says, softer now, “Just me.”

As you register his presence as safe, your heartbeat slows. Your arm drops and you sigh deeply. 

“Fuck you—you scared the fuck out of me, Joel,” you hiss, closing your eyes. “What do you want?”

When the blanket is pulled from your upper body, your eyes open again, the same startled look from before. Joel’s hands land on your breasts, thumbs tracing the lines of the lacy fabric of your bra, eventually making their way down your sides. He digs his fingers into the plush of your hips. Your breath hitches, knowing damn well that you’re already getting wet. 

“Pretty,” he whispers, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, hiking them up further. “You wear these just for me?”

“No.” You roll your eyes and let your head loll to the side. “I wore them for Frank.” 

Joel grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him. It’s dark, so damn dark, but you can see a sliver of his face lit up by the moonlight that’s creeping in through the sheer curtains. His eyes carry that lustful darkness that you know so well. Joel wants something from you and he’s going to get it. You want to give it to him. Whatever he wants, it’s his and you don’t need to say it aloud. Joel knows.

“What do you want?” you ask, voice quiet and unintentionally sultry.

“You playin’ dumb tonight? I think ya know what I want.”

“Then take it,” you reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. The look in Joel’s eyes makes your clit throb in anticipation.

“Wasn’t askin’ permission, sweetheart. I know you’ll gimme what I want,” Joel rasps, leaning down to kiss and nip at your pulse point.

He’s right and you almost hate it. Joel’s a smug bastard, always has been. He knows that whatever fight you put up, it’s all show. He knows you like the verbal sparring, the way he grabs you, the way he fucks you harder when you piss him off; you think he likes it, too, since he keeps coming back for more. Maybe it’s as much for him as it is for you.

You let out something between a dry laugh and a groan. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“Y’real mouthy tonight.”

“Maybe something big in my mouth would shut me up.”

“I got other plans for you,” he mumbles, pulling your earlobe into his mouth and biting lightly. 

You inhale sharply. “Hope they’re good considering you woke me up.”

“That how you talk to someone who’s about to fuck you good?” Joel’s breath is hot against your neck. 

Your pussy throbs at the thought of having Joel deep inside of you. Eyelids fluttering closed, you think you mumble something like please or sorry or both. If you weren’t so aroused, you’d probably be mad at yourself for essentially giving in already. You orgasmed less than twenty four hours ago. What happened to your self control? If you’re being honest, you’ve never had it when it comes to Joel.

One of Joel’s hands leaves your hips to paw at your breast, flicking your nipple with his thumb and feeling it pebble under his touch. You bite back a moan, but your breathing is shallow and gives you away. Joel hums against you before sucking on the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder. The thought crosses your mind that he’s being forceful enough to leave marks and that there’s a chance Bill and Frank will notice tomorrow, but your mind quickly moves on from the topic when Joel tugs at your nipple. You let out a small squeak at the sensation. 

“Think I didn’t notice the way these tits were hangin’ out a dinner?” he asks, breathless, although it’s not really a question. Joel pulls away to admire your chest and yanks your bra down, letting your breasts hang over the fabric. “And in front of strangers, too. Shameless little whore, huh?” 

“You don’t have anything to worry about. You heard Frank, I’m not their type,” you deadpan.

“I didn’t say anything about bein’ worried. Wouldn’t be anyway,” Joel says, sliding one hand down to your clothed pussy and cupping you. “Y’know who this pussy belongs to.”

You can’t help but think, yours, yours, yours. All yours Joel. 

Squirming under his touch, you rut your hips into his hand to chase any hint of pleasure. Your brows are furrowed as you look up at him. He smirks, satisfied with himself, and rubs a torturously light circle on the soaked center of your panties with two of his fingers.

“Feel how wet she is for me, baby?” 

Baby. You almost whine at the pet name. Joel calls you pet names all the time, but tonight it’s hitting you differently. You’ve been emotional, maybe that’s it. 

Nodding, you sit up on your elbows and grind into his hand. It’s not enough and Joel knows it, but he doesn’t give you more than this. For now. It’s easy to tell he’s enjoying watching you like this, all desperate and needy for him. You still won’t give in and moan, so you just breathe heavily and chew on your lip as you take in the dull pleasure of his thick palm on your hot core. 

“Play with yourself,” he instructs, removing his hand from you and standing up.

Your previously heavy lidded eyes are now wild as you stare at him and you make no move to touch yourself. He just stands there, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“C’mon, play with yourself,” he demands, voice low and laced with annoyance. “Y’look real dumb just starin’ at me like that. Haven’t even fucked you stupid yet.”

Cheeks heating up and pussy throbbing, you go to slide your hand under your ruined panties when Joel tuts at you.

“Over ‘em.”

“Joel, are you fucking serious?” you whine, almost sounding like a bratty child.

“Do I look like I’m playin’ games with you?”

You roll your eyes, but acquiesce and begin to play with your clit over your panties. It’s painful how muted the pleasure is. All you want is Joel’s fingers or his tongue or his cock. Really anything besides this. Looking up at Joel, you hope you can give him puppy dog eyes to convince him to fuck you, but you’re distracted by the way he’s palming his cock through his jeans. The hardened length is prominent even in the dark of the bedroom. 

“Is this what you did the other night while I was sleepin’?” Joel asks as he undoes his belt. 

Your lips part, your eyes widen, and your chest gets hot. Embarrassment spreads over you like wildfire. “I-I,” you stammer, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel laughs quietly and takes his t-shirt off, revealing the salt and pepper chest hair that covers scars across his chest. Your eyes are glued to his abdomen, taking all of him in. He shucks off the sweatpants he borrowed for the night, stepping toward the bed.

“I-I-I,” he mocks you cruelly. His teasing goes right to your pussy, making you clench around nothing. “Please, darlin’. I heard you tryna muffle those pretty sounds a’yours.”

A small moan slips from your lips as you frantically rub yourself through your underwear. Your fingers are getting wet through the barrier of the fabric that’s thoroughly soaked by your juices. 

“What were you thinkin’ about?” he asks, pulling the covers back and slipping in beside you. Heat radiates off of him and you feel yourself getting sweaty from arousal, embarrassment, and him.

You don’t respond aloud, but you tug at the waistband of his boxers, wanting nothing more than to see his cock. Joel shakes his head. 

“Use your words. Y’love to run that mouth, so let’s hear it.”

“You, Joel,” you admit, whimpering. “Your tongue, your cock.”

He hums, pleased by your answer. Joel leans in and kisses below your ear before whispering, “S’what I thought.”

Joel slides his boxers down and kicks them off, his hardened length finally there for you to see. Your lips part as you stare while he strokes himself once and then twice, exposing the red, swollen head of his cock. You pick up the pace of your fingers as if it’ll relieve any ache at all. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” He slides down the bed, positioning himself between your legs and pulling your damp panties off. “Since you need it so bad.”

When Joel places a sloppy kiss to your clit, you finally let yourself moan earnestly. 

“Love hearin’ those pretty noises,” he mumbles against your cunt between licks.

Relief floods through you as Joel begins to flick your clit with his tongue. Light and fast. Just how you like it. Each movement is precisely what you want. Joel just knows your body at this point. You tangle a hand in his hair to push him closer, to encourage him.

The sounds he’s making as he eats your cunt are utterly obscene and you try not to contribute to the noise by biting your index finger, well aware that you’re in someone else’s house. Two people that were very kind to you and are letting you stay in their home. The least you can do is not moan and wake them up. 

Joel makes it hard for you to keep quiet when he slips two fingers in your cunt and curls them upwards, hitting the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. A strangled sound claws its way out of you as you try to hold back your cries of pleasure. When a moan that’s a little too loud slips out, Joel digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your inner thighs and you get the message. Shut. Up.

You look down at Joel. His graying curls are a mess from you pulling on them, his pupils are blown lecherously, and he’s rutting his hips into the bed. The sight of him hurdles you toward your orgasm. Joel can feel you start to clench around his fingers. Knowing that you’re close, the hand that’s not inside of you shoots up and he shoves two fingers into your open mouth. You suck on his fingers as they move in tandem with the ones inside of you, hitting the back of your throat a few times, making you gag. 

All the sensations at once are overwhelming when your release hits you. Thighs trembling and closing in around Joel’s head, you moan around Joel’s fingers and tears well up in your eyes, ultimately slipping down your temples and into your hairline.

Joel pulls his fingers from your mouth and your pussy at the same time before lightly smacking the inside of your thigh, conscientious of the volume of the impact. His tongue is still circling your clit and you can’t take it anymore, wriggling away from his touch. Finally, Joel relents, looking up at you with slick, swollen lips. He looks absolutely fucked. His thumb rubs a soothing circle atop of the hair on your mound, sticky and wet from your arousal and Joel’s spit.

You’re panting when he hovers over you, looking down at the sheen of sweat covering you from your orgasm. His cock rests on the soft part of your lower belly.

“C’mere, taste yourself,” he husks.

This is it, you think. He’s finally going to slip his tongue in your mouth and kiss you. You’ve been itching for it since the first time you kissed him and you feel excitement flutter in your stomach. Looking up at him expectantly, you hold your breath, but you’re surprised when Joel’s thumb meets your bottom lip and pries your mouth open. You stick your tongue out without even thinking about it, and Joel spits directly into your mouth. His warm salvia pools on your tongue and you close your mouth, swallowing the taste of both of you. 

You can’t help but feel disappointed yet you try to remind yourself that Joel just made you come on his tongue and fuck, it was good. The aftershocks are still reverberating in your core. 

“Good girl,” he praises, voice flat and gravelly. “S’that what you wanted?”

Inhaling shakily, you nod. Joel’s forearm rests by the side of your head, your chests pressed together, while he drags his cock through your slick. Every time the head brushes against your clit, you shudder, still so sensitive from your orgasm. 

“What else did you say you were thinkin’ about?” he asks, still teasing your slit with his cock.

“Your—”

Joel sinks in without warning and his hand flies to your mouth in an attempt to quiet you before you wake Bill and Frank. It works, mostly. Despite your orgasm and his fingers, his cock still stretches you out. It amazes you that no matter how many times you take him, you still feel him work you open. 

Once Joel bottoms out in you and stills, you finish your sentence through exasperated breaths. “Cock. Your cock.”

He groans at this as he begins to thrust into you, shallow yet fast strokes, his cock nearly pulling fully out each time. He’s fucking teasing you. Your moans are hiccupy little noises, not entirely satisfied with the fucking you’re getting. You know if you tell him this, he’ll stop entirely. Just to fuck with you. You also know how to get him going. Just start talking. 

“I know you’ve brought other girls here. Is this what you do, Joel? Bring girls you like here?” His brow furrows at your question, still not fucking you quite how you’d like. You’re surprised that your words are coming out so smoothly. “Wine them and dine them, then make them come?” 

Joel laughs darkly at this and picks up the pace, earning a quiet moan from you. You feel satisfied with yourself, knowing that you’re getting to him. Part of you wonders if he would’ve reacted differently if you mentioned Tess by name. 

“Who said I like you?” 

“I-I think—fuck,” you exhale as he starts to fuck you harder, kissing your cervix with the head of his cock. You close your eyes, telling yourself to pull it together long enough to finish your sentence. “You like me. Enough to be in my bed when you’ve got your own.”

Shaking his head, he buries himself deep inside of you and ceases any movement. You almost whine out of frustration, but you hold back. Joel uses his free hand, the one that’s not supporting him, to wrap tightly around your throat. You choke out a moan and clench around him. 

“I like you when you shut the fuck up,” he says through grit teeth. 

You smile and try to laugh, but it sounds more like a cough than anything. Joel loosens his grip ever so slightly as he starts moving his hips again, fast and deep. Just what you wanted. 

“R-Really? Thought you liked hearing my pretty little noises?” you manage to get out with his clutch lighter than before.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groans, shaking his head. He stops moving and this time, you actually do whine. “Can’t keep that fuckin’ mouth shut.”

Joel releases your throat and leans over, still buried inside of you, to reach for your pack. 

“What’re you—”

He pulls out a roll of duct tape you keep in the front pocket just in case the soles of your boots start to go. Your eyes widen and you swallow hard to try to get rid of the lump in your throat. Anxiety or excitement? You can’t tell.

“Fleshlights don’t talk,” he mutters before ripping a piece of tape off with his teeth, “and that’s all y’are to me.”

Before you get the chance to even think about something to say, Joel slaps the duct tape across your mouth. It’s primal—the way your breathing becomes heavy and frantic through your nose and your chest heaves, like prey being caught by a predator. At the same time, your cunt tightens around him and you feel arousal leak from you. You think that there has to be something wrong with you. This shouldn’t turn you on this much, right?

Joel doesn’t resume fucking you yet, still and sheathed all the way inside of you. His dark, blown out eyes search your face.

“Breathe, breathe,” he orders, but his voice is almost soft now, stripped of the edge it carried before. A hand comes up to cup your jaw and his thumb brushes the tape. “Breathe for me, baby.”

You close your eyes and focus on your breath and the gentle caress of Joel’s rough hands. Eventually, your breathing becomes normal again, consistent. When you open your eyes, Joel’s looking at you and you think you see a flash of concern cross his face.

“Y’okay?” he asks, waiting for your go ahead.

Nodding a little too excitedly with wide eyes, you lift your hips up and your hands fly to his lower back, trying to press him even close to you. Joel’s hand drops from your face and he wears a smug smile as he throws your legs over his shoulders, now impossibly deep inside of you. You moan, muffled pathetically by the tape.

“Good, ‘cause I gotta keep my word and fuck you real nice.”

Joel grabs a good handful of your thighs, digging his fingers into you, and starts pistoning in and out of your cunt. Your hands fist the sheets, trying to ground yourself as he fucks into you brutally, hitting that sweet, spongey spot deep inside of you. If the duct tape weren’t there to stifle your cries, you’re sure you’d wake up Bill and Frank. 

“Much better,” he grunts. “Now I can focus on how fuckin’ nice and tight this cunt is.”

You whimper at his filthy words. Joel has such a mouth on him and you never, ever want him to shut up. Every time he talks to you in bed, you make sure to pay attention, commit it to memory so you can replay it over and over again when you touch yourself.

The tempo he’s set is merciless, his cock slamming into you relentlessly. Your cunt spasms around him and you close your eyes tightly, already feeling that familiar pressure building in your lower belly. Joel notices and he smiles. It’s crooked, smug and exposes his canines. He shifts his angle slightly and rolls his hips into you, groaning quietly. The change earns a wanton moan from you and you arch your back, trying to feel him as deep as possible.

“So damn needy,” he growls. “You were really thinkin’ about this all day, huh?

Joel spreads your legs into a wide V and begins to fuck you slower. You whine, brows pulled tightly as you feel your impending orgasm slip away. His eyes are trained on where his body meets yours, watching his cock, completely coated in your juices, slide in and out of your puffy lips. 

“Fuck, sugar.” He exhales. “Look at that. She takes me so well.” 

You nod, but you don’t look because you can’t pull your eyes away from Joel. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, broad chest glowing in the moonlight, and you wish you could lean forward and lick the perspiration off of the protruding vein on his neck. Joel’s fucking beautiful. 

With your legs spread wide, you feel exposed, but you’re not self conscious. The way Joel’s looking at you, like he could devour you whole, is electric. 

He’s still staring at your pussy, enamored, when he gathers his spit in his mouth and lets it fall from his lips, landing directly on your clit. You moan at the sensation, tilting your head back. One of his hands drops to your sensitive bud and he begins smearing the wetness around. The way he rubs your clit with intention is fucking divine and when he starts to fuck you again, you feel that white hot pleasure return.

Joel’s breathing is ragged and you can tell he’s trying not to make too much noise. At this point, you’re not sure if it matters. The bed is faintly creaking, the sound of skin slapping is unmistakable, and although your moans and cries are dampened, you can still hear them. 

“Squeezin’ me tight,” he says with a sigh. “Gonna give me another, sugar? C’mon, gimme one more.”

The circling on your clit doesn’t stop for even one second and his hips rocking into you don’t falter—your eyes roll back as you come. Your cunt throbs around Joel’s cock and he groans in response, fucking you erratically through it. The high-pitched cries that pour out of you are softened, but not entirely squashed by the tape. As you come down from your high, Joel pulls out of you abruptly.

Fisting his cock, he mutters your name, sandwiched by expletives that you can’t quite distinguish as your ears are ringing from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You manage to sit up on your elbows to look at Joel and the swollen head of his cock, glistening from your cum. With a final groan, he spills his warm, sticky spend on your lower belly and the hair on your mound. 

Joel’s panting as he rolls over next to you, hands coming up to rest on his forehead as he shuts his eyes. You sit there and let him catch his breath, just watching the way his chest rises and falls. Once his breathing decelerates, he opens his eyes and looks over at you—lying there with your mouth taped, covered in his cum. 

Turning on his side to face you, he lets out a short, dry laugh that could easily be mistaken as a scoff. In one quick motion, Joel rips the duct tape off.

“Ow—fuck,” you curse under your breath. Your hand comes up to rub the soft yet irritated skin in an attempt to soothe the sting. “That fucking hurt.” 

“You’ll live.”

You roll your eyes and go to get up so that you can clean Joel’s mess off of you, but he stops you with a firm grip on your forearm. Annoyed and exhausted, you don’t bother fighting it, letting your head drop back onto the pillow. 

Joel’s middle and index finger swipe a long stripe down from your belly to your clit, gathering his cum on his fingers. 

“Open,” he instructs. 

Without a second thought, your lips part and you let your jaw hang open. Joel sticks his fingers in your mouth and you close around them, eyes fluttering shut as you moan and take in the heady, salty taste of his cum.

“Suck.” You do.

“Swallow.” You do.

Fingers popping out of your mouth lewdly, you feel your cheeks get hot with arousal and a hint of embarrassment. Joel knows how much you liked that and you’re sure he’ll hold it over your head at some point. 

“That’s my good girl,” he practically coos. You feel sheepish from the praise, forcing yourself to look away. 

Joel reaches over and grabs the shirt he discarded earlier from the floor. Tenderly, or as tenderly as Joel seems to be capable of, he wipes the remainder of his spend off of you. His gaze meets yours and the moment feels charged. Your mouth is slightly agape and you notice his eyes flit to your lips. If there were ever a time for the two of you to kiss, it’s now. A few moments pass, and it doesn’t come.

“Such a gentleman,” you mumble, breaking the silence. “Guess you are on good behavior.”

Whatever trance Joel was caught in is broken and he snaps his eyes away from you. He runs a hand through his sweaty curls. 

“Oh, fuck off,” he grumbles.

You smile and roll your eyes, adjusting your bra so it’s back in its proper place, covering your nipples that are still hard. For the first time all day, your mind is blank, too exhausted to think. So you let yourself melt into the bedsheets, pulling the blanket up to cover your mostly bare body. Joel doesn’t move. Joel doesn’t say anything.

The only thing you two can hear as you lie on your backs is the sound of each other’s breathing. At some point, you drift off to sleep.

When you wake in the morning to the birds chirping, Joel is gone. You swear you felt him place a gentle kiss on your temple before leaving a few hours ago, but you might have been dreaming.

[lokifys]

Dirty Diary

Summary: Loki is horny and decides to channel it through writing that is about you, before he pleasures himself.

[Loki x Reader, Smut, Masturbation, Possessive Loki.]

Loki’s Writing:

Is this one of the punishments the Gods above have placed upon me? To feel so much for a singular being and not have the courage to do anything about it? I ponder about her in every waking moment of my day. Every second, I imagine what it would be like for her to simply feel the same way I do for her. Does she think of me as someone she can trust with her life? Is she still deep down afraid of me? It eats away at me little by little, not knowing how she feels about me. I fear that once it consumes me whole, I’ll never be the same again.

I think today’s that day.

My self-control to not give in to my desires of pleasuring myself to oblivion over the thoughts of her has been doing fine. That is until now. My aching length, reacting to the anger and frustration of my overwhelming love for this mortal, has been incredibly pestilent. Thoughts of having her all to myself in my chambers back in Asgard, where I can keep her safe and content there, have made the issue in my pants harder to keep away from. I want her to feel how good I can make her feel. Prove to her that she only needs me and no one else.

As I’m writing, I can feel my pre-seminal fluids gushing and soaking the fabric of my mortal-designed pants I have donned. It does not look as good as the clothing made in Asgard, but it is most certainly comfortable, if I were to speak the truth. These pants, however, would be better off me now considering how my tight cock is straining against it, begging for it to be unleashed. It’s screaming for her. This is all her fault.

What a naughty little minx. Does she know the effect she has on me? What would she say if she knew? Would she want her wet slick to be penetrated by a godly sword that fits just right? Or would she think me a monster? I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I cannot lose her. She’s so dear to me, I believe it’s changing me. I’ve found myself stumbling over my words, which is completely the opposite of what it is to be silver-tongued.

Gods, am I weak? Is love a weakness that blinds even the most powerful being? Well, they wouldn’t be powerful if love truly is blinding them, isn’t it? But it means they’re happy, so perhaps nothing changes? Love is mysterious, and if I hadn’t been under that same spell, I would’ve scoffed at it. Thor got infatuated with a mortal woman, and I thought it was the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Yet now I’m met with the same fate, and I cannot think of anything else other than her.

I need her.

Oh Gods, I need her. I will face death over and over again if it means being close to her. I would kill for her. I wouldn’t believe she would want that, but if I had to do it for her sake, I will in a heartbeat.

I cannot control myself any longer, and I find my hand is slipping into my pants, trying to get any sort of contact my pulsing cock needs. One hand on the pen, one hand on my length.

Today is the day I finally admit I am in love with her, and there’s nothing that can ever make me leave her side. I am her God that she will worship one day, for all of time.

THIRD PERSON VIEW

Loki throws the pen and book away in a fit of frustration and raging lust as he quickly unzips his pants and undergarments, springing alive his massive cock. The tip was very pink and angry while pre-cum leaked out as if it were weeping. Usually, pleasuring oneself back on Asgard was never done way too often as there were always “better” ways to relieve yourself like sleeping with a handmaid or others who are willing to partake in that sort of activity with you. Pleasuring yourself was always just seen as when you have no other choice or you’re just really desperate.

He wasn’t going to hide it. He definitely was desperate. He yearns for you all the time, despite him being around you often. You’re always with him since he’s somehow the only person in the Avengers Tower you manage to become close friends with. People, especially Tony, would tell you to be cautious of him back in the beginning when they started noticing how you’re always around him. You never listened, though, continuing your friendship with Loki. The God of Mischief was a lot of things, but one thing you knew was he never would’ve hurt you.

This friendship means a lot to Loki, but he always wishes for more. He wishes for commitment. To be with you forever.

His hands start making their first movements on his veiny cock, sliding up really slowly before it goes down. He’s imagining the first scene where you’re on top of him, your pussy wet and hot for him, and you’re slowly going down on him, piercing your wet heat. You would let out a breathy moan, trying not to be too loud. Once he’s all in, you’d fall in front to meet his neck, nuzzling yourself as you adjust.

Right now his dick is practically pulsing for you, like it’s signaling your name in Morse code. Soon, he starts picking up the pace and pumps himself, using his leakage as a form of lubricant. His mouth subconsciously opens, and he lets out a breath. Oh, what he’d do to see the look on your face when he surprises you by thrusting into you from below, letting out a moan of surprise. To know you’re both safe with you in his arms, cradling you, is making him go crazy.

His other hand releases the mattress and finds its way to his balls, fondling them. Imagining it’s you below him, sucking and playing with them, is only adding to the experience as he found himself going ham on his length, his fist making a noise each time he hits his skin along with the wetness of his pre-cum. He realizes he’s lacking self-control now, unable to stop himself, so he quickly takes the imagination and goes forward towards the end, where he dreams of how things finish.

The trickster would be on top of you now, his arms sandwiched between you. Mirroring his fast paced fisting, he’d be pounding in you like a wild animal in heat, and your moans would drive him insane. It would be his turn for his head to drop down next to yours, smelling your natural scent as he leaves marks on your neck that would last for weeks. As he would do that, you’d whisper the magical three words that would change his life forever. That would consolidate the bond between you two.

“I…love you.”

“I love you, Loki.”

He imagined you’d repeat that over and over again, and on the last one…

“I love you.”

Loki’s hands were moving faster than lightning speed, and soon, white light filled his vision. He closed his eyes before spurting his seed everywhere on his stomach as he let out a loud groan. His body started shivering very slightly, which was something Loki didn’t really do often. The fact that he managed to do that just by the thought of you and his hands made him even more sure of his feelings for you. He pumped a feel more times before he relaxed and dropped his hand down.

Tears were starting to form in his eyes, and he wasn’t exactly about to cry but rather simply forming and clouding his vision. He wiped them away, not wanting it to be a big thing. He wondered if he did get to have you like this, would you sleep with him for the night? Or would you, like most people back on Asgard, rather sleep somewhere else? Or worse, you’d run to Thor and choose him over the God of Mischief and Lies. Over big, bad Loki.

No, you aren’t that cruel. He knows you. He knows you aren’t like them. Anyways, you mentioned you didn’t find Thor appealing in any shape or form, which was why it intrigued Loki. It made him happy if he was being honest. He is your God. Yours only.

He found his cock perking up again, and he sighed before going for round two, and then three and then more as he spent the entire night pumping and cumming, groaning your name repeatedly like a prayer or an incantation.

And when he wakes in the morning, he’ll be excited to see you again.

[cosmicdahlias]

What You Deserve

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

read part 2 here!

Ford and you both like each other, but he’s too afraid to go for it so Bill does him a favor.

warnings: HEAVY NONCON, smut, possession

i really went wild on this one i hope y’all enjoy

Ford has been worrying you lately. His sleep schedule is erratic, he barely eats, and it seems like he’s always talking to someone that isn’t there. But there is someone, you’ve come to know him as Bill.

In Ford’s words Bill is his muse, his inspiration. You hadn’t questioned it at first, it kept him so driven. But now things were different, Ford wasn’t quite the same as when you first met him.

You’ve never spoken directly to Bill, only when he speaks through Ford via possession. You never let Ford know but it terrifies you to see Ford so unlike himself. He turns wild, dangerous, unpredictable. Sometimes disappearing for days at a time and returning with no recollection of what transpired. One time coming back sporting a tattoo that he had no memory of getting, but a tattoo was the least of your worries.

You’ve started to hate Bill for what he’s done to your partner. You fear the day that you turn on the news and see that the local mysterious scientist in the woods has turned up dead.

You secretly love him too. He captivated you, perhaps that’s why you cared so much. If he was just your coworker it wouldn’t keep you up as often as it did. You wanted to take him away from all of this, to just kiss him and tell him that there was more to life than being Bill’s puppet.

These thoughts consumed your mind as you sat at your desk going over your research notes. You were so in your head that you didn’t sense the looming presence behind you.

A hand grasped your shoulder, you jumped nearly a foot out of your chair. It was Ford.

“JESUS Christ, Ford. A little warning next time?” You gasped.

He released his hand. “Oh dear I’m sorry I hadn’t realized I’d scare you like that, you just looked so wrapped up in your own thoughts. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You huffed. “Yeah, it’s just… I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Oh? Perhaps I can take your mind off things.”

“How so?” You asked.

“Well for starters sweetheart I can rip off those clothes.” He cooed.

“What?” You stammered.

“You heard me.”

You blushed, this was so unlike him. “Ford are you feeling okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never felt more like myself.”

It was then you noticed his eyes, the yellow tint and catlike pupils. Your heart sank. Bill.

“I know it’s you Bill. What do you want?” You spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m just doing old sixer here a favor. I’ve seen inside his mind and I know what he thinks about you. Thing is, he’s too damn shy to just go for it. So I figured, why not do it for him?”

You felt like a rock just sank to the pit of your stomach, you knew what that meant. Your thoughts quickly screamed at you to defend yourself. You knew you had a small knife in the drawer of your desk, but could you grab it before Ford, rather, Bill reached you?

You decided to take the risk, you shot up and darted your hand to the drawer, pulling it open. You quickly grabbed the knife and held it out in front of you. Your hands trembled.

Bill laughed coldly “That’s cute of you, but here’s the thing, you try hurting me and you’re just gonna kill Fordsy. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?”

Before you could say anything Ford descended on you, coming up behind you his hands gripping your wrists and wrestling the knife out of your grasp.

“Now listen to me toots, we’re gonna have some fun on behalf of my good old pal here. You can struggle all you want, but I think you and I both know he’s a lot bigger and stronger than you.” He said, running the knife against your throat.

You felt his teeth sink into your neck, rough kisses left at every bite mark, his hands traveling up and down your body. He hooked the knife underneath your clothes and began to tear away at the fabric, leaving your top half exposed.

You wanted to run, to scream, to cry, but you knew it would be in vain. Where would you run? To whom would you scream or cry to? You were all alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods with a man possessed by a twisted demon.

The knife slowly cut away at your skirt, next your bra and panties. Ford kept a hand on your waist, the other still holding a knife to your throat.

“Now,” he said, his fingers massaging your breasts “I’m going to have my way with you.” His voice sent a cold chill down your spine.

In one quick motion Ford spun you around and forced you to the floor, hands holding down your wrists.

“But first, I think Ford deserves a good look at my work, don’t you?”

As you looked up at Ford you saw his eyes return to their normal whites and rounded pupils. He looked down at you, confused, then the horror set in.

“Y/n, what are you- oh god no, Bill what have you done?”

Before he could even remove his hands from your wrists his head snapped back violently, when he returned his gaze to you it was with the same terrifying look, Bill had retaken control.

Keeping a hand on your wrist he began to wrestle with his belt.

“I’ll never understand you humans and your complicated clothing.”

He slipped his pants low enough to reveal his cock, which was dripping with precum. You tried hard to fight against him but your efforts were in vain, Bill was right, Ford was stronger.

Sharply and violently he slid himself into you all the way to the base. You screamed from the pain and Ford let out a loud groan. He began to thrust hard and fast, growling and breathing heavily into the crook of your neck.

“Ah fuck, now I see why sixer wanted this so bad.” He hissed.

You felt your will begin to fade, you were stuck like this, there was nothing you could do, no one was coming to save you.

“I think Ford should feel this too, I never know if he feels anything I’m doing.”

His eyes reverted again, they widened.

“No no no, dear god, make it stop. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Ford tried to fight it, he struggled to get himself off of you but Bill began to take hold again.

“Fordsy might be sorry, but I’m not. Quite frankly I always feel like you’re getting in the way of things, perhaps this will teach you to stay away.”

He resumed his brutal pace, the loud slapping echoing through the lab accompanied by his grunts and your whimpers. All you could see was his yellow eyes and wicked smile. This was pure hell, you wanted Ford, but not like this, never like this.

He could feel himself getting close, he grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your calves.

“Hahhh, hahhhh. I’m going to… make you regret ever agreeing to work with Ford. You’re gonna… keep your distance. You hear me?”

Tears began to stream down your face, you started to hope that Bill would just kill you after he was done.

Ford was fucking you at a punishing speed, as he forced a hand to your throat Bill released him right as he began to cum. Ford let out a deafening moan and his whole body shook. Everything went white for a few seconds, when his vision returned he was greeted with a frightening visual beneath him.

Ford let you go and backed up against the wall, he had to focus all of his attention on not vomiting.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

All you could do was lay on the floor, nothing felt real. Ford took off his trench coat and wrapped you in it. Tears began to fall down his face.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I never meant to hurt you.”

~~~

click here to go to part 2!

[beachbunnyofficial]

musings on announce

Lately I’ve been feeling hopeless, not just hopeless but numb. The state of the world is horrendous and I’ve been consumed with the news, practically swallowed whole. We just announced our third album I should be thrilled - I’m not. I’m just going through the motions. From a personal standpoint I worry about how I’ll find my footing. I use to be so confident in what I was writing, now it just feels like creativity is pointless - maybe everything feels pointless (I know that’s not true). I’ve been comparing myself a lot lately to numbers and career moves. No matter what achievements I cross off it feels like I’m always chasing something bigger than myself, a feeling? Maybe I’m expecting to feel something I’ve never felt before. Maybe you don’t feel new emotions at a certain point. Is the excitement I felt winning a trophy in gradeschool the same excitement I felt headlining a fest? Hard to say. I worry my audience is slipping away even though they sellout shows and send me love letters. I feel anxious about how songs are performing when my label, manager, and booking agent all assure me “everything looks great”. My mom told me the other day when you’re at your peak it’s easy to see how far you could fall - maybe that’s what this is. I had no control over my Initial virality and now I’m trying to hold on with white knuckles. I feel guilty - guilty for being ungrateful, guilty for whining, guilty for getting jealous, guilty for not being excited - so many people would kill to be in this position. I think above all else, I’m afraid. I can’t control what’s happening to the world & maybe I’m projecting that unease onto my career - something Ive convinced myself I can micromanage. My ego’s in the drivers seat. If I tune out that could make me complacent. The discomforts a good thing… right?

I worry if you the reader - if you’ll like this album - we’re old friends meeting up for coffee after a couple years of radio silence. It’s awkward because from my end it seems like we had a falling out, but on your end maybe it feels like we’re just picking up where we left off? I can’t tell. Are you mad that I changed? Are you upset that I was distant for a couple years? Do you understand I needed some time to work on myself? Do you wish I would go back to the old me? It’s embarrassing to be insecure…I’m not always like this. But my goal is to capture how I’m feeling authentically, and as of February 15th, a week after announcing Tunnel Vision, I’m not feeling like my best self

I wrote a lot about these worries on the record - lack of control, overthinking, letting go, jealousy. I thought if I could capture those emotions in a song I could exorcise them from my body. I need to remind myself I am not my emotions, I am not my career, I am not a machine. Just a girl in Chicago trying to make some artwork about the complexity of the mind and the hardness of world. I thought at this point in my career the jealousy and comparison would be over and done with. I hope I can convince myself this body of work is important, I hope I can stop checking in, I want to not care about how it’s received. I wish I didn’t care what you think.

I should be proud I made something I truly like, with messages I still stand by, and songs I think are cool. That has always been my philosophy, where’s that now? Where did she go? I feel whole when I’m in community, when I’m watching a show I enjoy, when I’m listening to Lana and eating a bagel, I feel whole when I’m praying before I fall asleep, I feel whole when I sing karaoke, or play a gig, or when I make a new friend, or when I get to reconnect with a loved one. I feel whole when mimzy sleeps on my head and eats my hair, or I’m hugged so tight all the air leaves my lungs, I feel whole when I drink a glass of water and put on sunscreen. Checking doesn’t make me feel full, it empties me out, lowers my vibration, casts a shadow on my confidence. I need to let the art exist without holding a gun to it, I need to let myself relax without assuming the world is ending

xoxo beach bunny

[chaoticallykinkygrem]

As a special little gift for our wedding (/j) I decided to make sapphic jirgin for @rablovergirl 🫡

Pretty nsfw but not explicit | Starchaser

Jamie knew it was a bad idea. She knew wanting to sleep with her best friend’s little sister would only get her in trouble… but if it could only cause trouble why did it sound so good? Why did Reggie have to show up to the party in a skirt that barely covered her ass and a crop top with underboob showing? Why did Jamie suddenly feel the unexplainable urge to leave marks all over Reggie’s thighs and claim her for herself?

Logically Jamie knows she shouldn’t. She knows Sirius will probably kill her. But she also can’t get rid of the throbbing in her core and uncomfortable wetness in her panties. She can easily say this is the most turned on she’s ever been and it’s all from just looking at Reggie from across the room at a house party. She hasn’t even talked to her tonight and yet she feels her thighs clenching.

Before she can tell herself not to, Jamie finds herself walking over to Reggie.

“Hey, you look nice tonight!” Jamie had to yell slightly to be heard over the music but she would do anything at this point to get the goddess in front of her’s attention. Reggie doesn’t respond immediately though like Jamie was expecting. Instead she smirks and slowly takes a sip of her drink, looking Jamie up and down like a meal she’s about to eat. Before Jamie can fully process what’s happening, Reggie steps closer to her, leaving barely any room between them, and leans into Jamie’s ear to say “Can we talk somewhere quieter? The noise is giving me a bit of a headache.”

Jamie, being the chivalrous person she is, takes Reggie’s wrist and leads her to Jamie’s room. Once inside she closes the door behind them, shutting out the music and chatter of everyone else.

“Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone back here tonight…” Jamie says while quickly moving around the room and picking up laundry, books on the floor, and whatever else she deems unworthy of being in Reggie’s presence. While she’s distracted Reggie walks over to her bed and sits on the edge of it, crossing her legs and exposing even more of them to Jamie.

“Do you typically bring girls back here Jamie?” Reggie practically purrs, all while keeping that smirk on her face.

Hearing her name, jamie turns around to respond and immediately drops everything she’s holding to stare and gape at the beauty that is Reggie Black sitting on her bed.

“Uhhhh no! No I’ve never really brought anyone to my room before. Well unless you consider Sirius but I don’t really think that counts as he’s my best friend and-” Jamie knows she’s rambling but she can’t stop herself. Too nervous from being so close to the personification of all of her desires. She finally stops though when she hears a giggle, a sound she immediately knows she wants to cause as often as possible moving forward.

“I’m asking if you’ve ever had sex before baby. Not if you’ve brought my brother in here to cause chaos and plan pranks. You probably shouldn’t bring up someone’s siblings as they’re trying to seduce you by the way. It does ruin the mood a little. You’re lucky you’re so cute though and that it makes up for all the nonsense you say.”

As soon as Reggie says sex, Jamie’s mind goes blank and the wetness gets significantly worse.

“I’ve never… um I’ve never had sex before” Jamie says so softly it almost goes unheard. She didn’t even realize she was looking at the floor until she feels a hand on her jaw tilting her head up slightly so she can look Reggie in the eyes.

“You’ve never been fucked before baby?” All Jamie can do to respond is a small nod. “Oh I’m going to have so much fun making you mine and ruining you for everyone else. Do you want that love? Want me to claim you all for myself and have my way with you?” Reggie says as she leans in closer, mouth a breath away from kissing.

Jamie grabs onto Reggie’s waist and nods pathetically again, this time whining as well. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Teach me how to make you feel good.” Jamie all but begs as Reggie gently tugs on her hair pulling her into a heated kiss.

[dreaminofdixon]

Two.

I feel like this is super long, I'm sorry. :( But...it's the full scene, not just the snippet and it's only fair to give you the whole thing!!! It's the tiniest bit different because, as mentioned previously...constantly tweaking. It's that OCD thing. Nothing is ever perfect. You'd probably hate me at Christmas time. :)

I’d been completely naive to think I could do this by myself. I lasted just a few more days in my condo before the National Guard was sent in. They started shooting people in the hallways. When I heard the first gunshots, I grabbed my go-bag—guns, ammo, some clothes, and a little food—and headed out as quietly as I could.

Ever since then, I’d been bouncing around, trying to find places to hide.

Those things were scary as hell.

I’d only come face-to-face with them a couple of times in the last few weeks, but I’d learned some key things. 

First off, they didn’t just drop with a shot to the heart. Nope. A headshot was the only way to stop them.

Second, they were drawn to noise. So, the fewer gunshots I fired, the better. That’s how I ended up with a sharp knife on me at all times. The gun? Only for dire situations.

Third, they never stopped. Not like me. They didn’t tire out after running. They didn’t need to sleep. So, running from them only got me so far.

And then there was the most important lesson: trusting anyone was a damn death wish.

It reminded me of the COVID shutdowns when people were brawling over toilet paper, but this time? It was a hundred times worse. People were turning on each other with fear and violence—and I’d seen it firsthand. Watched people kill for the stupidest reasons.

This? Whatever this was? It had brought out the absolute worst in humanity.

Now, I was holed up in an abandoned lab building in downtown Atlanta. I hadn’t seen a soul in the couple of hours I’d been there, and for once, I could just sit still and eat a protein bar without having a panic attack. Rationing food was hard when you’d spent your whole life eating whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

I had definitely learned one thing: my life had been so privileged, I took it all for granted.

Soon, I’d have to learn another skill: scavenging for survival.

Then, I heard it. A noise.

I froze, pressing myself into the corner by the door, eyes scanning for any sign of movement. A moment later, I heard voices. My heart skipped, and I instinctively pulled out my gun, checking the chamber as quietly as possible. The voices got louder—definitely men.

Great.

The men I’d crossed paths with recently had all acted like they were entitled to everything—including me.

They learned real quick that not all women are easy targets. And they had chosen the wrong one.

Growing up, I had a stepfather who thought the same way. He’d felt entitled to my body. For years, I didn’t think I had a choice but to endure it. I figured it out eventually. I left, picked up shooting and martial arts, and swore no man would ever make me feel powerless again. 

Ever. 

Period.

The door creaked open, and the first thing I saw was the barrel of a gun.

I gripped mine tighter, both hands steady on the weapon.

My instructor once told me, “Squeeze the gun as tightly as you can. That’s how you control it. I’ve never seen anyone break a gun, but if you’re the first, I’ll gladly replace it.”

Well, I wasn’t the first. And I had made some embarrassing mistakes with guns—like the time I tried to clean my 9mm and thought I’d broken it because I got the slide stuck. I ended up watching a dozen YouTube videos just to figure out how to fix it.

Lesson learned. And I never made that mistake again.

I pointed the gun at the man who entered the room. He hadn’t seen me yet.

“Get out,” I said, trying to make my voice sound as menacing as possible, though I’m sure it came off more like I was ordering pizza.

His blue eyes shot toward me, and he swung his large revolver to point at me in the same motion. Great. Just what I needed—another person with a gun. And a Sheriff’s uniform, no less. How ironic. A man in law enforcement who, very likely, couldn’t be trusted.

“We don’t want any trouble,” he said, holding up his hands.

Liar.

“Are you alone?”

“Get. Out.”

He looked confused for a moment, then holstered his gun and raised his hands in surrender.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you.”

I’ve heard that line before.

“Are you alone?” he asked again, like a broken record.

“Last chance,” I warned, aiming my gun squarely at his forehead. “Get out.”

That’s when two more men entered. One was carrying a crossbow, and the other had... a red backpack.

What. The. Hell?

I tilted my head at the younger guy with the baseball cap. He was maybe in his early twenties. He looked about as threatening as a kitten, but then again, appearances could be deceiving.

The other guy, though? He looked like a walking redneck stereotype, and he was aiming a crossbow directly at me. The thought of being impaled by that sharp metal arrowhead was enough to make my stomach do a backflip. 

New fear unlocked.

“Put it down, Daryl,” the sheriff guy said.

“Not ‘til she does,” came the deep, gravelly voice of the redneck. 

It sent a strange shiver down my spine.

No way. Get a hold of yourself, girl.

“Then I guess we have a problem,” I said, unfazed. “That’s not gonna happen, so you might as well turn around and get the hell out of here like I told you.”

“Daryl,” the sheriff warned, his tone calm.

Daryl glanced back at him, then slowly lowered his weapon. He gave me a glare that could’ve melted steel.

“We have a group,” the sheriff continued, “with women and children. If you’re alone, we’d be happy to have you.”

“I’m sure you would.” I shrugged, hoisting my bag over my shoulder while keeping my gun trained on them. “Look, let’s just forget this happened.” I used the gun to motion them away from the door, then returned it to the sheriff’s forehead. “I’ll leave, and you guys can… do whatever you’re gonna do.”

Let ‘er go, Rick,” Daryl growled, his voice low.

Ooh… Get it together, girl.

“Wait… I know you,” the Asian kid said suddenly.

I stared at him. “What?”

"Yeah, the 40 West 12th building, right?” He squinted at me, clearly not sure if he was making the right connection.

The hell?

I pointed my gun at him, and he immediately raised his hands in defense.

“I’ve delivered to you before,” he clarified. “Pizza, mostly, but I also do grocery deliveries here and there.” He shrugged. “Well, did, anyway.” He gave a half-smile. “She tips really well, hard to forget that,” he said to his friends.

I lowered the gun slowly.

“How long’s your building been gone?”

I couldn’t decide whether this was some kind of trick or if he had genuinely recognized me. Was I obligated to him because I tipped well? Was he obligated to me for the pizza?

“Um… I think… it’s been a couple of weeks now,” I answered cautiously.

“You’ve been alone?” he asked, then saw the look I gave him and realized his mistake. “Sorry, I’m Glenn. This is Rick, and that’s Daryl.” He stepped forward slightly. “Look, we were alone too, until we found each other. Now we’ve got a group. Rick’s a sheriff, and his partner, Shane, is in the group too. Rick’s wife, Lori, and his kid, Carl. Daryl and his brother. We’ve got a couple of other families with us, too. We have a camp not far outside town…”

“Whoa, hold up,” Daryl cut him off, lifting his crossbow again, just slightly. “We don’ know if she can be trusted. Could be on ‘er way back to people that could…”

I rolled my eyes. “Do I look like I have a group waiting for me? Really? What kind of idiot would wander off alone if they had a freaking group?”

Daryl locked eyes with me, his glare so intense it almost made me want to look away. But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

“Like I said, you’re more than welcome to come back with us,” Rick said, looking at me with something like pity. “Our setup isn’t anything special, but we’ve got safety in numbers.”

“Ya sure that’s a good idea?” Daryl muttered.

I shot him a look that could freeze fire.

“Safety in numbers,” Rick repeated. “It’s getting late, we’re gonna finish clearing this building, and then…”

“There’s nothing else here,” I interrupted, lowering my gun but remaining on edge. “I’ve been through everything. The dead are mostly on the top two floors. The rest of the building’s been cleaned out. I found a couple of first aid kits, but there’s not much else.”

“Any food or…”

“Nothing substantial,” I answered, chewing the inside of my cheek as I did. My dentist would’ve had a field day. “I mean, I found some office snack-type stuff. Candy bars, granola bars. Instant coffee.”

“Well, that saves us some time,” Rick said, nodding.

“So, do you guys like… have an actual house or something?”

[bullet-prooflove]

It messed me up Need a second to breathe

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovebookheart @navs-bhat @elenavampire21 @thebasicgay

Companion piece to:

The Fire Still Burns - The fire has never really gone out between you and Jimmy.

Show Me (NSFW) - A late night with Jimmy results in a video being sent.

Good (NSFW) - Jimmy and you are very good together.

Not Yet - Jimmy doesn't want you to come just yet.

Talking In Your Sleep - Jimmy's used to you talking in your sleep.

“Who is Evan?”  It’s the first thing Jimmy asks when you wake up next to him after a night of debauchery. “You were saying his name in your sleep last night.”

It feels like he’s just pressed a gun to your chest and dry fired because you don’t talk about Evan, you try not to even think about Evan. He must see your resistance to the question in your expression because he perseveres as you tug the sheets up to cover your chest, forcing yourself to sit up against the headboard.

“I don’t know about you but I find it very disconcerting when the woman I’ve just made love to says another man’s name in bed.”

You rub your palms over your exhausted features, trying to scrub the cobwebs from your brain. You really don’t want to do this right now, you don’t want to go into the shit that happened in Albana but Jimmy, he deserves an explanation, he needs to know that he’s getting himself into.

“Evan was my fiancé.” You tell him, prying your hands away from your face. “He was killed last year in a car bomb. It messed me up for a while, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, I worked myself into a breakdown before I took a teaching job and returned to the US to recover.”

“That’s why you didn’t reach out.” He realises as he shifts into position alongside of you, his fingers threading through yours. “You were grieving.”

It’s taken you the best part of nine months to get back on your feet, to face the world again. There’s still days where it hits you, the concussive boom that shattered the windows of your apartment, the heat from the flames when you opened the door. Sometimes it feels like you’ll never be free of it.

“You’re the first man I’ve been with since him, the only one who makes me feel like I can breathe.” You tell him, tilting your head so he can see the sincerity in your gaze. “I don’t feel so broken when I’m with you, we laugh, we have fun, it doesn’t feel like this weight in my chest…”

You trail off then because Jimmy, he gets it. He lost his wife a couple of years ago, he understands how crushing the grief can be sometimes. His arm drapes around your shoulders, drawing you closer into the shelter of his body and you tuck yourself against him, your head coming to rest upon his chest.

“You’re not broken.” He whispers into your hair. “I promise you, you’re not.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[angelicsoka]

MAKE A PART 2 OF THE HUGHES SISTER X TREVOR I NEEDDDD TO KNOW HOW HED REACT

LITTLE TALKS, t. zegras 

part one <3

word count | 1.3k

pairings | trevor zegras x fem!hughes!reader, platonic!luke hughes x sister!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x sister!reader, platonic!jack hughes x sister!reader, 

summary | the youngest hughes sibling begins to amend her relationships

warnings | mentions of self-harm and depression. not proofread. based loosely on the song little talks by of monsters and men. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended. uses of the nicknames for reader include: sunshine, love, pretty girl, & babe. i think that's it??

a/n | i’ve been on a writing SPREE, so here’s this <3 

i don't like walking around this old and empty house

so hold my hand, i'll walk with you, my dear

the stairs creak as you sleep

it's keeping me awake

it's the house telling you to close your eyes

and some days i can't even dress myself

it's killing me to see you this way

she looked in the mirror, an exhausted look on her face. her hair was greasy and disheveled, her eyes held bags under them. she sighed at the pathetic sight that was her, tears welling in her eyes. she had barely slept and when she did it was for long periods of times. her clothes were wrinkled and clearly worn, and she knew she smelt. yet, it took so much effort just to get up and take a shower. 

her brothers had been trying to get her to go out with them, and when that didn’t work they tried to start with simple stuff: quinn would cook her favorite meals to get her to eat with them. jack would set up games and movies for them, and luke helped her clean up her room. most of the time, however, she was in her room either sleeping or trying to sleep. but today she had to be up, she had to shower. 

she broke her gaze from the mirror, turning to run the shower. she discarded her clothes, ignoring the scars that littered her body. she stepped in, her body relaxing against the hot water. it stung, but she didn’t even seem to notice. she was stuck in her head, worried about seeing trevor; about talking to him.

time passed faster than she would’ve liked. the water had begun to run cold, forcing her to finish up and turn off the shower. she began to towel dry herself, taking her time to avoid seeing him. she sighed as she put on her clean clothes, the feeling of finally being clean made her feel just slightly better. she exited the bathroom into her room, throwing the clothes in the hamper as she passed. she heard voices coming from the living room, one voice she could always pick out: trevor zegras. 

for a moment she contemplated how she could get out unnoticed. maybe she could sneak out through the backdoor when he wasn't looking or jump out her bedroom window, although the fall would probably cripple her. she sighed once more, deciding that she needed to talk to him, to explain; he deserved that much.

she reached for her doorknob, panicking internally as she twisted it open. it had been months since she had seen him in person, but he looked no different from the last time she had seen him to now. she saw him sitting on the couch with jack, the two of them catching up. she slowly walked down the stairs, a creak catching their attention. trevor’s head whipped toward her direction, an unreadable look on his face. she wanted nothing more than to fold into herself, to get his eyes off of her. 

“hey, sunshine.” jack broke the silence, smiling at his baby sister. she held a small smile, continuing down the stairs. neither her nor trevor said a word. “how ya feeling?”

“okay.” she spoke softly, unlike the person trevor knew. he watched as she moved slowly, how she didn't smile and when she did it seemed forced. he felt a pang in his heart seeing her like this, so unlike herself. 

beside him, jack began to make very obviously fake ringing noises, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “sorry, gotta take this.” he jumped up, running out of the living area and out the front door.

“did he just…” trevor trailed off, looking to his ex with a confused look.

“make fake ringing noises so that he could leave? yeah, yeah he did.” she laughed softly, almost inaudibly. for a moment, she seemed like her old self, but her face dropped quickly. 

there's an old voice in my head

that's holding me back

well, tell her that i miss our little talks

soon it will be over and buried with our past

we used to play outside when we were young

and full of life and full of love

some days i don't know if i am wrong or right

your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

“so, uh, how have you been?” trevor cleared his throat, looking to the hughes sister. she was curled up on the other end of the couch as she bit at her finger nails. she looked over to him, the anxiety clear on her face. she shrugged, looking back down to her fingers. he couldn’t see it, but he knew her like the back of his hand, and right now she was holding back tears. he stood up, walking over to where she sat, taking a seat beside her. “talk to me, love.” the pet name simply slipped out, but it brought her over the edge. her shoulders shook as she began to sob, trevor pulling her to his chest. “shh, shh, it's okay. it's okay.”

“i’m so sorry, trev. i’m so fucking sorry.” she cried, gripping his torso as if her life depended on it.

“babe, why are you apologizing?” he asked, looking down at her. he tilted her chin up, ignoring the pain he felt at the sight of her teary, tired eyes. he cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen down. “you don’t need to apologize.”

“yes, i do. i left you, i hurt you.” she hiccupped continuously, rushing her words.

“shh, slow down. it’s okay, i’m okay.” she tried to continue but her breath caught in her throat. she began to panic, her breathing turning short and quick. “look at me, love. breathe with me.” trevor began to take deep breaths, the youngest hughes following. it brought back the memories of trevor comforting her through her anxiety and panic attacks; he would always drop what he was doing to help her. once she had calmed down, trevor pulled her into a hug, placing a tender kiss on her temple.

“i hate myself, trev. i hate everything about myself, and i hate feeling like this.” his heart broke with every word she spoke. “how can i love you if i can’t love myself?” she sniffled, looking up at him.

“i love you so much, sunshine, and it is killing me to see you like this.” she wiped at the tear that fell, “i wish you could see yourself the way that i see you. you are perfect, love, in every way. i could be the most mad i’ve ever been and one smile from you could change that in an instant. i love the way your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you love, the way you can keep up with my energy.” she smiled softly, “i may be biased but i just so happen to think you are the most beautiful girl in the world. i love you, pretty girl.”

“i love you, trev, so goddamn much.” she smiled once again, tracing her fingers along his jaw. “can we try this again?” 

“absolutely, love.” he lent down, gently kissing her. she was nowhere near perfectly happy, but they would be okay, and that's all that matters.  

[wandsandwheezes]

Come Home - S.Rintarō

TLDR I got sad and i missed the loml let a girl live

Hoping this inspires me to get back into writing again but i thought id share this small angsty hurt comfort i whipped up to make myself feel better / weasley content tbc because i really miss writing

It was hard for her to admit this to him. Just how cold the bed was on her own, the deafening silence of the apartment without his presence. Almost three months he’d been away from her, that was never the plan.

“Baby it’ll be a couple’a weeks and i’ll be back in no time, yeah?” He spoke softly, smoothing the hair down at the back of her head as she sobbed into his chest. Rintaro hated leaving, felt his heart tear in two as the tears rolled down her face, but it was work.

He could hardly break the news to her when it came. “I’m sorry princess, i’ve gotta stay… shit none of us anticipated making it to the quarters, let alone semi finals.” He could feel his world shatter as a single tear rolled down her cheek, not even able to wrap her up in his arms and take the sadness away. Tears welled in his eyes as she choked out, “But you’ll be home soon?”

Soon couldn’t come fast enough, counting down the days, eating meals alone. Suna had never felt so distant from reality, they’d spent every day together for 4 years, and now two and a half months was too much for him to take. He paced his hotel room, trying his hardest not to overthink the text he’d just received. I miss you, suna, i hope you miss me too.

Fuck, of course he missed her. This tour, it was life changing; enough to put that down payment on their forever home, even enough to get her the ring that she deserved, stashed in his bag ready for his arrival home, he wanted to provide for them. The exposure was enough to warrant a contract other players would fight for, but it was security for them. As much as it killed him to be away, he was setting things up for the future he wanted, a future that made her happy.

He hit dial, needing to hear her voice. It rang, eerily long for his liking, until the video call connected, the screen was dark and all he could hear were faint sniffles down the phone. A switch clicked on and their bedroom illuminated, showing him his puffy eyed and sleepy girl, a sight that shattered his heart into a million pieces. “Baby…”

“please don’t, rin… i don’t wanna think about it.” she sighed, every part of her missed him, the way he let her tangle her legs between his as she curled into his chest, how he traced hearts and smiley faces on her shoulder as she slept, waking up to his gentle snores and warm body, or how he pulled her in just that bit tighter when they were both sleepy.

“I’m breaking your heart, aren’t I?” He was blunt, almost too blunt. He didn’t like seeing her like this, not when he was hours away, exhausted after a day of practice and just wanting a kiss from the love of his life.

She stayed silent, tears spilling again as she clutched her bear to her chest just a little tighter. She’d made a home in Japan with him, but right now all she wanted was to be in her childhood bed, curled up and listening to the sound of the british rain against her window. “I can’t do this without you rinnie, I hate being alone.

“I’m sorry, kit… I-“ he was at a loss for words, “I hope you know that i can’t breathe without you, i can’t sleep properly, i’m totally lost without you by my side through this.”

“Then come home,” she pleaded, choking out a sob, “please, i’m begging you come home.” He watched the world around him crumble. No amount of money or exposure was worth what he was putting her through. “baby, i’ll be home soon, I love you.”

“Soon, sunarin, i love you.” She knew it wouldn’t change a thing, pressing her lips to the camera as she disconnected the call. She needed him now, but she knew she’d have to wait, for how long though was the question.

Suna had never packed a bag faster, finding everything in that hotel that belonged to him before he was out the door, flying down the expressway to her, to his heartbeat. Four hours it took him, four hours more he was separated from her.

He opened the apartment door quietly, gently placing his bag on the floor as he kicked off his shoes and set down his keys. He pattered down the hall, finding the door open and the faint glow of tokyo lights reflecting around the room, she was sound asleep.

The bear was pulled tight to her chest, salt stained cheeks now dry and he’d known she’d cried herself to sleep. Pulling off his hoodie, he gently lifted the covers and slipped back into their bed for the first time in what felt like a decade, pulling his baby into his arms.

She stirred, the faint smell of his cologne entering her senses and she curled in tighter, content in the dream of her rinnie. As she came to her senses and he didn’t fade away, butterflies erupted in her stomach, sleepy eyes peering open and she could almost cry again at the sight. “You came home.”

“And l’ll never ever leave you again, baby i promise.” He kissed her forehead, pulling her tight to his chest once again. He reached into his pocket with one hand, pulling out the small box, flicking it open behind her back. He sighed deeply, lifting the gleaming emerald into the light of her lamp, “I simply can’t live without you princess, and i want you to be mine forever, mrs suna”

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 7

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,255

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it is talked about), wound cleaning, arguments, Hurt Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying, Nightmare, talk of past trauma (dead brother), Not Edited

A/N: TLDR for the last chapter - Chris notices Y/N drifting slowly, and tries his best to keep her within a safe distance… but one night him and his brothers decide to film a car video. While in the house alone Y/N tries to distract herself from the bad thoughts… it doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to interrupt the triplets, causing her to relapse and try to commit. She calls Chris, and the guys rush home to find her a bloody mess in the bathroom. (Nick didn’t see it because Chris made him leave, but Matt was really effected by what he saw) after cleaning her wounds, Chris leaves her with nick while he cleans up the mess in the bathroom (Matt left, barely even looking at her), while with nick she tells him everything. The chapter ends with Chris saying “who said I was pretending?”. This chapter picks up right where the last one ended.

if I missed something, please let me know

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

“I told Nick…” he just stares into my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me anymore, there’s no point in lying anymore.”

“who said I was pretending?”

I stare into his icy eyes in the dim lighting, trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. “Don’t say things you don’t mean Chris.” It’s lined with a venom developed from years of rejection.

“it’s not a lie.” He looks genuine, I want him to mean it. “I think I’m in love with you… we can talk about it in the morning, you need to sleep”

I try to protest, but he just nuzzles his head into the space between my collar and jaw. The adrenaline rush from the events of the night finally dies down, and I realize just how tired I am. Within minutes my heavy eyes drift shut, all thoughts of an explanation long gone.

“”“”“”“”“”

The sun through the window wakes me up, I reach over for Chris… the bed is cold where he usually lays. I lay in peace for a moment before my brain starts working.

Did I just imagine the conversation with Chris? Was it a lie he told so I didn’t try to kill myself again? Was it just the adrenaline rush that made him say it? What if I dreamt it all? What if-

Before I could keeps coming up with worse case scenarios, the bedroom door opened. Chris walked in carrying two plates of pancakes.

He sits down criss cross in front of me on the bed, handing me a plate and fork. “How are you feeling?” He asks right as I shove a piece of pancake into my mouth.

“much better now… you didn’t need to make me breakfast in bed.” I pause for a second, staring at my food while trying not to cry. “You also didn’t need to say that you love me…”

I hear him set his plate and fork down. “Yes I did… not for you, but for me.” With that I looked up at him. “I have been so scared to tell you how I felt, out of the possibility that it scares you away… but I can’t lose you Y/N, I can’t not tell you how I feel.”

He meant it.

I just stare at him, dumbfounded at how he could really mean it. I’ve never been the kind of girl that all the guys chase, especially guys that look like Chris. I’ve always struggled with how I see myself, and I never thought that I’d believe a man who says he loves me…

But here we are.

“When we’re done eating I need to change your bandages, and then we can watch a movie or something… if you want to, if you want to do something else that’s totally fine…”

He’s rambling, I love it.

I love him.

“”“”“”“”“”

it’s been a month since the incident, and I’ve never been happier… and I’ve never felt worse.

It's a normal Tuesday night this time… I can feel Chris tossing and turning. I open my eyes to see his face scrunched up in anguish, and I know that it’s my fault. This happens at least once a week.

It’s always the same:

-It starts with tossing and turning

-then he starts pleading (“no, no, please, it’s okay… baby… please, you have to be okay… please don’t leave me…”)

-I usually end up straddling him before gently shaking him awake

-he wakes up and hold me like he never thought he’d see me again, and he never tells me what his nightmares are about.

He doesn’t have to.

I remember the look in his eyes when he opened the door. The way he tried to keep it together, never letting his tears fall. I could hear him breaking down while he cleaned the bathroom floor.

I see that look in his eyes again when he opens them. “It’s okay baby… it’s just a nightmare… everything is okay now.” He burst into tears, pulling me into him. We stay like this until we end up falling back asleep. I wait until I had his breathing even out, and he starts snoring softly before letting myself fall back asleep.

I know he won’t talk about it in the morning, but I’ll still ask him.

“”“”“”“”“”

The vibe in the house has been tense since that night. I walk into the kitchen, and notice Matt staring at something on his phone.

“good morning.” I say, smiling in his direction.

he looks at me with a look of disgust, before leaving the room.

I’m tired of this… I’m going to follow him to his room to make him talk to me. He hasn’t said a word to me since he found out I was alive.

“Get out of my room.” He snaps in my direction. “I don’t want you here”

“Do you wish I died?” I didn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but it’s been the only thought in my head for the last month.

“Excuse me?” I can tell it offended him. That wasn’t my intention.

“I said ‘do you’… ‘wish that I had died’, it’s a yes or no question.” I didn’t mean to starts out this hostile, but it’s been building for longer than I wanted it to.

“how could you say something like that Y/N?” He has tears in his eyes now. Shit. “I can’t stand to look at you, but it’s not because I wish that you had died!” I clearly misread the situation before me. “I can’t look at you because every time I do, all I see is you on the floor, covered in your own blood. I can’t look at you because I see you, half dead, every time I close my eyes! I don’t sleep anymore Y/N!”

“Im so sorry…” I don’t know what else I can say. It’s true. I hate the way that my mistake has affected the people around me.

“No Y/N, it’s too late to apologize… did you even think about how traumatic finding you like that would be for us?”

“I know how you feel, I can help you with-” I’m cut off before I can finish my sentence.

“You don’t know shit about what this is like! I had to watch my brother patch up the slit wrists of my best friend… the love of his life, and all I could do was stand there!” His voice is shaking, but I can’t stop now.

“Don’t talk about me like you know anything about my life before I moved to Boston! I survived… I understand that you are struggling, but you don’t get to act like I died. I know exactly what you feel like, because I’ve been right where you are… the only difference is that my brother didn’t survive.”

I never told him about my brother, Chris and Nick are the only people in my life who know.

“You can’t possibly imagine the pain of finding your twin brother lying dead on the floor of his bedroom!” The words are coming quicker than I can process. “You never had parents that told you that they wish it had been you, you always got a birthday, and you never had to move to a different state because everyone knew that you tried to kill yourself… so don’t tell me that I don’t know what you’re going through!” I’m practically screaming by the end.

Then I’m crying.

And Matt is holding me while we both cry.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi

[mischiefnevermanaged89-blog]

Gotta Be Somebody-Part 10

Angel Reyes X Reader

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As I began to climb on the back in Angel’s bike, I noticed his kutte. My eyes went wide.

“Hold the fuck up!” I yelled. Everyone turned to look at me. I hit his back. “When did this happen?”

They all laughed. Dad was the first to speak.

“We patched him in last week. After I come back from meeting with you and Nestor. I knew he’d do anything for this club and especially you and I wanted him beside me if any shit went down. It was a mutual agreement.”

“Kid’s shown a lot of guts lately being the middle man with everything. We knew he would do fine.” Hank spoke next.

I scoffed. “Well damn. You get patched before me. You lucky some bitch.” I teased.

“Sorry, amor.” He smiled and kissed my head.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just go home.” I smiled.

We all loaded up and all at once the beautiful sound of motors filled the air.

Angel pulled me close to him as we sped down the highway, dad and Hank flanking him on either side and Marcus riding in front of us. They wanted to make sure I was protected until I got home.

Once we hit town, Angel broke off from everyone and drove me to my apartment. Once there, I sighed in relief and immediately started stripping off my dingy clothes on the way to the bathroom. Behind me I could hear Angel chuckling.

I turned to shower on as hot as it would go and stepped under. A moan left my lips and my body relaxed at the feeling of finally having a hot shower. I stood there for what felt like hours before I began scrubbing myself raw to get every ounce of dirt, sweat and blood off. When I was satisfied I was clean, I turned the water off and stepped out. Laying on the sink was a fresh towel and clothes. I smiled as I dried off and got dressed.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting forever for you to get out here to eat.” Angel said dramatically as he took containers out of a brown paper bag.

“Oh shut it Reyes.” I slapped his shoulder as I walked up. My eyes lit up at the food. “Oh you do love me! Chinese takeout and pizza!” I kissed him before I piled my plate full and sat down.

I groaned as the wonderful tastes hit my tongue. Angel couldn’t do anything but laugh at me.

“Hey. You try being out there for months living off of can foods half heated and dead animals cooked over a fire. This is fucking heaven.” I said with a mouthful.

He threw his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.“ He looked at me and gave me a sly smirk as we ate.

“I know that look. I know when you’re up to something, A.”

He shook his head. “I’m not up to anything, crazy. I’m just glad to have you back.” He reached over and took my hand. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” I squeezed his hand. “Now, let’s clean this up and go sit on the balcony with some beer and talk. I want to know everything that’s happened since I’ve been gone.”

Angel nodded and we cleaned up. Once everything was clean and put away, Angel grabbed us a beer each and we went to the balcony. I smiled when I seen he had already put me a blanket and pillow on the outdoor sofa and had a candle lit. I smiled as he sat and took my hand, pulling me down beside him.

I cuddled up next to him, tucking my feet under me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. We talked for hours about everything I missed. He told me about Filipe finally hiring some help at the store and about EZ getting more time added to his sentence for attempting to kill a guard.

I told him about my time with Adelita and her group. How I spent my nights and how I had a notebook full of letters to him I’d write every night.

“It’s late, amor. Why don’t you go get some sleep. You need it.” Angel said to me as I yawned.

“Yeah. Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone my first night back home.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He said softly.

He followed me to my room and I pulled the blankets back, patting the spot beside me when I laid down. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in beside me. I immediately wrapped myself around him and let out a sigh.

“I missed this the most. Being able to cuddle up next to you. Knowing I was safe if I fell asleep.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Yeah. Me, too, querida.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel

It didn’t take her long before she was asleep. I wrapped my arms around her tighter and took her in. For the last few months I’ve missed having her with me. If things went my way, soon I will have her with me all the time. I kissed the top of her head again and closed my eyes.

When I woke, (Y/N) wasn’t in bed. I jumped up and ran in search of her. I sighed with relief when I seen her at the stove. I ran my hand through my hair and walked up behind her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her neck.

“Good morning, amorcito.” She giggled and reached behind her to caress my face.

“You scared me. I woke up to you not beside me. I thought you’d have slept longer.”

“I slept enough. I guess being out there and waking up at a certain time still hasn’t left me. I wanted to make you breakfast before we started our day.”

I kissed her neck; she leaning her head back on me as I did. A soft moan leaving her lips as I made my way up. My arms tightened around her, snaking their way under my shirt she had on. Her hand made its way to my head, her nails scraping at my scalp, making me moan in turn.

She reached out in front of her to turn off the stove then turned to face me. Her hands making their way up my chest, mine down her back to her ass, picking her up.

Our lips met in a heated kiss, and damn it felt good. I licked her bottom lip, asking permission, which she greedily agreed to. The kiss got deeper and more heated. Her nails dug into my scalp and back, my hands running further under her shirt.

Suddenly a knock came at the door, bringing us back to earth.

“Yo! Chica! Open up!”

“Fuckin Coco.” I whispered.

“Asshole. Maybe he’ll go away.” (Y/N) said in a low voice.

“Come on now! I know you’re in there. I know Angel is here, too. We need you down at the clubhouse.”

She let out a groan. “I just got back and already being needed.” She let her self down from my grasp and stomped to the door.

She slung it open to see a smug looking Coco on the other side. “What is so damn important down at the clubhouse you have to come banging at nine in the morning?”

“Your dad sent me to get you. There’s some important stuff we need to talk about.” Coco pushed his way in the door.

(Y/N) growled before stomping away to her room, slamming the door shut.

I looked at Coco who was leaned against the kitchen counter, picking at the bacon that was sitting there, taking a bite.

I scoffed and shook my head. “Fuckin’ cock block.”

Coco laughed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: here yall go!!! I finally finished it! Well…not the story but this part haha! We still got one maybe 2 more to go!! Hope yall like it!!

@ravennaortiz

@spnaquakindgdom

@meera10

[ladytanithia]

Writing WIP Wednesday

Forced myself to sit down and try to work on the rewrite of Best-Laid Plans last weekend. Hoping to slowly regain some motivation. Guys, you just have no idea how apathetic I've been, for the last year, but especially for the last few months. Facing a "career" change at mid-life is overwhelming when you've gotten too complacent.

So, is anyone sick of Miranja yet? I'm sharing a big chunk because it's been so damned long.

Tagged by @skyrim-forever and @theoneandonlysemla

Faendal sat down next to her and crossed his legs, letting the fire restore his strength and the dexterity in his fingers. The feeling of being baked was rather pleasant after being chapped and stiffened in the icy wind outside. “I came here from Valenwood on foot after my parents died. It seemed like every time I got barely out of sight of a town, bandits waylaid me. If it wasn’t bandits, it was nutty daedra worshippers. I was attacked more often by people than by wild animals. But at least I ate well on the way.”

Miranja’s eyes widened, partly in mild shock and partly in understanding. Faendal had adhered to the Green Pact. He’d eaten the enemies he’d killed. Spilling human and mer guts was a way of life for him, like cleaning an animal for cooking. If his parents were dead, it was likely that he’d even consumed them.

“I forgot,” she said, casting her eyes downward in embarrassment. “My lover Arendor, back in Cyrodiil, told me about the Green Pact and how you eat your dead.”

“Well, I guess you just answered your own question, huh?” Faendal gave her a mischievous grin when she looked back up at him, and then he winked at her. “And you’ve been with a Bosmer, eh? How’d you like it?”

If Miranja’s face hadn’t already become rosy from the fire, the flush in her cheeks would have been obvious. As it was, she worried that the fire within her belly might have caused her arousal to be readable in her expression. “Why do you want to know?”

“I know what you human women say about us. Because we’re shorter than humans…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence for Miranja to know what he meant. “I never found him lacking. In fact, he seemed to have more passion than any of the human men who tried to sleep with me. If he didn’t know what pleased me, he asked me to tell him or show him. Human men would be too proud to admit they didn’t know what they were doing, and would go on being lousy in bed because of their stubborn pride. If they were shit in bed, they didn’t want to know. Ironic, really.”

Faendal laughed heartily. “You know, that’s exactly how I think Sven thinks. As if his music and poetry could make up for being a lousy lover. Truth is, though, I don’t know if he has any more experience between the sheets than I do. But hopefully, thanks to you, I won’t have to worry about that anymore, where Camilla's concerned. Thanks again, seriously.”

“I was glad to help. I tend to favor elves over humans, especially racist assholes like Sven and his mother.”

“Well, if you happen to talk to Camilla and get the chance to slip in something about how good your Bosmer lover was, maybe it’ll get her to wondering about me.” Guilt flashed across his features for a moment. “Not that all I want to do is get her into bed, of course. She deserves to be treated like the lady she is.”

“Of course,” Miranja smiled, though frustration curled its gnarled fingers around her heart. “And it seems you’ve taken my mind off of killing, at least for the time being. I feel a little better. It’s just that before I came to Skyrim, I’d never killed anything bigger than a chicken or a rabbit, and now I’ve killed several of my own kind. I’ll have some thinking to do when we get back to town. I believe this makes me a murderer, especially since I killed that woman before she even attacked me.”

“I killed her,” Faendal interrupted. “You shot her, but you only wounded her.”

“Well, it could have been either of us who fired the killing shot on him.” Miranja nodded her head in the direction of the male bandit, lying in his own congealing blood a couple meters away. “You know, the border guards told me Skyrim was a different place than Cyrodiil, and that I should be ready to defend myself, but for some reason, I never thought it was people he was telling me I’d have to defend against.”

“I’m sorry to say you’ll probably end up getting used to it. Skyrim is plagued with bandits. I’m actually rather glad to see the various Imperial and Stormcloak soldiers on my trips into Whiterun, just so I know I’m not on my own out there.”

“Well, I’m very glad to have you with me for this,” Miranja declared, standing and brushing herself off. The fire had actually made her start to sweat. “I feel safer and more confident with you here. Especially after your archery tips.”

Faendal smiled fondly at her. He rose easily to his feet. “You learn fast, too. That was a good shot for a beginner, even if we were kind of at a close range.”

“Beginner’s luck?”

“Probably,” Faendal nodded, feigning seriousness.

Miranja side-eyed him and elbowed him in the ribs. “Asshole.”

[thetreehousechronicles]

Operation F.A.L.L.E.N Semi Lore Drop

For the incredible Kenny, that made me that amazing Wally artwork! Here some Wally lore!

Tw: Heavy Angst! This will be very hard to read and very sad, please read with your caution. Also, on a side note, he is not a kid in this au and he wasn't when he was writing this. He's aged up in this au.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Journal Entry

I don’t know the date. Days don’t matter here anymore.

My hands won’t stop shaking.

I don’t even know why I bother writing this. No one’s gonna find it. No one’s coming. But if I don’t get this out of my head, it’s gonna eat me alive. Maybe it already has.

I don’t remember how long I’ve been in this place. A few weeks? Months? I’ve lost count. The clocks don’t work here. The sun doesn’t shine. Time’s just a smear of blood, screams, and cold concrete walls. This whole tower’s a tomb.

They call it the “Tower of Hell.” Honestly? That’s putting it nicely.

Cree’s gang — the raiders — they said they were rescuing us. Said they were building something new, something better. That we’d be part of it. I believed her. That’s the worst part. I actually believed her.

They didn’t save us. They caged us.

Every day they toss us into this death pit and make us fight like animals. You fall from the top, land hard, then it starts. Blades, fists, rusted metal — whatever you can grab. It’s kill or be killed. And I’ve killed.

Too many times.

I remember every face. Not their names, just their eyes. Scared. Begging. Some of them didn’t even want to fight. But it doesn’t matter what they want. They scream, and I silence them. And then I win. And then I do it again.

Over.

And over.

And over.

I keep thinking — what’s left of me after all this? Am I even still Wally?

They’ve done things to me. I’m not right anymore.

The Veloura spores… they’re inside me now. They use ‘em like weapons, make us breathe ‘em in, inject ‘em straight into our systems. I don’t even know what they’ve done to me. I can feel it under my skin, crawling, pulsing. I don’t sleep anymore. I barely eat. But somehow, I’m stronger. Faster. My reflexes are too sharp. I don’t miss anymore.

My eyes… they glow now. Bright. I can see in the dark. I don’t need light. I am light in this black pit. But it’s not a gift. It’s a target. A beacon for their freak experiments. I’m their glowing little monster. Their success story.

They cheer when I fight. They bet on me. Laugh when I fall. Patch me up just enough to throw me back in.

I hate them.

I hate what they turned me into.

I hate that I let them.

And what scares me most? I’m starting to hate myself.

I remember things. Flashes. Kuki laughing. Hoagie yelling something dumb. Abby rolling her eyes. Even Nigel — serious as always, trying to keep us all alive.

And now?

Now I don’t even know if any of them made it.

Except Nigel. I saw him. He came with his group he was going to save some of the prisoners. Just for a second. He looked right at me. I remember his face, covered in dirt and blood, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost.

He told me he’d come back. Swore it.

He promised.

I held onto that like it was the only thing left keeping me from breaking.

But he’s not here.

And I’m still breaking.

I don’t know if he couldn’t come back, or just didn’t. Doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is the pain. The silence. The way my heart doesn’t even jump when the alarms blare anymore. I just… exist here. Breathe. Bleed. Kill. Sleep — if I’m lucky.

But I want more.

I want to remember what sunlight feels like. What clean air smells like. What it feels like to laugh without it being followed by a punch in the face or a scream echoing through the vents.

I want to stop being scared of mirrors. Scared of what I’ve become.

I want out.

Even if I have to claw through every level of this hellhole. Even if I have to become something worse than what they already made me.

Just… to feel like a person again.

Just to be free.

Please...

Please...

Just let me be free.

Someone...

Anyone...

Please...

Save me.