#Tex mumbles

[hollowsart]

Rattling my own bones thinking about the smoked turkey leg I'm gonna be getting day after tomorrow at the fair.

I'm so anxious and so excited at the same time.

I am absolutely taking pics and vids of the animals n stuff.

I like the train ride to the fairgrounds in the morning. it's really calm and nice. the train ride back to the parking lot tho is very tiring. you feel tired and sluggish. wanting to just go back home, slip into your pjs and laze about before going to bed. that's all you look forward to at the end of the day.

but the morning wait and ride is really pleasant.

[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 2. The Motel

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader — SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel. — WARNINGS: angst, a hint of smut (masturbation) — WORDCOUNT: 3k — A/N: Continuation of Part 1. After a couple of weeks I could finally work on this again! The story continues. I hope you enjoy it, my loves 😘

She wasn’t sure what she expected before she stepped inside. There were tables and dartboards, a pair of old jukeboxes, and a long bar all along the left side of the room. A few people were playing pool and a few more sat drinking, all wallowing in days-old sweat under the pale light. She almost stepped back out at the sight of all of this but he stood behind her. He eased her in with a hand around her waist.

“It’s ok,” he mumbled with the shadow of a smile. “Nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

He led her in keeping his hand around her all the while. She scowled up at him, at his familiarity, but soon realised this was probably his way of making sure nobody else would touch her.

“Take a seat anywhere you’d like,” he softly said.

She took the table furthest from anybody else and hugged her purse tightly to her chest. Everyone else looked at them until, almost in unison, they stopped and went back to whatever they’d been doing.

“What do they have to eat around here?” she asked as he sat opposite from her.

“Burgers. Beer.”

“That’s it?”

He pulled his pack out and offered her a cigarette.

“No thank you…”

“They got peanuts at the bar, I guess.”

“Right,” she said with a scrunched nose. “So, where’s the bathrooms?”

He stared at her in silence as he lit another smoke.

“Well, I’d like to at least wash my hands before I eat…” In truth, she felt filthy head to toe after the night she’d had.

He braced his arms on the table and took a deep drag, then turned his head to gaze across the room. It gave her the chance to look at him in better lighting. He was deceptively young but aged around the edges — from the drinking and the smoking and a rough life in the wind. Every slip of softness was threaded through with something harsh. His lips were pillows surrounded by the blond bristles of a beard, his eyes were icy cold, fanned by thick long lashes, and although his hands were callused and beringed and heavy he held that cigarette as gently as if it were a lover’s dainty finger.

“In the back,” he muttered through a puff of smoke.

“What?”

“Ladies’ room.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll, erm, be right back.”

And just as she got up he added with a smile,

“If there’s no soap left, try the men’s.”

She left him not thinking that she would ever do that, but she did. The ladies’ bathroom was well-used to the point she had to hop around to avoid dubious puddles. The men’s room was no better except they never seemed to use the soap. She dipped in and out of it as if the door could bite her.

By the time she returned to their table, he had already ordered and was chugging down his beer waiting for her. His eyes didn’t leave her as she sat down and started to inspect the meal.

“Is this it?” she asked with a curl of her nose.

The plate was chipped, the bun was shiny with grease, the pickles underneath were slathered in ketchup, and she didn’t have the courage to look further than that. He nursed on the bottle and hid a shy smile around the rim.

“I could ask them to get you somethin’ else.”

“You said they didn’t have anything else.”

He shrugged. “They could make it.”

“At this hour? The chef’s likely to —”

“They ain’t got a chef,” he shrugged. “Old guy, think his name’s… Tex. He tends the bar and the kitchen out back.”

“Yeah… All the more reason to stick with this,” she muttered to herself.

He chuckled and snuffed out the cigarette, and then his sooty hands grabbed hold of the burger, its insides dripping lazily onto the plate. She looked at him, and picked hers up, but immediately decided she’d rather try the beer first.

It was surprisingly decent, not too strong, flavourful… She drank until it sated her thirst and her throat was no longer burning. By the time the bottle was half-empty, the burger didn’t even seem so horrible anymore.

“What’s your name?” she asked with a sigh.

The boy raised his pale gaze to hers and slowed down his chewing. He seemed surprised that she had asked at all.

“Benny.”

“Benny,” she smiled. “Ben. Benjamin?”

He put the messy burger down and took another swig, looking at her over the edge of the dark bottle. “Just Benny.”

“I see…”

“How ‘bout you?”

She introduced herself but after that, the conversation settled into silence. They kept eating and drinking while the chime of the balls at the pool table filled the emptiness around them. She felt awkward sitting opposite him, trying to be polite, pretending that she didn’t quietly judge everything about him in spite of her friendly tone. Benny seemed to sense it. Did he just not like her asking about his name? She thought “Benjamin” to be quite dignified and she regretted not getting to tell him. But then again, perhaps he wouldn’t like that…

Or perhaps he didn’t like her staring at him. At his grimy hands holding those buns even as they seemed ready to fall apart, at how he held the bottle by its thin delicate neck, at his lips, his lidded eyes, the way his throat flexed as he swallowed. Soon she found herself quite uncomfortable and not because of the awkward silence anymore. He looked up when he was done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and although she looked away he seemed to pause in thought at the sight of her. His chair scratched lightly across the floor as he leaned back to finish off his beer.

“It’s just oil and dirt,” he said with an awkward smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and started smoking “Ain’t gonna hurt me.”

“You’re probably sick of me, aren’t you?” she smiled. “You’d rather be over there at the bar, or playing pool.”

Benny’s arm tightened around himself and she tried not to stare at how nicely those muscles flexed. “And you’d rather be at home,” he said in a quiet rasp. “Takin’ a hot shower. Layin’ in a nice clean bed.”

She leaned back as well, her hand already reaching for the beer again. There was no meanness in his voice but she still felt guilty for wanting something better than… what his life seemed to be.

“So what were you doin’ out there?” he asked as he wiped the corner of his lips.

“I, er, got lost.”

He looked at her in that quiet way of his she’d already gotten used to.

“I fell asleep on my bus ride home,” she finally confessed, smiling sheepishly.

That got a chuckle out of Benny. “How long were you walkin’ for?”

“About an hour.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“You look it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, you still look nice.”

“T-thanks…”

She twisted the bottle between her fingers as she cast her gaze across the bar, at the slowly rolling smoke and swaying patrons getting drunker. And from the corner of her eye, she could see Benny staring with those sad blue eyes, hunched over, lips pouting while the cigarette slowly burnt away, and there was such a pleading in the way he looked at her that she wanted against her better judgment to just go ahead, invite him home, and ask him to stay… But she knew better than to get involved with a troublemaker in a motorcycle club, even one that drove her back to town, even one whose voice was soft and tender.

“You said they had rooms?” she said after a while.

He nodded.

“Who — I mean, where do I —”

“Come on,” he said as he got up. “I’ll show you.”

“What about dinner?”

“What about it?”

“Should I just leave some money on the table or —”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” he smiled. “Tex owes me me.”

She somehow doubted it but before she could say anything Benny had gone around the bar, taken two keys from a shelf behind a canopy of glasses, and was on his way up the stairs. She wondered if this was his way of getting away from her for the night. Perhaps by morning he’d be gone, leaving her there to figure things out for herself.

The floors felt rickety and noises from the bar followed them however far they went. In a symphony of creaking and chirps from the cicadas outside Benny led her to a room at the end of the corridor on the second floor. A lone lightbulb came on to bathe the room a sickly yellow, cramped with a veneer of stains and spots and each surface looking a bit uneven. The mattress on the bed looked a bit caved in. The door to the bathroom was ajar and crooked. The little square window by the door was black with soot.

“Right, so, er… You good for tonight?” Benny asked, his face turned to her in worry.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it’s fine,” she said and took a cautious step inside. “Thank you.”

He didn’t seem convinced and his frown turned a little sad. It made her feel bad for seeming so ungrateful.

“Beats walking in the wilderness at night,” she added with a smile.

“High praise,” he chuckled. “Water runs alright. There’ll be towels in that drawer there. It’s… Well, g’night,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Just as he turned to leave he added, “If you need somethin’, I’ll be in room 5 just up the hall.”

“Alright,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Good night…”

And with one great stride, the lean tall shape of him was gone, closing the door after him.

She knew she couldn’t expect the kind of cleanliness she had at home but it was still uncomfortable to navigate this temporary bedroom. She put her suit up nicely on a wooden chair to be ready for tomorrow morning and laid out her stockings nearby. There were no slippers anywhere so she walked with her beaten dusty shoes into the bathroom and managed to clean herself up a bit before bed. Every surface seemed dubious to her, but Benny had been right that the water ran well. There was soap and towels too, and even if she could hardly call it a shower she managed to make do.

“I can’t wait to go home,” she whispered to herself on the verge of tears.

After checking twice that the door was properly locked, she laid down on the bed still in her slip. The pillows were thin and the springs of the mattress were noisy, but she curled up and made her best attempt to fall asleep.

Every now and then the popping sound of balls hitting each other at the pool table would reach her, and in between that the singing of crickets and the buzzing of flies filled the air. She tossed and she turned, breathing in the unwashed scent of musky pillows, rotting wood, old cigarette smoke and ashes… And even though she was exhausted and full after her greasy meal, she just couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t the pain in her back and shoulders, it wasn’t her feet aching from the walk, it wasn’t even how dirty she still felt or the fear that any moment one of those drunken men from downstairs would try to sneak in and rob her — or worse. She turned from side to side feeling at odds with herself.

This wasn’t the kind of bar she went to and it wasn’t the kind of place she spent the night. And Benny… Well, Benny wasn’t exactly the kind of guy she went for — but why was she thinking like that? He was only supposed to give her a ride home. That is if he didn’t just leave her there. He’d be entitled to, after how coldly she’d treated him all night. He’d bought her dinner, he’d gotten her that room, and still she couldn’t get over the fact that he was in her eyes a vagabond. A vandal, as said his jacket.

“I just have to make it through the night,” she told herself. “I wouldn’t even have to see him again tomorrow. I’ll wake up early and… and… he might not even still be around.”

She rolled onto her back and stretched with nervous energy, her arms covering her face. The thought of not seeing him again drove her strangely restless. Something about that boy made her want to touch him gently. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to look into his eyes for hours, to hold him and be held... Yes, he wasn’t her kind of guy, but underneath that cold hard leather and the denim and the dirt, she had seen a trace of sweetness, innocence, and hurt. And before she knew it she’d pulled the pillow down before her, tucked it between her legs, wrapped her arms around it, and held its tattered end to her neck as if it were somebody’s face. It comforted her just a little, made her feel less alone — like she’d felt when she held onto him on the back of his bike.

Her eyes opened in the dark, her own thoughts shocking her, but she had enough courage to admit that it was true. Sure enough, as soon as she stepped foot inside that ugly bar or laid down in that bed she only wanted to go home — but in the dark her deepest thoughts turned to how lonely, how harsh, how empty her life was... She’d never thought she struggled with living all alone, not until she’d wrapped her arms around Benny and he drove her through the night. She’d been afraid to hold onto him at first but by the end of their ride, she didn’t want to let him go. And now her arms felt empty and her head felt full and whichever side of the bed she turned on wasn’t right because nobody else was there.

With a sigh, she pushed the useless pillow away and sat up on the side of the bed. The cold floor soothed her feet but there was an itch inside of her, a restlessness that would not be assuaged by anything less than the real thing.

“You’re crazy,” she mumbled to herself. “I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t…”

But she did. She got up, put her shoes back on, and wrapped the blanket around herself like a shawl. And before her mind could catch up with her body she was out the door.

The sounds were softer than before, more stilted, less precarious, and the noises from the distant bar had dimmed together with the light. Blackbirds were singing in the trees that swung beside the balustrade. The moon was dim and fogged with shallowed clouds but if she focused she could see the numbers on the door. When she finally reached room 5, she paused. What if he was sleeping? What if he wasn’t there? What if took this the wrong way? And most terrifying of all was — what if he wouldn’t care?

Her hand was poised to knock but stopped just short of it. No light was coming from inside but there was tension in the air as if the silence was still filled with something. It had a deliberate quality to it that made her hair stand on end and nearly scared her back to her room. It’s him that I’m afraid of, she thought to herself. What he would think of me. What he would say… But she refused to let herself feel that way and be scared of him again after she’d just gotten over it earlier that evening. He’s just a boy. A stupid, dirty little boy with blue eyes and long lashes…

Her fist tightened but she still didn’t dare to knock. And as she stood there caught between her fear and longing, something called to her from the other side. It was a stilted sound, almost a voice, but not quite something wakeful. He must’ve been asleep… Rather than knock and risk waking him up she chanced turning the handle and to her surprise the door gave way. Of course he’d sleep with it unlocked…

If he’s not awake I’ll go back to my room, she thought. I’ll let him rest. I’ll —

She opened the door enough to peek inside. It was dark but she could still make out something. Benny was on the bed. That’s where the sounds were coming from — quick breaths, low moans, and a sticky wet sound on repeat. A slow and languorous melange that made her body warm. There was a rounded sheen of muscle that moved in the shadows and each tug was coloured by a whimper vulnerable and loud.

She gasped quietly, mouth agape, and just then a bike rolled by outside. Its rumble drowned him out and its lights shone past her into the room to give her just a glimpse of Benny. He was lying in bed propped up against the pillow, messy head leaned back, full lips parted, lidded eyes. The jacket must’ve been somewhere else because he was left in a white tank top that strained against his chest. He was still wearing those dirty jeans but they were bunched low on his hips, and his hand was closed in a fist around —

He stopped moving.

“I-is that you?” he rasped.

The light from the bike outside was gone but she could feel his gaze on her, could hear in his strangled voice a weak, frail shiver, so at odds with how carefree he’d been.

“Yes?” she wanted to say but all that came out was a choked whisper.

“Come inside…”

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 8 - Catharsis

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word count: 4,900

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, thoughts of death, heavy drinking, use of alcohol and sexual behavior as coping mechanisms. you know it's what you can expect from a blitzo-centered chapter. this happens right after the ozzie's chapter.

Blitzø is going to die alone. 

He’s going to die alone and no one will attend his funeral or even visit his grave other than to spit on it and his gravestone will read ‘Here Lies Blitzo Buckzo’ and nothing more because no one will be there to tell them to cross out the O and he most certainly won’t be a beloved anything. He'll just stay Blitzo Buckzo, forever.

And Blitzo Buckzo fucking sucks. 

Sometimes he wishes he was able to think before he spoke. He never does much of that and he’s aware he’d probably have refrained from hurting half the people he’s hurt if he could just keep his damn mouth shut. He didn’t think about this all that much… except for when he did. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Her voice rings in his head non-stop, like one of those annoying fucking church bells he’d come across once in the living world that ring every single hour, making it unable for its existence to be forgotten.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

It rings over and over again, stubborn, and it just won’t fucking go away.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Blitzø drives home on his own, but not in silence. He turns the radio on and the volume up until he figures it must be loud enough that he’ll have trouble hearing his own thoughts. It doesn’t work. The shit thing about thoughts is that they’re not something you can just turn off when you get sick of them. They follow you everywhere, all the time, inconvenient and impossible to get rid of. He proceeds to ignore the songs that come on in favor of mumbling incoherent things under his breath in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that he’s not bothered by everything that just happened.  Things like I can think about people’s fuckin’ feelings and think you’re so much better than me, well fuck you and rich fuckin’ asshole thinks he’s hot shit and probably suckin’ face right now. 

You know, things that prove he doesn’t care one bit. 

Whatever.

He parks the van without a care, still too busy mumbling to himself, leaving it askew, taking up almost half of the parking spot next to his own. The old lady from 22 is gonna be pissed at the inconvenience. Well fuck her too. He doesn’t spare another thought on that. 

He dreads the walk up the stairs to the apartment, wishing he lived somewhere with an elevator, or in a house, or in a super sick fancy mansion where he used money as toilet paper when he took a shit because he was just that rich. Actually, scratch that, that sounds uncomfortable. At least his shitty apartment with limited hot water and four flights of stairs before it had real toilet paper, and it was the nice kind even, he always made sure of it even if it was a little more expensive. 

His little luxuries start to sound stupid when he’s been spending so much time around Stolas and all his fancy stuff.

When he opens the door and enters the apartment, his first immediate thought is to knock on Loona’s door. He groans once as he walks towards it and then once again when he spots the note she left taped to it. ‘Tex invited me to a party. Don’t wait up.’ Yeah of course he fucking did.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

Does he? 

He does. He thinks he does, at least. Maybe not all the time, but why else would he have said those things to her other than to protect her feelings? It’s not his fault if she was setting herself up for heartbreak. She needed to kill those feelings and if she wouldn’t then he would, fuck being the bad guy. In fact, fuck her too! He could so think about other people’s feelings.

He groans a third time at the thought of spending the night all alone, because he already knows what being alone makes out of him, and he doesn't like it one bit. If he could, he’d never be alone, not even for a single second, ever. Maybe that way he wouldn’t be so pathetic and so sad, because that’s what being alone made of him: pathetic and sad. 

It’s why Blitzø used to hate weekends. 

Satan, he fucking hated them. Why couldn’t every day be a work day? Why would they need a break? If it were up to him, there would be no such thing as a weekend. Because on weekends he had nothing to distract him from the ever-growing nothing in the pit of his chest and that wasn’t much fun at all.

Until Y/N accepted the job at I.M.P.

Before that, they used to speak almost exclusively through text, extremely inconsistently. He’s never really been the greatest at texting, but he could spam her with stupid memes and pictures of him doing random things throughout his day and horse doodles that she didn’t seem mad about receiving. They spent a whole year like that, only meeting in person a few times here and there.

When he offered her the job he promised himself not to have any expectations because, well shit, why would she trade in an obviously well-paying job, with her best friend as her boss, where she’d been working for years on end without having to hurt or kill anybody, for whatever it was he was asking her to do? 

But then she said yes.

It wasn’t long until he figured out they weren’t all that different from each other. Apparently, as much as she liked to complain about needing a break, just to annoy him, she dreaded weekends too. Not that she’d just admit that point-blank, but they did go out on on a Friday night after work and she did drink one too many and she sighed and complained about having to go home and it was all so much like him. ‘I don’t wanna be alone, Blitz,’ she’d told him. 

He didn't wanna be alone either.

And so he took her back home and he slept on her couch and he stayed there the next day, keeping her company and, honestly, enjoying hers. 

That’s how their tradition started. Almost every single weekend, the two will find themselves in either of their apartments, in the ugliest clothes they own, to cook or order something extremely greasy and unhealthy and marathon a shit-ton of movies, staying in on Saturday after going out somewhere on Friday. Loona would routinely call it ‘patheticville’ and ‘loser day’ and things like that. 

He doesn't hate weekends anymore. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

And now he’d fucking gone and done this. 

He still wanted to fight, then. To argue, to scream, to yell. He wanted them to do it too. To get down and dirty and scream back at him. He wanted a reason to react.

Blitzø has always been very good at reacting. 

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than you own?

But how was he supposed to react to that? The thought of grabbing his phone and texting her something along the lines of ‘fuck you and your pet bird too’ crosses his mind for a moment and, shit, maybe he is a prick, and he was gonna die alone wasn’t he? He was sure to if he kept doing this kind of thing. 

And maybe he fucking deserves it. 

Sometimes he wonders just how he’s going to die. Will it be peaceful? He hopes not. He sure as shit does not deserve peaceful. Maybe it could at least be cool. Maybe he could go down in a super badass shootout in the human world or a cool-as-fuck sword fight or something. Or maybe he’ll die in some dumbass way like tripping on the sidewalk and cracking his head open on the pavement. Maybe it’ll be in one of those days when he’ll be climbing up Stolas’ balcony and then he’ll slip and fall and break all his bones only to be found dead on the grass surrounded by ball gags and anal plugs. A stupid send-off for a stupid motherfucker. 

He throws himself on the couch instead and curls up into a ball, wishing he had a big royal-size bed with soft sheets and like three or four fluffy pillows, or even a simple twin-sized one, or at least that the couch was a pull-out. 

He grabs his phone and inevitably goes where he always goes when he feels like this- his ‘people I care about’ folder. He swipes through the various pictures. The ones of himself with I.M.P. in the living world, the one he made Moxxie pose with him for with them pointing their guns at each other, the one with Millie when she still had her long hair. The one from the day of Loona’s adoption, the one he took of Stolas sleeping next to him. The selfie with Verosika, the one he secretly took of Y/N watching the screen when he first showed ‘Spirit’ to her. 

And then he lands on the one. The one with Barbie and his mom. 

Blitzø is a 35 years old single father who kills people for a living. He’s been handling his own shit for almost two decades now. But in this moment… he just wants his mama.

Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? 

What would she have thought of that?

Yeah, he should have known it would be a ‘cry himself to sleep’ kind of night.

Blitzø doesn’t know for how long he’s been passed out when he wakes up disoriented. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, and that probably explains why his body ached so much with how uncomfortable the position he’d slept in was. He wakes up with the barking sounds of Loona’s special ringtone and scrambles to pick it up. 

“Loonie baby? You alright? Did something happen to you, are you hurt?”

“No, Blitz. I just- can you just come pick me up?” She sounds like she’s been crying. Fuck, no, his baby needs him. No time to be sad.

He’s up in a second. “On my way. Send me the address.” He hangs up, searching for his car keys (which he found between the couch seats) and running down the stairs.

Loona went two rings down to Gluttony for this party. It makes sense, he supposes. He’s more of a Lust Ring party kind of guy himself, but he’s heard Gluttony parties got crazy. He accelerates as fast as the shitty van will let him and gets there pretty quickly, only to find her outside, still crying.

He rolls down the window before he even stops the car completely. “Hey, Loonie. How ya doin’, you alright?”

She wipes a tear with the back of her hand and enters the car with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine! I just wanna go.” She sounds anything but fine.

He’s about to ask her what happened when some fuckface he definitely doesn’t remember calls him by name. The wrong one. “Hey! That sounds like Blitzo!”

“The ‘O’ is silent, asshole!”

“Hey, I knew it was you! Fuck, man, where you been? You here for the party?”

“No, I’m just here picking up my daughter.”

The guy walks up to Loona’s window, and she hides her face from him with her hands, embarrassed. “Oh, shit, you have a daughter now?”

“Adopted!” She yells out, and it stings a bit, regardless of being objectively true. 

“Oh, man, you’re already leaving? Things just got started! Come in and show us all up again.”

Blitzø groans, annoyed by the insistence. “No, no, thank you, but I think Loonie wants to head back now.” 

Some other weirdo approaches the van, leaning on the passenger’s window. “Huh, the hottie wants to leave?” Come on, right in front of him? 

He instinctively starts to growl. “Watch it.”

“I mean, we could stay a little longer,” Loona tells him.

He sighs. He’s not normally one to turn down a party, especially one with free booze, but he feels that’s probably what he should do.. “I think we need to go, ‘kay? I think it’s been a long night.”

“Well, these people seem to know you. Come on! I think I wanna give this another try. Pleeeeaaase?” She gives him the goddamn puppy dog eyes and she knows he can already hardly resist fulfilling her requests.

Well, if she insists. He could definitely use a drink…

“Okay, fine. Maybe one drink.”

… Or a good old night of drinking to forget.

Blitzø downs two tequila shots before he’s even made it into the house. He downs four beers at rapid speed as soon as he does manage to get inside, crushing the cans and cheering loudly when he was done, and then suddenly he finds himself saying yes to a keg stand. It’s so easy he can do it in his sleep. Fuck being too old for this, he’d never be too old to have fun. And he can handle so much more than a keg stand. “Ha-ha! That was nothing, bitch! Give me a real challenge!”

Beelzebub herself appears in front of him, seemingly materializing out of nowhere (or maybe he’s just drunk), all cheers and neon colors and psychedelic paraphernalia floating around her, and she does challenge him. “Oh yeah? Wanna fucks with the big bitch, imp boy? I got a challenge for ya.” 

Someone somewhere murmurs “He’s gonna die.”

Now that sounds like a challenge he can get behind.

Vortex walks up to them, carrying two huge gallons of something and placing them on the floor between him and the Sin. “Aaaaight, let’s do this! From Bee’s personal supply, the hardest shit there is.” He crouches down to Blitzø’s height. “You ready, my man?” 

Fuck, this better fucking kill him alright. “Bring it, barky! I will drink you under this fucking table, you have no idea what kind of night I’ve had.” He struggles trying to pry the gallon open, and Bee uses her magic or whatever to make them levitate, extending a straw from it. Of course she’d flaunt her magical powers and her easy fucking life to him.

“Alright, shit-talker, but there hasn’t been a soul yet who can beat me at my own game, so you better bring the fire, baby!.” 

“Ohh, is Queen Bee too scawed to lose to a widdle imp like me?” He bets she is. And he bets she’ll be embarrassed when she loses to him (because she is going to lose). Fucking big names like her always are. 

“Oh, okay. Let’s get it on, you little bastard!”

Vortex signs for them to begin and it takes about two seconds for Blitzø to have downed about a fourth of it already, but why stop there? He pulls the straw out and pours the drink straight into his mouth, downing the entirety of it at light speed. He’s so quick Beelzebub even stops chugging her own, amused… Concerned? Noo, no way. Amused. 

He climbs on top of the huge gallon to be at face level with her and properly rub it on her face, high on the adrenaline of it all (and perhaps a little bit on the buzz from the extremely strong drink too). “Yeah, who’s the queen now?”

Loona cheers for him loudly, and it fills him with joy when she proudly yells out “yeah! That’s my dad!” Yeah. That’s damn right. 

Bee lets her own unfinished gallon fall down to the floor and crosses her arms over her chest. Yeah, definitely impressed. “Well, fuck me. That’s a first. I haven’t had a first in a while. That was magical, seriously. Impressive. I tip my crown to you, imp boy. Respect.” Fuck her still calling him imp boy, but she’s actually admitting his victory and shes bowing to him, as she fucking should. 

She howls, every hellhound around following suit, and Blitzø feels on top of the world. 

Why does the world start spinning when you get yourself on top of it? 

He almost falls to the ground, but then he’s getting held up by a bunch of strangers like a cool-as-fuck goddamn rockstar and, shit, why had he stopped getting wasted and doing this kind of thing every night again?

He doesn’t exactly remember when people started doing body shots off of him but he does remember getting freaky with a few of them, which did very little to make him feel good and honestly felt a little gross with the amounts of drinks getting spilled all over and making things rather… sticky, but it was doing wonders to his thought problem. 

Who would have known having four strangers’ tongues inside of you at once could be a great way to muffle the unsolicited thoughts in his head?

The second those people fuck off somewhere else the thoughts come in again, though. Stolas hiding his face in shame behind the menu. Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own? Y/n unable to look him in the eye. Are you worried someday I may have enough of it as well? Fizz is gonna hate him forever. You’re not my real dad! Verosika will always regret him. We could just… talk. Or… watch a movie? Or maybe… cuddle? Y/n’s crying face, Stolas’ disappointed one. Oh, they both had such fuckable faces didn’t they? Which reminded him: he really wanted to fuck someone.

He’s making out with a guy whose name he doesn’t know and whose face he doesn’t even remember when Loona pulls him off of him. “Oh, piss on a dick! What the fuck are you doing, Blitz?”

“This guy,” he grins, pointing to the unnamed man, who now stands still behind him. Wasn’t it obvious?

“It looks like you’re in the middle of a goddamn orgy. Stop!” Oh shit. Loona saw all that? An orgy does sound like some real fucking fun right now. Wait, focus, Loona. Fuck.

“Look, I didn’t expect you to come here and see any of this, Loonie, I’m so sorry, but it’s a party! I’m just having fun with uh… uh…” he turns back around to the man Loona pulled him off of. “The fuck is your name again?”

“Dennis.”

Ew. “Christ on a stick, you would be a Dennis. Get the fuck away from me! I’m not fucking a Dennis tonight. I need a Monica or an Alejandro here, stat.” He’s genuinely surprised that works when some hunky dude pulls him into his huuuge chest. Fuck yeah. “Better.”

Loona punches his Alejandro in the face, and he sincerely doesn’t give a fuck about it, because the world is spinning again, which is weird because this time he does not feel like he’s on top of it at all. In fact, it feels like the world is the meanest dom top ever and he’s a whiny, whiny bottom just sore all over from getting spanked ‘till his ass hurt. Not in a good way.

He falls back on Loona, and she catches him. “You don’t need anyone else sucking your face, freaky weirdo.” She throws him over her shoulder. “You need to drink something other than beelzejuice.”

She pulls him into the van, and she doesn’t rush to get home, because, according to her, she can see he’s already about to throw up. No he’s not, no sir! Ma’am. Loonie. 

Whatever. 

His mind clears a little as they make their way back home, and he pulls out his phone from his back pocket. Thankfully it’s still there.

“The fuck are you doing, dumbass? That’s gonna make you dizzy.”

“Gotta… gotta draw a thing.”

“You gotta draw a thing?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, as if that was enough information for everything to be self-explanatory, even nodding his head yes for emphasis. He surprisingly manages to take his time and put real effort into doodling it, showing it to Loona before sending it.

“Does it look like I did it drunk?” He slurs, letting out an unintentional burp.

“It actually looks pretty good, Blitz.”

“Okay.” 

“So. Who’d you call stupid?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me dad again?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

He presses send and clicks on Stolas’ contact next, only to see there’s an unread message in their chat.

Stols:  I’m sorry if anything I said or did offended you tonight. 

Ha. Bet you really fucking are. 

Still, he’s not Stolas’ fucking boyfriend. What was there to expect from him? Why would he expect anything? 

Blitzy: ITZ WUTEVS

To Blitzø’s surprise, Stolas begins typing immediately, as if he’d been waiting obsessively for his reply.

Stols: Next time you come over, maybe we can talk about what happened at Ozzie’s?

Talk about it? What was there to talk about? Blitzø wanted nothing more than to bury the memories of tonight the deepest under the ground he possibly could. But of course Stolas would want to talk about it.

He always wants to fucking talk about shit.

Blitzy: Y?

Stolas types for what feels like forever, and it must have been, seen that they’re now only one street from the apartment complex, before he sends in a huge-ass paragraph. 

Stols: I’m sorry! Nevermind, it’s not a big deal. I was just worried about you. You seemed very upset and you took off so fast. I’m sure things will be fine with Y/N, she likes you very much, I can see it. Maybe I read too much into everything, though. Not everything is about me, haha. I’m  glad that’s not the case. I wasn’t upset either I just wanted to make sure you weren’t and obviously you can handle a stupid joke a clown can make. Asmodeus can be very invasive in his humor, and Y/N says she’ll talk to him about it, but I thought it was funny myself. What he said about me at least. I enjoy being the subject of jest. Maybe you can say mean things to me too next time you come over. 

Now that is too much to fucking deal with right now. Which means he won’t. 

Blitzy: SHUR.

He clicks out of Stolas’ chat, taking one last glance at Y/N’s before turning his phone off. She hasn’t seen what he sent yet, and that’s actually okay. 

Loona parks the van messily, doing the same thing he’d done earlier and letting the car occupy some space from the neighbour’s spot. He doesn’t even think before asking her to fix it.  “Sweetie, could you just park it a little more to the right?”

“Why?”

Yeah, Blitzø, why do you even care? “Well I don’t want that freaky cat lady to be up my ass about it tomorrow.” Yeah, that. Sure.

She doesn’t seem to find it in her to argue or even as much as groan, simply readjusting the car. She has to carry him over her shoulder again and all he wishes on the way up this time around is that he were a little more sober. She plops him down on the couch and he curls into himself once again while she grabs him a glass of water. 

Nothing to distract him from his thoughts now. 

“I had a really shitty day,” he tells her.

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you drank like five gallons of who-knows-what?”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“The person you called stupid?” 

He nods, hiding his face from her when the tears start coming in. “Fuck, Fizz was right. I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I? Just a wrinkly, old, withered waste. Will you be there, Loonie?” Blitzø feels whatever consciousness he’d gained back slipping away again by the second, this time from the need to sleep rather than the alcohol. At what point did he get so tired?

“Be where?” Loona asks, and he’s too out of it to respond properly, only mumbling half-coherent things like lonely and die alone over and over. “I’ll be there, dad," she tells him anyway, and covers him with a blanket, the softest one they own. “Now go the fuck to sleep,” she orders, and he does hear it, he just doesn’t have the strength to say anything in response as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, his last thoughts being that at least he can’t think about anything while asleep and that… 

He vomits all over the living room floor. 

“Oh, fuck, I did need to throw up.”

[. . .]

You feel stupid when it’s Fizzarolli who finds you crying in Ozzie’s waiting area. He skips his way to the room, humming along to some song you can’t quite make out, and he almost doesn’t see you on his way into the office. He hears you sniffling, though, and turns to face you. It takes him a couple seconds to process that it’s you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Um. You okay there?”

You look up at him, but it doesn’t feel like you can say anything yet. 

“I-” He motions behind him with his thumb. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna get Ozzie. Stay here, yeah?”

You don’t even know why exactly you’d asked Stolas to send you here when you were still mad at Ozzie. Or maybe not mad. Just… sad about everything that spiraled out of what he did. 

Then again, did you even have anywhere else to go? You could absolutely not make the night worse for Millie and Moxxie by showing up at their place, thinking of Blitzø made you sad and Stolas was not an option. You had Ozzie, though. And you know you always will, despite whatever stupid shit one of you might do. 

And it honestly beats going home to a big pile of nothing. 

Ozzie appears shortly, Fizz having done as promised and fetched him. Fizz doesn’t come back, though, letting you and Ozzie have a moment to talk on your own, which is nice of him.  

“Hey, pretty babe. Fizz said you were here.” He looks you up and down, worried. “Are you crying?”

“Why did you do that?” 

“What?”

“Why did you fucking sing about all that, why did you- it was so humiliating, Oz, fuck!”

“Oh. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It got out of control. I didn’t even know you would be here tonight. You didn’t call me.”

“I didn’t know I was coming either.”

“You wanna tell me what that means?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Alright. That’s okay. I am sorry, though. We took the joke too far and I realized too late that it wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t. So please don’t fucking do that again. It’s humiliating enough to… fuck... and everybody saw it, and- I…” You groan in frustration, struggling to get your words out. 

“No more about Stolas or any of you. Okay? Promise.” He sits down next to you on the fancy couch and he lets you lean on him. “Did something happen between you?”

You hesitate before speaking. “I didn’t- I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I am stupid. Of course he’s ashamed to be seen with us.”

“Stolas?”

You nod. 

“Did he… tell you that?”

“Well he didn’t deny it.”

“Okay." He takes a deep breath, probably trying to think of how to handle the situation. "You’ll have time to think about all of this. Alright? Now you’re coming with me, you’re taking a bath and you’re sleeping over, and we’ll talk about everything tomorrow. There’s no need to hurt yourself more thinking about it right now.”

He stands up and turns to leave the room, but looks back when he doesn’t hear you do the same. You’re still sat sit still on the couch.

You look up at him. “Oz?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You repeat yourself.

“What- of course not. Did somebody say that to you?”

You don’t reply. 

He purses his lips together, thinking. “Are they worth feeling stupid for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve gone through this before.”

“It’s different, you know that.”

“Yeah, it’s worse. They’re not hurting you back this time around, they’re just hurting you.”

You decide he was right. You don't want to talk about this right now. “Can we please not talk about it?”

He hesitates before nodding in agreement. “Yeah. ‘Course, babe.” He grabs your hands and pulls you up. “Come on.”

All the crying makes you so tired you’re almost passed out the second you lie down on the soft, silky bedsheets of Ozzie's guest room bed. Taking a look through your texts before you let yourself fall asleep, you click on Stolas’ contact once you see a notification for an unread text. 

Stolas: I am truly sorry if I did something to hurt you or make you uncomfortable with me tonight. It’s not your obligation to talk Asmodeus  out of doing anything and I did not feel embarrassed because of you or Blitz. If you need space from me I will understand, but I want you to know that is not how I feel. And, for the record, I don’t care what that Verosika person said about you. I hope you’re alright. 

It is way too late and you are way too tired to process or deal with all of that, and honestly? You still do feel stupid, and don’t want to further that feeling by replying to him immediately. That feels too pathetic- it feels like proving Blitzø right.

You’ll reply tomorrow.

You click on Blitzø’s contact next, which also had a notification signaling an unseen message, and you brace yourself for a 'fuck you’ text or something of the sorts. 

You can't keep yourself from smiling when you open the text, turning the phone off and just waiting for sleep come to you, and things feel a lot less shitty than just a second before.

Having friends is pretty fucking okay.

A/N: everybody say thank you @sweetadonisbutbetter and also wish them a happy birthday!! the adorable little doodle blitzo drew is theirs and they did it especially so i could put it in this chapter which is so nice of them and so fucking cool!!

[fionajames]

Always a sucker for Captain Rex so take my chaos request!

Rex is exhausted from working and just wants to go and sleep in his captain quarters, but once he gets there and washes up notices his bed is a mess of covers and pillows (we both know this boi makes his bed everyday) and finds reader had fallen asleep waiting for him to get back. Just fluffy wholesomeness and Tex wondering how the hell they didn’t get caught sneaking into his quarters but it ends in well deserved cuddles.

blankets

A/N: I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS IS SO TERRIBLY SHORT, I'M VERY TIRED AND I'VE BEEN SWARMED WITH TESTS RN. I STILL HOPE YOU ENJOY !!!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Rex was exhausted, that much was plain to see. 

He’d overworked himself again and again and again, and now all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep. The thought itself was so tempting, but as his gaze fell to the slip of flimsi in front of him, he forced himself to return to filling it out.

Cody was inevitably the one who stopped him, pulling his fourth cup of caff from his fingers and taking the pen out of his grasp. He gave him an unimpressed look, and Rex sighed, giving in and leaving the room without uttering a word.

He stumbled his way to his Captain Barracks, sleep gnawing at his insides as his eyes stung brutally from being open for far too long. He opened the door, heading straight to the ‘fresher to get washed up and ready for bed. 

He was quick, in a desperate hurry to get to his bed and let sleep carry him away. But as he stood in the doorway between the ‘fresher and his small barracks, he noticed the messy state of his blanket and sheet. 

It was only then did he notice the small figure curled up in his bed.

A sigh escaped Rex’s lips as he turned off the lights, a soft smile coating his face as he moved to the bed. You shuffled in your sleep as he slipped under the covers, your eyes fluttering open lightly. “Hi,” came your soft sleepy whisper, and he smiled wider.

“Hi,” he murmured back, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier with sleep. “Were you waiting for me?” A yawn escaped him as he closed his eyes, waiting on your reply.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, and then an apology softly fell from his lips. But you didn’t even get the chance to reply as his arms wrapped around your torso tightly, pulling you into his warmth. Not even a moment later, his sleepy shuffling fell from his lips, and a grin burst across your face. “Goodnight, Rex.”

A/N: TYSM, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, I LOVE YOU ALL!!!

(taglist: @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom)

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Late night calls || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ANGEL - Toby Mai

Jack Hughes x Reader

Synopsis: Days when you're apart are always tough. They get lonely without your other half. Nightly calls make those days slightly better. Especially when he falls asleep after a tiring day.

Word count: 822

Masterlist

Your phone starts ringing. Jack’s contact name shows up on your phone. You answer the call and the familiar sound of the call getting connected chimes. “Hi, baby.” Jack’s tired voice rings out through your phone. You get comfortable in bed before replying. “Hey. You looked great today. How are you feeling?” You ask softly after praising him. He lets out a low chuckle. “It’s a win, so I feel great. You were watching? I thought you said you were going to be busy.” You hum in response. “I was.” You pause, a cheeky grin forming on your face. “But I happened to be watching when you scored.” You can already tell he’s rolling his eyes at your remark. “I’m glad you were watching for a few seconds.” He retorts. You laugh, “come on. I might be busy, but I’ll always be watching you play when I can.” He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he smiles behind the phone. He’s immensely grateful that you always manage to watch him play, whether that’s on the TV or laptop, or when you show up at the home or away games sporting your devils’ jersey with the number 86 and the name Hughes.

He yawns quietly. “Thank you for watching. Wish you were here though.” He says softly. “Want to switch to video call? I want to see your pretty face.” He adds. You chuckle but press the camera button, requesting to change the call to video. He instantly accepts. His face fills your screen. He shifts in bed before propping his phone up on an extra pillow. He smiles when he sees you wearing his shirt to bed. “Are you tired?” You ask quietly, concern laced in your voice. He blinks a few times, trying to blink the sleep away. “A little. I’m fine though, I’m not falling asleep on you.” You raise an eyebrow. Knowing him, he’ll be doing the exact opposite. “Alright, if you say so. If you’re tired you don’t have to stay on call with me. We can talk some more in the morning.” You offer him. He immediately shakes his head. “I want to talk to you. I miss you.” He says stubbornly. Your heart swells at his last comment. You miss him too, a lot. You’re not apart from each other often. You’re usually by his side whenever he goes away on his roadies. However, this time you had some affairs that you needed to deal with. Hence why you didn’t go with him.

You talk for a while as the night becomes darker by the hour. You can see that he’s starting to fall asleep. “You’re tired. Go to sleep.” You try convincing him. He hums, “in a little bit.” He says stubbornly yet again. A couple of minutes pass while you’re talking about your day. You realize it’s getting quieter and quieter on his side. The occasional hums and shuffling from him turn to pure silence. You look at him through the screen. Only to see his eyes closed, arms tucked into him, and his mouth slightly agape. He’s sleeping. He actually fell asleep on you. Even though he so stubbornly told you he wasn’t going to. He did end up doing the opposite. You don’t hang up on him and you certainly don’t wake him up. He had a long day, so it’s no surprise he fell asleep. It’s oddly peaceful having him sleep on the other side.

You continue scrolling through social media on your phone. Having the video call minimized in the corner of your screen. Eventually, you feel yourself growing more tired. Sometimes you hear the occasional snore coming from him while he sleeps. You close the app and return to the video call. “Good night. I love you.” You mumble quietly, to not wake him up. He lets out a murmur but stays asleep. You cover your mouth to minimize noise as you let out a chuckle. You leave the call and place your phone on the dresser. You close your eyes. Before you know it, you’re asleep yourself.

The next morning you’re greeted by a flurry of texts from him. You smile to yourself and shake your head. You hope this boy never changes. He’s the reason you wake up with a wide smile.

I fell asleep

Sorry baby didn’t mean to

Did you sleep well at least?

I’m going off to morning skate in a bit

Remember to eat well since I know you like to skip it even though it’s not good for you

I’ll call you later

I love you

You put your phone down after replying to him. You get up and start getting ready. You should get started on your day. He’s returning home in a few days. You can’t wait for that day. You have so much to tell him that a phone call won’t do justice, and you’re sure he feels the same way.

[chososchalupa]

I LOVE UR BULLY MEGUMI X READER CAN I HAVE JEALOUS MEGUMI

Thank you sm <3 ! I wrote this super quickly so im so sorry if its not the best! I've had the worst writers block lately. Hope you like it!

Training / Megumi Fushiguro

No warnings, Megumi is jealous bc Toge exists basically. not proofread + wrote this when i was half asleep but i had the urge to write after not having any interest for like a week so here it is

WC - 595

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

12:23

Seven minutes until class was over and you hadn’t heard from your boyfriend, Megumi, since 9:00 this morning. 

✧.*

You had tried catching up with him after training was over but he had mumbled something about being busy and left. Your friends Toge and Maki watched as he gave you a small smile before turning and heading back toward the school.

“What was that about?” Maki asked as you walked back over to them

“Yeah, he’s usually attached to you after training?” Toge laughed, “Wonder if he’s going to check on Yuji, It’s not normal for him to miss training”

You nodded, it was unusual for Yuji to miss training but you remembered him talking about a mission Gojo had assigned him for today. You racked your brain for reasons Megumi could be acting odd today. You met up for breakfast as usual and he was fine, the two of you walked onto the field and everything was fine. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

✧.*

“Still haven't heard from Megs?” Nobara asked as the two of you walked out of your classroom

“Nothing. He hasn't even responded to my tex-” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the spiky haired boy walk into the cafeteria. You said a quick apology to Nobara and ran towards Megumi.

“Megs! Wait up!” you called as you caught up to him, “What is your deal today? You haven't talked to me at all since training this morning”

“I’m fine” he responded, not looking up from his phone as he continued walking

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked

Megumi took a quick glance at you before responding with a simple, “No.”

You sighed in defeat, choosing to continue walking in silence beside him.

The two of you sat at a table alone, not speaking until Toge, Maki and Nobara sat down with you. 

You noticed the quick glare Megumi threw towards Toge and then it hit you, the mornings training was different. You were usually paired with Nobara but since she skipped, Gojo had decided to pair you up with Toge and Megumi with Maki. You didn’t see the change as a big deal but Megumi must have felt otherwise.

You made small talk with your group of friends before excusing yourself and grabbing Megumi by the arm, forcing him to follow you out of the cafeteria. 

“Is this about me being paired with Toge this morning? You know I didn't choose to be partners with him!” You crossed your arms as you looked up at Megumi.

He sighed before nodding, “I know, it's stupid. You just looked like you were having a lot of fun training with him. You guys spent more time joking around than you did actually training.”

You rolled your eyes before wrapping your arms around his waist, “So you’re saying you're jealous?”

Megumi returned the favor by wrapping his arms around you, “Shut up” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head.

“You have nothing to worry about, Megumi. Toge is a great friend but I love you and only you. Nobody could ever compare, especially not Inumaki” you giggled

Megumi pulled away after giving your head one last kiss, “I love you. I’m sorry for getting jealous, maybe I could make it up to you?”

You giggled at his question, “And how would you do that?”

“Let’s skip the rest of classes today and watch movies and cuddle in my room?”

You smiled brightly up at the dark haired boy before grabbing his hand, “What are we waiting for then? Let’s go!”

[tengensbunny]

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞 (𝐚𝐝𝐣) - 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧, 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜➩  𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➩ 𝘈 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘈𝘜 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 [𝘧/𝘯] 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➩ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱  𝐠. 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚

➩ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 || 𝟏𝟖+

➩ 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

A series of kisses were pressed against her neck, before they trailed down towards her collarbone area. She let out a pleasurable groan as a familiar musky scent invaded her senses.

“Have fun without me Princess?” Sabito smiled as she popped one eye open to look at him before closing it again, cuddling further into the sheets.

Giyuu merely watched the two interact as he laid beside the girl. One arm rested behind his head while the other draped across his abs, that duvet hanging loosely over his hips.

“No.” she sang out, playfully elongating the ‘o’.

“You telling me you’re not naked under these sheets Princess?” Sabito grinned, his hands traveling up her body before stopping at the top of the blanket, getting ready to rip it off.

“You should just join me and come find out for yourself.” she purred, causing Sabito to chuckle.

“You’re not as shy as you were 3 month ago Princess. I like that.” releasing the blanket from his hold, he moved to lay beside her, so that she was sandwiched in between the two males. “As much as I’d love to join you, Giyuu and I have a business meeting to attend.”

Giyuu frowned at his friend’s words. “Can’t you just do it?” he asked, turning so that he was laying on his side. [f/n] was quick to cuddle into his chest as he did, bringing a smile to the Pillar’s face. Sabito’s eyes wandered down the naked skin of her back before traveling lower and lower, until he was greeted by the sight of her lacy panties.

“No, they want both of us to be there.” Sabito replied, his eyes lingering on her ass a little longer, “Plus don’t you have class today Princess? It’s 9:30 already.”

“What’s today?” she mumbled, not wanting to get out of bed just yet.

“Friday.”

Just like that she shot up in bed clutching the sheets against her chest. “What!”

Giyuu frowned as she crawled towards the end of the bed, grabbing the first article of clothing she could find, which so happened to be his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as he watched the girl frantically collect her belongings. “I- nothing don’t worry about it!” she called out, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

The two males shared a look before shrugging their shoulders in unison.

“You might as well start getting dressed.” Sabito grinned, throwing Giyuu some of his clothes that were strewn across the floor. “Doesn’t look like she’s up for a round two.” he laughed, catching the pillow Giyuu threw at him. 

She stared at her reflection in horror. Oh my god you can tell I had sex!

As she waited for the water to heat up, she peered at her phone that was on the verge of dying.

75 missed calls

20 new voicemails

Yuichirou: 101 unread messages

Muichirou: 105 unread messages

Too afraid to open any of them, she set her phone down and took a quick shower.

“Hey wait what's the hurry?” Sabito was quick to grab a hold of the girl before she could make it out the door. Her hair was slightly damp from her shower, but everything else was perfectly intact. She had applied a light layer of makeup over her features and a thick layer of concealer over the various hickeys Giyuu had left her. “Aren’t you gonna eat first?”

“I’ll eat later.” she responded, moving to leave once more, only to be stopped yet again.

“Is something wrong?” this time it was Giyuu who asked. There was a glint of concern in his eyes as he eyed the girl in Sabito’s hold.

“It’s nothing, I’m just late.” she smiled, before finally breaking out of Sabito’s grasp, “I’ll text you when I’m home!” she shouted, just as the door was about to close.

She was quick to push her way through the crowd as she rushed home.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she apologized as she bumped into a stranger, knocking his phone out of his hands. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“You don’t look at your messages either.”

Her heart dropped at the familiarity of the stranger’s voice. “I’m sorry Yuichirou, I fell asleep at my friend’s house when we were doing our project.”

“You didn’t even come to our audition this morning! And on top of that you didn’t answer your phone all night!”

[f/n] visibly flinched at the harshness of her younger brother’s tone. “Yui, that’s enough. It’s finals week, I’m sure Ne-san’s been tired from Uni and work.” Muichirou wrapped his arms around his sister’s torso, comforting the girl as Yuichirou continued to glare at her.

“But Yui does have a point Ne-san, you didn’t answer any of our calls or our texts! We didn’t even know who’s house you were staying at.” Muichirou’s eyes lingered on the thick layer of concealer that covered his elder sister’s neck, before they flickered up to meet her gaze.

“I know I’m sorry, I was just really busy that's all. How about I treat you guys for breakfast?”

“Soufflé pancakes?” Muichirou beamed with excitement.

“Sure, if that’s what you guys want.”

The two turned to look at Yuichirou who merely sighed at their puppy dog expressions. “I expect a call back or at least a text next time.” he murmured, wrapping his arms around the girl, “We can’t lose you too.”

Giyuu’s expression brightened at the sight of [f/n] entering the restaurant, but sank once he noticed their was a boy’s arm wrapped around her waist. 

He watched as they chatted and laughed amongst themselves. His grip tightening around his utensils as he watched the two males be all touchy with his sugar baby.

“So how did the audition go?” she asked, before taking a sip of her latte.

“Great! We actually have call back next Saturday.” Yuichirou beamed, grinning as his sister reached over to wipe the sugar off his face.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Muichirou frowned once he realized she hadn’t ordered anything except for her latte.

“No, I’m not that hungry.” she smiled, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she continued to watch the two eat, “Plus I’m getting full from just watching the two of you.” she joked.

The two boys stopped eating and placed their forks down. Reaching over the table, they gently placed their hands over their sister’s. “Ne-san, if you’re struggling to pay for everything we can get a part time-”

“No!” [f/n] was quick to cut her younger sibling off, “I mean, it’s fine. Everything is fine, so just focus on your studies.”

With the money she had been getting from the Pillars, rent and electricity bills were no longer a problem. However, she couldn’t just whip out all this cash from thin air and just start spending all the money she had gotten.

The two would definitely question where the money was coming from, and she didn’t have the heart to tell them what she had been doing for the past couple of months.

The more she thought about it, the more she recalled the events that occurred last night.

“Look at me,” Giyuu murmured against the curve of her neck as he looked at the girl through the mirror. Her half lidded eyes met his lustful gaze, bringing a smile to his face.

He continued to gently bounce the girl in his lap, with one hand rubbing gentle circles against her clit while the other one pulled at her nipple.

Her pleasurable expression filled Giyuu with a sense of pride. He moved both hands so that they were gripping her hips, lifting her up almost all the way off his cock, only to slam her back down again. She threw her head back in pleasure, a series of moans escaping her lips as Giyuu repeated his actions.

Giyuu’s soft grunts turned into groans as he felt her walls tighten around his length. Gripping it in a way where he was certain she was trying to milk him dry.

His name was the only thing that left her lips. Almost as if she was chanting a mantra. With a soft cry she came around the male, her walls spasming around his cock in the best way possible, sending Giyuu to chase after his own orgasm.

Flipping the girl over, he positioned her so that she was bent over the bed. His hips thrusting into her at a fast pace. The sound of their skin smacking accompanied by pleasurable sobs filled the air as she fisted the sheets beneath her hands.

Giyuu let out a throaty groan as he finally reached his orgasm. Her body twitching as she felt the hot spurts of his cum filling her up.

His hands were on either side of the girl supporting his weight as he tried his best not to crush her.

She whimpered at the feeling of him slowly starting to move again.

“I-I can’t”

“One more.” he grunted, “You can do that for me, can’t you Princess?”

If Giyuu could have it his way, they’d be going all night.

He just couldn’t get enough of his precious Sugar Baby.

“Are you okay Ne-san?” Muichirou asked, pressing the back of his hand against his sister’s forehead. “You’re looking a little flushed.

"I’m fine Mui, it’s just a little warm in here that’s all. Maybe it’s from my latte.”

She tried her best to ignore the heat that had risen to her cheeks along with the dull ache that had formed in between her legs. Fuck.

“You know Ne-san, you’ve been going out more recently,” Yuichirou started off, placing his fork down, “You leave randomly during the day looking dolled up and sometimes you don’t even come home… So Mui and I were wondering, do you have a boyfriend or something?”

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

[neoballsucker]

Cyber sex

Summary : after you and your roommate come back from your family's houses, you do something crazy (😵) with his brother

Pairs : childhood friend!yuta X fem!reader

Warnings : SMUT, cyber sex , masturbation, praise kink, nipple play ,fingering (kinda idk)

W.c : 0.7k

Now playing : cyber sex - doja cat

A/n : this is part of my other fic poison, you don't have to read it but read it for context , also don't ask why is it so short idk 😶

_______________________

After the summer break you go back to the dorm and shotaro is also there, you met your family and had a lot of fun with shotaro and his family in Japan as well , you and shotaro talked about the things you did with your families, you never mentioned that night at all…fortunately, you and yuta exchanged numbers and started texting more often , they both treated you very well and you're glad you did, you two called for few times, nothing much happened after that , you and yuta kept texting and you kept hanging out with shotaro , that was it , nothing more , nothing less, it was until shotaro told you his mom was sick , after all she was your childhood friend's mom and your mom's friend , you decide to check on her but you didn't have her number and you were shy to ask shotaro , so you texted yuta.

“hey yuta I heard your mom was sick”

“Can you give me her number or something?” You sent and waited for half an hour, one hour,even two hours, you decide to call him but he didn't pick up until after a while

“oh my god finally you answered my calls” you say feeling relieved

“Oh yeah sorry y/n I didn't see your messages my phone was on silent” he said , his voice was low, he was breathing heavily

“Is everything okay yuta?”

“Y-yeah y/n everything is okay…fuck” it came out more like a whisper. You stayed quiet for a while until he said “What did you w-want?” his voice was shaky

“Oh can I get your mom's number I heard she's sick..” you say quietly

“o-oh i-it's…oh fuck” you feel heat rush through your body hearing him like that

“Y-yuta…are you masturbating?” Your heart beats really fast

“Oh well you got” you can feel his smirk through the phone already, a small ‘oh’ escape your mouth

“Well I guess I'll call you later then” you say, it was kinda embarrassing for you.

“No,no you don't have to”

“You can send me your mom's number later or over a tex-”

“I wish your pretty mouth was wrapped around me” he sighs deeply, you wanted to hang up before you get turned on even more

“Wish I could fuck your pretty face” you felt your face getting red from his words and you felt wet already, the way he talks his voice was low , deep and kinda shaky it reminded you of when you were having sex back then. You couldn't handle it anymore and started taking off your shorts and panties, he knew what you were doing very well.

“touch yourself”

“Wh-what?!”

“I know what're you doing y/n”

“O-okay” you were surprised as you lay on bed and start rubbing your fingers against your entrance in circular motion. Fighting the urge to moan because you were already embarrassed. You finally insert your finger inside your pussy , while your other hand is squeezing one of your nipples , holding back your moan, it was like fighting for your life at the moment.

“f-fuck baby a-add another finger for me.” He moans into the phone, you don't even know how he knew what are you doing but you just add another finger and moans into the phone, your fingers moving in and out, your hair sticking to your forehead, yuta was mumbling some words but you couldn't hear anything, squeezing your nipple even harder , causing you to moan loudly ,you can hear his heavy breath from the phone, it made you go faster trying to reach your limit and release. Your vision is getting blurry , your breath was unstable , your legs are shaking

“Y-yuta…” you say , voice shaky and high pitched a little.

“Y-yes?” His voice was low and deep.

“I-i'm about to cum.” Your fingers goes faster making you reach your limits

“M-me too baby.” He can hear you whine on the other side.

“Okay let's both cum after three, two, one” you finally release all your juices on your fingers , you can hear yuta breath heavily, cursing under his breath.

You can hear the door being unlocked, of course it's shotaro , he was looking for you until he heads to your room opening the door

“Hey y/n I got you your favorite- what the fuck ?!” Is all he could say.

_______________________

[seren1tyhaze]

sunflower dreams

PAIRING: haechan x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: you have a new roommate who spends most of his time teasing you during the hours of games you play together online with your friends, but when it comes time to pick a new bed for your room, a sunflower shaped one seems like the perfect way to crack through his bratty exterior.

THANK YOU: A very belated happy birthday to our hyuckie and all my haechan smut lovers out there <3 Once I saw this photo on twitter I knew exactly what I would write for his birthday and I sincerely hope you all enjoy this brief drabble. @strwbrysunday as always, you know what I want to say to you. I'm so glad you enjoyed this <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, angst, weed smoking, vaping, breakup flashbacks

PLAYLIST: Sunflower, Vol. 6 by Harry Styles - Stronger by NCT Dream - Sunflower (P.E.L) by Choi Yoojung - Sunflower by Vampire Weekend

--

“What the HELL is in here?!” your roommate nearly screeched as he struggled to drag the heavy object in front of him over the door frame of your apartment.

“It’s for my room, I just need help getting it in there and then you can go back to your lame solo queuing and getting your ass kicked by 12 year olds,” you shouted back over the large cardboard box, tucking an annoying strand of hair back into your ponytail.

Hyuck huffed and tossed his phone onto the couch so he could pull the box easier. You could see his forehead over the top of the box as you pushed, sweat gathering at his brow under long, black bangs.

To be fair, the box was way bigger than you had thought it would be. The listing had said “minimal assembly” which you thought meant it would somehow not be huge - but it turned out to be the opposite. You felt slightly guilty that you had had to get Hyuck to help you come drag the box upstairs and inside.

You smirked deviously, hoping Hyuck’s annoyance would soon be replaced with excitement when he found out what you had ordered for your bedroom. The two of you had recently become roommates after you had ended things with your toxic ex and his roommate had taken a new job in another city.

“You’re letting a girl move in?!” Mark had exclaimed over the steaming hot pot, nearly choking on the clear glass noodles dangling from his lips.

“Mark, chill,” Hyuck had replied, rolling his eyes before dipping a thin piece of beef into the spicy broth in between them. “She’s cool and you know she’s better than half our friends at Valo and on the court.”

Hyuck wasn’t wrong, Mark had watched you pull through as the match MVP quite a few times and was always first picked whenever they played pick up games on the weekends at the gym.

Similarly, Johnny had almost blown a gasket when you had shared the news in a final screaming match the day you were supposed to be meeting your landlord for final checks of your unit. It started with him complaining that you hadn’t cleaned the kitchen well enough before he started asking about where you had moved to.

“Lee Donghyuck? That little twerp?” he had spat at you, looking you up and down, making you suddenly self conscious in the thin tank and sweats you had thrown on for the early morning appointment.

“Leave him alone, Johnny, he’s very nice to let me sublet the extra room at his place. Plus it’s all the way across town which means you don’t have to run into me,” you had rolled your eyes, glancing down at your phone to check the time, wondering how long you were going to have to talk to this asshole.

“I always knew he was desperate to fuck you,” Johnny mumbled. Jealousy and hatred laced his tone, and before you could ask for clarification, your landlord appeared in the doorway.

The two of you finally managed to drag the huge box down the hallway and you immediately grabbed your box cutter, desperate to get to work and get rid of all the extra packaging.

“I’ll leave you to it?” he commented, his statement coming out more as a question as he watched you begin to tackle the large box.

“Yeah yeah, I promise, I’m good! I’ll text you if I need help,” you added, pulling out a copious amount of bubble wrap and tossing it behind him.

“Please don’t,” he quipped back, turning on his heel and closing his door behind him.

Soon you could hear him yelling at Jeno to stop running ahead, knowing they had to be back grinding Fortnite ranks together and failing miserably. The two of them were awful at working together in duos and the only time they were even remotely successful at clearing out teams quickly was when you and Jaemin played with them in squads.

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes and finally placing your hand on a dark green, velvety pillow. Ripping the plastic bag open, you placed the pillow on your desk, beginning to unpack other pieces of soft, yellow cushions.

You had been scrolling through Pinterest one afternoon at work, hoping to find some ideas to decorate your new room. While you were able to take most of your furniture from your shared apartment with Johnny, the bed had been his, so you desperately needed to find a new one. You had been sleeping on a thin air mattress for the last couple weeks and Hyuck was tired of hearing you complain about your back.

The minute you had laid your eyes on the piece of furniture housed in the giant box you had just hauled in, you knew you had to get it. It matched your style perfectly and was also perfect in so many other ways.

The parts were awkward to fit together without a second set of hands, but it didn’t take too long to assemble. Once you stuffed all the packaging back into the box and pushed it back out into the living room, you stood sweaty but proud in front of your new, giant sunflower bed.

It was round, so it was hard to say if it was King sized, but it seemed pretty close based on the dimensions. The center was dark brown and fuzzy, with giant yellow petals spanning across the frame. You had already had your best friend crochet you some smaller sunflower and leaf decorative pillows that she had dropped off earlier that week. She had also shown up with a small panda plushie with a matching leaf on its head, giving you a long hug in your doorway and reminding you of how strong you were for finally dumping Johnny’s stupid ass.

Grabbing your towel, you headed to the bathroom to shower, letting the hot water cascade over your aching shoulders and scrubbing your body and hair quickly, desperate to take a nap in your new bed. When you passed Hyuck’s room again, you heard him still yelling at Jeno, but based on his call out it sounded like they were playing League and you decided against disturbing him. He would see your new furniture eventually and the growing pit in your stomach was preventing you from showing him anyways, nervous for his reaction.

Once back in your room, you dimmed the lights and put on your chill playlist. You lit some candles on your desk, followed by a blunt, letting the haze flow through the afternoon light streaming through your blinds. As soon as you had ordered the bed, you had found other matching decor for your room, hanging some lighted vines from your ceiling, cascading down the corner near the bed, blending into pale pink and green sheer curtains covering the window. A small mushroom side table held crystals, an ashtray, and your phone charger next to your bed. You smiled, looking around your new space that felt safe and unique to you.

During your relationship with Johnny, you felt like you had lost parts of yourself that had previously brought you so much confidence. He hated when you gamed with the guys, complaining that they were all flirting with you and in the midst of heated comms he would often unplug the router, blaming it on a power surge.

Whenever Jungwoo would come over for face masks and binging the latest season of Single’s Inferno, Johnny would watch with a chilly gaze from the kitchen, sharpening his chef’s knife before slicing up an apple. His possessiveness broke your relationship apart and while you still missed him, you would never miss that disease that plagued your time together.

After you slipped into a soft set of sleep shorts and a cropped tank, you finally let yourself fall onto the center of the large flower. The mattress was as comfortable as all the reviews had said, maybe even more. Taking a long, final drag of the blunt, you extinguished it in the ashtray and curled up into the pillows, smiling as you moved the small bear to your bedside table.

The soothing music, weed, and scent of your favorite candles made your eyes heavy, watching as the hazy smoke flowed through the rays of light across your ceiling, sun warming your bare legs. You don't know when exactly you drifted off to sleep but before you knew it you were stirred awake by a soft knock at the door.

“Hey…did you need any…” came Hyuck’s voice as the door swung open, barely giving you a chance to adjust your shirt that had ridden high up your side, exposing the underside of your breast. The waistband of your shorts had also ridden up your waist in your sleep, exposing much of your thigh.

“Oh…I uh, sorry I didn’t know you were sleeping,” he stuttered, moving to blow out the two candles on your desk, nervously avoiding eye contact with you.

“It’s okay, I should have said something but didn’t want to interrupt your game,” you replied groggily, lifting a heavy hand up to your eyes to rub at them.

“Wait…is that…”Hyuck trailed off, finally noticing the bed design. He looked adorable in the afternoon light, hood pulled up over messy hair, small sections of pink peeking through the black locks.

“A sunflower, yeah,” you replied with a smile, sitting up and leaning back on your arms, neglecting to adjust your shirt, chest pushed out at your new position. You dragged your legs up lightly, digging your feet into the fuzzy brown center of the bed and swaying your knees lighty as you spoke.

“A sunflower,” Hyuck repeated, unable to keep his eyes from dragging up and down your half naked body and damp hair. You looked ethereal in the golden hour sunlight and he let out a sigh before pulling his lime vape pen to his lips for a long drag. He kept eye contact with you through the cloud of smoke, a small smile breaking out onto his lips.

The bed was “perfect in many other ways” due to Hyuck’s gamer tag, SunnyFlowerz, one he had made years ago but had stuck. He had accumulated some sunflower related items over the years, including some stickers on his pc, a bright neon light that hung on the wall behind him and always visible on call, and the small crochet holder he kept his vape in. Some of the guys teased him about it but he always had new facts about the resilient flower to share, including how they track the sun and can self-pollinate.

You knew all these things because even before you had started dating Johnny you had always been intrigued by Donghyuck, the loud, whiny friend who sometimes had hot pink hair and laughed at all your stupid jokes when getting high in the park. You had thought about him late at night or as you touched yourself in the shower more times than you cared to admit. The first thing you had thought of when you saw the sunflower bed was how getting fucked by him in the middle of it would be the sweetest revenge you could ever imagine.

But now in the moment, with your legs inching open wider under Hyuck’s tense gaze, you knew it was more than revenge. You wanted to fall apart underneath him and the way he was looking at you right now confirmed he wanted it too.

Pulling one hand back over his shoulder, Hyuck pulled his hoodie off in a swift motion, dropping it to the floor as he stepped close to the bed, pausing at the edge as his shins touched the soft yellow petals.

“Is this for me?” he asked, dragging the back of his hand lightly against your bare calf.

“Maybe…” you trailed off, shivering slightly at his touch and pulling your chin up, silently begging him to come closer.

Dropping his knees to the bed one by one, he crawled between your legs, caging you in as he crowded over you, tight abs tensing as he leaned over you. His hair was dangling in his eyes, darkened with lust.

Your breath caught in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chest, playing with the thin strap of your shirt, pushing it down to expose your collar bone.

“A pretty flower, all opened up for me,” he murmured, dipping down to nip lightly at the skin of your neck, already on fire from the gentle touch of his fingers.

You felt your core tighten and breath pick up, desperate for him to touch you. Leaning your head back, you opened up more of your neck for him to mouth at, letting out a light moan as he dragged his lips up and down the column of your throat, laving his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you can’t help yourself from mumbling and you swear you can feel him smile against your skin.

“You hid it so well, PandaBare,” he hissed out mockingly, using your own gamer tag, causing you to flush.

“Maybe I have something to show you too,” he added, standing up on his knees to pull at the waistband of his loose gray sweats.

You sat up further on your elbows, gulping and eyes widening. You watched as he first pulled down the sweats and then moved achingly slow to slip his thumbs under the band of his black boxers.

“If you’re about to try to impress me with your massive cock, Lee Donghyuck, you should remember that I used to date the Johnny Suh,” you replied, rolling your eyes at him, even as your heart picked up speed in your chest.

He merely chuckled, ripping down his boxers suddenly, half hard cock springing out and demanding your attention. 

Your eyes widened, not at the sight of his arousal, but at the black ink on his hip bone, suddenly visible to you for the first time. You had been to the pool with the boys a few times, but never seen this far below his shorts. 

“Is that…” you croaked out, equally as speechless as he had been in your doorway earlier.

“A panda bear? Yeah, it is,” he smiled, running his thumb over the small line art before moving over you again.

“Guess we both weren’t fake flirting on vc then…” you sighed as everything flooded into place in your mind.

Hyuck had been the first to offer you a place to stay and none of the boys had dared say anything in opposition. Even your best friend had encouraged you to move in.

He was always the first one to ream out a sexist team mate on voice chat when they complained about a female voice in the lobby. He always sent you a game off your wishlist on Steam for your birthday, saying he did it for everyone, even if you knew he hadn’t gotten Mark a gift in years. And if Johnny’s reaction had told you anything, it seemed like everyone had been picking up on the vibes for a long time.

“We’re both idiots,” he laughed out, dipping down to finally capture your lips with his, pressing warmly against your mouth.

Your hands flew immediately into his long hair as he yanked down your shorts, grinding his bare crotch against yours. You moaned loudly into his mouth at the feeling of him against your core, wrapping your legs around him tightly, drawing him closer to you.

“Wait,” you gasped into his mouth, reaching your hand over to fumble for your phone.

“Important Twitter update to post?” he asked, cocking a brow as he lifted up, toying with the edge of your top and letting his fingertips brush across your nipples that were peeking out under the neon green fabric.

“No, I have something better,” you said slyly, opening your camera and pulling Hyuck back down on top of you by the back of his neck. Holding the phone out, you snapped a slightly blurry photo that clearly showed Hyuck’s muscular and bare back with you spread out underneath him on the sunflower bed.

You tapped into a phone conversation you hadn’t messaged in in a month, sending off the photo without a caption before letting your phone fall back to the bed.

“Oh you’re evil,” Hyuck laughed maniacally, crashing his lips against yours and snaking a hand between your bodies to drag a finger through your dripping folds.

“Hold on, send him another one like this,” Hyuck murmured against your mouth, kissing down your throat before pulling his face between your thighs and smiling up at you.

You grabbed your phone eagerly, arching your back and tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in ecstasy as you snapped a few photos and videos. A loud moan escaped your throat, causing you to drop the phone and focus back on Hyuck and the long night that seemed to be ahead of you as he pulled his tongue slowly up to your clit, moaning into you in pleasure.

Yes, the sunflower bed was for Hyuck. But also the perfect fuck you to the man who had broken your heart and spent so much time gaslighting and manipulating you.

Across town, a loud string of curses rang out in a tiny apartment, causing Taeyong to rip his headphones off in concern and push open Johnny’s bedroom door. Without replying to his friend, Johnny glanced down at the small sunflower tattoo on his arm and threw his phone violently across the room, knowing the screen most likely shattered as it bounced off the wall.

His angry, jealous comments he had made when he last saw you had been right. Hyuck had always wanted to fuck you and while this was the first time, it looked like this wasn’t going to be the last.

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 10

“the lone moose”

A/N: disclaimer before we get into this chapter, this is a very emotionally/mentally heavy chapter that might not be suitable for everyone. The main topic of this chapter and the next is focused around Joel’s attempted suicide and Tommy’s C-PTSD. This content maybe triggering for some, and if that is the case, please do not read if you feel triggered. Warnings will be marked appropriately. Take care of yourselves first. And as always, a huge thanks to my beta @angelofsmalldeath-codeine 🤍

~word count: 6.9k~

Summary: the wolves of Jackson are lurking

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: !DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! thoughts of suicide, semi-graphic depictions of attempted suicide, brief moment of stigmatizing suicide (Tommy’s reaction) canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of an injury, semi-graphic depictions of childloss (and the trauma that comes with it) angst, grief, guilt, anxiety, heavy topics, anger, overwhelming emotions, C-PTSD responses, fear responses, no age gap, readers nicknames is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors DNI! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!

Slow Hands Masterlist

Two days had passed since Joel and Ellie took the steps together to make up. Joel already had a visible pep in his step, and a lightness in his eyes that Tommy hadn’t seen in his brother for over 20 years. Joel’s back still ached, but the pain was subdued.

Patrol was long and uneventful. The two brothers only had a handful of evidence gathered to present to Maria, but neither would give up hope. After untacking Tex and Timber, Joel and Tommy turned both horses out in one of pastures just outside the stables. Tess was grazing alongside the fence when Timber and Tex went to greet her.

A wave of melancholy washed over his features as he watched Tex and Tess nuzzle one another affectionately. He thought of you, of course.

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy asked alongside him with his arms resting along the wooden fence. “Y’wanna have a drink with me real quick at the Tipsy Bison before y’head home?” He rasped softly.

“I’d love to, but I promised Ellie we’d have a movie night tonight. Can’t go and let her down, y’know? How about tomorrow?” Joel suggested with a grin.

“Ah, movie night with the kiddo. Hey, I think that’s great that y’all are movin’ forward. Tomorrow sounds good.” Tommy responded with a genuine smile. It was a relief that he and Joel were growing close again. He missed his brother terribly.

“Yeah, and Beanie as well. I let Ellie pick out the movie. Think she said we were gonna watch Curtis and Viper 2.” Joel stifled a chuckle as he glanced down at the toe of his boots.

“Aw shit, that’s a good one! Well, you enjoy yourself, okay? Adios, big brother. See ya in the mornin.’” Tommy reached over and gave Joel a side hug before he pushed himself off the fence.

“See ya in the mornin, Tommy.” Joel mumbled to himself with a smile slowly creeping over his lips. Truthfully, he was rather excited for this movie night with you and Ellie. He couldn’t picture a better way to spend his evening than with his two favorite girls.

“Hey, Tex? Y’keep a good eye on your gal tonight. Y’hear? I’ll see ya in the mornin’, pal.” He spoke softly as his horse lifted his head from where he was grazing. He let out a snort in response as his tail swished away at the pesky flies.

The weight of Tommy’s letter in Joel’s pocket felt ten times heavier than when Joel first had written it. He thought about making a quick pit stop at the Tipsy Bison to give it to him, but tomorrow was a new day. He’d give the letter to Tommy first thing in the morning.

Ellie’s carved wooden fawn was tucked away in the inside pocket of his flannel. He brought it on patrol to show Tommy, and because he liked having a piece of his baby girl with him. Tonight he’d give her the gift, and to you, his precious star, something that twinkled like the night sky; matching charm bracelets. Two golden hearts dangling from the chains. Appearing brand new, untouched. The names Peggy carved into one, and Steve into the other. Lovers from the past, and now lovers in the present.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on your pretty face when he would present the bracelet to you. He said one last goodbye to the horses. He’d pass by your home en route to his own as he usually did every evening after patrol. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he noticed a figure looming in the distance. He squinted his eyes through the harsh rays of the setting sun. He approached the figure with cautious steps.

As far as he was concerned, no one ever hung around your home like this. It raised suspicions immediately. His boots crunched under loose dirt as the figure stopped their pacing and seemed to pause in thought.

“Cody?” Joel’s tone ran cold, edged with a sharp suspicion as his footsteps stopped a foot away. A balmy breeze sifted through his salt and pepper streaked tendrils.

The younger man looked around for a moment as the gears in Joel’s brain began to work on overdrive. He knew Cody, or so he thought. He believed Cody was a good man. They shared many meals, conversations—

“Have y’seen Beanie around by chance?” Cody asked casually as he ignored the obvious suspicion that Joel was facing.

Joel’s hackles raised on instinct as he watched Cody lean up against your fence with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Haven’t seen her since this mornin.’” Joel responded flatly. He knew right then and there that he had to play this cool for the time being. He didn’t need Cody knowing that he was onto him.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway, old man.” Cody muttered the last bit as he turned on his heel to walk away.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ around her place anyway? Y’know I could have you—”

“Reported? Yeah, sure you can. What would you even report me for, Miller? Cody scoffed. “All you had to do was not get yourself involved. Coulda just kept your nose out of things, but that’s not how you play your game, right?” He turned to face the older man once more just as a distinctive crash was heard from inside of your home.

Joel moved quickly, but Cody was quicker. Stronger, and trigger happy.

Cody was pouncing on the older man like a predator does to their prey. They tousled in the dusty dirt before Cody had him pinned down. His fists rained down on Joel’s face and the pained groans only seemed to spur Cody on further.

“Just had to go and get yourself involved with that fuckin’ cunt, huh?!”

Joel tried to fold his arms over his head to block out the swift punches to his face. Cody was ruthless, and Joel wasn’t as strong as he once was. Years ago he would have snapped Cody like a toothpick, but his age was beginning to catch up with him and this was the result.

Through gritted teeth Joel attempted to use his weight to throw Cody off of him, but it was no use. “I’ll fuckin’ kill every last one of you. I’ll rip you limb from fuckin’ limb and scatter your remains to the wolves—”He growled.

“Yeah? And how do you propose you’re gonna do that, Joel? Y’ain’t the one with the upper hand here, old man! You’re not takin’ this from me! Imagine how proud he’ll be when I not only bring in the moose, but your precious Beanie too.” He sneered conceitedly.

That’s all Joel needed to get a second wind of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He growled between his teeth as he used what little remaining strength he had left to force Cody off of him. He was reaching for his concealed pistol tucked in his belt loop under his shirt, when Cody kicked it from his grasp just as the two men inside of your home came rushing out.

“Jesus! fuck, Cody! What the hell are you doin?’ This wasn’t part of the plan!” The one man, a burly fellow with scarred tissue from third degree burns that covered nearly half of the left side of his face yelled urgently. Through the rushing of blood, and pain stabbing every inch of Joel’s face, he recognized this man too. He recognized the man next to him as well, smaller in stature, but stocky. Alex and Oliver.

“Fuck the plan! I’m not gonna waste this opportunity!” He sent the heel of his boot right into Joel’s gut causing him to double over into the crimson speckled dirt with a pain ridden grunt. “Well?!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Was she in there or not?!”

Alex and Oliver slowly looked over at one another before their shoulders simultaneously slumped inward. “No, but—”

“FUCK!” Cody snarled out of sheer frustration. He couldn’t let him down. He was told he couldn’t show up empty handed. It wasn’t an option.

Just as Joel’s fingers weakly grasped the handle of his pistol, that lay only a short arms distance away, Cody sent his boot right into his face. There was a sickening crunching sound of bone matter and cartilage being crushed as Joel’s body stilled. He was knocked out cold from the impact as blood leaked down his face and soaked into the dusty earth beneath him.

Neither men moved as Cody began to pace in contemplation. He paid no mind to the consequences he would face for his actions.

“Cody, we need to get the fuck outta town right fuckin’ now! If anyone sees—”

“And show up empty handed?! Fuck no.”

“Cody, she wasn’t there. We have no fuckin’ clue where she could be. C’mon, let’s just go back and regroup before someone shows up and finds Joel layin’ in a pool of his own blood.”

Cody ignored his counterparts as he continued to pace in a tight circle. He suddenly stopped when the lightbulb went off in his sick mind. He turned towards the two men, with a smirk that could only be described as sinister, “Angie.”

Ellie was curled up against your body with her cheek pressed gently into your shoulder. Her eyes flickered towards the windows in the family room. She watched the last bit of sunlight dip behind the horizon as a warm summer breeze blew through the beige curtains.

Joel should have been home by now.

She waited with alert ears for the sound of the front door to squeak open any minute now. It never came.

She shifted against you before your gazes met. “Beanie, he should have been home by now.”

You understood full heartedly that this movie night was important to Ellie. This was the first time that she and Joel were going to be spending some quality time together after everything they had gone through. This was a big deal.

“Kiddo, I’m sure he’s on his way now. Maybe he and Tommy just got caught up in something?” You wanted to reassure her and yourself that Joel was in fact on his way, and maybe he was just running late.

“Beanie..he—promised. What if he’s ditchin’ me? God, this was so stupid.” She went to bury her hands in her face, but you stopped her.

“Ellie, he’s not ditching you. He would never do that to you. He loves you. I’m sure he’s just running late is all.” Your own fears began to crawl up into your subconscious. What if something was wrong? What if something had happened?

Ellie wanted to believe you, she really did, but her own fears were making an appearance as well. It didn’t help the fact that her last conversation with Joel had been about his suspicions of Lucas..

“I’m gonna go check the stables, okay? You stay here. Lock the doors.” Ellie was up from her spot on the couch before you could even attempt to stop her.

“Ellie,” you started, voice wavering from the building nerves, “be careful, okay?”

The teen looked over at you with a small, yet confident grin, “Always am.” Her face twisted back to a serious one as she tucked her gun in her hoodie pocket. Joel surely would have scolded her if he had seen it.

You listened to the soft click of the door opening and closing. Your eyes drifted over to the unoccupied spot on the couch where one of the pillows was smashed down. Joel’s spot. .

Please. Please just be running late.

Please be okay, Joel.

Tommy found himself reminiscing on the good ole days as he nursed his glass of beer. Condensation dripped down the outside of the glass like tear drops on cheeks. The noisy chatter that encircled him was drowned out by his thoughts. Joel had always been the protector, the planner, the guardian. And as a young boy, Tommy viewed Joel as his hero. His own beacon of light through the darkness. And when Sarah died? It all changed. He was angry. At the world. At himself. And now, here in this peaceful community, he was getting to see those small glimpses of the old Joel that had laid dormant for so many years.

The Joel that he knew and loved so deeply.

He left his glass half empty as he said his goodbyes to some of the patrol guys, and the barkeep before he walking towards the door.

He was heading in the direction of the home he shared with Maria when he noticed a mass laying just outside your home. He thought that his brain was playing a cruel trick on him, and the approaching dusk might have also played a role in what he was seeing.

Gravel and dirt particles crunched beneath his heavy boots as he started his approach. As he drew nearer, he was able to make out the outline of a body. And, oh—god

Tommy remembers the moment he heard the shot ring through Joel’s house as if it had happened just yesterday. While he gathered supplies in the garage, his big brother was upstairs with the barrel of a revolver pressed against his temple.

How could Tommy not have known? How could he have missed the signs? The indications that Joel was thinking of taking a drastic measure to end his life. How could he have missed it?

“Joel!” A younger Tommy Miller yelled in fear. He threw down the tool box in a haste. Tools of all shapes and sizes clattered to the concrete in a harsh crescendo.

“Joel! Please, no. Please.” He chanted weakly under his breath as his feet carried him up the staircase. He stumbled on the top step as a wave of nausea made its presence known.

“Joel!” He yelled again, more desperately than the last. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brother so soon. He couldn’t. Not when just days ago they laid Sarah to rest. He couldn’t do this without Joel.

Sweat pooled at the back of his neck the closer he drew to the ajar opening of Sarah’s bedroom. He held onto the wall for support as his knees began to inevitably buckle from the dread crawling up his throat.

“Joel.” He croaked, “please. Please be alive in there.”

With a shaky breath, and through a mess of tears, Tommy pushed open Sarah’s bedroom door.

“I missed.” Joel murmured in disbelief. Disappointed that he couldn’t just do one thing fucking right. He couldn’t just follow through with his promise. His final wish to be with his daughter. His baby girl.

His palms trembled as his dull brown eyes flitted down to the revolver still in his grasp. He paid no mind to the blood slowly trickling from the right side of his head. Just a graze. Missed completely.

“Joel, what the fuck did you do that for?” Tommy wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, yell, all of the above? “You’re bleedin’, brother.”

“Oh.” Joel responded flatly. He brought his fingers up towards the right side of his head. He hardly flinched when his fingertips dragged through the flowing blood. He brought his hand back down to his eye level, fingers soaked in crimson. Then, the ringing started. Tommy’s voice started to sound fuzzy from the right side. “I flinched, Tommy. Thought I could do it. I was so sure—”

“Joel. Stop it, please.” Tommy nearly begged his brother as he cautiously moved in closer.

“I wanted to die, Tommy. I ain’t have anythin’ left to live for.” He refused to make eye contact with his brother purely out of shame.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—” His words were bitter, jaded, sharpened with intent to harm. “I fuckin’ need you, Joel. I need my big brother to keep us alive. Is he still in there?” He pointed to Joel’s chest, symbolizing his heart.

When Joel finally brought his chin upwards to face his brother, the look on his sunken features shattered Tommy right down to the core. A broken man, father, brother. The same man that helped Tommy with his homework. The same man that taught him how to ride a bike. The same man that Tommy viewed as his hero. Where was he now?

“He died along with her.”

“Joel!” Tommy felt his voice get lodged in his throat at the sight of his older brother laying motionless in the crimson stained dirt. Panic began to swell and fester like an untreated wound the second his eyes landed on Joel’s handgun just an arms length away.

“No. No. Please— what happened, Joel!” He sank to his knees alongside him. “We were just—talkin’ about how much you were lookin’ forward to the movie night with Ellie and Beanie, remember? You said that you would see me in the mornin’, dammit!” He yelled, slamming one of his fists in the dirt before he took a shaky inhale. “Remember?”

He wouldn’t hurt himself, would he? The thought flashed through his mind briefly. He remembered finding Joel in a pool of his own blood after Sarah died. Tommy brushed away strands of Joel’s hair that were congealed together with blood. His brows furrowed intently when he found there was no bullet hole in Joel’s skull before he pressed his middle and pointer finger right against Joel’s pulse point.

Please. Please. Please still be in there, Joel.

When the faintest pulse was detected, Tommy let out a visible sound of relief. His big brother was alive, but Tommy knew he had to act fast.

“S’alright, big brother. You’re alright. Gonna get you fixed up.” He murmured to himself just as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Tommy?..” It was Ellie. Her voice wavered at the sight of her uncle and father on the ground. “J—Joel?!” Her eyes were wide with oncoming tears brimming when she locked in on Joel’s unmoving body.

“Tommy, wh—what the fuck happened?!” She blinked away her tears just as Tommy stood up from the ground. “Is he fuckin’ dead, Tommy?!”

“Ellie, I don’t know what happened. I was on my way home and—found him like this. He’s alive, kiddo. He’s alive, but we gotta get him to doc right away.” Tommy never felt like he was all that great at taking on the protective role, but his niece needed his comfort and reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Ellie wasn’t listening to a word Tommy was saying. All she could focus on was Joel’s bloodied face and still body. Her emotions were consuming her entirely before she felt Tommy’s warm embrace wrapping her up. She let her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him for dear life.

“Ellie, I know you’re scared, kiddo. But I need ya to be strong for me, and for Joel. We gotta get him to doc right now. I need you to help me carry him okay?” He spoke in a soft tone, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s gonna be just fine. Your old man has always been a fighter.”

She squeezed her uncle tightly before pulling away from his embrace. She wiped what remained of her tears away on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’ll—I’ll take his legs?” She questioned rather than suggested. Seeing Joel like this, bloodied, weak, on the verge of—

“Ellie, he’ll be okay.” Tommy firmly reassured her again. He bent down over his brother and gently hoisted him up under his armpits while Ellie lifted him up by his legs.

Joel felt like dead weight, but his brother and daughter’s determination helped them power through the dull ache and strain in their muscles.

Tommy hated hospitals just as much, if not more than his brother did. The pungent stench of bleach, the droning hum from the overhead fluorescent lights. It was unappealing, cold, and overall a dreadful experience. But out of all of the late night visits to the ER after another bar fight, this by far was the worst of all to see his brother unconscious, dried blood crusted on his skin. Yet appearing peaceful while Doc checked his vitals and any signs of internal injuries

Ellie was seated next to her uncle nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Her leg was bouncing up and down frantically, until Tommy gently placed his palm over her knee in an attempt to soothe her.

“Well, he might have a bit of bruisin’ to his ribs, and his nose is definitely broken, but it’ll heal. There’s a chance he might be concussed, but I won’t know that for certain until he wakes up.” Doc said while tucking his clipboard under his armpit.

“I’ll stay here till he wakes up. Don’t want him wakin’ up alone.” Tommy said with a slight nod in Doc’s direction.

“I’m staying, too.” Ellie was defiant, of course. It was in her nature, and she couldn’t fathom not being by her dads side—

“Ellie, I’m gonna go and find someone to walk you home, okay? One of the guys on patrol..maybe a couple, given the circumstances.” He needed to make sure his niece got home in one piece, first and foremost.

Ellie clenched her fists, lips pressed tightly together as her eyes met Tommy’s in an intense stare. He could see residue of dried tears on her cheeks, and fresh ones beginning to brew like an oncoming storm. “Tommy,” she started, voice low, yet stern. “I’m not fuckin’ leaving him. I’m not. You can’t—”

“Ellie, I know you want to stay here with him too, but somethin’ about this ain’t right. You and I both know that there’s been some suspicious activity happenin’ as of late. Joel is goin’ to be okay, kiddo. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Her lower lip wobbled under the bright fluorescent light. She wanted to be angry at her uncle for telling her what she needed to do, but he was right, and there really wasn’t another second to waste. “Don’t you dare even think of leavin’ his side, Tommy. Don’t you dare.” She wiped her eyes along the back of her hand before making the final decision to get up from where she was sitting.

“I won’t, kiddo. I promise.” Tommy reassured her.

She walked over to the right side of the bed where Joel was lying and gently ran her fingers through a few stray curls that were stuck to his forehead. Dried sweat, dirt, and blood littered his hair and face. She leaned down, whispering something while she pressed her lips to his temple, squeezing her eyes shut.

Please don’t die.

Tommy left the room to give Ellie a bit of privacy. He flagged down a nurse in the hallway and quickly explained that he needed someone to ensure Ellie safely got home. It was decided that two patrol members would escort her home.

When Tommy returned, he was with Jesse and Liam waiting outside the open doorway.

“Ellie?”

Her head snapped in the direction of Tommy’s voice as she quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears.

“Jesse and Liam are gonna make sure you get home safe. Okay, kiddo?”

“Sure.” She muttered. Agreeing with her uncle didn’t mean that she had to act happy about it. Despite her feelings, she made a point to hug her uncle before she left the room.

Don’t leave him. She reminded him.

Sunlight warms his skin, birds chirping in the high treetops, a soft breeze rustles through his hair, kissing his temple. He knows this place, where he stands. It’s—

“baby girl?” He chokes out, stumbling forward in an uncoordinated motion.

She’s there. She’s alive. She’s got daisies in her curls.

“Dad?”

He nearly drops to his knees right at the spot where he and Tommy dug her grave all those years ago. He stops in his tracks as she turns around to face him. She’s wearing the same clothes that she died in, except there’s no blood. No bullet wounds. She’s untouched. Bright, glowing under the rays of sunlight.

“Are you really here? C-can I hold you? Are those daisies in your hair? Baby girl, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble past his lips like an avalanche of word vomit. His heart lurches in his chest, leaping from the confines of his ribcage.

Sarah’s feet carry her swiftly to her father before she’s wrapping her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly with her cheek pressed firmly against his chest. “I’m really here, dad.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Joel’s arms wrap around her immediately, hugging her to his chest as tightly as he can, he’s trembling, tears blurring his vision, dripping down his cheeks and landing softly on her head of curls. He pulls away only to gently cradle her face in his strong, calloused, gentle hands.

She’s here. She’s alive. His baby girl.

“Dad..you—you remembered our favorite spot?” Her smile is beautiful, radiant, full of life.

“Of course I did. Our hikes, the fresh air. We—we loved it out here. I—I never forgot. Baby girl, I haven’t forgotten you. I—I think about you everyday. I’m so sorry. I miss you..I miss you so much.”

Her hands come to rest against the patches of his now graying beard. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize. I’m okay, I’m happy. I miss you too, dad. I miss you so much, but Ellie, she needs you. I’ll always wait for you, I promise. I’m always going to be right here.” She drops one of her hands from his face to then point to his heart. “I’m always with you.”

His face falls as his thumbs gently stroke her cheekbones. He’s not ready to leave, not yet. Not so soon. Too soon. He needs more time. Time. Time. Time.

Ellie.

“You—you would have loved her, baby girl. She reminds me so much of you. Her smile, her laugh. I see you in her. She’s—she’s my blessing. My second chance..my light in the darkness.” He sniffles, leaning down so he can press his lips to her forehead.

“And she needs you more than ever now, dad. She needs you. You have to forgive yourself, okay? Please promise me that one day, you will forgive yourself, dad. Promise me.”

“I promise you, baby girl. I promise. Daddy loves you, okay? He loves you so much.” There’s so much more he wants to say, so much more he wants to tell her, but there’s not enough time. He knows it.

“Dad, I love you so much. Tell Tommy I miss him too, okay? I’ll see you again one day, when the time is right.” She hugs him one last time as he buries his face into her mess of curls, holding in his sobs as more tears begin to fall.

“When the time is right, baby girl.” He murmurs.

—

“Well, brother. Guess it’s jus’ you and me now, huh?” Tommy wants to laugh, but he can’t. His emotions are all fucked. Everything is so fucked.

“That kid of yours really loves the hell outta ya. You’re like two feral cats.” He continues, forcing himself to stand and walk over to his brother's bedside. “And I know how much you love her.” He murmurs as he glances down at the nightstand where the contents of Joel’s pockets are laid out.

The two charm bracelets, the wood carving of a fawn for Ellie, and a folded piece of paper now tarnished with blood and debris.

“One of these for Beanie?” He asks while gently picking up one of the charm bracelets. “I’m so happy you listened to my advice and went to her coffee shop. I jus’ had this feelin’ that you two would hit it off.”

“You love her, huh? Like..really love her? I’m glad, Joel. I’m glad that you’re finally allowin’ yourself to love, and be loved. If anyone in this fucked up world deserves that, it’s you.”

He sets down the charm bracelet alongside the other before he picks up the wood carved fawn. One of the delicate ears had broken off during the fight, but it was fixable. “Ellie is going to love this when she sees it. You’ve always been..a giver, Joel.. Always thinkin’ of others before yourself. Puttin’ your heart out on the line. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so grateful that you met Ellie when you did. You saved her, but she saved you just as much. Turned that cold heart of yours into somethin’ good again.”

He placed the fawn down gently before he eyed the folded piece of paper. “Y’still writin’ those letters? Have they been helpin?’ Y’know, I thought about writin’ a couple myself.”

Something in his gut tells him that this letter..is meant for him.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat as he reached for the piece of paper and picked it up with trembling fingers. He sees his name written on the outside, and his vision goes blurry with tears. “You..were gonna give this to me tomorrow when we said we were gonna meet at the Tipsy Bison?”

He slowly sinks down along the side of the bed, unfolds the letter and begins to read it silently.

Tommy, this is the third letter I have written thus far, so hopefully this comes across the way I have intended it to. Ever since we were just two little boys scraping our knees up on the playground, telling each other secrets, and holding each other tight when mom and dad would argue into the odd hours of the night, I always found myself being protective over you. I ain’t even sure if it had anything to do with age, and more to do with the fact that it’s been instilled in me since birth that I'm a natural protector. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

I’ve never told anyone this, but the day you told me that you wanted to join the army, and make a difference in the world, I wept. I soaked my pillow with my tears that very same evening cus’ I realized I couldn’t protect you anymore. You were eighteen, and ready to take on the world. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to go, and I know that war changed you. I know what it did to you, and you were no longer the little boy hiding under the covers from the thunder and lightning. You were molded into a man right before my eyes, but you’ve always been my little brother, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.

I know you blame yourself for the night that we lost Sarah. I still remember the grief in your eyes. You tried so hard. So fuckin’ hard, and I’m so sorry for what I became after she died.

A stray teardrop fell along the thin paper as the word ‘died’ began to blur from the sudden moisture.

You literally had to pry her cold body from my arms because I refused to let go. Even when we dug her a shallow grave near the woods she loved to hike in, you had to stop me from crawling into that goddamn hole with her.

24 hours. 1 day since the outbreak. 1 day without his baby girl

“She’ll be happy here, Joel. She gets to rest in her favorite place.” Tommy murmured as he set the shovels down next to the grass covered earth that would soon be dug up to create a shallow grave for Sarah to finally be laid to rest. The younger Miller brother hid his grieving behind a stoic face. He didn’t want Joel to see how much pain he was in. He wanted to be the strong one for once in his life, especially since he blamed himself for Sarah's death. If only he had been there sooner. If only he had acted quicker, maybe she would still be alive.

Joel was unmoving as he held his deceased daughter, who had long since grown cold and stiff in his arms. She was wrapped in a sheet, as Joel couldn’t bear to see her unmoving eyes any longer. He had shed his last tears, as he watched his brother begin to dig a shallow grave. As the minutes ticked by, Joel was realizing that after Sarah was to be buried, he no longer would be a father, and the thought made him feel queasy. What did he have to live for if he was no longer a parent? What was the point?

“Tommy..” Joel croaked, “I–can’t let her go.” He choked up as the weight of the world was beginning to press down on his shoulders. He held Sarah close to his heart where his chin came to rest upon her covered head. “Tommy, we–”

“Joel, we have to let her go. Brother, please. She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to bring her back. I’m sorry.” He was. If he could go back in time and take Sarah’s place, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Joel’s eyes began to glaze over with fresh tears as he began to frantically whisper to Sarah as if she could hear him from the other side. “S’okay baby girl. You’re okay. Daddy has you, and he’ll see you soon. I promise. I’m coming for you, baby girl.” He pressed a firm, promising kiss to her covered head before he slowly lowered himself onto his knees along the edge of the hole in the dirt. He could feel stomach acid rise up his throat at the thought of the earth, and mother nature consuming his baby girl. He wanted to go with her.

Tommy watched with a heavy heart as he watched his older brother gently place his baby girl into the shallow grave. His own tears began to silently fall as images of a newborn Sarah flashed in his mind. He remembered the pure joy and love that radiated from Joel the moment he got to hold his daughter for the first time. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

As Tommy willed himself to begin shoveling the dirt he dug up into the grave, he watched in horror as his grief-stricken brother nearly had crawled into the hole. He dropped the shovel in a haste as he grabbed ahold of the underside of Joel’s shoulders and yanked him back.

The soul-shaking, torturous, anguished sound that cascaded from Joel’s mouth, was one that chilled Tommy’s blood. It could only be described as a grieving parent refusing to let their only child go.

Tommy still has nightmares of it.

I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t just fuckin’ pull myself together for both of us. I know how scared you were, Tommy. I was scared too. I was terrified. I was supposed to be the big brother then. The one who had all the answers. Who could come up with a plan at the drop of a hat to keep his little brother alive. Instead, you had to fill that position. You stepped into that role because I gave you no other choice. If you didn’t force me to leave that spot where she died, I would have rotted there with her. I never thought for a moment about the pain that you were feeling. I lost a daughter that night, but you lost a niece, and a brother all in one night.

48 hours. 2 days since the outbreak. 2 days without his baby girl.

It was Tommy’s idea for him and Joel to return home to gather up as much food and supplies they could get their hands on. Joel was apprehensive, but Tommy reassured him that they wouldn’t have to stay long. So, Joel reluctantly agreed. Their neighborhood was dead silent with no signs of life to be found. The bombs that the government had dropped only impacted the major cities, and left the small neighborhoods untouched from their destruction. It would have just been another day if it weren’t for the familiar bodies scattered in the street. Both Tommy and Joel avoided looking at the deceased body of Nana Adler as they crossed their front yard.

“I’m gonna grab what I can from the garage, and then I'll meet you inside? Grab a couple of backpacks and stuff it with clothes, and anything else you think we might need. Okay, Joel?”

The older Miller brother could only meekly nod as a non-verbal response. He was too focused on remembering that he had stashed a revolver in his office drawer for safe keeping. At least it would be quick.

Tommy was unaware, clueless to Joel’s plan to end his life. He knew his brother was mourning, but he never had thought about the drastic measures he would take to be reunited with Sarah.

As Joel ascended up the stairs, memories of his life before the outbreak leaked into his mind. A five year old Sarah running down the stairs to avoid bath time after playing outside all day. Sticky with sugary sweet syrup from a popsicle, and dirt and twigs stuck in her head of curls. Joel patiently demanded that she needed a bath. Well, Sarah had other plans of course and Joel would have to catch her first.

He could hear her gleeful giggles now; almost sweet music.

Soon, baby girl. I promise.

His footsteps were soft, and undetected as he padded down the hall to his office area. His hand grasped the handle as he slowly turned it and pushed the door open with ease. Everything was right as he left it. Blueprints for a new project he and Tommy were working on. A school paper from Sarah that she had left for him to proof read. A stale cup of coffee. Tommy’s note tacked to the corkboard that Joel kept from when they were kids. A life preserved in time. He reached for the note as he gingerly plucked it from where it was pinned. He folded it carefully before slipping it into his pocket. He wanted to have a piece of his brother with him, always.

Joel didn’t feel nervous as he opened the file cabinet drawer that contained his concealed revolver. He greeted it like an old friend as he grasped it firmly in his palm. The coolness of the metal diffused his clammy skin. He could do it here, he thought silently. No, he wanted to be closer to Sarah. To be comforted by her familiarity. So, he left his office and went straight to her room.

As he brought the barrel of the gun to his temple, he felt calm. He felt ready. More ready than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt sorry for leaving Tommy to fend for himself, but he knew that his brother would survive, and he’d be better off without him anyway.

As his finger hovered over the trigger, he observed Sarah's untouched room. From the crumpled sheets along her bed where he had tucked her in for the very last time, her discarded backpack, her posters, trophies from soccer, and all of her photographs. Photos of her and Joel. Her and Tommy. She was the happiest kid ever, and that’s how Joel wanted to remember her.

As his finger gradually applied pressure to the trigger, he flinched. The bullet missed, and grazed the right side of his temple. His right ear was profusely ringing as he dropped to the carpet like a bag of bricks. He could faintly hear Tommy’s shouts and footsteps racing up the stairs as blood slowly trickled down his face.

Tommy, I was selfish. I was selfish for wanting to take my life and leave you to fend for yourself. My baby brother. The same brother I swore to protect till my last dying breath. I was a coward, Tommy. A weak, selfish, pathetic coward. I wanted to take the easy way out. The cheap way. I just hope you still don’t hate me for it. I hope you don’t hate me for putting you through the trauma and pain of almost losing me too. Sometimes I wonder if my attempted suicide triggered your thirst for blood. As if I am the direct cause for the carnage you partook in when we joined Tess and her raider group. Sometimes I wonder if all those times that we murdered people, that you pictured me on the other end of the gun. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the brave big brother that you always believed me to be. I’m sorry that even over twenty years later, I’m not me. I’m not the Joel that you looked up to. I’m not sure if I'll ever be that version of myself again, but I am ever-so grateful that I am still your brother. Your flesh and blood.

I hope that one day you’ll be proud to be my brother again. Till then, I'll always have your back.

-Your big brother, Joel. The one that held you when things went bump in the night.

Tommy isn’t even aware of how much time has passed while he reads Joel’s words over till they're practically burned into his brain. He doesn’t feel the shifting of the coarse sheets, or see Joel’s fingers twitch at his side.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

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[unholyhelbig]

werewolf kate RAH i love your fics

Title: What? I've Seen Twilight [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: It's been six years since reader has been out on her own, but now that she and Kate have an apartment in the city together, the last thing they're expecting is old company.

Trigger warnings: Sadness, angst, burns (Physical), general emotional distress, therapy,very brief mentions of assult, and spelling mistakes.

A/n: I went a little wild with this one. It's way longer than I intended, but jesus, did I have fun.

Read the Full Series:

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six, Part Seven]

Kate Bishop’s height advantage killed most situations. She could ride every rollercoaster, and one could spot her in a crowd of people as they bustled in and out of the New York Subway system. She could easily lead you, just the same, her large hand engulfing yours and making sure that you’d be able to stick together.

Kate hated her height sometimes. When she was a child, she was approached by her high school gym teacher that begged her to be on the basketball team. She was lanky and awkward, sitting on a whisp of a bench.

She’d wanted to join the team, but her father was vehemently against sports. He said that it worked her up too much and she’d be a danger to society if her adrenaline became too high for her to manage, as it often was. It was just one of those rules that were accompanied by breathing exercises and the occasional sedative.

You’d never made Kate feel an aversion to her height, in fact, you utilized it to your advantage. You’d curl up in her arms, slotted against her body. Her height could nearly swallow you whole. It was no trouble for you to ask for her to reach for certain things that were out of your grasp.

She had a horrible advantage when it came to hanging things, however. Everything was crooked, including the painting she was frustratingly trying to level over a crisping water stain. She’d worked up a sweat, blowing strands that had fallen from her ponytail from her face.

You came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her toned stomach. You were too short to rest your chin on her shoulder, so you settled for nuzzling into her back instead, breathing in the lemon scent of her. Kate let a smile spread across her face, sighing into your warmth. “Remind me why we decided to move out of the compound again?”

“Because we’re engaged and wanted some form of privacy.” You mumbled into her spine.

She beamed and turned in your arms. You much preferred this side of her. You were able to tuck your head under her chin. The painting took a hard left and slid into a diamond shape on the wall. A rumbling growl moved through her chest, vibrating against your ear.

“Was that your stomach or your frustration?”

“I think maybe it was both. Where’d you put the takeout menus?”

“Drawer by the fridge, we can’t make a habit of ordering out though.”

Kate detached herself from you and crossed the mostly bare living room to the kitchen. She rifled through them until she found her prize, a menu from the Tex-Mex place that had opened up down the street. They had massive portions, and that always worked in both your favors with the appetites you carried.

“We’re not going to make a habit. I just think we deserve a little treat after moving everything up six flights of stairs. Don’t you?”

The motivation to cook had left your body between floor three and four. You were determined to prove to Steve and Natasha that you were both more than capable of being on your own. It took months of convincing, and you’d even considered making a power point to demonstrate how responsible you’d be.

It didn’t’ come to that, just a promise (and then a pinky-swear) that the two of you would return back to the compound the week of the full moon. It was an easy compromise. In fact, it even made you feel safer. There was infinite space, and it was the only place you’d ever gone through a transition. Dozens, at this point, possibly hundreds.

“Fine, just this once, and only if you get extra nachos.”

“Okay, bossy. You can brave the copious number of stairs and pick up the order, then.”

That seemed like a fair enough deal. You dawned your coat, the sound of thunder a few miles away having reached your ears. Most things, you’d learned to tune out; the sound of traffic, voices from the multiple families that lived around you. But you would actively seek thunder, enjoying the rain and the dryness you could secure.

Kate pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving your arm a squeeze, a silent plea to be careful. You always were, both at the compound and here during your trips to the city. The apartment building the both of you had rented from was far from swanky. The hallways were lined with polished wood and a fresh paint-job made it look semi-presentable.

It was the quintessential first apartment experience that you’d been craving. It made you feel normal. Living here with your fiancé. A small smile worked its way onto your lips. This was a big step, possibly the biggest you’d taken since you’d followed Kate to the compound in the first place. To your family.

You shoved your hands in your pockets as you walked down the hallway, nearly brushing shoulders with a woman who had her head turned down, struggling to find her keys. She grunted, struggling to keep a paper bag filled with produce righted.

“Jesus Christ,” her muted growl alerted you more.

Not even a full day in the city and you decided to break one of Natasha’s rules. Don’t involve yourself. Which you thought was overkill. She became strict in that way, the insinuation that you shouldn’t talk to strangers on the tip of her tongue. But you weren’t moving here to be a recluse. A simple favor wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Here,” you scooped the bag gently from her hands, saving a particularly ripe orange “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you. I know that paper bags are great for the environment, but they turn to mush when it rains. It makes everything ten times harder.”

Her words died in her throat when her eyes met yours. You took a defensive step back, your mouth suddenly dry and muddy. Those eyes. You cursed yourself for not knowing sooner. She’d straightened her hair, wore a suit that was wrinkled from almost an hour of transit.

She looked older, tired around the eyes. It had been six years.

MJ was at a loss for words, just as you were. Her groceries were still in your hand, the bag finally giving way and spilling oranges, apples, and two soft peaches onto the floor. Neither of you made a move to gather them.

“Let me help you pick these up.”

“I think you’ve done enough.”

The two of you remained frozen. You’d moved in three doors down from someone you’d shared your first three years of college with. The last you’d seen her, she’d been wolfing down mac and cheese, looking queasy as you’d left your key on the coffee table.

A crack of thunder snapped you both out of your staring match. Kate could hear you, you knew she could. It wasn’t that she pried but she did keep an ear out for the cadence of your voice. You didn’t want to worry her, and you certainly didn’t want MJ to see her. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” She turned away and struggled to stick her key in the lock. Her hands were trembling. She worried her lip between her teeth, a nervous habit that reminded you of when she held her tongue. She often failed.

“Okay, alright.” You threw your hands up in an act of surrender, scooting past her, careful to avoid the fallen fruit. “I’m sorry… about your groceries.”

You made it three more steps before her voice rang out again.

“About my groceries?” Her voice was harsh, you winced, stopping in your tracks. “You’re apologizing for ruined produce after what you did?”

At this, you turned, a small bit of anger in your stare. Maybe Natasha was right, as she usually always is. You should just keep your nose down, stay away from other people at least while you got settled. You’d been plunged into ice water, the realization that this city may be gigantic, but so incredibly small.

MJ closed the distance between you, her breath hot on your collarbone. It was startling, but your wolf reacted as it typically did, without fear and with a heir of competition. It figured you threatened, your nails curling into your palm hard enough to draw blood.

“You know, the police didn’t take us seriously. We went to them a week after you left, and they wouldn’t let us file a missing persons report because you left willingly. America, god, she wasn’t convinced. She spent months putting up posters around campus, at train stations. And people called, but not about you. Just to be needlessly cruel.”

The sting of her words made you tremble, your eyes downcast and your hands shoved back in your pocket. Each breath you took felt like needles being shoved forcefully into your throat and twisted until it touched your esophagus. You were going to vomit.  

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone, y/n. We never stopped searching. Anyone who looked like you, smelled like you… just reminded us that you’d run off with some stranger after being an absolute psycho for the week. I mean, for fucks sake! Your mother was devastated!”

“My mother?” Your eyes finally found purchase in her own.

“Yeah,” MJ breathed out, shoulders slumping. “Or did you forget her as well?”

“I didn’t…” You took a step back. Tears threatened to spill over, so you averted your stare back to the ground, quickly wiping them away with your fingers. “I could never forget about any of you. I left to protect you.”

“From what?” She’d gotten quieter, her voice breaking. She looked like she wanted to reach out and embrace you, but stopped herself. “Because America is going to be here any minute, and god help me, y/n, if you don’t have a better answer than that, you can’t let her see you. You can’t put her through that again.”

You took another step towards your apartment. You’d lost your appetite, your sureness in each step that you took. There was a roiling pit in your stomach that threatened to make your breakfast reappear. MJ watched you for a few moments. You were retreating again, and the sadness in her eyes cut into you like a finely sharpened knife.

She let out another breath and knelt down to collect the fruit that had splayed across the floor. She averted her gaze and you let her. There was no explanation that you could muster up without risking everything you’d worked so hard for, every moment of pain that ripped through you once a month. Years spent learning control.

The anxiety had fully built up in your chest by the time you made it the two doors down to your apartment. You shut it as softly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden door slathered in a deep forest green that reminded you of home. Your home.

The two of you had fought so diligently to get out of the compound and now all you wanted to do was retreat back into solitude, away from the world and the people you had wronged long ago. They were easy to push to the back of your mind when you didn’t see them every single day.

Of course, you never forgot them, you couldn’t. But there was a clear separation between your life before that night in the woods, and your life after. You had long ago admitted that you much preferred this one. Even if you did have dreams of finding your mother when you had the chance. Finding America and MJ. This was certainly not on your terms.

Kate was in front of you instantly, cupping both your cheeks and running her thumbs over the dampness. She didn’t’ say a word, and you were suddenly thankful for her inhuman hearing capabilities. You wouldn’t be able to explain, to tell her what made your throat so incredibly tight with grief.

Her height made it easy to tuck yourself against her, quivering as you cries were muffled against your chest. She radiated a warmth that calmed you like no other. Part of your nature, the connection the two of you carried. She could take your pain away, just as you could do the same. It evened your rapid breaths, her hand cupping your head.

She shocked you, her voice a low whisper. “I think you should tell them the truth.”

“What?”

Your voice was nasally and marred with snot. Kate gave you a sympathetic smile, moving her hand through your hair. She’d seen you at your absolute worst, and you weren’t exactly a beautiful crier. Her statement was jarring enough, though disarming.

“All those years ago, I told you that you’d be able to come back once you gained control of your wolf. And you’ve done that, you put in the work, you’ve embraced what we are. The reason for going to the compound in the first place was to protect the ones you love, and you can still do that.”

She dipped her head and your forehead pressed against hers. You stared into her startlingly blue eyes. They were genuine and so full of love.

“I mean it, sweetie. They deserve answers, I think we both know that.”

“Yeah… they do.”

It was easy enough to slip a note under MJ’s door. You figured she went to work early and returned late. There was a solid window of time for you to act. The letter contained your phone number, and an offer to talk, if she was willing.

It took three agonizing days of pacing the small length of the apartment, painting and repainting the bathroom, and busying yourself with little tasks. Kate had mastered hanging artwork and the two of you had finally made a trip to the grocery store instead of ordering from pizza places and diners that did take-out.

Kate was laying on her back on the second-hand sofa that the two of you had purchased and dragged up the stairs with little to no difficulty. She was skimming through a book she had to read for one of her classes, and the slow rhythm of her heartbeat had lulled you into a less than peaceful sleep.

Your cell phone was clenched in one hand, hanging off the side of the couch, full body weight snuggled up close to Kate, a blanket spread across you both. When your phone buzzed you shot up, knocking your forehead against Kate’s chin, she let out a startled grunt.

“Sorry, baby” You soothed your hand over the slowly growing red spot on her skin, simultaneously staring at your phone.

Unknown [3:00pm]: I’ll consent to dinner tonight. America may or may not be there.

Unknown [3:02pm]: 6:00, don’t be late.  

“I thought you said MJ was the nice one.” Kate set her book aside, peering at the messages you had received.

“She is… was. I don’t know anymore.”

Your antsy energy seemed to work in your favor when it came to preparing a dinner that was actually edible. Wanda had been teaching you to cook for the last few years, and it had been a difficult skill for you to pick up. She’d helped you master a dish from her birthplace that had quickly become one of Kate’s favorites.

She leaned against the counter and watched you cook as she always did, stretching up to retrieve the spices that were a little far past your reach. She handed you the paprika, kissing the back of your neck as you placed the chicken in the pan. You worked nervously, and methodically.

Despite Kate’s constant reassurances that they would love it, you weren’t much concerned about the food choices. Of course, you wanted it to be edible. But it could have been pizza all the same. There wouldn’t be much eating, you were sure. Even your appetite had been spoiled.

You panned the chicken onto a plate of rice and left it on the counter for Kate. She glanced down at it with confusion and then back up at you. “I’m not going, am I?”

“Darling, I would love nothing more. But, I’m certain that you being there will exacerbate things.”

Kate frowned, her lip jutting out in a borderline pout. You scoffed, gripping both of her arms. “They don’t know you like I do, Katie. They don’t know you at all.”

“Yeah,” She sighed “I know you’re right. This is just a hard thing to do and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You’ll be listening the whole time.

It was a comforting fact, but did nothing to quell the swirling in your stomach when you stood in front of MJ’s door. It was much too late to turn back, though everything in your body screamed at you to do so.

Before you could knock, she opened the door. She dawned an oversized flannel and a t-shirt for a band that you didn’t recognize. Her hair was damp, the scent of mint from her bodywash enveloping you. You’d missed the smell, missed her, but didn’t make a move to advance. She sniffed the air herself, raising an eyebrow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was impressed by the meal you’d shoved in Tupperware.

 “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I almost didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at you but opened the door wider and gestured to the living room vaguely. You took in the deep blue walls, and the multitude of thrifted artwork that made it feel homey as opposed to cluttered. There was a warmth to her apartment that you and Kate hadn’t yet cultivated.

In a midcentury modern chair next to a large record player, was America. Your grip tightened against the dish, careful not to shatter it, something easily done with your strength. Spilling chicken paprikas all over the carpets would not a good impression make.

America’s rural eyes scanned from your boots to the collar of your shirt, stopping just shy of your own stare. She’d aged, but it was less noticeable through her fierce scowl. A black t-shirt hugged her frame, her hair curly and flowing across her shoulders. Tattoos stretched evenly over her biceps and forearms, ones you didn’t’ dare move to get a better look at.

She stood, setting her glass of wine down on the coffee table. MJ worked the Tupperware from your hands. She moved silently towards the kitchen. You could feel the tension in the air. It made your wolf nervous. You swallowed back a whine.

Her eyes flashed in anger. “It really is you. When MJ told me that she’d run into you, I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t, because if you’ve been alive this entire time, and just chose to keep us in a constant hell of wondering, then I’d never be able to forgive you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Maldita derecha, I do!” She shoved you back. You were startled by her strength, but still caught yourself with a small step back.

“Hey, relax. She’s here to explain, right?”

MJ stood behind the kitchen island, her fingers drumming on the countertop. Maybe she’d been given a chance to cool off, though there was still trepidation in her stare. You let out a small breath, throat suddenly tight.

“What?” America shoved your shoulder again, you could smell the alcohol in her breath “Does this bother you? Are you going to tuck your tail and vanish for another six years?”

Again, she pushed you back, this time with more force. You stood strong, letting her show her rage, her hatred towards you. Hell, you hated you in this moment. Your skin prickled, seeing her as a threat. You were sure that Kate, down the hall, was pacing with the same pent-up worry.

MJ urged “Meri, come one, let her be. We’ll eat dinner, and she’ll tell us what happened.”

“And what if we don’t like the answer?” She turned her venomous stare on the other woman. “What if we prefer that she had died and spared us all the pain?”

A brittle silence fell over the room. You were trapped within the walls of the apartment, ears ringing. Even if you could focus your mind hard enough to hear past it’s confinement, you didn’t want to. Your blood was rushing hard enough to create a ringing in your ears.

MJ had dropped the fork she was using to shovel food onto respective plates. America’s shoulders dropped. She opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish deprived of water. Her voice came out in a sand-paper whisper. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you did, and that’s okay.”

“It’s not.” MJ had abandoned her task and instead flopped down on one end of the sofa. She moved a throw pillow and gestured for you both to sit. “Both of you, we need to talk about this. It’s defined us for too long and we won’t get anywhere by hurling horrible words at one another.”

Cautiously, America returned back to her chair and you sat stiffly on the other end of the sofa. It would be better for them to both hate you. But, MJ’s usual rationale had kicked in and that scared the hell out of you. You ran your hands over your jeans, trying to find purchase in them.

America’s sharpness was back. “Well?”

“Okay, alright. Just… I need you both to keep an open mind before I get into this. I’ve never had to explain what happened before and, well shit, it’s going to be a lot to take in.”

You pleaded silently with them, flitting your eyes from one to the other. MJ nodded first and eventually America gave you a course gesture that you interpreted as agreeance. You could hear both of their hearts beating, perhaps harder than your own.

“The night before that stupid frat party, I didn’t fall asleep in the library. Something happened.”

“lo sabia.”

“I know you did, which is why I did everything in my power to avoid the both of you until I left. I didn’t know what was happening and the last thing I wanted to do was throw you into something that I couldn’t even begin to understand. I was feeling weird, and overwhelmed. Confused. You’ve always been too good at reading me. You’d both know in an instant that I’d been attacked if I was truthful with you.”

“Attacked?” MJ rasped, “You could have come to us, y/n. I’ve been fighting every single day of my career to make sure that Universities are a safe and forthcoming place. Even with campus police being absolute garbage, we would have found some way to help.”

You looked at her with soft admiration, guilt soaking your voice. “It wasn’t like that. I was walking home from the library and knew that I was being followed. I thought it was a person at first, but it wasn’t. The faster I moved, the faster she did. It didn’t matter how quick I was, is the point. Because it wasn’t a human that attacked me, it was a wolf.”

“A wolf You’re expecting us to sit here and believe that a wolf somehow escaped a zoo and miraculously hunted you down? I’m sorry, baby, but that’s the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard.” She laughed humorlessly and moved to stand.

“I told you to keep an open mind.” You pleaded, “I’m begging you, please. Just let me finish. And if you want me to leave after that. If you both want me to leave, then I will. You’ll never hear from me again.”

It would be easy to return to the compound, shield yourself from the world and make sure that neither of them had to live with the turmoil you’d caused all those years ago. You could feel sweat at the back of your neck, mouth dry in comparison.

She leveled you with a skeptical stare but sat back down, this time swiping her wine from the counter. She took a long gulp, the red staining her lips with a pink tint. The quiet urged you forward and your stomach clenched in nausea.

“It had bitten me, right through the shoulder and it was some of the most intense pain that I had ever experienced. I was certain that I was going to die there, alone and no one would find me for weeks, maybe even months. I have never been more terrified.”

Your hand moved up to rub the pulsing scar just below your t-shirt. You could feel the hardened tissue, the indents that Kate’s teeth made before they tore through tendons and ground your bones to a shattered powder.

You pulled the fabric away, shivering from the suddenly cold air against your skin. MJ gasped, closing the gap between the two of you on the sofa. She was gentle, running her own fingers over the scar, the large-mouthed pockmarks that could only be that of an animal.

“Jesus Christ, y/n. Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore. It just serves a reminder, is all.” America was looking at you in disbelief, her confidence in your falsehood wavering. “When you called the next morning, I was just thankful to wake up, and rushed back to the apartment so I didn’t worry you anymore than I already had.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” America asked.

You shook your head “I couldn’t understand what had happened. Just like you, I didn’t think there were wolves in New York. If I was having some type of break due to stress, I didn’t want to drag the two of you down either.”

“You can’t just decide how we’d react to things, y/n. If you had asked for help, explained what had happened, we would have been there for you.”

“I know that… and I was going to tell you both, I was. But by the second day, the bite was just gone. There was no evidence that anything had happened, and I was starting to doubt myself. At least I was, until Kate.”

That fury returned to America’s eyes. If you didn’t’ clock it in her stare, you would have in the way she smelled. The metallic edge overtook any other scent in the room, including the boisterous spices on the Paprikash. “Oh? Is that her name? I figured we were chasing a ghost for all those years.”

“We know who she is. Your mother… she was insistent that your father hire a private investigator. She knew that your behavior was out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t convinced, so she fought him tooth and nail. They had a name, and a last known address. But that was it. Her trail went cold too. It was like the two of you just vanished into thin air.”

Your heart seized at the admission, but you swallowed it back, locked it away for something to deal with later. It was one person at a time, and your mother was untouchable, something you refused to acknowledge until you were standing on her doorstep with your apologies and your broken sobs.

You cleared your throat, making a point to shove your hand with the simple golden band on it into your pocket. That was another conversation you weren’t willing to have at this point.

“Right, yes. Kate. She’s helped me tremendously over the years.” You drew in a breath, bracing yourself for the next statement. “In fact, she caused it.”

“She… caused it? Please, y/n. I may not like the girl but what you’re insinuating…”

“You’re saying she’s the one that bit you?” MJ let out a nervous chuckle “That, or unlatched the cage at the zoo.”

Another silence fell over the room. You gave them a nervous smile. God- this was absolutely harder than you expected. They didn’t’ say anything, they just stared at you blankly, and then at each other. Then, it was back to you. There was something akin to pity in their stares that you didn’t appreciate.

They thought you were insane and suddenly, it was like the glass coffee table had shattered and they were afraid that if they stepped too hard, it would cut the soles of their feet. MJ even reached her hand out and placed it on your knee. You shivered at the touch.

“Listen, I know neither of you believe me, but it’s why I had to leave.” Your voice broke. “I was so afraid that I was going to hurt you. I-I mean what if I lost control? Back then, I didn’t have a handle on any of this, so I went to a place that was safe. A place that taught me how to control it.”

“It being… Lycanthropy?” America stood up now, started pacing from the edge of her chair to the front door and then back again. “You know, we worked a case ages ago and the fifteen-year-old son of a wealthy couple believed that he was a werewolf.”

“Meri, please. Don’t psychoanalyze her.”

“Shouldn’t we? Y/n, this is an actual thing. It’s called Lycomania. It’s a form of psychosis, and with the right medications, the right therapies-“

“It’s not psychosis!” You stood from the couch, suddenly feeling frantic, like a caged animal. She was a social worker, or at least, that’s what she was studying to be. From her wording, you figured she’d gotten there just fine. “I’m not making any of this up.”

“It’s a little hard to believe, is all.”

MJ had reached up from the couch and took your hand, soothed it over your knuckles. It was like a horrible game of good cop, bad cop, and you wanted no part of it. You knew that there would be some disbelief, but the way America’s fingers inched towards her cell phone worried you.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s impossible to believe, but you both deserve the truth. I need you to believe me.”

“I believe that you believe.” America said softly, “Please, y/n/n, just come get checked out with us. If you’re a… werewolf, then what’s the harm?”

You took a deep breath, glancing down at MJ who hugged a throw pillow flush against her chest. She was pleading with her stare, begging you to agree. And America, God, she looked like she was about to bolt or throttle you. But there was a kindness behind her eyes that you missed dearly.

“This was a mistake. Look, I just wanted to come here and apologize for everything I put you through. I want you to know that I mean it, and you both are very important to me.” You took a step towards the door, rolling your eyes when America stepped in front of it, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a werewolf, and this isn’t some type of mental break, then prove it. Show us what you’ve got.”

A dry laugh escaped you, one of disbelief. You glanced back at MJ, she looked nervous, but didn’t’ object to the demand. You’d grown so used to living in a home with ten other people who never doubted what you were, because they were the exact same.

Your ‘wolfy’ attributes were mostly limited to the night of the full moon. By all accounts, you were normal the rest of the month, and things that weren’t normal often were disguisable. Sometimes, if you roughhoused with Peter or even Clint, your eyes would catch the color of the sunset, glowing in response to their own. But there were no sudden outbursts of sharpened teeth and extended claws- not anymore. You’d fought so hard to contain it.

If you let the curtain slip, even this once, would you be able to get it back up? It was another two weeks until the next full moon, and by then, you were sure they’d grow tired of waiting for you to prove yourself.

With a groan, you walked over to the kitchen. MJ practically threw herself over the back of the couch as you started to rummage through drawers, not finding anything but plastic forks, and a butter knife that certainly wouldn’t do the trick. “Jesus dude, this is not cutlery.”

“I’m not home often,”

You turned the closest knob on the stove and watched as the electric cooktop started to glow an angry red. This was going to fucking suck. Just because you could heal, didn’t mean you enjoyed utilizing the perk. It came in handy when you’d broken two fingers sparring with Natasha, and again when Tony had taken you on a long-winded hike and you’d lost your footing.  Both still held the same amount of pain that was expected.

With a deep breath you splayed your hand on the burner before MJ or America could object. They both made distressed noises in the back of their throat, the sound of your skin against the intense heat sizzled with a popping fierceness.

“What the fuck!” America clawed at your wrist, struggling to pull your hand away. With your strength, she didn’t’ get it to budge “Y/n, stop!”

When you were satisfied enough with the heat eating away at your skin, you released your hold. Your palm was angry, already blistering. Some spots bloomed a darker red, wounds close to the base of your ring finger where the gold band had heated up enough to cause some stinging damage.

“Oh my god, I’m going to vomit.” MJ moved her forearm over her mouth, swallowing heavily. “I’m calling an ambulance. Do we run it under cold water?”

“Relax, just watch.”

“Relax! You want me to relax?”

Her jaw snapped shut, head lilting to the side. America still gripped your wrist, watching as the redness quickly faded away to the smoothness of your palm. The blisters seemed to vanish, and the bleeding split by the edge of your ring sealed back together. You could still feel your hand throbbing, but flexed your fingers to prove your point.  

“You wanted me to prove it, and I didn’t much feel like ripping your throw pillows to shreds.” You snatched your hand back from America, twisted the ring around in a nervous habit. “Can we take the psyche unit off speed dial, please?”

“No, no, keep it up for me.” MJ leaned her back against the island, trying to steady herself. “That just… your hand was… did you see that?”

America whispered, her stare suddenly fuzzy. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You flicked the stove off and crossed your arms over her chest, letting them take a few moments to relish the quiet. You were feeling a bit too self-satisfied considering the circumstances, but enjoyed the fact that you had stunned them into silence.

“So, you left with this Kate chick because she turned you into a werewolf and then you’ve what? Been hiding these last six years? It’s hard to vanish in the 21st century. Nearly impossible.” America said, voice quivering.

“I went to a place where there were others like me. They taught me how to live with this, how to control it. They’re my family.”

“Your pack?” MJ asked. “What? I’ve seen Twilight!”

You laughed “Yeah, my pack. Kate included.”

“no confío en ella.” America growled.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’d take it. For now, you’d take it. The tension in the apartment had lowered a few notches, enough for your stomach to clench in hunger. It made an audible growl. You hadn’t been able to eat for the last few days, worry enveloping you.

America pulled her jacket from the back of the sofa. “You two eat. I’ve got a few case files I have to finish. Y/n, it was good to see you. I hope… take care of yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” The word came out as a breathless whisper. Even if your objections weren’t trapped in the netting of your throat, you wouldn’t’ have had a chance to say them. She was slamming the door behind her, shaking the photos on the wall.

“She’ll come around,” MJ squeezed your shoulder, giving you a wavering smile before she started to divide the food with her plastic fork. “In the meantime, I have so many questions.”

[illusioninfnty]

Outlast: Chapter Ten (Sam Giddings x Reader)

Repentance

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6K

4:47

“Fuck,” you inhale shakily as Mike’s glare remains hard on you. “I’ll explain everything once we are safe in the basement.”

“Don’t even bother.” He rolls his eyes and turns away from you, hurrying behind Ashley. “We already know everything.”

“Everything? Even the—”

“The Wendigos? Yeah, you’re too fucking late. Had to hear about it from that old fucker out there.”

As you enter the basement, you’re met with two arms hugging you tightly—Sam. “Hi, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around her.

“Thank God,”  she mumbles under her breath. You ruffle her hair gently and give her a kiss on the top of her head. Sam turns to look around at all three of you. “What took you so long?”

Mike runs a hand through his already unkempt hair. “It’s not looking good up there. Chris didn’t make it.”

“Shit,” Sam mutters, she turns to Ashley. “Ash, I’m so sorry…”

Ashley nods silently, seemingly not engaged in the conversation.

“What about the old man?” Sam inquires.

“No sign of him. I think he’s—”

“Dead.” You toss the flamethrower onto one of the tables, the weapon no longer needed in the safety of the basement. “Saw it happen. Fucker sliced through his neck in a split second.” You pull out a creaky old chair and take a seat, your body exhausted from the intensity of the night, finally getting your first break aware from all the stress. “We need to stay put here for now. It’s our safest bet.”

“Oh yeah?” Mike scoffs. “All wrapped like a little present with a bow on top for that thing to tear us apart on Christmas morning?” He continues before you can fire back. “Josh, Josh has got to have the cable car key. I can just take it from him and then get the fuck outta here…”

Your eyes narrow, ready to protest, before Sam interjects.

“Mike, someone will come for us! Em said so, she was able to reach them through the radio,” she pleads. “We just need to wait a little bit longer and then it will be safe. You have to trust us.”

“Trust.” Mike scoffs again, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a while. “Like I can trust anything she says. Been lying to us for God knows how long. Knew about the wendigos this whole fucking time. Isn’t that right?” He spits out your real name like it’s a curse. And it truly does feel like one with the amount of venom spilling from him.

All pairs of eyes in the room turn to you as dread fills your body. Mike made your situation sound a lot worse than it truly was.

“Tex?” Emily is the first one to speak up. “Is that true?” Her voice raises as if she’s trying to contain her anger.

“Listen, guys, I was going to—”

“Oh my God, Em, what is that?”

You’re interrupted by Ashley, who’s gone pale in the face. She raises a hand up shakily, pointing a finger towards Emily. Following the direction of Ashley’s gaze and taking a closer look at Emily, you notice that dark stain around her shoulder, looking like blood.

“Em, oh my God, oh my God—”

“It-it’s nothing, guys. It just bit me—”

“It bit you? What bit you?”

“The wendigo—”

“What?”

“Guys, wait—” you try to speak, but it’s no use. They’re all panicking.

“Em, oh my God.” Ashley continues down her spiral of paranoia. “If that thing bit you…”

“You can turn into one of those things if it bites you.” Mike says, voice scarily even.

Emily looks like she’s close to tears. “Is that how it worked?”

“Em, oh my God, yes, you’re gonna turn into one of those things, and then you’re going to turn us!”

Mike stares Emily down. “You can’t be here with us.”

“Mike!” You and Sam both protest in unison.

“You’re putting us all in danger. I’m letting you do this voluntarily.”

She shoots him an icy glare. “Oh, no, you're just making yourself feel better about sending me to my death. Since you know, there's a Wendigo out there rip me to pieces, like it did with—”

“Oh my God, just get out of here!” Ashley cries.

Mike begins to pace, and then he turns around and grabs the handgun from on the table, aiming it towards Emily, who slowly begins to back into the wall behind her, crawling up on the ledge.

“Whoa, whoa, Mike, calm down!” Sam puts her arms up, trying to de-escalate.

“Mike, you need to put the gun down,” you say, walking closer to him from the side, seeing if you can close enough to disarm him.

His grip on the gun tightens, and his gaze is laser-focused on Emily, ignoring both you and Sam next to him. “This is the safe room, Em!”

“This is not the way we should do this,” Sam says, trying to mask the panic in her voice.

“Mike,” you say more forcefully. “She won’t turn into a wendigo from a bite, okay? You wanted me to tell the truth, you’re getting it now. You can only turn into one through cannibalism. Bites don’t do anything.”

He sneers. “And why the fuck should I believe you?”

“Mike, stop it!” Sam yells. “Do you really believe she would all put us in danger like that? She’s been saving our asses this entire night!”

“We wouldn’t even be stuck in this goddamn mess if she warned us.

“Mike,” Sam tries again, “would you have even believed her if she told you?”

As Sam is distracting Mike you leap forward, trying to wrestle the gun from his grasp. But before you can take it from his hands, the sound of the gun going off has you gasping as a bullet soars through the air and straight into Emily’s skull.

“Holy shit, Mike!” Sam's face goes white and she steps back, in disbelief of the sight in front of her. There’s a gaping hole in Emily’s eye, blood seeping out of it and onto the floor.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…”

As Mike panics, you quickly take the gun from him and toss it across the room.

After that, you collapse on the floor, legs weak from the completely avoidable death of your friend. “Fuck, man…”

“It was…I didn’t mean to…”

“Mike—” Sam starts.

“I was keeping you guys safe!”

“We weren’t in danger!” You yell. “I fucking told you, she was fine! Emily was—” you choke on your own words, taking a deep breath to regain your composure.

“You want to fucking know everything? My parents are fucking survivalist nutjob freaks. It’s why I made you sure none of you ever met them. Always banging into my head that these creatures existed and they were going to kill us and I needed to be prepared.”

“Oh, Tex,” Sam murmurs. She comes over to you, rubbing her hand over your shoulder. You place your palm over it before you continue.

“I never fucking believed them. Not once. They hammered all of these facts about wendigos and other monsters into my head since I was a kid, and it wasn’t until Hannah and Beth last year that—that I finally realized that what they’ve been saying could actually be true.” 

You finally raise your head, looking up at Mike. He looks distraught, and there’s a faraway look in his eye as if he’s still processing everything.

“I need to…need to get the key from Josh.”

You sigh, knowing there was no getting through to him in this state. “He’s probably in the mines, the wendigo was dragging him off in that direction. If it didn’t kill him then, he’s probably still alive down there.”

There’s a sinking feeling in your gut on just exactly why the wendigo didn’t kill him on sight, but you didn’t want to bring it up and just worry the others more, especially if it wasn’t true.

Mike nods slightly, and starts to leave. “I’ll…I’ll head back here.”

There’s a heavy silence in the room once Mike departs, the door slamming shut behind him. The sounds of Ashley’s faint whimpers are the only thing that can be heard.

“What the fuck was that, Ash?”

She ignores you, wrapping her arms around her midsection and hunching into herself. 

Sam takes the stranger’s journal from the table and starts to page through it, her eyes scanning the scrawly handwriting throughout. She stops on one page in particular, pacing as her hands grip the leather bound book tightly.

“What is it, babe?” you ask, noticing her fixation on that one entry.

“Shit,” she mutters. “We need to get to Mike.” She angles the book that she’s reading so that you can see the page, and you skim it quickly. At first, it seems like ramblings about the wendigos. But then you realize what Sam is talking about.

Within the page, the man details how he had been locking the wendigos up in the sanatorium—there must be dozens in there based on how many he took note of throughout the years.

“If Mike’s going through there…” you start.

“He’s going to be in trouble,” Sam finishes, the stress evident in her voice.

“Fuck.” You stand up, grabbing the gun and jerking your head at both Sam and Ashley. “We gotta go.”

Character Traits: 

Honest: 5/10 ↑ 

Charitable: 9/10 

Funny: 4/10  

Brave: 8/10 ↑ 

Romantic: 7/10 

Curious: 5/10 

Relationship Status:

Ashley: 3/10 ↓

Chris: 7/10

Emily: 6/10 

Jess: 3/10 

Josh: 7/10 

Matt: 7/10 

Mike: 3/10 ↓

Sam: 10/10

Chapter Nine || Chapter Eleven

[blakeromanissuperior]

I'll Look Your Way- (Stolas x Blitz)

Warning: fluff, slight tickling (for like a second or two), baby talk, strong language, and a little angst in the beginning

Note: please enjoy, I hope this heals the pain that the new episode brought. This is taking place a day or two after the fight with Blitz and Stolas.

It has been a couple of days since Stolas and Blitz split contact, and it hasn't been easy on either of them. Blitz is laying on the couch crying as he looks at all the old selfies he took with the owl, he wishes he could fix this. Suddenly Loona's door opens and she steps out "hey Blitz, Tex invited me to another party. I'm going out" she waited a few seconds but no response, she raised an eyebrow and got a little angry. "Blitz are you deaf, damn you are so insufferable sometimes!" Again no response, that's when Loona walked around to the couch and ripped the blanket off her adopted father. "Blitz I swear you are so fu-" she pauses when she sees her adopted dad looking up at her with tears pouring down his face. The hellhounds ears lowered when she saw the imp, she knew something bad happened because Blitz doesn't cry much. "I'm sorry loonie.... You shouldn't s-see me like t-this.." The imp stuttered out, which made his adopted daughters heart break. She sat down and pulled the smaller demon into a hug "dad..... What happened?" She asked hoping maybe he'd open up to her, he clearly wasn't fine and she wouldn't take a bull shit excuse. Blitz sighed and explained "Stolas gave me this Cristal but I can't see him or hear his voice anymore, I really screwed up Lonnie. I was so blind and only thought he wanted me for sex, when he really just wants me to look his way." Blitz choked on his tears and hugged onto his adopted daughter tightly, Loona didn't want her dad to hurt. "Well I can drop you off at his castle on my way to the party, do you want me to do that dad?" Lonna asked softly, she watched as blitz nodded into her shoulder. "Thanks Lonnie, I love you so much." Blitz mumbled which made Loona chuckle "I love you too dad, now come on I'll help you pick out an outfit!"

Stolas sat in the living room with his make up ruined from the nights of crying, hell he still is crying. He's listening to every voice mail or voice message him and blitz had sent to each other, he missed him dearly. He didn't hear the front door to the palace open and poured another glass of wine, he thought he could drink to forget. But the drinking only makes the memories stronger, but he kept doing it because he felt something other then numb. No matter how many happy pills he takes it doesn't work, he's lost and hurt from breaking the string that connected him and the imp. Eventually the sadness turns to anger, he yells and throws the wine glass at the wall. "Damn it, stop letting your feelings get to you Stolas!" The British owl prince put his hands over his face and leaned over, tears that are much warming then he's ever felt running down his face and soaking his hands. That's until his breath hitched at a voice that he loved so dearly, a voice he knew was one that he would always have, one that made him know he'd be okay. "Dad..... Why are you crying?" His daughter Octavia asked as she walks over with her bag from the weekend at her mothers, Stolas tried to give a dumb excuse. "Oh hello my owlet, don't worry darling I'm just stressed out from my work!" He wiped his tears and reassured his daughter, suddenly an idea popped into his head. "My dear, we should watch a movie and you can pick which!" He smiled softly, Octavia's eyes lit up and the angsty teen practicality jumped into her dad's arms. "I'd love to, can it be a scary movie?!" She asked wiggling her fingers towards her dad, he giggled and patted his daughters head. "Sure darling, whichever you want!"

Blitz looked in the mirror and smiled "wow hunny you really know how to rock, I love this outfit!" The imp was checking himself out, which is normal "damn I really do look hot!" That comment made Lonna laugh to, her and her dad are ready for their nights. They left the apartment and went to the car, Blitz is driving though because he's overprotective. They drive through pentagram city and talked about whatever, until they reached Loona's stop. "You be safe now Loonie, don't get to messed up please!" He said rubbing her head, she gritted her teeth with a growl. "Yes I know dad, I'll be fine. Go make things right with that clingy, rich, asshole plaything of yours." She groaned and got out of car to go into the party, Blitz sighed and prayed it wouldn't go bad. He waved goodbye to his daughter and started driving to the palace, he made sure to give himself a pep talk. "Okay Blitz you got this, can't fuck this up now. Go tell him how you feel, you got this!" He mumbled as he got closer to the palace, when he arrived he felt his heart stop. He stayed in the car for a couple minutes trying to figure out how to apologize, then he got out and knocked on the door.

Stolas cocked his head at the movie his daughter put on. "So he puts people in traps so they'll have another chance at life?" He asked with a little bit of a surprise in his tone, Octavia nodded and muched on her popcorn. "Yeah exactly!" She smiled but that was short lived when a knock on the door came, stolas sighed and paused the tv. "Hold on my owlet, someone needs me." He ruffled her hair before going to answer the door, and he finds Blitz on the other side. "Stolas please just listen to me, I'm sorry. I want you I really do, I was so blind I thought you only liked the sex and us being friends with benefits. I really do love you and I'm sorry, please let me look your way..... I will look your way." The imp cried and hoped the owl would forgive him for not seeing it sooner, instead Stolas picked him up and hugged him close. "Oh Blitzy that's all I've wanted to hear from you, I'm so happy you feel the way I do. I'll take care of you forever, I promise!" He wiped the imps tears and smiled he deeply loves this boy with all his heart, even if he's lower class. Stolas giggled and gave Blitz bird kisses on his face and neck, the imp giggled and pushed at the Royal owl who's he's longed to love. "Stolas hey quit it!" He laughed and so did his new lover, Stolas smiled softly at the imp. "My daughter is making me watch some movie called saw, wanna join?" He asked and Blitz nodded excitedly, he's always loved horror movies. "Of course, I love the Saw movies!" He smiled and Stolas carried him in gently, he sat down with Octavia. "Blitz is joining us Octavia, we are together now." The owl smiled at his daughter and Octavia smiled to, she didn't mind Blitz that much. "Okay dad's congratulations, I'm proud of you!" She smiled and Blitz face lit up, the imp hugged onto Stolas arm and giggled. "She called us dad's!" Which made stolas giggle at how excited Blitz was, he wiggled his fingers over the imps stomach, which definitely got him to let go. Stolas and Octavia laughed at Blitz and the way he made a dying Segal sound, Blitz giggled and climbed on to Stolas lap and jumped as Stolas moved his hands near him. "Hey watch it!" He yelped but calmed down when Stolas wrapped him in a little hug, he gave Blitz a kiss on the cheek. "Darling relax I'm not gonna do that again, besides a movie as a little family is better then anything else." The prince smiled and turned his attention to the tv along with the rest of them. He was happy he had his imp, he was happy he looked his way after all these years of begging.

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 5

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.    

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+! Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Sexy shower time, a whole truck load of anger, fisticuffs, a bunch of angry people being upset with each other. Summary: A blissful morning becomes a whirlwind nightmare when Tequila sees your tattoo. But the biggest revelation doesn’t come until you’ve gotten all the way back to Louisville. Notes: Guys, I just...this chapter happens very fast and there is a *lot* of stuff going on. And I just love absolutely everything about it. 😂

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Sunlight streaming through the curtains is what wakes you, traffic on the busy Boston streets leaking into the beautiful calm of your room and heavy arm around your waist anchoring you to the mattress. Tex is curled around your back like a huge koala, holding on and nuzzling into the back of your neck in his dreams. The general lack of clothing and ache between your thighs would be telltale if you had been drunk when everything happened, but you since you weren't it's just a lovely reminder. Every second is catalogued away in your memory, right down to the moment you both collapsed, sweaty and satiated, and fell asleep in each other's arms within minutes.

Humming, Tex is aware the second you wake, stirring from his own deep and satisfying sleep. "Good morning." He grins and kisses the back of your neck without even opening his eyes. "Did I manage to convince you?" He asks playfully, telling you last night before falling asleep he was going to demand an answer on if you preferred cowboys in the morning.

"Got a secret for you," you mumble, turning over in his arms to curl into his chest. If not for the damn family brunch you're supposed to be at this morning, you would be very happy not to move from this bed. "I've always liked cowboys."

Tequila barks out a sleep rough chuckle and pulls you closer, rolling onto his back so that you are sprawled out on top of him. "That so, cowgirl?" He huffs playfully.

“Always.” The nod you give him is solemn, even if your grin is playful. “Watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the first time when I was eleven and never got over it.”

You would make a perfect spouse for a Statesman agent then. Tequila knows he can't tell you about things until it becomes more serious, but he winks at you. "Well then, I guess you're in luck." He teases, leaning in and kissing you while he reaches up to grab his hat off the bedpost. He pulls away and sets it on your head.

“It’s about as subtle as a heart attack.” His hat shades you like a beach umbrella when he pops it on top of your bed head and you laugh, dopey on attraction and good dreams. “I like it though. Might have to get one of my own eventually.”

“No need to be subtle.” Tex grins at you and rolls his hips up, letting you feel the very unsubtle thing that is hard between you. “Not when I’m showing my hand.”

“Good.” When you look down at him again you hum a little, bowing your head to steal another kiss. “I hate games. One hundred percent honesty all the way.”

He would pull you against him for another round, but he got a copy of the itinerary, same as you, and he knows that you need to be there for the brunch. “How about we explore in the shower while we get ready?” He poses, smirking against your lips as he squeezes your ass.

“Sexy and responsible. I like it.” You sit up reluctantly, knowing that it will have to be a quickie since you’re supposed to be downstairs in the dining room in half an hour. “C’mon, cowboy. I’m sure the shower has enough room for two.”

“I made sure of it.” Tex sits up as you scamper off the bed. Hating that you are walking away from him, but admiring the way your ass shakes. “Plenty of time to make sure your knees tremble when you walk.” He growls confidently before he throws himself out of bed to chase after you.

“Planning on seducing me, were you?” Even though you make it to the bathroom first, his long arm reaches past you to turn on the shower head and you smirk at him over your shoulder. “Have I been seduced?”

“Have you?” Tex winks at you and grins. “You tell me.”

"Fifty-fifty," you decide, after giving him a good, long look up and down. Tex isn't shy about anything, least of all his body, and he gives you a flex for good measure. "Call it a mutual seduction."

"I can't deny that." He chuckles and glances down pointedly at his groin for good measure.

"If you want more, you gotta get in here." One step backward and you're in the shower, tipping your head back to luxuriate in the fierce spray of hot water. "Otherwise we're gonna be late."

"Wash first, play after." Tex promises, sending you a wink and ducking his head down to lick a line of water off your chest, perilously close to your nipple.

"How is that after?" You whine, gasping at how close he comes to where you wish he would have directed that troublesome tongue of his.

He chuckles again and straights up, sending you a small wink. "You don't want me to wash you?" He asks with a play pout.

"Well...if you're offering." The nearby facecloth is in your hand immediately, getting soaking wet under the hot water to hand over so he can lather it - and you - up.

Taking the washrag, Tex smirks and motions for you to turn around. "Back first." He tells you, reaching out to slap your ass when you obey him.

"Yes, sir." Giggling, you shake your ass for him before stretching your arms and giving a contented sigh. This is pretty close to a perfect morning, as far as morning after scenarios go, and you're planning on enjoying the hell out of it.

He tucks his tongue between his teeth and starts to wash you. Just because he's copping a feel here and there - okay, a lot of feels - doesn't mean he isn't going to wash you properly.

It's nearly hypnotic, aside from the distracting hands grabbing and squeezing and making both of you giggle or moan, alternately. When he finally gets to your other arm, he starts rubbing at it like he's trying to scrub your skin clean off and you laugh again. "Sometimes the makeup gets smudgy before it comes off," you explain, having entirely forgotten that you covered your tattoo in the first place. There were different, much more fun things to think about. "I got the heavy-duty stuff a while back. Like what they use on movie sets for actors."

Tex frowns, not commenting as he works the layers of makeup off your skin. Thinking that the placement is odd as he swipes at it with the cloth. He doesn't want to hurt you but there is a knot of dread that is starting to build as the ink starts to slowly become visible under the flesh colored makeup.

"You don't have to be timid about it." Turning half around, you reach for the cloth but see the utter dismay on his face. "Don't tell me you're against ink?" That would be...extremely inconvenient. But it's not like you have Eat Me written above your cunt or something. Although that would be fucking hilarious. "I know everybody at Statesman is into the clean-cut look, but I've had this for years."

Tex shakes his head, unable to explain why this tattoo has him floored. "I—I don't." He murmurs softly, standing up and stepping back from you. His heart aches and he hates that he's seen it. Wishing he didn't know who else sported this tattoo. "I—shit." He shakes his head and closes his eyes on a sigh.

"What's wrong?" He looks like he's seen a ghost, which makes you cringe a bit and suddenly wish you weren't both standing naked in such an intimate setting. "I—I don't...have a soulmate. If that's what you're worried about. I used to have a bunch more tattoos and a couple of weeks ago they...they just disappeared. And that only happens when...when your soulmate dies. So don't think you've got, ya know, competition or anything."

His jaw rocks when he realizes you don't know. You don't fucking know. Confusion mars your beautiful face and he knows that you are going to be hurt. Hell, he's hurt. Jack didn't fucking let him know and he knows that motherfucker was aware of his interest in you. It wasn't like they hadn't prowled around together enough to know when the other had taken a shinin' to a particular woman.

“I’m really gonna need you to say something.” He looks angry and it’s unsettling in the very worst way, making you tense up and cross your arms over your chest in a protective stance. “Like now, please.”

"I've - I've seen that tattoo." Tequila admits, hating how the weekend is now over. Of course it is. "Recently."

“What?” Standing still and perfectly stable, you nearly fall over from the way that seemingly simple news rocks through you and makes your heart skips beats on its way up into your throat. Second soulmates are supposed to be a fairy tale. “On who? When?”

"I—I can't tell you." Tex can't say anything, not without getting into the classified details and Champ's already riding his ass for being 'too lax' with classifications. "Not yet."

“Well that’s un-fucking-acceptable.” And definitely makes you think he could be lying or creating an excuse to get out of seeing you again when you get back to Kentucky. Which is both hurtful are extremely fucking disappointing. You had thought Tex was a better man than that. Of course - you had thought Jack was a better man, too. Maybe you’re just a shit judge of character. “Second soulmates are impossible. If you saw my tattoo on someone then maybe my soulmate didn’t die. They just…had plastic surgery or something?”

You're her. The woman that put marks on Jack's body. The same one that your soulmate was killed by Jack just a few weeks ago. No wonder Jack kept running from you, guilt written on his face. "I—I'm sorry, darlin'." Tex shakes his head and swallows harshly, aware that you are pissed. "It's…it's classified."

“What the fuck does that mean?” It’s too much to digest, after how much fun last night was and how much Jack disappearing into thin air hurt you earlier in the week, to think that Tex is just wriggling his way out of things after getting what he wanted.

He doesn't like the hurt on your face. Not at all. Reaching up, he cups your cheek and stares into your eyes. "I promise you that I'm not trying to hurt you." He chokes out, his heart clenching and he fucking hates that he ever suggested a goddamn shower. He could have been blissfully unaware of who's soulmate you are. "It— it'll make sense soon."

Instinct takes over, making you recoil and slap his hand away the second it touches your skin. The tears are hot and angry, pressing against the backs of your eyes like prickling needles when you shove him out of the way to get out of the shower - half-clean and half-mortified. “If you wanted a one-night thing I would’ve been fine with that,” you tell him flatly, even though it’s a fucking lie. You don’t look back as you pull open the door of the shower and step out, grabbing for the closest towel to cover up with. “You didn’t have to be fucking mean about it.”

"I'm...” Tex sighs and his head drops down between his shoulders. "That's not what happened." He whispers as you march out of the bathroom.

******

Brunch is excruciating, making excuses for his absence to your family because you hadn’t wanted to spoil the morning after your cousin’s wedding with being outwardly angry. Instead you simmer all morning with too many mimosas, and on the plane with your headphones jammed into your ears staring stock forward so he doesn’t dare try to talk to you on the way back to Kentucky.

No more cowboys. You lecture yourself sternly, hauling your weekender bag up onto your shoulder the second you deplane and speed walking away from the broad-and-tall frame of the cowboy who had driven you both to the airport. You’ll take an Uber, thank you very much. Now more cowboys and no more putting your heart on the line. Getting it bashed with a proverbial sledgehammer twice in one week is plenty enough to learn your lesson.

Tequila sighs, jogging up to you and grabbing your bag. While he understands you hate him, he can't let you go off on your own. Not when he knows who your soulmate is. It's a security risk and he wonders if that's why Jack sent him to the wedding with you. "Come on, you don't have to talk to me, but don't be dumb."

“Give it back.” Fury doesn’t usually last this long for you, but you’re seething with it to cover up how disappointed and hurt you are.

"No." Tex shakes his head, pulling it back out of your reach. "Get in the damn truck." He tells you. "I'm gunna get you back to Statesman unharmed. Then you can never talk to me again."

“Why do you even care?” Considering he’s taller, faster, and stronger than you, it’s not like you can overpower him and get your bag back, so you stare him down instead.

"Because I care about you." He insists. "You might not believe that, but I do."

“Bullshit.” Still, you pull open the door of his enormous pickup truck yourself because it will annoy him that you didn’t wait, and swing yourself up into the passenger seat. You’re mad enough to you’ve moved over to spiteful, but at least he hasn’t seen you cry. “Just take me home.”

"I will." Tex clenches his jaw as he climbs into the truck and his fist curls around the steering wheel hard enough to make the plastic groan. "Bet your ass I will."

Fucking dramatic ass cowboys. You sink down in the seat and squeeze your eyes shut, desperately wishing you were going home to New Hampshire to sit with your sister or out to New York City to hang out with your brother. Anything but the little house halfway in between the two men who have kicked you to the curb like last week's garbage.

As the truck barrels its way towards Statesman, the anger inside Tequila builds. Pissed at Jack for what he's done. The selfish son of a bitch caused you to hate him. He stews with every mile that the tires eat up, nearly red faced by the time that truck turns onto the road that leads towards Statesman housing.

As soon as he pulls into your driveway you jump out of the truck, grabbing your bag from the cargo bed and heading straight inside. The sooner you can get into a bath with an army of scented candles and a bottle of something much stronger than watered down mimosas or airline nips, the better. You can just wash away the horrific memories of this weekend and never speak of it again.

The moment the front door of your cabin slams, Tequila throws the truck in reverse, the tires squealing from how hard he stomps on the gas. Fury making him sling the truck around and gun it as he throws it into drive. Hearing the engine roar with a grim wince of satisfaction as the V-12 lurches forward.

******

The door to Jack's office slams open under his palm, a satisfying creak and groan of heavy wood mirroring the stomp of Tequila's boots. His vision is so tunneled by righteous anger that he doesn't see Champ lounging in the armchair off to the side of Jack's heavy desk - only focused on the man he came to confront. There's no hesitation in his step, singularly motivated by the boiling in his blood when he storms forward and swings, connecting with Jack's jaw with flawless precision. "You son of a bitch!"

Jack goes sprawling to the floor, shocked but he's quickly bouncing back. "What the fuck!" He shouts, picking himself up off the floor and glaring at his friend. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Have you?" Tequila spits back, slamming his fist into Jack's desk next. The crash is satisfying in an entirely separate way. "How could you not tell me?!"

"Tell you what?" Jack demands, frowning and shaking his head to look over at Champ. "What the fuck didn't I tell you?"

"Her!" Tequila bellows, towering over Jack with a red face and hurt eyes as the older man gets back to his feet. "Did you think I wouldn't find out she's your fucking soulmate?"

Shit. The anger drains out of Jack's face and he stares at Tequila. "She's— it's a mistake." He chokes out. "I'm not – I can't be her soulmate." He insists, begging the younger man to believe him. "You know that."

"I saw her fucking tattoo, Jack." He doesn't even notice that Champ has jumped up to slam Jack's office door shut, containing the noise as well as the news. Tequila is too wrapped in his own fury to notice anything at all. "You knew and you didn't say a fucking word and now she's furious with me because you went and shoved your head in the goddamn dirt."

"You didn't have to fuck her!" Jack shouts back, anger surprising him although he had known what would happen if the other agent went with you. He had known that Tequila was attracted to you, but he had ignored it. "You coulda kept your dick in your pants for once in your goddamn life."

"I wouldn't have if you had said something!" The outrage on both ends is obvious, but Tequila feels it twisting in his guts like something ugly. "I'd have kept my damn mouth shut and kept her company and kept my fucking feelings to myself if you had just said something."

"Feelings?" Jack scoffs and shakes his head. "Since when is horny a fucking feeling?"

"Fuck you." Tequila bites out, but Champ grabs his arm before he can wind up for another good hit.

"Cut the shit, both of you." He orders, tone short and sharp and brokering no insubordination. "What the hell happened?"

Jack snaps his head around and blows out a breath, realizing that Champ is the room still. He had completely forgotten about the older man after Tequila busted into the room like a pissed off bull in a china shop. "I don't have a fucking clue." He spits, glaring at Tex and nods towards him. "Why don't you ask the hot head?"

"Agent Chicken Shit backed out of taking his soulmate to a wedding this weekend and asked me if I could take her instead." Tequila wrenches his arm out of Champ's firm grip, feeling like he's been caught breaking his brother's nose by his father all over again. "Knowing goddamn well that I—I'm in love with her." Saying it out loud makes him wish he could just storm back across the Statesman campus and explain everything to you. To beg you to believe and forgive him. But it's not his place. Not at all.

Jack snorts and rolls his eyes. "Wantin' to fuck ain't being 'in love'." Jack spits back, furious to hear those words out of his mouth and worse, he wonders if you feel the same way. It pisses him off and he wants to punch the righteous fucker in the nose for touching you.

"When have I ever punched you over wanting to fuck the same girl?" It's not as though they hadn't, after all, but Tequila still glowers at Jack across the desk.

"Can't recall you ever even using the word 'love' before," Champ comments, interested to see exactly how red in the face Jack is going to get.

His teeth are about to crack he's clenching his jaw so hard. Nearly growling at the way that Tequila flusters. Breathing heavily as the younger man turns towards Champ with a shrug of his shoulders. "Because I ain't felt it before." He admits, shaking his head. "But there's somethin' about her."

"She does seem to be a point of fascination." Champ's no fool. He hasn't missed Jack's attentions being centered on you, or Tequila's stolen glances. He hadn't missed the flirting - both intentional and not - and he had listened diligently to what Diana told him without over-divulging or betraying your confidence.

"She's a shiny new toy." Jack hisses, puffing up his chest and glaring at Tequila, ready to throw a few punches of his own considering what he's done. "He'll get tired of her, just like every other woman he's ever taken to bed."

"Look who's goddamn talking," Tequila hisses back. "Barely took you a week to get sick of her and without even the good manners to tell her you why."

"I was trying to PROTECT HER!" Jack roars, his own fist slamming down onto the table as he lashes out. Picking up the bottle of '87 and throwing it against the wall, shattering it and splashing whiskey over the walls.

"Alright, the both of you!" Champ doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. The disapproval and the anger in it clear without needing more volume. "Tequila, you take your ass up to my office and you stay there until I come talk to you. I want both sides of this and it ain't gonna be clear with you shouting over each other like beasts."

Jack glowers, staring down Tequila as he marches out of his office and hisses as the door rattles on its hinges from the force of him slamming it shut behind him. "She didn't need to know." He defends roughly. "She doesn't need to know."

"What the hell happened?" Champ turns his eyes on Jack, knowing Tequila will do as he's been told and wondering what catalyst had pushed Jack to run the way he had. "You got embarrassed that Diana caught you in an amorous moment? That's nothin' to be ashamed of."

"She's NOT my soulmate!" Jack shouts, fury making spittle fly out of his mouth and his voice cracks in his desperation for someone to believe him. To convince himself.

"That's up to you." And Champ won't push him to admit otherwise. "But she's human. And she deserves a damn apology. Di said she was beside herself upset at you walkin' out, even if she hid it well. I can't imagine Tequila spurning her now is going to make her feel any better, although it ain't your fault the boy lost his nerve when he realized."

"He wants a soulmate." Jack mumbles, his shoulders rounding at the reminder that he had treated you abysmally. They had done a lot more than just been each other's wingman for picking up women over the years. There had been plenty of serious conversations between women and glasses of whiskey. "He's not going to be with someone else's if he knows them."

"So you thought letting him discover it on his own would...go smoother?" He's not even going to go into how jumpy Jack is being about his own attraction to you.

"How was I suppose' to know that the fucking idiot didn't know?" Jack huffs defensively. "I showed him the damn mark on my skin. It's not like the fucking things on her tit. I thought he saw it on her."

"Alright, alright." Champ shakes his head and groans, feeling like everybody's damn father and not for the first time. "I'll go deal with him, but you..." He could just order him to apologize. To walk over to your house right now and make things right. But he knows that won't actually help things, it will only make Jack dig his heels in harder. "Whether you're ready to tell her or not, she still deserves an apology."

"For what?" Jack spread his hands up helplessly before he props them on his hips. "For killin' her soulmate? For her being stuck with me? For kissin' her and running away? For keepin' it from her?" He asks, not sure which sin he has to ask forgiveness for.

"You gotta decide that yourself." He had just meant the bit about running off, but as long as Jack is willing to entertain the idea of actually telling you the truth, he's not going to discourage it.

"She deserves better, Champ." Jack murmurs quietly. "Better 'in me. Hell, better than the kid."

"That's not up to you to decide." Champ's voice is just as quiet, but far gentler. "It's up to her. And if she's rightfully pissed at the both of you after this week, then that's that. But at the very least, she should know that you didn't run off because of anything she did. Y'all are actin' in her best interest as far as you're concerned, but all she can see is two men makin' her feel good and then acting like she did wrong for following down the paths you set."

"Shit." Jack closes his eyes, pissed off at himself for being a fool and giving Tequila the opportunity to hurt your already bruised feelings. He should have just taken you.

"Clean up this mess," Champ points to the broken liquor bottle on the floor. "And then go clean up the one you made with her. I'll deal with Tequila."

Jack stares at him for a moment, nodding quietly before the older man turns around and leaves the office. Leaving Jack in the wake of the mess he had found himself in.

Champ heads down the hall with purpose, shaking his head at the ridiculous state his two agents have made of things. He knows he brought you here to be protected, but apparently he should have been protecting you from their dumb asses as well. Thankfully, Tequila is waiting in his office like he was ordered, leg bouncing with nerves but no damage done. "Alright," he huffs, shutting the door behind him. "Your turn."

"Now Champ..." Tequila springs to his feet, aware that he should have handled things better than he had, but he's mad. "Whiskey didn't tell me she was his soulmate. I wouldn't have gotten involved with her if he had of."

"Don't think I know that?" The boy's sense of propriety is usually aces, even if his common sense can lack. "That's not why you got put in time out, Tequila. I can't punish you for makin' a fool of yourself with a lady. Either of you. Even if you deserve it."

"Then why am I here?" There is an edge of defiance in his voice, residual anger from the entire ordeal.

"Because you attacked a senior agent without provocation." Champ tells him flatly. "And I can't be sure y'all won't piss each other off enough that it will happen again."

"He fucking deserved it, and you know it." Tequila argues, standing up and putting his hand on his hip.

"Not the point, son." He can't make a judgement call on this if he ever wants it to get resolved. "It's insubordination and you know it."

Tequila rolls his eyes and huffs before he begrudgingly acknowledges that what Champ is saying is true. "So what's my punishment?" He asks. "Week scrubbing the warehouse?"

"Manual labor ain't gonna prove a point to you." Champ knows that. The kid comes from honest labor and hard work. It rolls right off his shoulders. "You're gonna take an assignment for me. Give you time to cool off and separate yourself from our fascinating lady so you can cool the hell off."

Opening his mouth in protest immediately, he manages to catch himself before he says something. Closing his mouth and just standing there. He knows he deserves it, even if he doesn't say so.

“Kingsman proposed an agent swap about a month ago.” Moving around him, Champ motions to Tequila to sit before plopping down in the large wingback chair behind his desk. “Been debating who to send. Looks like you just gave me my answer.”

"What am I gonna do in London, Champ?" The Texan whines, giving his boss a horrified expression. "They don't know the first thing about ropin'."

“So you’ll teach ‘em.” The side drawer of Champ’s desk holds the folder of papers from Kingsman as they rebuild, and Champ flips it open to skim through the paperwork. “Change of scenery and company might do ya some good, Tequila.” He glances up with one eyebrow half-raised. “After an apology.”

"I'm not apologizing to that fucker." He doesn't care how long Champs sends him to 'Merry ol' London', he will never apologize to Whiskey for belting him like he deserved.

"Not to him." Champ nearly laughs, but he catches himself. He's meant to be angry. A disciplinarian. At least for right now. "To her. She didn't ask for any of this shit."

"I can't apologize without telling her why I backed away." He reasons with Champ. "If that asshole had just manned up, this wouldn't be an issue."

Seeing as he can't actually argue with that, Champ sits back in his chair and eyes Tequila for a second before he lets an approving nod escape. "At least tell her you're goin' and that it has nothin' to do with her. Don't let her hear it third hand and wonder what the hell she might have done to make both of you run." He's gonna have to pay a visit to you himself, he thinks, and make sure you get something nice for the restaurant or let you hire a second-in-command, or something. Anything. Just to make sure you don't resign and he loses the ability to protect you.

Tequila nods and shuffles his feet slightly. "I'll go over there now and explain." He mumbles. "But it might have to be through a door. She's really fuckin' mad at me because I wouldn't tell her where I'd seen her tattoo."

"Can't say I blame her." Hell, if he were a woman, he'd have given them both far more hell than you seem to. "Do what you gotta go tonight. You're on the jet no later than 0900 tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir." Tequila nods once and turns on his heel. He needs to apologize to you before he goes; and put these feelings that he has for you to bed. There can't be a future with you. Not when Jack wears your tattoo.

******

The bath was a good idea, and you bundle up in clean pajamas after crying your damn eyes out and throw on an extra sweatshirt for comfort. You toss a bowl of leftover chili into the microwave and hunt down the bag of tortilla chips to eat it with, figuring you’ll turn on a movie and try to forget that the rest of the world exists.

Tequila decides that it would better to walk over to your place rather than pull up in your driveway. Walking along the way until he is standing on your porch and sighing softly. Hesitating for a moment before he reaches out and knocks on your door. Anticipating that you won't even answer.

“Fucking hell…” Muttering under your breath all the way to the front door, you check the peak hole before opening it and end up groaning. “What do you want, Tex?” He’s the actual last person you want to see right now, but if he’s got an explanation you want to hear it.

“I—” Tex shifts on his heels and reaches up to rub the back of neck in embarrassment. “I owe you an apology.”

Yes. He certainly goddamn does. You pull open the door halfway and look up at him expectantly. “How about an explanation, while you’re at it.”

"That's where you're gonna be mad at me." He bites his lips and shrugs. "It's not— I can't tell you who but I can tell you that I've seen that mark on someone I know. And I—I didn't know when I went after you."

“Unless it’s one of your brothers or something, I can’t see what the big deal is.” Having decided, over the course of the last few hours, that he’s probably lying to try to get out of a relationship, you just shrug your shoulders. “Fine. It is what it is.”

"Believe me...I wish I could tell you." He sighs. "I— I came to apologize because I'm being punished." He grunts. "Being sent overseas on an assignment."

“What did you do to get punished for?” That intrigues you enough to step back, leaving the front door open for him to come inside. He’s rowdy, sure, but you can’t see him being brash enough to put his job in the line. He loves his job.

"I punched someone." Tequila grumbles quietly, his brow furrowing, and he won't admit that his hand is aching. Jack Daniels has a fucking jaw of steel. "In front of Champ."

“And he’s banishing you to another country for it?” First of all, it’s news to you that Statesman even operates in other countries. But who the hell could garner that kind of punishment for something that— It’s like the entire world stops spinning for a second, screeching to a halt as you stand in your foyer next to one frustrating cowboy realizing the entire conversation just turns back around to a second one who is even more frustrating. Your eyes snap up to Tex’s, wide and full of so much shock that it’s nearly embarrassing. Because the second you put the pieces together, it couldn’t have been clearer. “Jack…” His name is barely better than a murmur, but it’s firm. “It’s Jack. Isn’t it?”

Of course you would figure it out. Not only are you funny, beautiful, and talented in many, many ways; you are also smart. Probably a hell of a lot smarter than he is. Your eyes betray your feelings, the stunned anguish in them, and the hurt that you are feeling shining out at him. It makes him want to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But it isn't his place to do that, and he's already hurt himself by getting involved with you. It would just make it harder to let go of you. "I can't tell you who." He shakes his head and sighs. "Just please, please believe me. I never wanted to hurt you."

You never wanted to think he was lying, but now that you know who it is that’s wearing your mark, you can see why he backed off immediately. That’s his mentor. One of his closest friends. And while Jack running off might have been a shitty thing to do, that now makes a lot more sense, too. “Maybe when you come back, we can try hanging out again?” It’s a weird situation for anyone to be in, but you do enjoy his company. “Just as friends?”

Tequila swallows, knowing that it might be hard for him for a while but he nods, giving you a small smile. "I'd like that darlin'." He admits softly. "I-I wish it could be more, but I know you woulda gotten tired of my ass." He jokes, not wanting to make it awkward, but he does want you to know that he had been serious with his intentions. "I'm sorry for ruinin' the brunch."

“I told everybody you were too hungover,” you smirk, already knowing that that is the ultimate blow to his manhood as a Statesman employee. But you were plenty mad this morning and didn’t care.

"Shit." Tequila hisses, shaking his head as he absorbs that blow. "I deserve that, but damn, you pack a low blow."

“Not sorry.” And you won’t pretend to be, either. You meant it when you told him you don’t play games. “But…it does suck that you’ll be gone for a while. Try not to fuck up too much shit wherever you’re going, okay?”

"I'll be alright, darlin'." He boasts confidently. "They should be worried about me."

“I’ll be sure to call and warn them, then.” You laugh softly, shaking your head, and one hand unconsciously rests on your front door.

He's smart enough to take the hint, nodding politely at you and takes a step back. "Well, I'm gotta go pack and I'm sure you're wantin' your peace back, so...I'll see you, darlin'." He offers, tipping his hat to you at the edge of the stairs.

There’s no use telling him that you had fun before this morning. If he actually liked you it will just be cruel and if he didn’t it just makes you sound clingy, so you say good night and shut the door, sighing to yourself as you pace back to the kitchen. That bowl of chili is already getting cold after being heated up, and you’re going to need several drinks to digest the information you’ve just been handed.

Jack.

Jack is your soulmate. Your second soulmate, which is supposed to be impossible. Why? How? Who the fuck even has answers to something like that?

******

Jack moves slower than molasses as he starts to clean up the mess he had made with his temper. The mess he had made of your life was going to take a little time and finesse. He doesn't know what to say. The anger and jealousy swirling in his gut at learning that you had slept with Tequila had surprised him, but he can't fault you when he had practically thrust the boy into your arms. Taking an hour to make his office spotless again, Jack leaves the Statesman offices to start walking back to the cabins to talk to you.

After dinner you stack up the dishwasher and grab one of the key lime tartlets from the test batch you made on Friday, curling up under your blanket on the couch with the second half of your movie and a second glass of spiked lemonade. Relaxation won’t come no matter how hard you try, though, and as if encouraged by your own restlessness - the doorbell rings again.

“Coming.” You call out, grumbling to yourself as you get up, only to deflate when you open the door. “Jack…” You hadn’t expected this, honestly. You thought it was Tex again for some unknown reason or other. “H—hi.”

"Hey, sugar." It's a chicken shit move, to pretend like nothing happened, but the way his eyes light up when he sees you isn't something he can control. "How are you doing?"

“Um…well, honestly I’ve been better.” Shifting in your doorway, you step to the side to let him in and clear your throat before cautiously pointing to the bruise blooming on his jaw. “But I think you have it worse at the moment.”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, barely felt this." He lies, his jaw aching and he swears that Tequila loosened a few teeth. He shoots you a grin that is less confident than it appears and scrubs his hands up and down his thighs. "Can I come in, talk?" He doesn't blame you if you say no, but he wants to at least try.

“That’s…probably a good idea.” While you doubt that Tex went back and told him that you might have figured things out, you want to hear it from Jack. Either confirmed or denied, whatever the truth is. This man owes you the truth and an apology and that is the very least of it.

Jack steps into the cabin and lets you close the door behind him. Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, he turns towards you to see where you want to do this. He's in your territory and is willing to follow your lead.

"Do you want a drink?" It's a compulsory thing, always feeling like you should at least offer a drink to someone who's going to stay more than five minutes.

"I don't think you want to give me a drink, sugar. But I appreciate it." He would actually love a stiff drink, but he's not going to impose on you more than he has to.

"If you came to apologize, you get a drink." The nervous way he shifts has you worried, but you smile despite your churning stomach. "If not? I guess...just say what you came to say? I don't know, Jack. This whole thing is very awkward and I'm trying to figure out how to make it less so."

"Then I guess you better pour us a double, sugar." Jack mumbles, not quite meeting your eyes. The eyes that have haunted him for the entire week that he's stayed away from you.

"Come on in." Nodding to the living room, you disappear back to the kitchen for a second to grab a glass and the open bottle from your counter. He idles by the armchair beside your couch so you put the bottle down on the coffee table after you've poured him a drink, and hand him the glass. Your own drink is sufficiently spiked, you hope, for whatever he has to say. At least Tex already accidentally dropped the biggest bomb that might come up in conversation.

"I— hell." Jack takes a nervous gulp of his whiskey and sighs. "I owe you a large apology, sugar." He starts out. "I've acted like a tee-total ass and I regret that. I've hurt you; I know I have and I never meant to."

"Well...thank you." It being the second time tonight that you've heard something like that, you have to admit that the hole in your heart made by Jack's cruelty was much larger. Maybe that's something you ought to be ashamed of, but it's just how you feel. "I feel like there's more, though?" Even if you didn't know there was, the way he shifts his eyes all around the room to everywhere but you would have been a giveaway.

Damn you’re intuitive. Or Tequila ran his big fucking mouth. Both of those could be true. He sighs and taps his fingers against his knee and contemplates what to tell you. "Yeah." He admits quietly. almost inaudible.

"Do you...maybe want to start with why you ghosted me after we kissed?" After grappling with that one for an entire week on your own, you'd like an actual answer. A real, honest, from him answer.

"You scare me." The words fall from his tongue easier than he imagined them. Tumbling out quickly and earnestly. Truthfully. He rocks his jaw and nods. "You scare me, sugar."

That makes you huff, shifting in place on the sofa nervously. "Can't quite see the logic in that," you admit, tapping your fingers on the glass in your hands and smearing the condensation in ugly patterns. "Since you kicked the asses of a half dozen bikers the day we met and I couldn't even do that in my wildest dreams."

"Not that kinda scared, sugar." Jack chuckles at your logic, unable to find the fault with it and is a little pleased with himself for that fight still. "I'm meanin' that it's— it's complicated." He settles for that. "I didn't mean to hurt you because of it though."

"Jack..." The sigh that escapes you is nearly a groan. Or at least something bordering frustrated. "I don't think it's a secret that I like you, okay? I wouldn't have kissed you back if I didn't. I just...even if this - whatever this was - ends here? I just need you to be honest with me. Whatever the truth is, whether it's hard or easy or complicated or simple. I just...I need you to show me that much respect."

"Okay." Jack agrees to that easily enough, nodding his head and waiting for you to continue.

"For the record." The shifting seems to be endless, and you close your eyes for a second against the nerves. "Tex didn't say anything. He kept his mouth shut and protected you. I put two and two together myself." Glancing up at him, you have to remind yourself to breathe. "Will you show me your arm? Please?"

Jack's mouth is suddenly drier than the Sahara desert. Closing his eyes for a moment before he nods and stands up. He will have to roll up his sleeves or take the damn thing off. He shrugs out of his jacket and unbuttons his sleeve. "You are smart, sugar. Don't doubt that."

"I never do." It might be the wrong time to be sassy, but the response is automatic. Your mouth is dry as dirt by the time Jack rolls up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, and it's only partially because watching a man roll up his sleeve is like having a woman put on a push up bra as far as sex appeal goes. The first glimpse of your own tattoo on his skin steals any breath you had left in your body, and you swear you're lightheaded at the actual sight of it. Your mark on someone else's body. It's enough to make you break right down and cry, but you have a feeling that wouldn't exactly help the situation.

The cat is out of the bag, and Jack shows you the marks that are on his skin briefly before he starts to roll his sleeve down again. "Now you know why you scare me." He is leaving a hell of a lot out, but it's a truth you might be able to swallow.

"It's supposed to be impossible." Even with evidence, you have to keep yourself from reaching out and touching his skin just to prove to yourself that it's not make up or Sharpie or something.

"It is impossible." Jack tells you, shaking his head at the entire situation and reaches for his drink.

"Obviously not." It definitely does explain some things. Like the way the two of you can't seem to stay away from each other even when he was obviously not wanting to be around you.

"It damn sure is when I killed your original soulmate." Jack snaps out without even thinking about how those words would land.

"You what?" The glass in your hand goes crashing to the floor, cracking and spilling bourbon and lemonade in every direction but you can't do anything but stare at him: wide eyed and terrified and more confused than you've ever felt in your life. "Wh-wha—you—?" The tears pricking at your eyes are a surprise, but only because you never considered that this would ever be a sentence you would hear in your life.

"Fuck." Jack hisses, realizing he's stuck his ass all the way in the fire and the only way he's going to get out is to tell you everything. "Sugar, I— Statesman— is an independence intelligence agency. I am an agent. The last op I was on, he - your soulmate - was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Innocent bystander." He tells you bitterly. "I killed a civilian by accident."

The blatancy of it nearly knocks you over, to the point where the tears spill over unfiltered. "Fuck off, Jack." You hear your own voice, full of anger for the second time today. "I asked you to be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you!" Jack growls, pissed off that you don't believe him. "How do you think I took on a half dozen men without a scratch? Do you need to have it confirmed?"

"Sure. Confirm it for me. Why the fuck not." You might as well be rolling your eyes at him, and maybe it's childish, but you're sick of being disappointed. Especially so many times in one week.

"Ginger." Jack speaks up, knowing that saying her name will activate his communication link in his watch. "Lock down my soulmate's cabin." He orders. "Code Orange."

There is a brief pause and Astrid's voice comes through the built-in speakers in your cabin. "Roger Jack, Code Orange." Immediately, the soft lights of the lamps switch off and bright emergency lights flicker on. The door lock flips and there is a mechanical whirling as solid metal shutters roll down over your windows and door. The bookcase that you have stuffed with cookbooks in the little breakfast nook pops open, showing an opening behind it that will lead to a safe room.

"What the fuck?" Jumping backward further into the sofa, you curl in on yourself as the lights beat down on you and the windows cover with steel. The bookcase in the corner makes you flinch again, and you look around like you're trying to figure out where the cameras are that are filming this prank. "W-was that...Astrid?"

"Astrid's codename at work is Ginger Ale." Jack tells you. "Just like my codename is Whiskey. Agent Whiskey. It's also the reason why I have no tattoos or scars on my body. No identifying marks."

"Because you're..." Searching for the word, you can't even find a real-world scenario in which you've ever said it before without referring to fiction or a game. "A—a spy?"

"I guess that's the easiest way to look at it." Jack nods.

"What's...that?" The door behind your bookcase is a special kind of scary. That shit only happens in movies or when it's a bomb shelter.

"It's a safe room." Jack provides. "A place where you can go in the case of an emergency. So you are safe from harm. Nothing short of a nuke would get you in there."

Stock still with equal parts shock and the need to process all the information you've been given in the last three minutes, you gulp inelegantly and wipe one hand down your face. "So..." It's a whole lot all at once and you stare forward when you open your eyes again. "You...after..." Deep breath. "How?" You ask finally, not really knowing how to ask about someone's murder.

"Your real soulmate was a chef." Jack tells you quietly. "He was on the loading dock of the Whitney smoking a cigarette." He knows you will recognize the hotel as the one you had just left. Another reason why he couldn't go to that damn wedding reception since he had just had a shootout there. "I saw a gun and I just...reacted." He admits quietly, staring down at his hands because he can't look up and face the blame he knows he will see in your eyes. "There were two men on that dock, one innocent and one trying to kill me. And I took them both out."

"So you just...got it? Just like that?" It doesn't make sense, but it's not like anyone really knows how soulmates get chosen in the first place. "Y-you shot him and got me as a prize?"

"I'm guessin'." That part has him stumped so he just gives a small shrug. "Lucky you."

"Shit..." Neither one of you can look at each other, but the flood lights and steel shutters are sure to attract attention, and you clear your throat softly. "Can you...um...make it go back to normal?"

"Oh shit, uh yeah." Jack shakes his head and speaks again. "Ginger, Code Green. Repeat, Code Green. All clear." He knows that she knows that there wasn't an emergency, but it was still protocol to use the codes.

"Thanks." The weight of reality feels exhaustively heavy on your shoulders, but you press your thumbs into your eyes and sigh. "So..." It's getting to be too much to process but the conversation just isn't anywhere near over. "So, what does this mean?"

“I don’t understand.” Jack admits, not sure if he’s getting what you are asking. “What does what mean?”

"Well, we're—we're soulmates." Whether either of you likes it, or the circumstances, is beyond the point. It is what it is and all you can do is deal with it.

“You don’t want to be my soulmate, sugar.” Jack promises you. “My soulmate has been dead and gone for a long time.” The guilt of her death weighs heavily on him.

"I'm not trying to replace her." The thought actually appalls you, knowing that plenty of other people might try to do just that. "She was your wife, I just—" When you finally muster enough courage to look at him, he won't meet your eyes. It's all at once that any hope you might have had shatters, and you remind yourself that he killed the man you were supposed to love with all your heart. "I just want to know if you're gonna keep ignoring my existence or not."

“You’re here, aren’t you, sugar?” Jack answers glibly. “If I was going to ignore your existence that wouldn’t be the case.” He doesn’t mention that Champ was the one who found you and brought you here. “You’ll be safe.”

"Safe isn't the same as—" You shake your head before that word can come out of your mouth. "Okay. I'm safe. And you won't ignore me. Fine." The wave of bitter disappointment that rips through you is angry and you hate it, but it's overwhelming. "So why exactly did you scare Tex off if your top thought is safe?"

“I didn’t scare Tex off.” He is immediately pissy at the idea that you would want that boy. “He came in yelling about marks and punching me in the jaw when I damn sure showed him the new fucking marks on my body.”

"Yeah, you showed him, but you didn't tell him who I am." That might be what stings the most. That he didn't acknowledge you in any way whatsoever until he was forced to. "He nearly had a panic attack in the shower this morning and I got to cry my eyes out for the second time this week."

The pain of knowing he made you cry is like a swift, sharp knife to the chest. “What was I supposed to tell ‘im?” Jack demands. “The girl who will hate my guts when she learns the truth is my soulmate? Or better yet, the universe decided that despite me being unable to protect my real soulmate it’s given me the soulmate of the man I killed as a laugh.”

"Right, but I'm safe here?" Just because you have no idea what he's talking about doesn't mean you're not still upset, and you can fire back just as nastily as he can. It makes you feel like you're being torn apart at the edges, so why not just lash out? Surely that will help.

"Yeah, you are." Jack huffs, not sure exactly what you expect from him. "You've got a job you said you always dreamed of, a house to call your own, and all the security that Statesman can provide you." He holds his arms up and then drops them down onto his hips and stares at you. "What else do you want?"

“Someone to spend my life with.” It’s what you’ve always wanted. More than anything. And getting every other dream in the world without someone to love who loves you with equal ferocity just feels like a slap in the face. You have a career and security, but not love. And that makes the other two things just seem lonely.

"I like you, sugar." Jack admits quietly. "I really do. But that ain't me." He doesn't say anything more than that, knowing it's not necessary. His life ended the day it began ironically enough, he's just been a dead man walking ever since.

“I’m starting to get that.” He’s clear and honest about it, you have to at least give him that. But it still feels like he picked up that broken glass from the rug and sliced your chest straight open to get at your heart. Like the universe replaced your real soulmate with a security guard, not a partner. And you still don’t even know why the fuck you need a security guard.

“I’m sorry.” Jack tells you, hating the way the light has just vanished from your eyes and he wants to rush across the room and pull you into his arms. But he doesn’t move. “I wish it could be different, but…” he shakes his head again and stares at his belt buckle. “We don’t always get what we want.”

“Clearly.” The word is choked and bitter, you know it is, because what you want is sitting right in front of you telling you that you can’t have him. This could be easy. Or at least less complicated. It could be so many things that aren’t this. Instead, Jack is sitting there telling you that you’ll never have the most basic and cherished thing in the world. Love. “I’ll just…try not to get in your way, I guess.”

“I’d like us to be friends, sugar.” Jack shuffles slightly and manages to look up at you. “But I understand if you can’t.” You don’t answer him and the ache in his chest gets heavier, prompting him to move towards the door. “I’ll let you be. I’m really sorry.” He whispers. “For everything.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around.” It’s a dismissal. Maybe even a cruel one. But right now you’re feeling so defeated that you don’t even care. You just want to be alone - a state you’re apparently going to have to get used to.

Out on the porch, Jack wonders why you taking his refusal so easily stings. Wondering if he wanted you to fight, even though it would do nothing but hurt you. He knocks on the front porch pillar as he starts down the stairs slowly to walk to his own house. “See you around, sugar.”

The floodgates open as soon as the door shuts behind him, giving you the freedom and the privacy to weep as openly and as long as you need. As horrifying and complicated as everything is turning out to be, you would have been so glad to love Jack. To get to know him and grow with him and find out what smooths those sharp edges. You would have loved to love him. To have that privilege would have been extraordinary.

But you’ve been dumped before you ever knew what you had. So who knows what will happen next?

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My Masterlist!

[barleyo]

Hitched.

Strip Weathers X F! Reader

A/N: Once again, this is another self-indulgent type of deal. Crazy, I know, to be in love with a CAR, but hey, what’re you gonna do? You gonna stop me? Yeah, that's what I thought. This is a human AU, but I won’t give a heavy description of Strip, that way you can use your imagination.

Summary: After another win, (Y/N) took her racing legend boyfriend, Strip Weathers, the one and only king, out to dinner with a group of friends. Though, while in the restaurant she started feeling a little jealous of their friend’s relationship. Can he make it up to her? Or will he leave her disappointed?

Tags: fluff, the smallest amount of angst possible, jealousy, human au!, marriage, drama

Wordcount: 2,081

“Looks like Dinoco’s golden boy is keeping his winning streak,” (Y/N) said after grabbing Strip’s hand, “I’m real proud of you, I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, dear. Wouldn’t be able to do with without you, you know.” He squeezed her hand in affirmation.

She smiled at the feeling and squeezed back. She yanked his hand lightly, urging him to walk with her.

“Come on now, we have to get to dinner, everybody waiting for us, Strip,” she pulled him out of the racing track’s front office to her car in the parking lot, “I’ll drive tonight, I think you’ve done enough of that.”

“Whatever you say, hon.” Strip smiled at her concern for him, knowing that he would’ve been fine to drive either way.

He walked around the front of the car to the passenger side. He sat in the seat and put on his seatbelt while waiting for (Y/N) to finish adjusting the radio to her favorite station.

“Alrighty, let’s go before they get upset with us,” (Y/N) pulled out onto the main road.

“Who all’s gonna be there, (Y/N)? You didn’t invite Chick, did you?” Strip asked.

“Now, why would I invite Chick? He’s such a petty, little thing. No, it’s just gonna be Lightning and Sally. I love her, she’s so nice, ain’t she? She keeps Lightning grounded,” she giggled, “uhm, Tex will be there, of course, and us too!”

He thought for a moment, going over the names in his mind.

“Cal won’t be there? Something come up with him?”

“Aw, yeah. Cal’s out on vacation with your sister for another week. Sorry, honey, I wish he could be there too,” she frowned, placing her hand overtop of his.

He hummed, caressing the top of her hand with his thumb. He looked over to the GPS screen.

“Oh, looks like we’re almost there, so be thinking about what you want to order, you know Tex takes forever to decide.”

She snickered, “That’s alright, I’m telling him you said that, Strip.”

“Lord, (Y/N), he knows. I think he does it on purpose,” he chuckled, “old man probably thinks it’s funny.”

“Lord, bless him,” she snorted.

(Y/N) pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, unbuckled, and hopped out. She ran over the the passenger side of the car, opening the door.

“No king of mine will open his own car door on his special day,” she joked, “come along, your majesty.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes, “I love you, you little smartass.”

She led him into the restaurant, stopping at the host stand.

“Were here under ‘Weathers,’ party of five? Have our friends been waiting long?”

“No, ma’am. Everyone’s here though. The first two only showed up ten minutes ago, now, if you’ll follow me,” he walked over a to a oval booth in the far back, “Here you are, Mrs. Weathers, someone will be back soon to take orders,” he handed (Y/N) a menu.

“Mrs. Weathers sounds pretty nice, doesn’t it?”

“Soon enough, pumpkin, don’t you worry,” he mumbled back, approaching the table.

“Hey, you two, stop gossiping. It took you long enough to get here,” Lightning said, turning around in his seat.

“Oh, you liar, buddy up at the host stand said you were only here for ten minutes,” (Y/N) took her seat and grinned, “Hey Tex, hi Sally.”

“How’ve you two been? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” Sally said, leaning forward on the table.

“Pretty good! We’ve been doing a lot of traveling for Strip’s races, lots of meet and greets, you two?” (Y/N) said while flipping through a drink menu.

“Same here, but it’s been fun, right stickers?”

Lighting grumbled at the nickname, “Yeah, it has. By the way, congrats on winning, King, we’re all proud of you,” he perked up a little.

“Don’t let the fame get to that boy’s head, (Y/N), humble him a little,” Tex joked, patting Strip on the back.

“Lord, Tex, don’t give her any ideas,” Strip laughed, tapping the table.

A waiter walked over to the table, pulling out a small notebook.

“Hey, everyone. Y’all ready to order? For you two?” He pointed his pen toward (Y/N) and Strip questioningly.

Strip placed (Y/N)'s order for her, and then for himself. 

Everyone placed their respective orders and the waiter left. Lighting tapped the table, “God, you two know each other too well,” he chuckled, waving his hand in their direction. “I barely knew what I wanted to eat.”

(Y/N) bit her lip to contain her laughter and placed her hand overtop Strip’s, “I guess that’s what happens when you’re with someone for so long.”

“Mhm, you just know after awhile,” he grinned, eyes darting over to (Y/N).

A couple minutes passed as the group continued to chat. They filled the time with questions about work, new hobbies, and their personal relationships. They soon got to the topic of marriage and family.

“Here you all are, enjoy! Food will be out soon,” the waiter placed the drinks down and headed back to the kitchen.

“So,” Sally started, stirring her drink, “are you two thinking about it? Marriage?”

(Y/N) eyed Strip while she answered, studying him for any changes in his face, “Of course, soon enough, soon enough. Can’t come soon enough, I say,” she smiled while playfully wiggling her left ring finger. “How about you and pretty boy over there?”

Sally blushed and lifted her hand up slowly, revealing a thin, platinum ring under the light of the restaurant’s lamp, “The wedding is a few months from now, we actually sent out RSVP forms yesterday,” she beamed.

“Oh, my goodness! I’m so happy for you,” (Y/N) clapped, “How did I not notice that beautiful ring earlier? Oh, I just- wow, guys! That’s great!”

“Congratulations, Lighting, all grown and married,” Strip laughed, patting him on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m excited too, this is big for us and all that,” he looked at Sally, smiling brightly, “It was just time to make a move, I guess.”

Strip nodded, sipping from his glass, “Mhm, the moment has to be right.”

Her eyes shot over at him, an unbelievable expression lacing them. 

(Y/N) contained her quiet anger at Strip, biting back her words. She  wanted to say something along the lines of 'there hasn't been a right moment in our almost ten years?' but instead, shestood up and beckoned Sally over, “Hey, Sal, I’m off to the girl’s room, wanna come with?”

She nodded and followed (Y/N), nudging past Lightning. She lightly wrapped her hand around (Y/N)’s to guide her. 

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Sally asked while closing the door, “I can tell you’re upset about something.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and sighed, trying to expel her disappointment, “I’m really glad you and Lightning are getting married, but it just makes me feel like Strip doesn’t want me anymore. Me and him have been together longer than you two, so why doesn’t he want to get married? Am I not attractive to him anymore?”

“No, honey, no! Don’t even think like that, you know he thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl ever.”

“Then why hasn’t he proposed? Damn it, when will the moment be right for us?” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N), but what I do know is that Strip loves you, and I know he loves you enough to work this out.” Sally grabbed (Y/N)’s hands and stroked them with her own. 

“I guess,” she sighed, “Sal, I just feel so stupid. I really thought— so many times I found myself in a special moment with him thinking, ‘this must be it!’ It never was.”

"I know, his little comments earlier must have sounded so—"

"Thoughtless. Yes, they did."

Sally gave a nod and led her back out to the table and sat down. She exchanged a look with Lightning, shaking her head slightly.

The food came out and everyone dug in, (Y/N) just sliding her food around on the plate, chiming into the conversation only when needed, hardly listening to it at all.

The table’s waiter walked up to the table. “Everything okay here? Need anything?”

“No, I think we’re all set,” Strip said.

Noticing (Y/N) looking down at her plate sadly, the waiter leaned down at bit, hand resting on the table. “And what about you, hon? You need anything?”

Her head snapped up. “Me?”

“Well, who else would I be taking to? You don’t look too happy right now, anything I can do to cheer you up?” His tone was sweet, and a bit flirty, obviously trying to just butter her up for a tip. "How about dessert?"

“Oh— I think,” she looked over to Strip, seeing his eyebrows furrow, “I think I’m fine, but thank you.”

The waiter nodded and left the check on the table, “Well, you just holler if you need something, m’kay?” He walked away, heading to different table.

Strip took the check, scribbling a signature on the line. “Who the hell was that guy?” He huffed and tossed the pen back down on the table.

“Looked like he was the waiter, Strip,” Tex said, holding in a laugh.

(Y/N) snorted, covering her mouth when Strip’s eyes darted over to her. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He stood up, collecting his jacket and grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. “We’re gonna head out. It was nice seeing you guys tonight,” he said, regaining his normal light tone. 

“Night, y’all, see you soon,” (Y/N) said while being gently dragged away.

Walking into the parking lot, Strip dropped (Y/N)’s hand and searched his pockets for the keys. He found them and entered the driver’s side of the car.

Left alone with Strip, (Y/N) mustered up the courage to address him. She took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact as she spoke, choosing to stare forward, keeping her eyes on the road. "Strip, can we talk?"

He gripped the gearshift and nodded quietly. His face twisted uncomfortably. “What's on your mind, darlin'?" 

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she looked ahead. “Strip, I love you. I love you so much, and I’ve loved every day, every moment we’ve had together, but I need to know why we haven't sealed the deal.”

“(Y/N), is this about—?” He was quickly interrupted by her speaking again, this time as if the words were spewing out of mouth, as if she couldn’t control them.

“It's been so many years, and I can't help but feel like I'm not enough for you.” She held her cheek with her hand and held back a sniffle. “I know I joke about it, but am I not what you want? Am I not who you wanna marry?"

Strip's eyes softened, feeling the weight of (Y/N)'s emotions. He pulled the car over, gravel on the side of the road crunching under the tires. He unbuckled and reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I don’t ever want to hear you say somethin’ like that again,” his voice was stern. “You mean everything to me, and you always have. I’d do just about anythin’ to marry you, but I want to make sure I give you the proposal you deserve.”

(Y/N) looked at him with a look of longing. "But Strip, I don't need a crazy proposal, I just want you.” She huffed again. "Everything just feels unbalanced, I feel like you love me enough to stick around, get jealous, n' support me, but not enough to commit. It hurts."

He took both of her hands in his, his gaze unwavering. "I hear you, (Y/N), and I understand. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, grow old with you. Been planning something special, but the moment’s never been perfect, and that’s what you deserve: perfect.”

She softened at his words, feeling the sincerity in his touch. "Strip, I don’t need that. All I need is your love. The moment’s right whenever we make it right.”

Strip smiled, a mix of relief and love shining in his eyes. "You're right, darlin'. I've been caught up, been forgetting myself.” He shifted awkwardly in his seat, scooting to face her. “Not exactly how I expected to ask this, but,” he held her hand, “will you marry me?”

She felt her hand slip out of his for a second, only to fly around him and land on the back of his neck. She pulled him close to her face, and placed a deep kiss on his lips, then messily pulled away.

"Duh. Of course I will, you dope." 

[correctrvbquotes]

Tucker: Church, why do we need two robots?

Church: You know, one for me, and... (mumbling) one for Texas.

Tucker: Oh man, don't tell me you're doing this for Tex. You're still in love with her, aren't you.

Church: Hey get off my back, man. Most dead chicks aren't exactly lining up to haunt this dirt hole. Besides, if I don't get her a body, she's gonna steal mine anyway.

Tucker: Eh, good point.

Church: Bitch.