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sl-ut · 2 years ago

Text

you should probably leave

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel is enamoured by his new neighbour, but old patterns will always be his downfall.

warnings: UNEDITED, slight age gap, slight smut, implied unprotected piv, protected piv, swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurity, angst, reader is given a birthday (she's a sag like me)

words: 10.8K (my longest fic to date)

date posted: 14/03/23

part two

(inspired by you should probably leave by chris stapleton)

OCTOBER 12, 1998

The weather was something that she was unsure if she could ever get used to. For her entire life, she had spent the entirety of the late autumn months dreading the first snowfall of the season before lugging out her extensive collection of knitted sweaters and fur-lined boots. Instead, her little archive of winter clothing was left in a cardboard box in her childhood bedroom, along with the majority of her other belongings that she had not brought with her on her grand adventure–if you could even call it that.

The University of Texas at Austin had not been her first choice of school, or her second, or third; she actually had never even imagined going to school any further than a few hours from her hometown in Pennsylvania, and yet there she was, standing in front of her brand-new home, sweltering under the harsh Texan sun as she struggled to unload her packed car all on her own. Well, to call it her home would be a pretty tight stretch, as well as to label it as “brand-new.”

The small bungalow-style house had caught her eye on a flyer in the grocery store, a listing for one female roommate in a cul-de-sac not too far from the city. It wasn’t exactly her dream home by any means, with an ugly yellow exterior and a kitchen that could certainly use an updating, but it she had recently been forced out of her own apartment due to her previous roommate preferring her boyfriend to live their with her instead and it was the nicest of the few places within her price range that would also accommodate the mutt she’d rescued during her first year. All things considered, it was quite literally perfect for her situation–plus her new roommate seemed to have been at least more considerate of her boundaries than the last, which gave her some hope that things might actually work out.

Y/n grunted at the weight of the box, cursing herself internally for enrolling in school and owning so many textbooks as she lugged it up the front steps, dropping it just inside the door. She couldn’t help but grimace as she glanced up, meeting the watchful gaze of Manny, his furry little head tilting curiously–likely wondering why she was making so much ruckus and interrupting his nap.

“Lazy ass,” she muttered under her breath at him, kicking the box to the side before trudging back out the door.

The next few boxes were filled with clothes and shoes, fortunately for her spine. She hauled several out, dropping each of them to the pavement of the driveway carelessly as she wiped at her sweaty forehead, apparently too enthralled in the work to notice the beat up truck as it turned into the neighbouring driveway.

“Hey there,” she turned to find a young man, his hair combed back to expose his effortlessly charming face to her, “You need a hand?”

She glanced down at the boxes at her feet, “I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

A young girl appeared at his side, wide eyes peering over at the older female curiously. The man shrugged, puffing out his broad chest as he moved. Y/n almost laughed at how obvious he was being, only seconds after meeting her. The man gave off the impression that he had always thought fairly highly of himself, probably the quarterback of the high school football team, maybe even involved in the armed forces–the navy, she was betting. He crossed the barrier between the two driveways in two long strides, extending his hand out to her as he came closer.

“I’m Tommy,” he flashed her a grin, his accent coming out thicker than it probably would have normally. He glanced over his shoulder, motioning for the young girl to follow him into the neighbouring yard, “This is my niece Sarah.”

Y/n smiled politely, shaking his hand lightly, “Hi, I’m Y/n. I guess it’s nice to meet some of my new neighbours.”

“Well, Sarah, here, is your neighbour. Me, I live–”

“What happened to Stephanie?” Sarah interrupted, “I didn’t know she was moving.”

Y/n turned her attention to the young girl, “She isn’t, we’re just living together now.”

Sarah’s mouth formed an ‘o’, the gears visibly turning in her head as she formulated her next question, “Are you guys dating?”

“Sarah!” Tommy choked on his spit, “I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” Y/n chuckled at his response before turning back to the young girl, “No, we’re not. I guess she just didn’t wanna be living here all on her own anymore.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed, the mortified expression leaving his features in favour of one that she might have even considered relief. He shook his head at his niece, giving her a hard stare, “I’m sorry about her. I figured that she would have some better manners by now–my mistake.”

Sarah swatted at him, a pout appearing on her lips as her brows furrowed. The girl didn’t quite understand how the question may have been taken with offence by some, and was quite miffed by her uncle’s insult.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Y/n affirmed, “I think it’s actually a good thing that she knows about that kinda stuff.”

Tommy glanced down at the boxes, clear discomfort appearing on his features, “Alrighty then, how about these boxes?”

Y/n gave in, offering Tommy one of the heavier of the three boxes, while shifting the smallest and lightest to the young girl, who had been adamant in helping out. She instructed them to just drop the boxes to the floor by the door, not looking to take up much more of their time.

A loud gasp escaped Sarah, her wide eyes falling on the mutt, who had appeared to have been equally as excited to see her as he rushed over, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail flapping wildly. Sarah squealed when he barrelled into her, a fit of giggles leaving her mouth as he brought her to the ground and began to cover her face in slobbery kisses.

“Manny!” Y/n groaned, grasping the dog’s collar and pulling away enough for Sarah to sit up off of the floor, “Sorry, he’s just convinced that everyone wants to be his friend.”

“I’ll be his friend!” Sarah beamed, reaching out and squishing the dog’s face in between her palms, “I mean… Can I?”

Y/n shrugged, “As long as it’s okay with your…” She glanced at Tommy for help, unsure about Sarah’s parentage situation. He’d already made it clear that he did not live next door, but had never explicitly stated who did.

“You’ll have to ask your dad, Sarah,” He chastised her, “Anyway, we should get out of your hair now, let you settle in.”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah, thank you for the help, though.”

“No problem, ma’am,” He winked, southern charm on full display as he stepped out onto the front step, “Anytime for a pretty girl like you. C’mon, Sar.”

Sarah begrudgingly offered the needy pup one more affectionate squeeze before following after her uncle, leaping off of the step and bounding across to her own front yard. Tommy paused, hand resting on the railing of the step and giving it a firm shake. His lips pursed into a line as he let out a small huh as the bannister shifted out of its place, then back in under the pressure.

“Yeah, Steph said there were all kinds of little things wrong with the place,” Y/n noted, “But hey, if it’s got four walls and a roof, it’s good enough for me.”

He chuckled at her, shaking his head, “You know, my brother and I are contractors, we could come over and help you fix things up if you guys wanted.”

She hummed, “I’ll mention it to Steph. Wouldn’t wanna just start making changes to her house while she’s not here, would I?”

Tommy hummed, “‘Spose that’s true. Anyway, I should go see where she ran off to, but I sure hope I’ll be seeing you around.” He shot her a cheeky wink before jogging back over to the neighbouring yard, leaving her and Manny among the mess of boxes in the entryway.

Y/n huffed, glancing around at the mess, then at the furry little beast at her feet, who waited patiently for her to begin offering him her love and attention. She rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head softly, “Well, let’s just get this done, boy.”

– – –

Joel grunted as he clambered in through the side door of his home, sighing in relief as he slipped out of his heavy work boots and dropped the armload of groceries onto the kitchen counter. He could hear the TV on in the living room, drowned out by Sarah’s yell of a greeting. He rushed to put away the groceries, sticking the brown paper bags in the recycling before stepping into the dimly lit sitting area.

Tommy was reclined on the couch, slumped into the worn leather like a pile of mashed potatoes as he balanced his can of Budweiser on his bent knee. He nodded to his brother briefly as he lifted the beer to his lips, hardly taking his eyes off of the football game on the screen as Joel plopped down next to him. The older brother leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to Sarah’s head so as to not disturb her as she worked on her homework on the coffee table in front of the couch before finally copying his brother’s position.

“The hell took you so long? You left the site the same time I did, and I had to go pick this shithead up from school,” he playfully kicked at Sarah’s leg, “plus I helped your new neighbour move in.”

“Supermarket was a zoo,” Joel moaned as he ran his palm flat over his face, then furrowed his brow, “What new neighbour?”

Tommy nodded his head back in the direction of the mustard yellow house, “Chick next door got a new roommate.”

“Uncle Tommy was flirting with her,” Sarah chimed in, not taking her eyes off of the math textbook in front of her.

Joel rolled his eyes, “Now tell me why I’m not surprised.”

Tommy shook his head, taking another large gulp of beer, “I know what you’re thinking, but this girl’s different. She’s not from ‘round here. Not sure where, but she’s got an accent. Canada, maybe.”

“You know what a Canadian accent sounds like?” Joel scoffed, knowing that his brother was prone to drawing his own conclusions.

“Well, no,” Tommy frowned, “But I imagine it might sound like that. Doesn’t matter, I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

Joel grunted in response, turning his eyes to the game on the screen.

“She wasn’t flirting back,” Sarah grinned up at the two men, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her father’s growing smirk and giggling as his own laughter came tumbling out. Tommy kicked her again, only this time with a little more force, “What? You invited yourself over there and were all,” She puffed her chest out and deepened her voice, “Anything for a pretty girl like you.”

Joel rested a palm on his belly as he shook with laughter, his other hand landing on the top of his daughter’s head affectionately as Tommy crossed his arms, sulking.

“I think she was flirting back,” he argued.

“She wasn’t,” Sarah reaffirmed.

Tommy leaned forward, “Now how the hell would you know anything about flirting, huh? You been doin’ a lot of it at school?”

Her face burned in embarrassment, sputtering for a response, “No, that’s gross!”

Joel frowned at her, shaking his head in feign sternness, “You better not be. Otherwise I might need to break out grandpa’s old hunting rifle.”

She didn’t utter another word, simply gathering her things in her arms and rushing off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her as the laughter of her father and uncle followed her every step.

OCTOBER 17, 1998

Just under a week had passed since he’d first caught wind of his new neighbour, and Joel had yet to even see this woman. He’d noticed the new car in the driveway, and he’d picked up on the presence of the dog fairly quickly, especially after he’d caught Sarah tossing some of the vegetables from her dinner over the fence for him. Joel hadn’t paid it much mind, he was far too busy to be concerned with some young girl who didn’t seem to be causing much issues.

He’d had words with Stephanie several times in the past; once for blatantly smoking pot on

her front step when they were heading out for the day, then for leaving her garbage bin too close to his driveway, causing him to back into it and scratch the paint on his truck, and then once more when she’d had a little get together that ended up lasting until 4am, when the police arrived. He would normally have called himself a narc for having the party shut down, but it was keeping Sarah awake and the door had been shut in his face when he went over to ask politely.

The day had been long, and normally he would have refused Tommy’s invitation to head over to one of the local dive bars, but after dealing with the shit-show that had gone on at the job site that day, he really needed a drink. Sarah was out of the house, anyway, having slept over at a friend’s house, so there was quite literally nothing keeping him away.

“Brother’s night, my ass,” Joel grumbled into his glass, glancing over to the corner booth, where his brother had joined a pretty brunette, leaving Joel to himself at the barside. He waved at the bartender, motioning for another top-up of his whiskey.

A figure appeared at his side, leaning onto the bartop to call out to the bartender. Joel glanced over, his eyes raking over her radiant side profile in awe. He shot his gaze back to the glass of amber liquid in front of him, then briefly over to the girl once more. His eyes narrowed in on her pursed lips, noting how her brows furrowed in frustration as the bartender migrated to the other side of the bar. She turned to him suddenly, and Joel whipped his head back around to ensure that he wouldn’t appear to be some creep–though he was positive he certainly had been.

“Is it always like this here?” She asked him, tilting her head. “I swear, I’ve gone to three different spots along this bar, and buddy keeps looking in the other direction.”

He cleared his throat, “You not from around here?”

She smiled sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”

Joel chuckled, “Just a little. You gotta get his attention, be firm. Here,” he tucked his index finger and thumb into his mouth and let out a loud whistle, nodding at the bartender as he rushed over.

“Two vodka crans, please,” The girl smiled prettily at the bartender, then scoffed as he turned to begin pouring the drinks, “Shit, I guess I could stand to learn a thing or two.”

“It comes with time,” He frowned, realising that he may have implied that he was at the bar every other night, “I mean, not that I’m–”

She touched his arm softly, electricity running through her fingertips and into his bicep, “Hey, I’m not here to judge you if you’re not here to judge me, heh?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak once more when another figure appeared at her side. His smile dropped, taking in the sight of his next door neighbour, probably one of the last people he wanted to see on his night off.

“What the fuck is taking you so long–oh,” Stephanie narrowed her eyes at the older man, who simply turned and took another long swig of his whiskey, “Hello, Joel.”

“Stephanie,” he drawled, “How you doin’ tonight?”

She smirked at him maliciously, “Fine. Y/n, this is the guy I was telling you about.”

Oh, this is Y/n, he thought to himself, suddenly understanding Tommy’s instant interest in the girl.

“All good things, I hope,” he sighed into his glass.

She shook her head, “Oh, just that you’re the neighbour from hell, and that you’re a narc.”

Y/n tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, visibly uncomfortable at the confrontation. His eyes fell to her mouth at the movement, wondering what it might feel like to take that same lip in between his own teeth.

“You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Steph,” he huffed, praying to any god that would listen that she hadn’t completely turned Y/n against him.

Stephanie sneered at him, grasping one of the drinks from the bartop and stomping off, leaving a thick tension over the remaining two. Joel met Y/n’s gaze once again, noting the visible embarrassment on her face as she began to laugh slowly.

“Sorry about her,” She laughed nervously, “For the record, I know that she’s a little dramatic.”

“‘T’s fine,” Joel grumbled, swallowing the last gulp of whiskey, “You ain’t gotta apologise for her, she can feel however she wants about me.”

Y/n chuckled, a genuine one this time and Joel couldn’t help but carve the melodious sound into his memory, “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He nodded, accepting the soft handshake that she offered, “So I’ve heard.” He noticed the slight furrow of her brow before he clarified, “I’m Sarah’s dad.”

Realisation crossed her face, “Oh, Sarah! She’s a real sweetheart.”

“Yeah, she is,” he smiled softly at the complement, “She sure likes you, and I’m assuming that it’s your pup that I’ve caught her feeding her broccoli to?”

Y/n giggled at him, “Huh, I’d noticed that he was especially gassy lately. Here I was thinking it was something in the water.”

Joel let out a loud laugh, then realised that he had not actually introduced himself, “Shit. Sorry, I just–” he coughed, “I’m Joel.”

“So I’ve heard.” She repeated to him, clearing her throat before turning to gaze at him through her lashes with a soft smile, “So Joel, is this seat taken?”

– – –

Y/n had not expected to have enjoyed herself quite so much when Stephanie forced her to go to the grubby little saloon, feeling incredibly out of place among all of the southerners. She had been hesitant to leave Manny on his own so soon after moving in, but the last thing that she had wanted to do was get on Stephanie’s bad side so early on. Then, she’d stumbled upon the devastatingly handsome man sitting all on his own at the bar, and her tune changed drastically.

She sat on that stool for the better part of two hours after Stephanie had fucked off, leaving them to become acquainted with one another. Joel had offered her another drink, which she accepted under the terms that she would buy the next round, and against his better judgement, he found himself doing a shot of tequila with her as well. She smirked to herself when she took note of the flush that had crawled into his cheeks, and how cheerful his dark chocolate eyes looked under the dim lighting of the bar.

Y/n had noticed Tommy in the corner booth, and how he had been blatantly pressing his southern charm onto the brunette under his arm in the very same way that he had to her, which made her feel much better knowing that he couldn’t possibly be that upset about her doing the exact same to his brother.

Her hand had come to rest on his knee, leaning across to invade his personal space animatedly as she spoke, her own cheeks flushing each time that he grinned or laughed at her words, and she had lost count of the amount of times that she had rubbed her thighs together or considered smashing her lips to his.

Tommy appeared at his side, clutching his shoulder in his firm grasp, “Hey Joel, you think you’re ready–oh, hey, Y/n.” His cheeks had turned red, one hand self-consciously rising to rub at his cheek, where the stark red lipstick stain had once acted as a trophy and was now an admission of guilt. Tommy pursed his lips, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

She shrugged, “Steph forced me out.”

He nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to save himself in this situation.

Y/n turned her head, catching sight of her roommate’s drunken attempt to seduce the bouncer before turning her attention back to the older of the two brothers, squeezing his knee once before sliding off of the stool, “Speaking of, I should probably leave, she’s gonna get us banned from here any minute now. It’s been nice, talking to you, Joel. See you, Tommy.”

Both men watched as she disappeared into the crowd, eyes trailing after her figure longingly.

Tommy huffed, “You think I still got a chance?”

Joel’s shoulders shook in a drunken fit of giggles, lifting his own hand to proudly show off the nine digits that had been marked into his skin, “Nope.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, clear disappointment on his features before it was quickly replaced by pride, “Well fuck, brother. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

OCTOBER 31, 1998

Y/n wiped at the sweat on her brow, breathing picking up in delight as she turned the corner and the blinding yellow house came into sight. The sun had already begun to set by the time that she and Manny had set out on their evening walk, now settling low on the horizon and casting a golden hue to the world below it as Manny tugged on his leash, obviously also desperate to escape the heat.

A loud honk sounded from behind her, muffled slightly by the music playing over her bulky headphones, drawing her attention to the dark pickup truck as it sped past, Sarah hanging out the back window with a grin on her face as she waved dramatically. Y/n chuckled at the young girl, allowing Manny to lead her into a faster pace as they grew closer to their house.

She slid the headphones down to rest around her neck, pressing pause on her walkman as Sarah rushed towards them. The girl paid very little mind to the woman holding the leash, instead dropping to her knees and reaching out for the excited dog’s face, laughing as he began to lick enthusiastically at her cheek.

“Hi,” her gaze rose to find Joel as he rounded the bed of the truck, hand resting on the top of the tailgate as he tried his best to look casual, “sorry, this one never shuts up about that dog.”

Y/n smiled at him, warmth flooding through her cheeks. She’d only actually spoken to Joel a handful of times since that night at the bar, mostly simple greetings while Sarah occupied herself with Manny. Joel was too awkward of a person to try anything with Sarah present, and Y/n was too compassionate to question him about why he hadn’t bothered to call yet in front of his daughter.

Y/n shrugged, “To be fair, he never shuts up about her, either.”

“Oh did he tell you that?” The man asked, brows raised playfully, “I didn’t know you spoke dog.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me yet, Joel,” She smirked at him, “Oh, happy Halloween, by the way.”

“Right,” Joel raised one hand to stroke his hairy chin, “Yeah, you too.”

Sarah glanced up from Manny’s pleading brown eyes, “Dad forgot.

Joel sent a sharp glare to his daughter, then smiled sheepishly at her, “Not too concerned about a holiday that’s got nothing to do with me, anyway–this one decided she’s too cool for trick-or-treating with dad this year.”

“Oh don’t feel too discouraged, I gave my dad the boot when I was even younger.”

“See?” Sarah pressed, glancing back at her father, “You don’t even like Halloween, I don’t get why you’re mad.”

Y/n widened her eyes and clutched her chest dramatically, “What do you mean, you don’t like Halloween? It’s like, one of the best holidays!”

Joel rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t tell me you’re one of those people.”

She pursed her lips, “And just when I was starting to like you, Miller.”

His eyes met hers, curiosity pooling into the dark mocha irises as he considered her words. He almost appeared apologetic; could he feel guilty about not calling her? Y/n did her best to not appear too shaken by his lack of contact–she hadn’t expected anything from him the next day, but after two weeks and still no call? She’d taken that as a sign that he’d been a tad too drunk when he had been so shamelessly flirting with her, and that he had no intentions of ever pursuing anything.

Y/n was thankful when Sarah interrupted the pair, preventing her from spiralling into a nervous breakdown from her own inner monologue, “What are you dressing up as?”

The woman shook her head with a mischievous smirk on her lips, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see when you come knocking at my door, huh?”

“No big plans?” Joel tilted his head, “I figured that roommate of yours would have you out on the town.”

She shrugged, “Steph’s out of town. Something about the drinks and the guys being stronger. Looks like it’s just gonna be me and my little guy here,” she gently clapped a hand against Manny’s side, “Well, us and a selection of horror movies.”

Sarah stood up, leaning into her dad’s side with her elbow, “How convenient, my dad will also be home alone tonight.”

Joel dropped his head in embarrassment–just leave it to Sarah to blatantly play the role of her father’s wingwoman. He refused to meet Y/n’s amused gaze, ears burning as Sarah continued.

“And he totally loves horror movies. He watches them all the time.”

“Oh really?” Y/n did her best not to burst out laughing, enjoying the sight of both Joel’s embarrassment and how confidently Sarah was trying to talk up her own father. She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to not make it too obvious how much she actually wanted to invite him to join her, but she didn’t want to display too much interest in him if he genuinely had none in her, “Well then maybe he should head to Blockbuster before all of the good ones are rented.”

She raised her brow at him, signalling to him that it was his turn to make a move, as she would not be making any more. He nodded at her, red flooding his cheeks as he tried to muster up the courage to discuss the clear tension between them.

Y/n smiled politely at them both, then glanced down at the heavily panting dog at her feet, “Well, I better get this guy out of this heat. See you guys in a bit, then?” She led the dog past them, glancing back over her shoulder, her lips pursed as she watched Sarah poke at her father’s side sharply.

The young girl smirked at her dad knowingly, remaining silent, though the expression on her face made her thoughts very clear to the man. She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “Christina’s sister is so right; all boys are stupid.”

The man scowled at his daughter, watching in silence as she moved around him without another word, disappearing through the front door without so much as another glance. Joel scoffed, shaking his head at her, and wondering how the hell his nine year old could be so goddamn right about the situation.

– – –

Joel wiped his hands anxiously across the expanse of his thighs, attempting to rid himself of the nervous sweat that had collected in his palms as he stood on Y/n’s front step, mustering up the courage to finally knock.

“The fuck am I doing,” He cursed to himself, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face.

Y/n was younger than him; not by a lot, but they were still in very different stages of their lives. He wasn’t willing to admit that he genuinely did like her, and considering that she was still a young woman and still in college, he wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for with him. Was it just some quick fuck that she wanted? Joel wouldn’t be opposed–hell, he was ashamed that he’d imagined such a thing more than a few times since meeting her–but he wasn’t sure if he could jump into bed with her and then move on with his life, nor could he expect her to be willing to just pick up the role of step-mother to his little girl.

Joel had woken up on October 17, hungover as hell and struggling to recall any of his memories from the night before. He’d forced himself out of bed much earlier than he would have liked, needing to pick Sarah up before her soccer game. The man had stumbled his way into the shower, blindly going through the motions of bathing himself as the warm water slowly began to remove the fog from his mind. It was then, as he had reached out for his bottle of body wash that he noticed the smudge of blue ink on his skin, and then jumping in surprise at the memory of the beautiful woman who had given him her phone number–the woman who had him laughing like he hadn’t in so long and blushing harder than he thought possible–the woman who he hoped was now lying peacefully in her bed next door, preferably all on her own.

The few times that he had seen her since then, he had thought about apologising for not calling and telling her the truth of what had happened, despite his embarrassment. He wanted to ask for it again, but every time, Sarah was there, making a fuss over the little pooch that never seemed to leave Y/n’s side. He wished that he were more confident in himself, more willing to speak to other women even if his daughter was there, but he simply would never be able to look at the young girl again if Y/n were to reject him.

“Shit,” He swore loudly as he turned to rush off of the step, instead booting one of the carefully carved jack-o-lanterns onto the pavement of the driveway and watching in horror as it shattered on impact.

“Joel?” He froze at the sound of the door creaking open behind him, smiling bashfully at the young woman as he did his best to not appear too guilty. Her eyes fell from his flushed face to the mess of orange at his feet, a surprised chuckle leaving her lips, “Damn, you really do hate Halloween, huh? Enough to come over here and start destroying my decorations, anyway.”

He sputtered for an answer, “I–it was an accident, I just knocked it off by accident on my way out–”

“Your way out?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorframe, “So what, you were just loitering on my front step?”

He scoffed at her, “I was actually on my way to apologise, but if you’d rather I just get lost…”

Y/n raised a brow inquisitively, “I’m listening.”

“I just–I’m sorry for not calling,” Joel admitted with a sigh, debating whether or not it would be best to explain exactly why, “For what it’s worth, I would have if I hadn’t washed it off by accident.”

An amused expression crossed her features as she mulled over his explanation, “You…washed it off?”

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “I did.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were trying to decipher whether or not he was being truthful, “Okay.”

His gaze shifted from side to side, uncertain as to what she meant, “Okay?”

“Okay,” She affirmed, “So what time did you wanna come over tonight?”

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat, “Tonight?”

Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the butterflies that slammed at the lining of her stomach and threatened to erupt, “Tonight. You said it yourself, Sarah’s gonna be gone all night, so would you rather be home alone or come over? Otherwise, I’ll just be here by myself, scared and in need of a devastatingly handsome cowboy to protect me from Michael Myers.”

Blush spread across his cheeks, his hands coming up to rest on his hips, “I don’t know about ‘devastatingly handsome’, but I think I could handle some asshole in a mask.”

She grinned at him wickedly, “That’s what everyone thinks, but I guess we’ll see tonight, around eight?”

“Eight.” He confirmed, then glanced down at the mess at his feet, “And sorry about your pumpkin.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n smirked, “You’ll just have to work extra hard to make it up to me.”

– – –

Joel anxiously adjusted his shirt, frowning at himself in the window of her front door. Despite dismissing Sarah’s teasing by claiming that this was in fact, not a date, he’d taken her advice in showering the moment that he had gotten into the house.

He was aware that she was flirting with him, but until he had gotten out of the shower, towel sitting low around his waist as he wiped the steam away from the mirror and took in his shaggy appearance, he had not been at all concerned about what activities the night might lead to. Staring at his own reflection, nervousness quickly began to settle into his bones.

He had made quick work with the clipper, shortening the length of his facial hair after several weeks of negligence and leaving his lower face to be covered by a light stubble. He put a little more effort into his hair than usual, running a thin layer of gel through it while noting to himself that it was probably time for a haircut. He even took things a step further, dabbing a few drops of some woodsy cologne onto his skin; the bottle had gone untouched for two years, having been a Christmas present from his mother.

“Are you wearing cologne?” Sarah asked as she appeared at his side, face painted to resemble a circus clown, “I knew this was a date.”

“It’s not a date,” He argued, doing his best not to jump in fright at her appearance, “Shouldn’t you be out on the town by now, Ronald McDonald?”

“You showered, put on cologne, and you’re bringing candy? It’s a date.” Sarah listed, “And I’m Pennywise, by the way. Christina’s sister is coming to pick me up soon. She says that guys always dress up when she goes out with them because they want her–”

Joel grunted, glaring at his daughter, “I want you to stop hanging around Christina’s sister.”

Sarah ignored his comment, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Joel glanced down at his outfit–a clean pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that he’d probably gotten out of a beer box or something, “What’s wrong with this?”

“What’s right with it?”

Joel considered his parenting style for a moment, wondering if he would be free of this headache if he had spanked his daughter once or twice in her life. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was only nine years old with how intelligent she was and how much more mature she seemed in comparison to other kids her age.

“It’s not a date, Sarah.”

She rolled her eyes, “It could be. Come on.”

Sarah rushed past him, leading him into his own bedroom as she began to dig through his closet. She frowned with almost every piece that she picked out, tossing them behind her recklessly and ignoring her father’s scolding for the mess that she had quickly created.

“Hah!” The girl pulled out an egg-plant button down and shoved it into his grasp, “I knew you had to have something that wasn’t that ugly.”

He grunted at her, but didn’t reply out of respect for her brutal honesty as he quickly shed himself of the worn t-shirt he’d previously been wearing in favour of the one that Sarah had chosen. Now, as he stood at her front door and internally decided for himself that this was a date, he couldn’t help but thank God for his daughter’s awareness.

Finally, after tugging at the hem of his shirt, he raised a fist and knocked heavily on the door. Joel choked on his own saliva when she appeared in the window, smiling sweetly at him when she pulled the door open. She had already changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a sky blue shirt that exposed just a tasteful amount of her midriff.

“Hi, again,” she breathed, a smile forming on her face, “You look nice, purple is definitely your colour.”

Joel burned, “I–thank you. Sarah picked it out.”

Y/n turned to the girl, who had already ushered the dog up onto the sofa with her, “Well she has a clear eye for style.”

“She definitely thinks so, that girl damn near harrasses me about my clothes everyday.” Y/n laughed out loud, Joel’s ears tingling at the melodious sound, “You look great, too.”

Y/n beamed down at her outfit, shrugging to herself, “Thanks, I thought about keeping my costume on but I wasn’t entirely sure how much you would be into Strawberry Shortcake.”

Joel chuckled at her, glancing down at the object in his hand, “I brought beer, by the way. Wasn’t sure if I should bring anything, or if you even like–”

Y/n reached out, snatching the six pack from his grasp, “Ever the gentleman, cowboy. So, you coming in?”

– – –

The house was filled with laughter, both having nearly finished their first beer as they shared stories freely. Halloween played quietly in the background, though neither of them paid too much attention. Y/n did her best not to physically melt when she felt Joel’s arm drape across the back of the sofa behind her, resisting the urge to tease him for attempting to cover it up by faking a dramatic yawn.

She brushed her fingers along the top of his thigh, smirking to herself as she watched his leg slowly shift closer to her, though he didn’t address the affectionate touch. He spoke to her softly, and made an effort to hold eye contact with her as he did to–she was starting to feel some guilt about the conclusion that he’d drawn about him after he’d failed to call her. Her own gaze continuously fell to his lips as he spoke, and she was sure that he had noticed by the way that his lips began to curl confidently. Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering how much longer she would need to wait before he finally made a move.

Joel, however, was wondering exactly how he possibly could make a move. While feeling confident around her, there was no way to escape the fact that he hadn’t been on a date in at least a year, and he could count the amount of women he’d slept with since Sarah’s mother on one hand. At various points throughout the night, he had considered leaning in to kiss her, but had successfully siked himself out each time. The first time, he’d been interrupted by the pooch who had been jealous of his owner’s attention being focused elsewhere, though he could only blame every other time on his own insecurity.

“Do you want another beer?” Y/n asked as he swallowed the last gulp out of his can, “Or I have wine and pop?”

“Pop,” he scoffed, chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

She raised her hand and slapped his pec as she stood up from the couch, “Fine, you don’t get anything.”

He laughed, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen and shamelessly admiring the shape of her backside in the darkness of the dimly lit living room. He sat there for a few moments, staring at the movie in discontent, sighing as he ran his hand over his face and murmured a nearly silent fuck it, and following after her.

“Is it too late to apologise and get that beer?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking as she shrugged coyly as she turned and leaned her back against the front of the refrigerator and holding the perspiring can out in front of her, “You’ll have to come get it yourself.”

Joel crossed the small room in two long strides, stopping as the can met his chest, though he paid it little mind as she stepped away from the fridge, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. He froze for a second, stomach clenching at the soft touch.

“Sorry,” Y/n whispered, though her tone betrayed how unapologetic she truly was, “Was that okay?”

He didn’t respond, quickly taking the beer out of her grasp and tossing it onto the counter as he cupped her face, capturing her lips with his and pressing her back against the fridge once more. She smiled against his lips, fingers bunching in the material of his plum coloured shirt and tugging him even closer.

His lips were chapped against her own, the telltale sign of a busy man who hadn’t been too concerned with his physical appearance up until now, though she could not picture another kiss that she had received in the last several years that would even compare to Joel’s.

One of his hands fell, fingers splaying around her waist as he pressed even closer, parting his lips as he felt the tip of her tongue prod at the seam and allowing her to seek out his own. He moaned at her taste, fingers wandering to her hip and hesitating, almost as if he had been asking for her permission to move even lower. She grasped his hand, guiding it around to cup her bottom.

Pulling away for air, she giggled softly and fluttered her eyelids open to find him already staring at her with blown pupils. One of her hands slid up his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt before her fingers trailed over his patchy beard affectionately, “I don’t know if this is too soon, but do you wanna move to my bedroom?”

Joel chuckled at her, squeezing her cheek through her yoga pants, “Lead the way.”

– – –

Joel worried that he might have gone into cardiac arrest as he struggled to catch his breath, back slouched against the headboard as Y/n slumped flush against his chest. The cotton sheets pooled around her hips as she continued to move softly, working them both through the aftershocks of their climaxes. The man sighed in appreciation as her lips continued to slide against his jawline and leave gentle kisses in their wake, her fingers still lost in his dark curls.

Joel’s own hands squeezed her hips as she finally slowed to a stop, helping her slide off of him and smirking to himself at the whine she let out at the loss of contact. She shifted, moving out of his lap and curling into the cool sheets on the bed next to him.

“How was that?” He panted, “Have I done enough to make up for lost time?”

She grinned at him, her own chest rising and falling with her slowing breaths, “I think I recall doing most of the work, actually.”

“Bein’ on top doesn’t mean you were doing any work, sweetheart, I think we both know that.” His eyes fell on the digital alarm clock on her bedside table, grunting to himself as he took note of the late hour, “Shit–how the hell is it ten-thirty already?”

She glanced over to the clock briefly, then back at him, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Staring down at her nude form, guilt began to eat away at him as he began to slide off of the mattress and begin gathering his clothes that had been scattered around the room.

“Are you leaving?” His back was turned to her as he pulled on his jeans, though he could only imagine the look on her face from the emotion that dripped from her voice; she was disappointed, facing the reality that she would be abandoned after doing something so intimate.

“I mean…” Joel coughed, “Yeah, I should probably leave. Gotta work early tomorrow, and Sarah’s got soccer practice, and–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest in an attempt to regain her modesty, “I get it.”

Joel couldn’t help but wonder how many times she’d done this. She seemed disheartened, but not entirely surprised at his decision to head out, as if she was expecting this time to be different from the others–as if she was expecting Joel to be any different from the other shitty guys she’d met since moving to Austin.

“Darlin’,” Joel cooed, coming to sit at the edge of the mattress and cupping her face in his large palms, “It’s not like that. I want nothing more than to stay the night, but I know that I won’t sleep a wink tonight if I do.” His thumb stroked her bottom lip as her mouth slanted into a small, saddened smile. He leaned in, pressing three kisses to her lips, each one longer than the last before pulling back, “Can I get your number? I promise I won’t ask for a third time.”

Y/n smiled at him, kissing him once more before snatching a pen off of the bedside table and scribbling on his hand, “You won’t get it if you ask for a third time, Miller.”

MARCH 12, 1999

Y/n sighed blissfully, gnawing at her lip to prevent any moans of pleasure as Joel worked himself into her over and over, his hips meeting hers with slow, meaningful movements as he did his best to keep both of them quiet. Joel wasn’t normally one for booty calls, though he had hardly seen her in the past few days and couldn’t resist when his mind had wandered while in the shower–and for the first time in what felt like decades, he could rely on the help of soft, feminine touches rather than his own fast and rough tugs.

Her thighs shook, teeth biting into the pillow beneath her face as she pressed her hips back against him and arched her spine in pleasure. She met his thrusts enthusiastically, fingers winding into the sheets tightly.

“Shit,” She gasped, “Joel, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” He rasped, “Shhh baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

She didn’t hold back, allowing the white hot pleasure to run through her veins, muffling her cries in the plushness of the pillow. Her walls clenched around him, gripping him for everything that she could manage as he fucked her through it, head rolled back in pleasure as his own orgasm teetered over the edge. His fingers tightened around her hips, hauling her back against him a few more times before his seed painted the inside of the condom.

His hands slid up from her hips, one pressing on her back to force her to lay flat against the mattress while the other cupped the soft flesh of her belly to roll her over. Joel took in her figure, eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort before dropping to her breasts; the man was absolutely entranced by the shape of her breasts, eagerly pawing at them during makeout sessions and suckling at them with the utmost love and desire as he fucked her. She smiled at him tiredly, hooded eyes admiring his own figure as he slipped out of her, sliding off of the bed and disappearing into the ensuite.

When he returned, he wore a pair of black boxers and carried a maroon washcloth in his hand, carefully parting her legs and sliding the cloth through her folds, puffy and sore from his touch. He whispered an entirely disingenuous apology as he pressed lightly against her abused clit, chuckling to himself as she jumped. Tossing the cloth aside, he settled into the mattress next to her, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her into his side, sighing in relief at the physical contact.

The rising sun had slowly begun to peek through the blinds, filling the room with a soft glow in the aftermath of the third round. Y/n glanced at the clock on the far wall, sighing to herself as reality settled into her bones. She hadn’t intended on staying so long, especially after how eagerly the both of them had initiated the first round, having allowed herself to remain at his side until she felt his member begin to grow against her thigh once more. Now, after taking him inside of her three times over the past six hours, she knew that she would eventually need to get up and leave–a habit that they both had and hated when they were finished.

She pressed careful kisses into his flesh, lips moulding to the sweaty skin of his shoulder and neck affectionately while her palm rubbed circles into his firm chest. Joel nuzzled his head into her hair, his own lips pressing to the crown of her head as he, too, appreciated the afterglow.

Y/n’s body and heart screamed at her as she finally pulled herself away from him, hopping out of the bed and collecting her clothing from the floor. Joel watched her with sunken eyes, his attempt to remain stoic as he easily recognised what she was doing proving fruitless.

“You don’t–you don’t gotta go just yet,” he called to her, desperation lacing his voice, “Don’t gotta be at the site till eleven tomorrow–”

“Today,” she corrected, “And that’s in seven hours. Besides, I don’t wanna fall asleep and risk having to run into Sarah. I should probably leave.”

He nodded slowly, continuing to watch her as she dressed and fixed her appearance, preparing herself mentally and physically for her four A.M. walk of shame. Joel wanted to call her back to bed again, to convince her to stay with him and promise breakfast in the morning, but instead watched helplessly as she disappeared into the dark hallway, and closed his eyes disappointedly at the sound of the front door closing behind her.

JUNE 2, 1999

Golden rays of sun peeked through the blinds, trailing up the length of the bed with each passing moment before finally gracing over the soft skin of the woman next to him. Joel laid in his bed as still as possible, one arm around her shoulders to keep her flush against his chest, savouring the intimate, domestic moment before it would eventually come to an end–it always did.

The alarm clock flashed the time tauntingly at him, as if mocking him for wanting to keep her there for much longer than he knew he could. This was undoubtedly the latest she had stayed in his bed; it was nearing six A.M. and she had yet to stir from her deep slumber.

His eyes trailed the length of her bare back, his fingers pressing gently at the indent of her spine as he pushed her body impossibly closer to her and bathing himself in the feeling of her nude body against his own. Joel resisted the urge to shake the growing ache out of his leg as pins and needles crawled up the length of his limb, too afraid to move and wake her–he knew what would come once her eyes had opened, as she had done it countless times now.

It was the twitch of her fingers against the soft flesh of his belly that alerted him to her growing consciousness, nails following the pattern of hair that covered his abdomen softly, drawing a quiet moan of delight from the man beneath her. He felt the curve of her lips against his shoulder, turning his head to meet her eyes as they fluttered open.

“Morning, cowboy,” Her throat was dry and her voice was scratchy, but her words still held the power of causing an eruption of butterflies in his gut.

“Morning,” He leaned closer, the tips of his nose brushing her own before she swatted him away, covering her mouth self-consciously and mumbling something about morning breath. Joel chuckled at her, moving her hand away and planting a soft, closed-mouth kiss against her lips.

Her smile grew, hazy vision flickering around the sun-lit bedroom as realisation dawned on her, “What time is it?”

Joel’s own smile faltered as he cleared his throat, glancing over at the alarm clock again, “Five-to-six.”

“Shit,” She groaned, a hand settling on her forehead, “I should probably leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Joel shook his head at her, “You ain’t got nothing to apologise for. I like having you here.”

She pecked his lips again, fondness creeping through her at the man’s admission, “I like being here. But I should go before Sarah wakes up.”

Joel caught her arm as she moved to crawl out of the bed, “Stay.”

“What?”

“Sarah knows you’ve been coming around and leaving early in the morning.” He told her, thumb smoothing circles against her wrist, “She says she’s happy for me, but she said that she won’t approve until you start bringing that damn dog of yours over here when you come.”

Y/n chuckled, her eyes growing a thin red rim along her waterline, “What are you saying?”

“I’m asking you to stay. Every damn night you spend here, you go rushing out like this is just a quick fuck, but I think we both know that it’s a lot more than that. Just come back to bed, please.”

Y/n shook her head at him, glancing over at the rising sun through the blinds in contemplation before she finally shrugged, crawling back into the bed and settling against his naked form with a sigh, her hand resting on his chest as she massaged small circles into his sweaty flesh. Both of them relaxed into one another, enjoying the silence of the early morning and dreading the unavoidable fate of the alarm going off in the coming hour.

NOVEMBER 27, 1999

Y/n tapped her nails against the hardwood of the tabletop rhythmically, doing her best not to make her dissociation too clear as her friends and family chattered back and forth. Her mother was busy on her left hand side, sharing dozens of her favourite childhood photographs to Y/n’s friends with a fondness that only a mother could have, while the seat to her left was empty. The watch that she’d received as a gift from her parents sat on her wrist, the time ticking away as grief settled in her stomach, the realisation that he simply wasn’t coming eating away at her pride.

Her birthday was not something that she generally liked to celebrate, but knowing that her parents, siblings, and a few members of her extended family had orchestrated a trip to visit and celebrate with her had her counting down the days, especially after she had convinced her unofficial boyfriend to join them for dinner at one of the nicest wallet-friendly restaurants in Austin. Now, as she sat silently and watched as her friends laughed and cooed over possibly the most embarrassing photos of her while picking at their slices of birthday cake, her mind only wandered to where exactly he was, and how much more fun she would be having if she were warding him off of any of those photographs–especially all of the ones from her junior high years.

She hadn’t had the chance to speak to him at all that day, having woken up after he had already left for work and dropped Sarah off at school. At the time, Y/n had smiled to herself, thanking him mentally for allowing her to sleep in on her birthday, though she was beginning to wonder if she should have taken the lack of birthday wishes as a sign.

She actively avoided Stephanie’s gaze, wanting to escape the oncoming I told you so, and made as little eye contact as possible with her mother, who watched her sympathetically, and her father, who silently raged over the presence of the empty chair. Y/n now felt embarrassed over how much she’d actually gushed over the man to her family before dinner, wondering if maybe she was more invested in him than he was in her. After all, he had yet to officially ask her to be his girlfriend, despite the fact that she and Manny had taken up residence in his home at least four nights a week and that she had been included in more recent movie nights with him and Sarah.

Maybe she was reading into it too much–something must have happened. Something happened to Sarah, or maybe Tommy had been locked up again. There was no way that Joel had forgotten her birthday, there was simply no way.

– – –

Joel’s feet ached, crying out in pain with every step and sighing in relief as he finally kicked off his heavy boots. The crew that he’d brought on for his most recent and highest paying job to date had given him hell that day, leaving him aching for nothing more than a hot shower and a peaceful night at home with his best girls. He hated having to tack on extra hours to his day, but not arriving home until after ten was something that he would have to deal with in order to finish the job, and he was hoping to save up to take Y/n and Sarah on a little getaway for a weekend in the near future.

The kitchen was dim when he stepped in, and he was somewhat surprised when he discovered no plate of food left for him in the microwave, nor was there a pan of leftovers in the fridge. Instead, there was a single empty carton of a microwavable dinner on the counter along with an empty can of Pepsi. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he shrugged it off, though he had grown accustomed to Y/n bringing dinner over and making sure that it was ready for him on days that he worked late.

Soft footsteps rushed down the stairs, Sarah rounding the corner with a wide grin on her face as she held a small piece of paper in her hands.

“Hey babygirl,” Joel kissed her head softly as he moved into the living room, even more confused when he did not find Y/n curled up on the couch with a stack of her textbooks, as she so often did while waiting for him to return.

“Hi dad,” Sarah’s smile dropped, glancing back into the entryway in confusion, “Where’s Y/n? I made this card at school today but I figured I’d wait until after you guys came back to give it to her.”

The blood in Joel’s veins ran cold, his heart skipping a beat at the sudden realisation of why his house appeared to be so void of his girlfriend, “Fuck.”

“Dad?” Sarah’s wide eyes narrowed, all too used to her father’s undiagnosed case of short-term memory loss, though he had never ever forgotten something like this before.

“Shit,” He swore again, snatching his keys off of the counter and rushing to jam his feet back into his uncomfortable boots, “Sarah, go to bed. I’ll be back later tonight.”

The girl watched helplessly as her father raced out the door, tears welling in her eyes as she stared down at the happy picture she had pasted into the card and frowning as she feared the worst.

– – –

Joel arrived at the restaurant just before eleven. He knew it was a long shot, as the reservation was for seven-thirty, which he had purposefully written down and stuck to the fridge so that he would not forget. The few remaining staff inside shook their heads in pity at the man, quickly coming to understand his situation as he rushed inside, asking about the reservation with a bouquet of flowers in his grasp.

His shoulders slumped as he parked in his driveway, trudging across the lawn into the neighbouring yard and knocking firmly on the door. He waited a few moments, cursing quietly as he got no response and knocking again.

His frown deepened when the door swung open, a fuming Stephanie standing in his way. Her face burned scarlet, fists clenched at her side as she took in Joel’s pitiful appearance. She took a step forward, joining Joel on the front step and closing the door behind her.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked, ignoring her bluntness.

“She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” the girl sneered at him. “It’s one thing to stand someone up, even to forget their birthday, but to embarrass her like that in front of her family?” She scoffed, “you know, I warned her about you, but I took no pleasure in being right. You should have seen her tonight, barely spoke at all.”

The metaphorical knife in Joel’s gut twisted at her words, the fist clenching the bouquet tightening even further around the stems. He could picture her; all dolled up, chatting with her family as she eagerly awaited his arrival, her pretty smile dampening as time passed and eventual tears in her eyes as she realised the truth–he had forgotten about her.

“Just let me talk to her,” he begged, “Please.”

Stephanie shook her head, “I think it’s best if you never show your face on my property again, Miller.”

“Joel?” Both of their eyes turned at the sound of Y/n’s voice, finding her peeking around the door curiously. “Steph, can you give us a minute?”

The woman sent Joel one final glare, patting her roommate on the shoulder before slipping back into the house.

If the knowledge of what he’d done hadn’t been enough, Y/n’s appearance was the final blow to his gut. Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks swollen and marked with visible remnants of tears. She wrung her fingers together anxiously, keeping her gaze lowered in shame as she closed the door behind her and turned to face him.

“Baby–”

“Don’t.” Y/n interrupted, “Just explain.”

He sniffled, “I can’t explain it, or excuse it. We got held up at work, and I really need this job to be done and over with already. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She shook her head, lifting her sleeve to wipe at the underside of her nose, “You didn’t even say goodbye before you left this morning. Did you even remember at all?”

Joel bit his lip, “I’m sorry. Let me–”

“Joel,” Her voice cracked, “I love you.” His heart soared as she spoke those words for the first time, then shattered as she continued, “I understand that I’m not your first priority–that’ll always be Sarah and I can’t blame you for that. But, fuck, you suggested the restaurant, Joel. You spoke to my mom over the phone and promised her the best steak in town, and she sure seemed to like it, but you weren’t even there. I won’t ever be your first priority, but I can’t be your last, either.”

“Y/n–”

“I think my cousins liked it, you know.” She continued, wiping at her cheeks, “They’re the type to pray for your downfall, and I’m sure they were loving every second of the dinner once everyone realised that you weren’t coming. Hell, all I did all night was talk about how amazing you were, and then–” Y/n cut herself off with a quiet sob. “You should probably leave.”

“Don’t do this,” Joel cupped her face, dropping the flowers to the deck recklessly as he wiped the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “Tell me what to do. Hit me, yell at me, do something, but don’t ask me to walk away.”

She looked into his eyes, and for a moment, Joel felt hopeful that she might actually listen to him, though all hope was quickly diminished as he removed herself from his grasp, reaffirming her statement as she stepped back into the house.

“You should probably leave.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #hbo the last of us #Spotify

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cult-of-the-rizz · 4 days ago

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I was talking to my bestie @cultoftheswag on vc and the neurons started firing after watching the sin cutscene, so, theories on secondary aspects of each crown (long post) (maybe insane sounding and barely readable):

This all started off as theorizing that the sin snake is actually the being inside the crown (not a god but more like the crown is sentient) that has finally woken due to lamb's accumulated power. Expanding on that theorizes all crowns have a sentience, but based on this line, not all of the crown bearers awakened their crowns:

Bestie (Swag) pointed out that the only other crown with 2 aspects was the purple crown, Shamura, who has both war and knowledge. With the previous theory, it means that Shamura awakened their crown and brought forth the secondary domain; knowledge.

Which leads me to the brain worm thought of "what are the other crown's secondary aspects?" Well.

Lock the fuck in cuz I did

Each crown has 2 aspects that follow the same pattern:

The primary aspects of green, yellow, blue and purple are all sub categories of the red crown (chaos, famine, disease and war all bring death) and the same can be said for the mirrored aspect (order, abundance, health and peace all bring life)

There is also a pattern in the primary aspects of 4 being solid events (famine, disease, war, death AND order, abundance, health, life) and one conceptual (chaos and peace)

With this in mind, all secondary aspects might be sub categories of the red crown's secondary aspect, sin. Except, knowledge isn't a sin, so like what the fuck, right? Ok but what if I told you that knowledge isn't the sinful aspect of the purple crown, but the opposite of it.

The sin snake mentions being able to control and use the sins of your followers and that you alone, as their god, is capable of forgiving them or letting them be taken over by sin. This would mean that the mirror aspect of sin would be absolution. If the purple crown's aspect of knowledge isn't the sin, then knowledge is the path of absolution of a sin. A sin like deceit and deception.

This still doesn't bring me any closer to figuring out the other crowns but I will not be defeated. Upon a little bit of shallow research, there appears to be the concept of mortal sins in Christianity/Christo aligned faith. Excluding the seven deadly sins from the list of mortal sins and anything faith related (because it would be pointless if a crown's sin power was to make you not believe in your god. Like, that would suck. It would kill the crown's own cult which which bishop derives their power from.)

That leaves the following aspects: murder, adultery and theft. Since Shamura's secondary aspect is confirmed to be knowledge, the mirror aspect has to be deceit even though it is not a named mortal sin. Though, I'm fairly certain lying and being untruthful would generally be considered a sin in most religious settings.

All three fall into the same pattern as the primary aspects:

Murder, adultery, theft, deceit are all forms of sin, while the opposite aspects, repentance, loyalty, charity and knowledge are all ways to absolve or correct those sins. The red crown still holds dominion over the others.

Murder, adultery, theft and deceit/ repentance, charity, knowledge and absolution are solid events where sin and loyalty are conceptual aspects.

So now onto who has what, which secondary aspects belong to which crown. This is just my working theory but after thinking about it for a while, I think I have it.

Leshy/ the green crown has the primary aspect of chaos/order and secondary aspect of murder and repentance. Though Leshy may not have awakened his crown to learn this, it would makes sense if Darkwood cultists remembered that murder is favored by the green crown. Hence why Darkwood is so incredibly full of bodies plastered ritualistically on trees.

Heket/ the yellow crown has the primary aspect of famine/abundance and the secondary aspect of adultery and loyalty. Idk how to describe it, but something about abundance feels like it would fit well with adultery, like the overconsumption and joy of prosperity leading to immorality, resulting in a punishing famine that forces loyalty upon Anura's denizens.

Kallamar/ the blue crown has the primary aspect of disease/health and the secondary aspect of theft and charity. We all KNOW Kallamar was not charitable ok. Anchordeep's temple was said to be beautiful and covered in opulent crystals and gold. He may have acted charitable to his devoted followers but in a "ooooh I'll give your struggling village a beautiful crystal statue of me to pray to, isn't that nice?" kind of way.

Though, neither Leshy, Heket or Kallamar successfully awakened their crowns, I feel like the aspects would still be a part of their domains and personalities. Even Narinder may not have been able to awaken his crown, but due to the fact that he was imprisoned and weakened through lack of faith powering the crown (credit to Swag who said this as I'm typing this whole post live on discord) (Swag says hi!!!!!)

Also as a side note, maybe the other crowns manifest as objects related to their other aspect. Clearly the red crown is a snake cuz, sin, but perhaps Shamura's would a divine book or if we stayed with the animal theme, an owl. (shoutout to me and swag losing our shit over "leshy's is a glock" and "kallamar's are airpods cuz they're overpriced and always get stolen")

This was not part of my original theory, but it came to mind joking about Kallamar's divine blue crown airpods, but what if Narinder's damage to his siblings is what kept the other three from awakening their crowns? Like, it damaged them as vessels of their crowns enough they were no longer seen as worthy to awaken them. That would make Narinder a huge bitch but what else is new tbh.

#fucking insane shit but its ok hi if you read this hi #not narilamb so it wont blow up but eh what can you do #cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl narinder #cotl kallamar #cotl leshy #cotl shamura #cotl heket

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frannyzooey · 11 months ago

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devour (the entire universe)

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: E (additional warnings: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny)

My submission for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event, my giftee is @wannab-urs ❤ Merry Christmas, my lovely!

I was so excited when I was given your name (!!) - I absolutely love seeing you on my dash. I tried to take as many things from your list as possible, but the prompt "love as consumption" really inspired this piece. Having never written anything like this before, I really, really hope you like it. A million thank yous to @hier--soir who beta'ed this for me and also gave me the best inspiration and guidance - I couldn't have done it without them. Thank you also to @bageldaddy who put up with my terrible spelling and who always reminds me, in the best way, that less is more ❤

CYCLE ONE

The first time you saw him, he stumbled into the field you were working in. Your head snapping up at the sound of someone coming through the grass, you observed each other for a moment, each of your throwers raised.

“Now this is something I have never seen in all my time in The Green,” he said. “A little girl.”

Immediately bristling, indignation flashed across your face underneath the glass dome of your helmet. You resented being called that - a little girl. The open prejudice against women harvesters was well known and there was something about his tone that felt mocking in a way you loathed, so you didn’t even dignify his statement with an answer.

Instead, you held your ground.

The two of you locked in a silent standoff, he took you in with a tilt of his helmet, assessing the threat you posed. You did the same, taking in his battered yellow suit, his lithe but broad frame.

Eventually, he lifted his hands in acquiescence and turned, disappearing back into the thick vegetation.

“A little girl,” you muttered angrily to yourself. Gouging your shovel into the rough soil, you sneered at the remembrance of his tone – as if he was taken aback by your presence. As if you didn’t belong here.

Three weeks later, you understood the marvel in his initial statement.

A woman an anomaly on the Green, others saw you as an easy target. Strong-armed out of your gems for the third time in weeks, other harvesters used brute force against your own smaller frame. Repeatedly forcing you into submission, you started to hate both them and yourself; the cruel environment and even crueler inhabitants bending you until you almost broke.

It was at this point that he stumbled upon you again: only this time, he offered himself to your aid.

Impressed by your tenacity, he suggested a partnership: your nimble fingers paired with his protection.

Sitting in the dirt with your suit torn and your case gone, you knew it was foolish to reject his offer of protection, but you did it anyway.

Both of you knew it was pride talking.

He crouched down in front of you, bringing you face to face. “I don’t see you have much of a choice. Or perhaps you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

You narrowed your eyes in stubbornness. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “A companion.”

You stiffened, and he shook his head. “Not that sort of companion.” His eyes raked over your form, as if he could see anything under your bulky suit, coming back to your face with a raise of his eyebrows. “Unless you’re interested?”

Your face hardened. “Not a chance. Protection only. Even split.”

He thought for a moment, his face suddenly transforming into something amenable.

“Of course.”

CYCLE TWO

At first, you hated him.

Couldn’t stand the way he was always talking in that drawl of his, always spewing those endless sentences filled with nonsensical words and even less content. You had come to the Green to work alone in silence, after all. A concept he seemed to despise, given the way he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

Attempting to ignore his ceaseless talking in the days that followed, you thought all the time about breaking the partnership - especially when you saw just how deceiving he could be with those words of his. It was a resource, you reasoned, to have that type of deception on your side, but what was stopping him from deceiving you? Constantly questioning his true allegiance, you kept your guard up – until the fourth time someone tried to take what was yours.

He killed them.

No hesitation, no negotiating. Calculated yet with a glimpse of something feral underneath that flashed in his dark eyes with every plunge of his harvesting knife into the man’s chest, you held your breath as you watched him take out the threat. Your form was frozen, the heavy grunts of his struggle echoing through your helmet.

Chest heaving and fist gripping a blade covered in thick, dark blood when he rose, his breathing sounded heavy and labored through the radio. His deep voice crackled through, pulling you from your fog.

“It’s okay, Birdie. Keep digging.”

CYCLE THREE

Sharing a tent for logistical reasons, you had to get used to his…proximity.

The careless way he discarded his clothes around the small space, the constant crinkle of Bits Bars. The way he changed his clothes in front of you whether or not you averted your gaze. His scent that clung to everything in that tent: the thin pillow and blanket he gave you, the towels you dried yourself with, the clothing he lent you to sleep in.

Unused to having anyone in his presence, he was careless with his body and trying to give him some privacy (that he didn’t seem to want, nor need) you strained your eyes attempting not to look at his tanned skin every time he bared it. His body littered with evidence of survival, you wanted to touch every line of puckered skin with your fingertips just to see how it felt.

Attraction due to proximity, is what you told yourself.

Imagining the texture and heat of his skin, obsessing about the way his tongue peeked out to dart at his top lip when he was deep in concentration, staring at the size of his hands as he worked to daydream about how filling his fingers would feel inside you. The images haunted your every waking moment, and you tried to ignore them all, including the sleep thick mumbles that left his plush lips while he was dreaming at night.

The intimate sound drove you mad with arousal, even though you assumed they were nightmares that plagued him…until the sounds changed into something more desperate. Until he said your name, his hips shifting on his cot with intent.

Your pulse pounding in the dark, you slipped your hand beneath your waistband and delved your fingers deep into the silken wetness that greeted you.

Swirling, swirling, swirling, you joined him in his dreams.

CYCLE FOUR

Everything about your dynamic changed when he lost his arm.

Used to him being confidence brimming over, he turned into something else. Sullen, quiet. The silence you once craved too foreign to be comfortable, you tried to coax him out.

“You seem like you’ve been doing this a long time. Tell me about it.”

“How long have you been on your own? How many planets have you harvested on?”

“How did you get that blonde streak in your hair, is it a birthmark or something?”

Slowly inching yourself into the hole he’d lowered himself into, you settled in next to him, curling yourself into his still side.

Diving deep inside him to find the self-confidence you knew was buried deep, you cradled it carefully, nurturing it back to life. You modified his throwers for one armed use, stitched up the sleeve of his jumpsuit so it would stop flapping in the wind, helped him practice fighting techniques to learn a new way of throwing his lean strength around. When he had a setback in his healing, you bartered for more juice all on your own.

Carefully soaking his stump, he had avoided your gaze the whole time – or tried to, but you wouldn’t let him.

“Hey,” you murmured, his chin cupped in your hand. His dark eyes lifted to yours, and you held his gaze. “We’re still partners, right?”

He huffed in disgust, looking away. “A one armed man is of little benefit to you.”

“I decide what’s beneficial to me,” you challenged, the fierceness in your tone forcing the edge of his lips to tug up.

He said nothing as his eyes searched your face and you considered how this must be for him – a reversal of roles, an independent creature like him used to coming out on top. Scrambling and clawing and fighting for it, sure – only this time he lost, and with it, everything he knew.

Except you.

“I need you,” you said, reaching for his whiskered cheek to guide his face back to yours. “Partners. You and me, okay?”

“If you’d still have me, Birdie,” he offered, nodding in confirmation. “You and me.”

CYCLE FIVE

The first time you kissed, you were both drunk – and you did a lot more than kissing.

For a man still getting used to one arm, he fucked you senseless.

A bottle of…something found on the body of another harvester who saw Ezra’s missing arm and tried to take advantage, the two of you drank it in its entirety next to the still body left in the fight’s wake. Stumbling back to your tent with warmth spreading through your limbs to pool between your thighs, he saw your aching, restless want and matched it with his own.

Insatiable, filthy, depraved: you thought his inhibitions were gone along with the contents of the bottle, but it turns out he never had any.

Helmets tossed and clothes torn from each other’s bodies, his fingers left bruising marks in their wake paired with the ones pounded into the inside of your thighs from his rough thrusts that shifted the cot along the floor. He swallowed your guttural moans before matching them with his own, his teeth biting into the soft, pliant flesh that he found under the rough exterior of your suit.

Riddled with the marks of his desire, he watched you ride him until you cried out his name and then made you sit on his face, licking his own spend out from inside you.

Never stopping until you begged him for reprieve, he only let you sleep an hour before waking you up to do it all over again.

He fucked you anywhere you were willing to be fucked after that: in broad daylight against the hull of an abandoned pod, bent over his cot with his dirty t-shirt stuffed into your mouth, right in the loose soil of a dig once.

Introducing you to so much more than you had experience with, he drew every debased fantasy out of you, and then made it come true with his fingers, mouth and cock. Wondering where he’d even learned the things he knew, he regaled you with more tales of his travels, only this time he told you about the interactions of a different kind.

A brothel, specializing in bondage.

A woman who had trained her gag reflex, and then bringing in a friend, had shown Ezra how to train his as well.

A bounty hunter once, who refused to take off his helmet.

“It was thrilling, not being able to see his face,” he mused, a delighted smile stretching his cheeks. “He came more than anyone I have ever been with. Filled my mouth full of his milky desire.”

He stopped there with a fond expression, lost in reminiscing.

“Sounds like you don’t need me anymore,” you teased. “You should go find your tall drink of bounty hunter, and –”

A smirk graced his face, and he rolled you onto your back to settle above you. “I love my gems golden colored, but I love them green as well.” He winked. “Come now, my envious Birdie. I’ll always need you.”

CYCLE TEN

You learned to move as one - both inside the tent and out.

Alone for months, you shifted with each others every movement, as if your bodies were connected just like the frequency of your helmets. Every tell of his showed plain through his suit, every mood shift of yours was met with a lift of his eyebrow.

Every beat of time spent in the presence of one another all merged and blended into one timeline: before, and after Ezra.

Before, there was insignificance, and after, there was only him.

Love seemed too simple a word, too small for what you felt. You shared a heartbeat, a body, a mind — something more than just love. It was crushing and all consuming, something that took root deep inside you and branched out to connect with his own limbs. You needed a better word than love to describe your devotion.

Something that dripped in reverence and coated your tongue just like he did.

“Have you ever cared for someone so much you wanted to consume them? Swallow a piece of them whole, to keep within you forever?”

Love as consumption, he called it.

You were used to his musings by now, the knowledge that he’d gathered over a lifetime of travels pouring out of his generous, plush mouth. Your bodies squeezed together on his cot, your skin was bare and sweat damp with exertion, your limbs intertwined with his. “There is something romantic about it, don’t you think? Wanting their body within yours.”

“Your body is already within mine nearly every night,” you teased, and he pinched the tip of your nose, grinning.

“Too true, little bird. Too true.” His face shifted from playful to something subdued. “But you know what I mean.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” Your thumb traced a line across his eyebrow, your fingers seeking out the patch of white in his hairline just above. “Want me to slice a piece of you off and eat it?”

He ignored the grimace on your face. “Which part of me would you choose?”

The question was phrased in such a way that you could tease him again, but you knew he wanted a real answer, not a playful one.

“Well…” you thought, lacing your fingers with his to bring them to your mouth. “I have always loved these. But to leave you with any less fingers would just be cruel.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes fixed on the way your mouth molded around his knuckles as you gave them a kiss. Letting go, your touch drifted to dance along the blunt edge of his stump.

“Maybe a piece from here?”

He frowned. “You’d take even more from me, in a place I am already lacking?”

Your voice dropped an octave, your own expression turning solemn. “It was horrible, what we had to do. I hate thinking about it: the weight of your arm as it dropped away, the pain you were in.” You found his dark eyes, holding his gaze as you stroked the puckered flesh. “I want to carve a piece out right here, just to rewrite the memory of it. A gift from you to me, rather than something I took.”

“You took nothing that I did not beg you to take.”

The double meaning in his words – like all of them – wasn’t lost on either of you.

“Only you would make amputation sound so romantic.”

He smiled, and you dug your fingers into the firm round of his shoulder, pulling his body to lie on top of yours. Cradled safely between your plush thighs, his hips immediately rocked forward with intent.

His head dipped to nuzzle his nose against your own. “It’s easy to be a romantic with a muse such as you.”

Catching him with a kiss, your lips locked as he slid his tongue inside the wet cavern of your mouth and you breathed him in, winding your arms around his neck to keep him in place. Your fingers slid up through the crown of his mussed, shortly cropped hair and he relaxed on top of you, deepening the kiss.

“I would give you my arm if I could.”

You whispered your confession as his mouth covered your pulse with a harsh suck, and whined when he answered with a sharp bite: his incisors pinching your delicate flesh. His hot breath ghosted humid over your skin as he searched for another spot, biting down on the other side of your slim neck.

Arching underneath him, you continued. “I would cut it off and give it to you.”

He found the tender underside of your breast, catching it between his teeth and groaned, soothing the bite with a broad sweep of his tongue before continuing down the plane of your body.

“I would give you anything, Ez. Anything.”

Mindless with lust from the sharp edges of his love, you writhed underneath him, hitching your knees higher along his torso. His strong muscles flexed and shifted under the squeeze of your legs, and he forced them open to spread your legs wider. Questing, his mouth sought out the tender skin along the curve of your hip with another bite.

“Fuck,” you breathed, pushing your fingers through his hair to guide him lower.

Situating his broad shoulders between your thighs, his mouth devoured.

Wide open to catch everything you gifted him, his tongue slid smoothly through your folds to collect every slip of arousal that dripped out, his throat bobbing with a swallow before going harder. His hunger shifted you up the cot, the lower half of his face buried inside your aching cunt and when his tongue found your clit with a smooth, forceful grind, you shamelessly begged for more.

“Harder. Eat it harder.”

He growled, his fingers digging into your flesh to tug you tight against his face and a hoarse cry crawled out of your throat – one that broke into an astonished cry when he pulled back just to bite into the plush, smooth skin of your inner thigh. This one drew blood – you could feel the hot slip of it against your skin, his kisses smeared with it. Ignoring the blossoming throb of pain, you asked him to do it again.

He did, right at the same time he slid two fingers inside you with a filling stretch and joining your hand with his, he rested his cheek on your inner thigh and watched as your fingers breached your slick warmth together. A finger of your own and one of his, then two of your own and two of his - your hands worked together, as they always have. His face right next to the liquid warmth coating the digits, his tongue joined to lap at your clit.

Obscene sounds filled the small tent: the audible slick sound of your cunt accepting his fingers over and over again, your higher pitched moans blending with his lower ones. Keeping his fingers tucked snugly inside, his mouth lowered down between your cheeks to slide against your asshole and he ate you there with abandon as well, your thighs dropping open wider to give him more room.

When his mouth found your clit again with a suck, the impulse to be eaten alive by him spread thick and warm through your hips, weighing heavily in your core. Propelled higher and higher with every pump of his fingers, the image of his blood soaked mouth as his teeth tore into your pulse made you pitch forward into your release, your body bowing against the thin cot.

Breathless and still riding a pulsing wave, you begged him. “Come up here and fuck me.”

He obeyed immediately, letting his weight push the air from your lungs just before his mouth stole the rest. His kisses soaked in desperation, his cock notched thick and stiff at your entrance, and you accepted him within you without any resistance. Fucking you with harsh snaps of his hips, your fingers dug into the meat of his ass and surrounded in his warmth with the light blacked out by his broad frame, your lips found a home on his bicep that flexed taut next to your cheek.

Your body cradled within his, the humid air around you pulsing with life. The rhythmic woosh of his strong heartbeat, the safety you’d feel within the damp darkness, finally joined as one.

His strokes snapped harder, his own want matching yours. His mouth ached to bite your soft lips, to nibble on the skin until it broke under the force of his love.

His harvesting knife slipped between his ribs to crack them open, gifting you everything held inside. Feeding you bits and pieces of his heart, watching the muscle that’s only ever beat for you disappear between your lips.

“Where do you want it, Birdie?” he begged above you, his mouth molding around the hinge of your jaw, tasting the sweet skin there. “I’m gonna come. Shit – shit. Where do you want it?”

“Inside me.”

A shudder slipped through his body as he came with a loud, sated groan, his hips forcing themselves into the cradle of your thighs to bury it as deep as possible – but he wasn’t done. He was never done, when it came to you. Before he could catch his breath, he slid his softening cock from your warmth and replaced it with his fingers, crooking them to gather the milky spend.

Bringing them up to your mouth, he fed it to you.

Glistening tendrils of release coated his fingers and your lips, smeared across your tongue when he forced them into your mouth and then sliding them out, he kissed you deeply, savoring your joined taste. He gathered more, this time shifting his touch to the tight ring of your ass and he pushed some in there as well, your hips arched up to accept it.

Sweat, spend, blood: he consumed them all and likewise fed them to you. Hours slipped by, his appetite for you insatiable: forcing you onto your hands and knees to eat you roughly from behind, filling your ass with his cock before pulling out to spill hot across your lower back, smearing it over your skin like a balm, his fingers tacky with it when he wrapped them around your slender throat and made you take him again. Riding him, your fingers sought out the wet heat of his mouth and he kissed and nibbled on them, before drawing them in with a suck.

The vast universe outside the tent was a threatening thing: harsh and unforgiving, ruthless and deadly. Inside the tent, tendrils of filthy intimacy surrounded your bodies as you orbited each other, creating your own universe between the sweat damp press of your bodies.

“You and me,” he breathed under you, his teeth catching on the pads of your fingers and you dropped down, resting your mouth just under the whiskered curve of his jaw. His pulse a rapid beat under the skin, you relished the strength held just under the surface.

“You and me,” you replied, your mouth opening wide.

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect x reader #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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gavisuntiedboot · 2 years ago

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Most recent part

Warnings: Profanity!! Swearing!! Kinda sad!!

Word Count: 7.4k (fun fact! if you've read the whole story, that's 27 pages of reading!)

A/N: The highly anticipated continuation to my ramblings. Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this series (because apparently that's a thing people do?) Also, can you tell I'm a huge Bad Omens fan?

"Wait, you're from San Sebastián? Like the cake?"

"If I had known you were this funny I wouldn't have ordered a soda. It keeps coming out of my nose."

You smiled widely at Martin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You sat across from him in a restaurant by the beach, the dim yellow light complimenting the fading sun that cascaded through the windows. Salt hung in the air, filling your lungs with a feeling of relaxation. You rarely ever let first dates pick you up, let alone drive you an hour outside of Barcelona. But Martin had made you feel safe.

He had pulled up outside of your building, top down on the blue Mercedes he drove. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, allowing him to drink in your sight and let out a low whistle as you approached the car. Your beach dress swayed around you, hugging different parts of your body as you moved. Your hair was pulled away from your face, with the wind shifting a few strands. Martin jumped out of the vehicle at the sight of you, opening the door for you and helping with your bag. The car ride there had been a tad awkward, with both of you nervous to come across too strong or two excited. So he handed you AUX and got a feel for you through your taste in music (which was erratic and all over the place). He let you play whatever you want. Well, almost: when 'Like a Villain' by Bad Omens came on, he changed the song himself, stating that he "could not stand scream music".

You had both loosened up by the time you got to the beach. You set up on the sand and Martin unbuttoned his shirt, glancing up to make sure you were watching him expose his chest inch by inch. You decided to be just as bold, lifting your dress over your head without turning around. Upon rummaging through your belongings, you decided none of your swimsuits gave off the desired impression, which was "I was meant to be a rich football WAG please wife me now". The natural next step was to ask Angelika for one, and she did not disappoint. It was a light pink medium-slutty bikini, sitting ever so prettily on your chest and on the curve of your hips. You laid across the towel on your side, finally able to engross yourself in the conversation with Martin. Once you two started, it was almost impossible for you to stop talking. You were so enamored by this man, who was interesting and funny and good looking and successful and interested in you.

You had spent hours at the beach, walking along the water, swimming in the shallows, and just laying in the warm sand, all while maintaining a great conversation. He was genuine in all his questions about your interests and your life. As you put your dress back on, Martin stared at you. He licked his lips as you let your hair down, shaking it to get any excess sand out. He asked if you didn't mind keeping the night going by having dinner with him, which is how you ended up at a pretty tiny seafood place by the sea. The other three occupied tables in the restaurant also hosted couples, so you felt at ease sitting across from Martin and asking about his home town.

"Okay but I love San Sebastián cake! It's like cheesecake but better and doesn't make me feel like I have butter lining my veins."

Martin laughed shyly and rolled his eyes. He looked at you softly, in a way that few men had. Most guys looked at you with a hardness in their eyes: you were a challenge to defeat, a mountain to climb, a conquest to complete. You were the impossible woman and you were to be treated as such. But Martin? He looked at you with a delicate that made you feel like you were made of glass. He looked at you the way Disney characters looked at the princesses: like something special that needed to be cherished. You rested your hand on the table, and he brought his hand to drape over yours, making you feel like a high schooler with their first crush. It was sweet and delicate and everything a girl wanted in a romance. You looked up at Martin and saw what you had been searching for all this time: potential.

You woke up Monday morning feeling the best you had in weeks. The previous day, you received an email saying you passed your field medicine exam with a 93%, shortly followed by a few texts from Martin saying how much he enjoyed the date and how he couldn't wait to see you again. It felt like everything in your life was falling into place: you were on your way to becoming a successful sports physiotherapist, and you had a hot football player who was sending you "good morning" texts before his 8am training.

You practically skipped into work, coffee in one hand, handbag swinging in the other. You stood in the hall outside your office and stared at your phone, smiling like an idiot at the messages from Martin. A hand came down and grasped your shoulder, scaring you out of your trance.

"Good morning doctora. You didn't answer my texts."

And just like that, your mood was ruined by Pablo, Barca's little storm could of misery. He had sent you several messages over your time off, all of which you had decided not to open:

[Gavi]: Good luck on your exam Doctora.

[Gavi]: Frenkie ripped his knee open today during training. It was nasty as fuck. You would have thought it was cool.

[Gavi]: Sevilla is so fucking cold I can't stand it.

[Gavi]: Did you see the injuries during today's match? You're going to be busy on Monday.

[Gavi]: Say hi to Martin for me and the boys

[Gavi]: Tomorrow morning I need you to remove my back and give me a new one

"Yes Gavi, because I was busy," you breathed out as you opened your office door. Gavi walked in behind you, taking your coffee and bag from your hands to place them in their usual spots. "I gave you my personal number for emergencies. If you keep texting me status updates about your life, I will demote you back to email only. Why is your shirt off?"

"Because you're gonna work on my back, which you would know if you read my messages. Besides, don't lie, you love my little updates."

You pulled your hair up, grabbing clean gloves and some muscle warming lotion as you approached a shirtless Gavi, who had laid himself across your table. Despite not opening them, you had to admit that the messages made a feeling of warmth spread through your chest. Someone on the team was thinking about you, and he had remembered the things you were interested in. You could just barely admit this to yourself, but you would never say it out loud to Gavi. God forbid he ever found out that you enjoyed his presence.

"No one likes them, given that you send them to me rather than your friends."

From his position on his stomach, he looked over his shoulder at you.

"Are we not friends, y/n?"

"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."

"I don't hate you. I think."

The statement made your cheeks heat up slightly for reasons unknown to you. Instead of focusing on this, you squeezed some of the gel onto Gavi's lower back, an area that consistently gave him trouble. It was odd to hear that Gavi considered the two of you friends. Hell, it was weird to hear that he didn't hate you. Despite him treating you more politely, he never gave you the impression that he enjoyed your presence outside of the fact that you repaired his aching body. Well, that, and the fact that he was sending you daily updates about the team, most of which were not related to work at all. You spread the gel around the area, giving it a moment to heat up before you started working the muscle.

"So how did your exam go?" Gavi asked, laying on his folded hands. It was 7:40am, and he was susceptible to falling asleep unless he maintained a conversation. He also needed something to focus on besides the feeling of your hands on him. There was that damn feeling again: the ache in his chest, the goosebumps on his arms, the feeling like he wanted to run out the room and off the roof. He had no clue what is was about you that made him feel like he was on the verge of exploding. He would deny it if anyone asked, but he felt himself start to get hard every time you put your hands on him. Maybe Pedri was right and he was severely touch starved.

"It went amazing. I was a little scared about the technical test, because I can't really lift more than 60 kilos, so if we had to use the spine board it might have been a problem. But it was a stomach injury, so it was pretty easy. Passed with a 93%."

Your hands moved around Gavi's lower back, and he was letting out sharp breaths of pain.

"Muscle tension?"

"No actually. Your gloves... you know what it's fine I'll live keep going."

"No no. Gavi I don't want to hurt you. Tell me what's the issue."

"Well.. Your gloves are getting caught on the hair of my lower back, and you're pulling on it. I don't really know what you can do about that but that's what hurts."

You looked down at your gloved, realizing the mix of latex and gel had ripped a couple hairs out of Gavi.

"I can go wash my hands and do this without gloves. I'll be right back."

Before Gavi could protest to your bare hands massaging him, you had thrown your gloves away and let the room, washing your hands across the hall and returning. You repositioned yourself to lean over Gavi and began working the muscles in his lower back, your hands digging into his skin. Gavi was now, for the second time in two weeks, seething with anger in your office, because he was about to get hard in front of you from the most platonic touches. He didn't want you to think he was a teenage slave to his hormones. He wanted to show that he was cool and in control (even if in reality he was falling apart under your fingers).

"So how was the beach?" He asked. He knew he shouldn't. He knew you two weren't close enough for him to be asking. Gavi didn't even want to hear the answer - you looked like you were so happy, and the thought of you being happy with another man made him sick. He told himself it was because a boyfriend would make you less available for the team, but the reasoning was weak at best. But he knew the disappointment of hearing about your date would make him flaccid and riled up for training, so he let his lips utter the question that had bothered him for days.

"The beach? Or my date?" You asked, pressing harder into his lower back. The thought of Martin brought you warm sunshine feelings normally, but when Gavi asked, it made you feel nervous - embarrassed. Like you had done something wrong or shameful.

"Either. Both. Did you have a good time?"

You took a deep breath, allowing the memories of Saturday to fill your lungs.

"Honestly, it was great, Gavi, the best date I've been on in so long. The beach was gorgeous, and he seemed to really like me, which is more than I can say about the other guys I've been out with."

He clutched the plush bed tighter, arm veins becoming more pronounced.

"Have you been on dates with a lot of guys here?"

You paused your motions. Usually, you would respond with a sarcastic remark, asserting your dominance and your ability to date whoever you wanted. But Gavi's eyes showed that he wasn't being judgmental like the previous week - he was genuinely curious.

"Yeah like a dozen since I moved back. They've all sucked. Like majorly - they think I'm dumb and looking for a sugar daddy, or they just want to have sex. Or both actually. But Martin was so sweet to me. Every other date I've been on, the guy tried to kiss me or squeeze my thighs. The most physical thing Martin did was hold my hand."

In your dreamy recount of your date, you had lost track of what you were doing with your hands. The medical muscle treatment had shifted towards a much more intimate massage, with your hands lingering slightly too long on sections of Gavi's lower back. This was not helping his tenting issue, and neither was the mental image you were painting. He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on stopping the blood flow to his dick, but instead he pictured you in a swimsuit holding someone's hand. Holding his hand. His eyes shot open and he pushed him up, startling you in the process.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that." He said, leaning back down and letting you keep working.

"I know I probably shouldn't be giving you this much information about my personal life, but you're not gonna tell on me, are you Gavi?" You asked, winking at him. Why would you do that? Did you hate him? Were you purposely trying to get him hard?

"Of course not, doctora. It's nice to hear you talk about something else besides how shit my muscles are." You continued rambling about your date and about Martin while Gavi listened intently, erection now fully gone, much to his satisfaction. You listed off all the good things you experienced that day, from the feel of the sand to the taste of your drink. As you finished up, Gavi had his eyebrows scrunched together (more than usual).

"You look like you want to say something, so just say it."

"Do you like him?"

The question caught you off guard (much like everything else Gavi had done that day) as you moved to get some paper towels to wipe the gel off Gavi's back.

"He's a great guy and he likes me a lot, so I think I would like to see where things go."

Gavi held out his hand, preferring to wipe himself down. He had just recovered from your touch, and was not eager to have another exchange like that again. He looked at you critically with one eyebrow lifted.

"Tch, you're not listening to the question. I'm sure he's very nice. But I'm asking about you, y/n. Do you like him?"

Looking down, you wiped your hands and pressed your lips together. This conversation had gotten a lot deeper than the ones you and Gavi normally got into. But there was something about the boy in front of you that made your heart soften, urging you to open up to him. Maybe it was the memory of his drunken state and how burdened he seemed. Maybe it was the boyish innocence that he carried, still resilient despite the sin that accompanied being rich and famous so young. There was just something about Gavi that, despite him being immature and infuriating, made you feel safe.

"I don't know. I don't think I can let myself like him before I'm sure that he wants to be with me for the right reasons."

Gavi had never seen you like this. You were one of the most confident people he knew, always walking with your head up and shoulders back. Now, your head hung forward, and despite you standing, it looked like you wanted to curl yourself into a ball. Your eyes were unfocused, as if you were remembering something you would rather forget.

"I understand that."

If Gavi kept surprising you like this, you were going to need your own physio.

"Understand what?"

"Wanting people to like you for the right reasons. Not wanting someone to be interested in you because of your body or your money or your name, but for who you are as a human being."

Your eyes met his hazel ones, holding his gaze. There was something that neither of you were saying, but you both felt. It was a pain that you couldn't explain with words - you either knew what it was like to be an object or you didn't. Feeling the mood weigh heavier on the both of you, you decided it was time to lighten things back up.

"That was really deep Gavi. I didn't know middle schoolers could be so philosophical."

Gavi groaned, cracking a smile in the process. He had gotten up, slipping his shirt over his head, working on getting his shoes back on as well.

"You know good and well that I'm 18, not a middle schoolers. If you want more proof, go ask your mom."

"My mom is an elementary school teacher."

This caused both of you to lose it, gripping your sides in laughter. You looked over at Gavi, watching the way his eyes crinkled and body shook with each laugh. You liked seeing him smile (it finally gave those eyebrows a break).

You and Gavi exited your office, walking to the field together. You would be observing their training to get used to assessing on field injuries with Antonio, another physio assistant. He had graduated from the same program as you, and had been assisting Dr. G for the least 3 years. He had been recruited by Manchester City, and would be moving to England at the end of the season, creating a need to impart all his wisdom on you.

Gavi ran onto the field giddy with excitement. He loved his teammates and all the friends he made at La Masia, but he had a hard time making other friends the more famous he got. Every time he liked a photo or followed someone on Instagram, there would be news articles and headlines reading that he had a wife. He felt comfortable around you, and despite meeting you through his work, you didn't have an obligation to like him in order to win trophies. It started that warm and fuzzy feeling again.

"Gavi, nice of you to join us. You'll be with Ferran and Christensen. Pedri, Lewandowsky, and Kounde, you'll be the other team. It will be precision training."

Ferran sauntered up to Gavi, phone and bottle in hand. As they waited for Christensen to join them, Ferran unlocked his phone and held it up to Gavi. It was a picture of you (seemingly from your private Instagram) this weekend at the beach, sitting on the sand and looking behind you. Your glasses sat at the top of your head as you glanced over your shoulder at the camera.

"In those scrubs, could you ever tell that our little nurse has such a heavenly ass?"

Gavi wished he couldn't hear. Or that Ferran didn't have a mouth to speak. He glared at him and brought his phone up, pressing the side button and making the screen go dark.

"She let you follow her on Instagram and this is what you do? Show her private pictures to the whole team?"

Gavi tried his best to hide the hurt in his voice at the fact that you had yet to follow him, hating that Ferran, nasty as he was to you, got special treatment.

"Oh no, Martin sent this screenshot to me. She hasn't accepted me as a follower yet. And not everyone gets to see - just you, because I know you've been waiting for her to let you hit. Oh and maybe Pedri if you let him."

Gavi wanted to step on Ferran's smug face with his cleats. But what really angered him was Martin. Why was he sharing private photos of you with anyone who asked? Needless to say, Gavi was on fire for the rest of practice, being extra physical with all the boys. He was throwing himself at the ball, scrapping the exposed skin on his arms on almost every play. After five rounds, Gavi's arm had gotten past scrapes and began to bleed, leading to Xavi stopping the drill and calling you over to bandage up the ragefully aggressive boy.

"Hey nurse y/n." Ferran called out, leaning against one of the goal posts.

"Stop calling me a nurse Ferran before I hurt you so bad you're eating through a tube." You were tired of Ferran's remarks from the day you started. The longer you worked with the team, the less they bothered you.

"There's that fire that I love. How was the beach? Do anything...hot?"

Gavi tried to turn around and glare at Ferran, but you gripped his arm tightly, instructing him not to move while you bandaged it.

"Yeah I did actually. I called your dad and almost gave him a son he actually loves, but I decided not to hurt your mom like that." The boys all snickered at your comment. Ferran leaned into Pedri, showing him the picture as well, much to Gavi's displeasure.

"I bet it's bubblegum pink - and I'm not talking about the swimsuit."

You didn't hear what Ferran had said, only Pedri's response of "you're sick dude". The bleeding boy in front of you had. This time you couldn't hold Gavi back, and he turned around fully to smack the phone out of Ferran's hand.

"What's your problem Hermano?" Ferran said, hostility apparent in his voice.

"You're giving me a headache."

"Sounds like a personal issue. y/n, on Thursday after Pedrito tucks Gavi into bed, all the adults are going to the club to celebrate the hopeful win against Espanol. Care to join?"

You pinched Gavi on the arm to keep him from turning around to respond to Ferran's comments about his age. You knew age was a sore spot, but you really needed to make sure his elbow was bandaged properly, and him constantly rotating wasn't helping.

"I'm not sure it's appropriate for me, as a member of staff, to be going out with a group of players. I'm not trying to get in trouble."

Pedri had approached you at this point, draping an arm around Gavi and leaning against him.

"Martin will be there, so you won't be out with the players. You'll be out with the guy you're seeing, and the players will just happen to be there. You should come - you'll get bottle service for free."

Gavi prayed you would say no. He prayed you would be responsible and say that you needed to go home and rest, as you clocked into work at 7:30am. Despite Ferran's taunting, Gavi would also be at the club, and the idea of you seeing him while he was drunk made him queasy. He was already off-putting to some people while sober, so he didn't want to undo the closeness he had achieved with you today with a shot of tequila.

"If Martin's going to be there, I don't see why not. I would love to see what Pedri looks like when confronted by a bottle service girl."

You finished bandaging Gavi's arm, and heard Xavi yelling that this was practice, not school lunch, and everyone got back to their places on and off the field.

The rest of the week passed by rather uncharacteristically. No intense injuries. No texts from Gavi to meet him for an early morning session. It really was just a normal 9-5 job. On Thursday, Barca played at home against Espanol, winning 2-0, with goals from Dembele and Gavi in the second half. Only one head collision between Araujo and another player, so you go to stay on the sides and enjoy the game. At the end, the players came to the sidelines to thank the fans for their support. You watched as Gavi removed his shirt, tossing it to a little girl at the front of the audience, her dad protecting her immediately from the rabid fans around her. You were brought out of your trance by two arms around your waist, lifting you up, causing you to let out a small scream.

"Ready to party bonita?" Ferran's voice asked uncomfortably close to your ear. Upon being put down, you grabbed your medical bag and rushed off the field, eager to get away from the player that felt too comfortable touching you whenever he pleased. Pedri watched you run off from the corner of his eye and turned to Ferran, giving him a side eye for the actions.

You drove home with music blasting over the speakers. It was a great stress relief (even if it encouraged you to speed). You showered and got dressed, excited to get to see some of the boys out in the wild, not only in the secluded space that was Camp Nou. You slipped into a black dress, hair half pulled up, and your makeup done dark and smoky - typical for a night out. A knock at your door made you finally stop admiring your own reflection, and you found Martin in front of you, a black t-shirt hugging his torso, coupled with those dreadful skinny cargo pants in army green (you know the ones that Spanish men love).

"Good evening beautiful. Let me take a look at you." He grabbed your hand spinning you slowly, and taking in every curve the dress hugged.

"Ready to go?" You asked, trying to step into the hallway and close the door to your apartment. He placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"Not quite. You look absolutely stunning, don't get me wrong, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out dressed like that. It's a little too revealing, and if anyone were to take pictures of us together, I would want them to think you're my girl, not just someone dancing half naked in the club trying to get a footballer."

You felt a pit develop in your stomach. You had never been told by a man to go change for a night out. This is how you had always dressed, feeling confident in yourself and your ability to look put together without looking cheap. You were ready to tell Martin to fuck off, but you thought back to university. You had dressed this way back then too, and all anyone ever wanted was to sleep with you. Maybe he was right - your clothes were giving off the wrong impression. You stepped inside to change, substituting your dress for a pair of high waisted jeans and a corset top with long sleeves.

"Even better." He said, kissing you on the cheek and leading you out of the building.

'Maybe this is what men want,' you thought to yourself as you strapped into Martin's car and plugged in your phone, queuing several songs that you knew would be Martin-approved.

The line at the club was ridiculously long given that people had to go to work the following morning, but Martin explained that word had gotten out about the footballers frequenting this establishment, and so every girl and all her wannabe WAG friends would flock here after a home game to try and get a glimpse of the million euro boys. Martin shook hands with one of the bouncers, who gave you a once over before leading you both to the VIP section. The Barca boys were already there, not running late because of last minute outfit changes.

The older players had their own section where they sat with their partners, speaking with each other as much as they could over the thump of the speakers. The younger players had the more obvious section that overlooked the rest of the club. Pedri noticed you first, looking away from the bottle service girl he was talking to and waving you over. The closer you got, the more you could see the waitress fidgeting and blushing, overwhelmed by the fact that Pedri was whispering their order into her ear (because the music was loud. no other reason). Gavi sat on the seat next to him, legs spread and arms crossed, looking utterly uninterested until his eyes landed on you. He sat up straighter, wondering if it was ok to come up to you and greet you given that you were with another man. As he thought, someone else beat him to it.

"Martin! Good to see you Hermano. Always great when you join us, especially with something pretty on your arm."

You stopped yourself from responding to Ferran, looking at Martin instead. You didn't know much about men, but there was an assumption that most of them didn't like it when other guys made suggestive remarks at the girls they were with. But the anger never came - only a laugh from Martin before joining hands with Ferran to great him. You look a seat beside Gavi, with Martin on your right. He waved the bottle service girl over, still red as a tomato from taking Pedri's order, and started requesting bottles while placing a hand on your lower thigh, rubbing gentle circles into the skin there.

Gavi followed Martin's fingers with his eyes, tracing the same circles with his vision and damn near going cross-eyed. His body filled with heat despite the fact that he had not yet consumed a drop of liquor. There was something about the possessive grip Martin had, coupled with the nervous way you sat with your hands folded, that upset Gavi. Soon enough there were bottles on tables, and shots were being poured.

"What'll you have baby? Don Julio or Azul?"

"I'm actually not drinking. I have to be at work in the morning" You replied, and Gavi went to remove the shot glass from in in front of you, but Martin stopped him.

"What do you mean you're not drinking? Come on you're out and we got bottles, you have to drink. I'm pouring you a shot of Don Julio. Better take it or I'm leaving you here." Martin said with a slight laugh in his voice. You picked up the shot glass reluctantly. You didn't drink on weeknights, but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Gavi leaned into you ear.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to. He's not in charge of you or what you drink."

You looked over at Gavi, silently thanking him for the encouragement, but felt the cool of the glass against your lips. You looked over at Martin, who licked his lips and gazed at you with hooded eyes. Maybe this is what you needed to be doing - loosening up with the guys you went out with. Maybe it was your uptight nature that made people want to fuck you until you went soft, never sticking around to put the pile of mush back together. You knocked back the shot, reeling from the burn.

"There you go. Good job." You giggled slightly at the praise, leaning into Martin's side. Gavi was not happy. He hadn't known you your whole life, but the three months you had been at Barca showed him fundamentals about your personality. One of them was that you did what you wanted, and didn't let anyone sway you when you were set. Allowing Martin to persuade you into doing things you didn't want to made Gavi uneasy, but he said nothing, knocking back his own shot and leaning back onto the couch. He knew the alcohol would start to damped all his emotions, making the anger and other unnamed feelings more bearable.

Martin had one hand around you, whispering into your ear about nothing in particular, just pleasantries: how good you looked in your jeans, how you pretty you were under the club lights, how nice it was to see you again. The sweet words and the alcohol in your bloodstream made everything slightly hazy and rose tinted. But you weren't relaxed. On the contrary, the panic started to set in at the fact that you were not completely with it in a place full of strangers. This was only made worse by the fact that Martin had poured you another shot, holding it up once again. This time he wasn't even asking, just pushing the glass to your lips waiting for you to oblige.

"Hermano, stop pushing drinks on her." You heard from your other side. Gavi had now pushed himself up from the couch, standing above you almost threateningly. Martin looked up at him and scoffed.

"Listen poquito Pablo. When the adults are speaking, learn to shut up." He looked back down at you, shot glass still raised for you to drink from. His eyes were now angrier and more expectant - like the only way to prove to Pablo that the two of you were happy together was to take the shot. You tried to grab the glass from his hand, but he tutted and moved his hand away: he wanted to feed it to you.

"I might go get something else. I'm not a huge fan of tequila."

"No one is a fan of tequila, bonita. We're just trying to have a good time."

Gavi closed the gap between him and Martin at this point, causing everyone in the group to stand. Pedri disconnected his eyes from the bottle service girl and grabbed Gavi's shoulder, hoping to hold back his outburst. Martin stood, lifting you off the couch with him. He put one arm around your waist, pulling you in close. He then looked Pablo dead in the eyes and took the shot himself.

"Watch the way you speak to your superiors, Cabron. Come on bonita, lets get you a more suitable drink."

He shoved past Gavi with you in tow, walking through past the VIP security and towards the general bar. You looked back over your shoulder at Gavi, who was obviously fuming. Pedri went to stand in front of him, blocking his path in case he decided to retaliate.

"Did you hear what he said to me? I should-"

"You should sit down and not make a scene." Pedri said, looking Gavi in the eye. "Martin wont be coming out with us again, but if you get kicked out of the club, you'll be in deep shit. And you'll worry y/n."

"Why would I care-"

"You just do. Don't make her more anxious than she already is. Sit. Relax. Have one more shot if you want - one, Gavi. Control yourself."

Pedri took his seat again, and the bottle girl came back for them to continue whatever pseudo-flirting they were engaged in.

At the bar, you weren't doing too hot. You thought Martin just wanted to get you away from an uncomfortable encounter, but he seemed intent on getting you to drink. His arm was still tight around your waist as he ordered two Long Islands from the bartender (for all my dear readers that don't drink, that is a mix of rum, tequila, triple sec, gin, and vodka with a splash of cola. Probably the most alcohol you can get in one cocktail). Your stomach dropped further. You didn't usually drink. You hated the feeling of being drunk, and hated more the feeling of not being in control of yourself. But Martin was looking at you like you were the stars that filled the sky as he handed you the glass, clinking his against it, and you couldn't say no. You wanted to keep him happy.

So you sipped, slowly and nervously, as he stood behind you, arms around your waist and swaying to the beat of the music. Ferran had also approached the bar, making conversation with Martin as you tried not to let your distress become visible on your face. The song changed to something more base-y and seductive, and the grip around your waist tightened.

"Come on, bonita. I want to see how you move for me."

You were grateful to be parted from your drink as you were pulled onto the dancefloor, bodies trapping you against your date. You swayed your hips to the beat, allowing yourself to be taken by the feeling of the music. Marin turned you to face him, resting his arms around your lower back, and resting his forehead against yours. It felt good: being able to look at him rather than the other club goers. You felt the occasional brush against your ass (you assumed from Ferran), but worked on steadying yourself. The alcohol was now hitting your system, causing you to become less stable on your feet. Maybe you couldn't handle liquor as well as you thought.

Gavi was back in the booth preparing to take a 4th shot, despite clear instructions from Pedri to stop at 2. The bouncer had said his ID was fake despite letting him in the previous week. The bottle girls, who were blushing and flirting with the other team members, talked to Gavi like he was ordering from the kids menu. And now, his final straw - Martin. "Cabron" didn't bother him. It was a common phrase on the field, usually an indication he was doing well. But it was "poquito" and all the other references to being a child that got under his skin. Children didn't drink - adults did. That's what Gavi was doing, finishing his fourth with no chaser. The alcohol was calming him, making him less likely to punch someone in the face.

He had undone the first button of his shirt and sat on the sofa with his legs spread. He was about to tell the bouncer to let a pretty young thing into the VIP to keep him entertained, when he saw you struggling to walk on the outer edges of the crowd. He should have stayed seated. You were here with your... what was Martin? A date? A boyfriend? Whatever he was, he was meant to be looking after you, not Gavi. Gavi was supposed to be having fun, taking shots and dancing with girls. But he wasn't. He was pushing himself off the couch to go and see why you were walking around shaky and alone.

"Where are you going?" He asked, grabbing onto your shoulders.

"I'm trying to find the bathroom. I feel shaky and nauseous."

"Where is Martin? He didn't offer to take you home?"

"With Ferran. He said to come find him when I feel better. It's fine, he doesn't have to leave because of me." You stumbled forward with that last sentence, being stabilized by Pablo (who, while drunk, was doing better than you). He walked you into the bathroom of the club, helping you lean over the sink and splash some water over your face. He delicately gathered your hair in one hand, keeping it away from the faucet. He looked at the top of your back, shoulder blades peaking out the top. Without thinking he brought his other hand to rest there, rubbing gentle circles into your back as you tried to calm your nausea and anxiety.

"I'm sorry that Martin swore at you." You said, meeting Gavi's eyes through the mirror.

"Don't apologize for him. He's an ass for trying to make you drink. He's an ass for letting you walk around while drunk."

You got up from the sink, turning to face Gavi. His hand slid from your back now to grip your arm. He looked you straight in the eye, despite his vision being foggy at the edges from the shots.

"Don't say that about him, Gavi. Be respectful."

"Why?" The question came out as a yell, startling you slightly.

"Why do i need to respect him when he's cursing me out and treating you like shit? Because I'm younger than him?"

"No one said anything about your age Gavi."

"Why do you keep making excuses for him?"

It was the question you were scared of. The question that lingered in the back of your own mind even before leaving Gavi's lips. Martin was pushing you far outside of your comfort zone, in a way that you hadn't allowed anyone to before.

"He likes me, Gavi. He wants to see where things go. I think I want that too. I've been living my life one way until this point, but obviously it's not working. I have trouble getting close to people," your eyes were welling with tears, "and even when I do get close to them, I can never keep them in my life. No one wants to be around me. So if Martin does, I have to try, don't I?"

Gavi felt a pang in his chest, right where his heart was. It broke him to see you like this - shaking and in tears in a club bathroom, while the man you were trying to impress was probably grinding on other girls. Gavi told himself it had nothing to do with you specifically, just fairness. You were objectively a good person, and you deserved to be treated well by everyone around you. He tugged your shoulder, bringing you in for a tight embrace. You tucked your head into his shoulder, allowing your tears to fall more freely now that he couldn't see you. Something in you began to calm. It was like Gavi had flipped a switch. Your shaking gradually decreased, and you no longer felt like throwing up your internal organs.

"It's because you're a good person."

"What?" Gavi replied, unable to decipher your mumblings while you spoke into his shoulder. You separated from him and looked him in the eyes.

"I don't want you to say things like that about Martin because you're a good person. It just... feels wrong to watch you be a typical rude and angry man. It doesn't fit you."

Gavi let out a breathy laugh, moving away from you and towards the door.

"A lot of people would disagree with you. Being angry is my defining quality."

"On the field maybe. But don't bring that into your real life. I like you how you are."

There was that feeling again. Gavi could try and blame the alcohol, but this was different. It was like there was a match lit right under his skin, burning him from the inside, making it hard for him to breathe - hard to not touch you. Maybe he need help. Or to stop drinking.

"You know I could never be angry with you doctora."

___

You woke up the following morning on the couch of your apartment. You were still in your clothes and makeup from the night before. Your phone was dead and on the coffee table in front of you. You started to recall the night before in bits and pieces, with your interaction with Gavi being the most vivid. You set your phone to charge, going to wipe off the makeup from last night. You wracked your brain trying to remember how you got home. A part of you hoped it was Gavi that brought you there. For safety reasons (nothing else ofc). No one would come near you while walking with Gavi.

As your phone came back on, you heard the *ding* of about 80 messages. You finished washing your face and headed over to check.

[Martin Zubimmendi]: Sad that you didn't invite me in last night. Hope to see you again soon Bonita xx

[Gavi]: Text me when you get up so I know you're alive.

[Gavi]: Are you coming in today?

[Dr. Gonzalez]: Please call me immediately about missing this morning's shift.

It was only after reading that last one that you looked at the time. 10:41am. You had missed all of the morning activities at the camp.

"Good morning Dr. Gonzalez! You wanted me to call?"

"The morning is almost over, miss. I was informed by Pablo this morning that you were at an appointment and not to expect you until noon. Please note it is not appropriate to have the players relay messages for you. In the future, please communicate with me directly about any hours you will miss."

You unclenched your jaw, relived over the fact that you still had a job.

"Yes sir. I apologize. I'll speak with you directly next time. See you at noon."

You ran to get changed, and as you waited for your coffee to brew, you texted your savior.

[You]: you're actually the best friend on the planet. Thank you for covering for me.

[Gavi]: 1. I know I'm the best and 2. You owe me

[You]: anything you want

[Gavi]: famous last words doctora

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm hoping the length will keep y'all at bay for a few days. I have been feeling kinda crappy about myself for the last few days, which is why I have missed some of the prompt challenge. Reading messages and comments from y'all has made me feel better, so thanks <3 I am going to make the parts longer from now on to avoid the story being like 25 parts. Please feel free to leave any feedback/ comments. I love hearing from y'all (bonus points if you also say y'all).

Songs I listened to while writing this: Often (the Weeknd), Starboy (the Weeknd), Baby (madison beer), Primadonna (marina & the diamonds), CALL ME BACK (Chase Atlantic), Test me (Melanie Martinez), The Eve (EXO), Sneakers (Knox), Okay (Chase Atlantic), 18 (Anarbor), FOOLS (troye sivan), The A Team (Ed Sheeran), Disasterology (PTV), You're on your own kid (Taylor Swift), Ya'burnee (Halsey), Emergency contact (PTV), A match into water (PTV), Josslyn (olivia o'brien), Anti-hero (Taylor Swift), English love affair (5sos), needy (ariana grande), if you can't hang (Sleeping with Sirens), Talk me down (troye sivan), Young God (Halsey), mockingbird (eminem), would've could've should've (taylor swift), Can I (kehlani), Mary on a cross (Ghost), Happier (ed sheeran), Roman Holiday (Halsey), Dangerous woman (ariana grande), Devil in me (Halsey), lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off (P!ATD), funeral (pheobe bridgers).

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle

*pls let me know if you want to be added

#pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavi slow burn #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi #gavi x reader #gavi #gavi x you #gavi fluff #fc barca #footballer imagine #footballer #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi fanfic #gavisuntiedboot

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dire-vulture · 2 months ago

Note

top 5 tundras... from other lairs >:)

OOUGHH yesss..the tundras...this'll be hard because i want to pick Them All but let's see c:

Snuzzle who belongs to @goannafr !! Such a pretty tundra and lovely mlp fandragon <3 absolutely love those greys and pinks, literally inspired one of my own dragons dfsgdf (Samascott haha) but also that falcon is so good, tundras wear the animal-y genes so perfectly C: and the cute hearts!! and the Points before the points tert even released..hell yeah

Perryn! owned by @radiant-flutterbun . what a handsome guy..most handsome tundra award goes to him i think. (and maybe Jolene too..they can split it.) but yeah he's so gorgeous, absolutely love the jaguar/clouded/thylacine combo and the helmet looks so good on them!! those helmets are so underrated and help make them look more tough..always a fan of Buff Fluffs (and also fat tundras my beloved of course fdgsdf) everything just works so well on him!!

Glitzi, owned by @tomswifty-fr ! Lovely blues and another great Falcon C: but also a really really captivating story..a legendary hero who's gotten cynical with a rough lot in life.. and if you haven't read the Gltizi comic please do <3 it's 24 beautifully illustrated pages of some of the most captivating fr lore emotions i've ever read C:

Veltto, owned by @dunhoof ! another handsome fat tundra (my weakness) and i also really like the color schemes..the bright fruity green/yellow is such a fun contrast with the dark black primary, eye spots is one of my favorite genes and so underused..and omg the cute matching goat eyes too..and this guy just loves his beastclan wife hell yeah <3 eveyrthing you could want in a tundra right here!

Philomele, owned by @fr-thrice ! Trans sword lesbian nature tundra..what more could you want <3 her absolutely beautiful nature themes with that guise and wing thorns are so good, i'ma lways a sucker for browns and greens together and she works it so well! lovely thylacine showing how it makes tundra manes stripey! and check out the art in her bio if you haven't already c:

Evander owned by @transtundras-fr ! living for their brown and pink color together and i always love seeing seraph!! and the cherub is sooo nice too and omg the knitting stuff <3 very very fitting haha. go Evander !!! those tundras sure can trans c:

Mikael, owned by @blushingtendertiel !! Another lovely pink fluff!! such perfect pastel colors and i love Tiger on tundras (another perfectly animal-y gene for them) and the runes too!! the sparkly horns my beloved c: really love his delicate apparel too..truly a furry angel right here <3

and lastly, at number 1 we have... @guardsbian's very own Rozomund !!! no way she couldn't be part of this list omgggg..biker tundra of my dreams, she is sooo cool omg <3 loving the hex secondary and the cool bandana matching her pants and using the chasmcrawler stuff to be leather was genius omg. she is everything to me c: and lowkey was an inspiration for Glacier (along with Brody and Maddox)..tundra bikers with the wind in their fur, unite :D

sdgfasdf thank you for the ask omggg this was both so fun and so hard to put together haha. i definitely succeeded at only picking five tundras to make a top five list yes.

#dfsgdf i would pick a tundra from each of my mutuals if i could tbh but sfdgfd i think i have to stop here hahah #asks #drakessis #tundra #fr tundra #flight rising #snuzzle #perryn #glitzi #veltto #philomele #evander #mikael #rozomund #long post #dragon share

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oranjank · 6 months ago

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Chicken Paprikash

In the spirit of #draculadaily, here's a translated-by-me recipe for chicken paprikash from an old Serbian cookbook that used to belong to my great-grandmother. Other than adding a few editorial comments and reformatting it to make it easier on modern readers, I haven't changed the text much. Photo of original recipe below the translated text.

Chicken Paprikash with Nokledes

Ingredients:

For the paprikash:

1 whole chicken (recipe starts by assuming you will pluck your own!)

0.5 kg yellow onion (about one large one)

1 tablespoon butter (can substitute other cooking oil, but I recommend using a saturated fat)

1 tsp paprika*

1 red bell pepper OR 1 long, green pepper

4-5 roma tomatoes

Parsley

Black pepper

For the nokledes:

2 egg yolks

1 knob butter

"Snow of two egg whites" I think this means egg whites beaten to stiff peaks

Flour (no quantity specified, typical grandma stuff)

Pluck and clean chicken, if not done already, and cut into pieces. Peel onion and slice into thin ribs. Place in pot (I recommend a large dutch oven) one tablespoon of butter/oil and heat over medium-high heat. When butter/oil is hot, add sliced onion and salt immediately, then fry until completely soft. Add on top one tsp* paprika, bell pepper or long green pepper with the chicken meat, and fry with onion until onion is completely fried (nice and brown). Pour in enough water to cover meat. Add into the paprikash 4-5 chopped tomatoes, finely chopped parsley, a little black pepper, and salt as needed. Lower the heat and simmer the paprikash on a low flame until nearly all the water reduces, all while stirring frequently to avoid burning. When it is ready, it must have enough juice. Serve the paprikash with nokledes that are made in the following way:

Mix together all ingredients listed until well-beaten. Fill a pot with water, salt it, then bring to a boil. Wet a spoon in the boiling water and use it to take out little balls of dough and add them to the boiling water. Remove nokledes when cooked, and finish by frying in butter (you can also just use store-bought...)

Personal note: the original recipe calls for "one blade" of paprika, which my dad says is equivalent to one teaspoon. I have no idea what it means, so if anyone knows please share in the comments!

Unfortunately the bit about the nokledes got cut off, so if anyone wants the rest let me know and I'll get my dad to photograph the rest.

#dracula daily #chicken paprikash #paprika hendl #recipes #dracula

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whatyadrawin · 11 months ago

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The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 3-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 2,682 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Strong language, use of derogatory terms, sexually suggestive language.

A/n: Two drawings took me so long, I feel very pathetic and unproductive but I am so happy to get the ball rolling. I can't wait to illustrate and submit chapter 4 because oooooh lord Tommy boy gon look good in it. I am also so excited to get writing the next few chapters, I have the fire in me and I don't want it to go out until I get a bunch of writing done lol. Please check the masterlist linked above for updates on progress.

Tag list: @fan-goddess

Chapter 3

The day begins with the sounds of birds happily chirping in the tree shading your backyard; a gentle breeze is washing over the land, cooling the heat away from the ground. You feel good today and decide it’s time for a cute yet practical outfit, so you grab some jean shorts, and a bright yellow tank top with a reliable pair of boots, you were ready to get things done. After eating some oatmeal purchased from Luda Mae’s store, you get your things ready to go drive to the next town and do some serious food shopping.

The car is packed with some water and a snack or two, but before you hit the road you take a trip down to see Dover the farmhand to try and appease him one more time. The morning seems to be the best time to catch him, and you can see him watching TV through a window so you knock on the door gently and hear a groan, he answers the door and when he sees you, he rolls his eyes and says rudely,

“Whadya want?”

You put on a sincere smile and reply “Good morning, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

“Ya interrupted my peace, now what the hell d’ya want?” his tone is aggressive, but you continue,

“I just thought I might interest you in some new stuff for your home? I know you like how things are but I wanted to see if I could make it more comfortable, like a new T.V, or a new bed or whatever else.”

He throws his head back and sighs “Ya just don’ get it do ya? I don’ want yer fancy shit from the city, I don’ need nothin’ other’an this here orchard n’some peace! Why don’t ya just go play dress up with the Hewitts again, see if their retard son will play tea party with ya”

He slams the door on you. You feel sick with anger and knock again, this time more loudly.

Dover opens the door and screams “The fuck is yer problem?”

You try to keep your cool as you reply through gritted teeth “Why are you so mean to me? What did I ever do to you other than be kind and offer you help or nice things! You don’t even know my name!”

Dover’s eyebrows furl into and angry frown “This here land belongs t’me, stupid little girl. I worked fer years under that bitch Tilly, and the fact that she left everythin’ to some no-good kid who don’ deserve it, makes my skin crawl. If I had my way, this place’d be mine”

You look visibly confused “What is that supposed to mean?”

He then pauses and gets all flustered “Nothin’, nothin’ at all. You just let me do everythin’ here, soon ya gon’ realize ya don’t belong here and leave, if ya know what’s good fer ya. Now never come back to this house ever again or I’ll give ya somethin’ to cry ‘bout”

He slams the door again and you are shaking with rage, your eyes begin to well up with tears as you walk away back to your car. You set out on the drive to the next town and it feels like it lasts forever, the road is straight and flat, and the surroundings are just large swathes of yellow grass and wheat rushing past you as you speed up to shorten the distance. The sky is cloudless and the sun is blaring down on you causing your eyelids to weigh down, you decide to put on a playlist that only has bangers to energize you. Eventually you see the welcome sign for the next town and feel a sigh of relief.

The town is small but you are able to spot a large Costco in the distance -Oh hell yeah, I can really stock up now-. You find a parking spot close to the door and as you walk in you get blasted by the air conditioning which feels so nice after that long, hot drive. You take your time through the aisles grabbing as many bulk items as you can, finding preserved goods that won’t immediately go bad, and some produce that would be able to last a little longer than others. Once your cart is fully maxed out with goods you head to the cashier who looks at you funny due to the number of things you are buying. They greet you,

“Hi Ma’am, all this for you?”

You smile, feeling a bit embarrassed “Yeah, I don’t live nearby any stores, just stocking up.”

They smile back “Oh yeah? Where ya comin’ from?”

You reply “Fuller”

The cashier squints her eyes in curiosity “Fuller? Where’s that at?”

You are a little surprised by their response, but with how desolate the town is their response makes sense, you say,

“It’s a... um, well…a dead town near the Oklahoma border”

They tilt their head as they scan your Costco card “Must be real dead if I ain’t never heard of it.”

“Yeah, it is” you give a little chuckle and they continue,

“Well, alright then, I’ll get yer stuff boxed here and you can be back on yer way to the dead town.”

You finish paying and thank the cashier, then you start wheeling your cart back to the car when a very old man approaches you.

“You came from Fuller?” he says

You reply “Yeah, do you know it?”

He pauses, then says “I know it. That town used to have a lot people go missing after the businesses left. Why’re you out there?”

“I inherited an orchard” you say quietly

He places his hand on his chin “Oh? So, there’s still somethin’ left huh. Be careful ma’am, that town ain’t safe from what I know. The people ain’t right, if there’s any people left.”

You feel extremely confused “Ok, uh, thanks?”

You open the trunk and fill it with the bags wondering what he could possibly mean by people going missing, and the citizens being not right.

The drive back felt a lot faster; you were running what that old man had said through your head, -he must be talking about Dover, or maybe some urban legend-. You have experienced gossip and falsehoods about your own town back home before, so it didn’t seem so absurd to have a random stranger tell you something odd. You arrive back at the house by 1pm, happy to have been so productive today, you begin to unload the car and get everything into the house.

All the groceries get put away and you decide to start baking a batch of chocolate chip muffins for the Hewitts since they have been nothing but nice to you, and it’s the first time in a long while where you feel comfortable around other people; you are hopeful of making new long-term friends with the Hewitts. You bake 24 muffins since you assume that Tommy likely eats a lot and maybe hasn’t had a baked pastry in a while. When the muffins are done baking you take them out of the oven and put them in the little basket you brought the fruit over in, you cover the muffins with a cheesecloth and make your way over.

You walk up the driveway and look to the barn but don’t see Tommy there, just a group of chickens clucking around. You knock on the door which gets answered by Charlie who says,

“Well, well, well, what we got here? Bringin’ us somethin’ good sweetheart?”

You blush and reply “Yeah, I baked some muffins for all of you”

“Well, ain’t you sweet. Come in girlie, Luda’s gonna wanna say hi” he waves you in

You didn’t like how he stared at you but he seemed mostly harmless, he calls out into the house

“Luda! The neighbor girl is here!”

Luda Mae comes out from the kitchen drying her hands with a towel “Oh hi dear! What a welcome surprise to see you. What brings you by?”

You smile, Luda Mae is such a welcoming and kind person, you say “I baked some muffins for everyone, as a thank you for inviting me over the other day, and kindness you have all shown me”

“That is so thoughtful of you! I hope you know you’re welcome to come by anytime dear, you don’t need to bring gifts every visit, your company is enough” she says sincerely.

You feel very accepted among this strange small-town family you say “It was no big deal really, I went to the next town over to get groceries and picked up some ingredients to make sweet things to share”

Luda Mae tilts her head and smiles indicating how impressed she is by your kindness and generosity, she follows with “Well Tommy will just love these, I guess you must’ve known that he doesn’t get to eat baked goods often”

She calls out for him to come upstairs and you immediately get butterflies in your stomach, they make you feel nauseous and excited. You hear heavy, thudding footsteps and the house gently rattles as Tommy makes his way up to the living room from what you assume is the basement. He stops in his tracks the second he looks up and sees you; his eyes were shrouded in shadow from his hair and thick brows but despite the darkness, the brilliant blue looking back at you was vivid and bright; his long hair was roughly tousled and draped down to the nape of his neck in curly dark brown tendrils.

You finally got to see him even closer and you lose your breath with just how incredibly huge this giant of a man is compared to your own height, his chest is so wide it would enshroud your entire body if you hid behind it, his thick pectorals heaving with every breath under his worn-down short sleeve blouse. His legs were massive and covered by a pair of very worn and dirty jeans, they were hanging onto by a worn belt that had a large belt buckle, oxidized by time. You immediately felt a tinge of ancient animal fear from the obvious difference in power his body displayed, he could kill you in seconds if he wanted to but beneath his brutish exterior you could sense there was someone worth taking a chance on.

You wished to be able to see the rest of his face but it was hidden behind a dark leathery mask which was tactfully sewn together, there was only a small slit near his mouth for air to pass through, you wondered what he was hiding if he was already this impressive.

Luda Mae sighs and says,

“Thomas, don’t be shy, Y/N brought us some sweets, say thank you”

He holds his stare on you, he had never seen someone as breathtaking as yourself and your clothes did nothing to hide your robust, curvaceous figure, you didn’t look like someone who could easily break if he were to touch you but your height was barely a third of his own. He couldn’t help but find you simultaneously gorgeous and cute which was a perplexing and new feeling he welcomed. He suddenly snaps out of his trance when Luda Mae clears her throat, he then nods slowly as he shifts his eye contact from you and turns to leave quickly back down the stairs.

Luda Mae shakes her head “Excuse him, he takes a bit to warm up to people he likes”

“What about the people he doesn’t like?” You shocked yourself with your comment, it seemed to have just come out against your will.

Luda Mae looks at the floor and clenches the towel “Oh… haha well, don’t worry yourself about that hun. He likes you; one can tell that plain from the way he’s behavin’ ”

You let out a giggle and try to hide from the heat building up in your cheeks, Luda Mae notices this and smiles, Charlie sees this too and rudely barks in,

“Good thing y’got a crush on him because the people who don’t like him? Well, Girlie, you don’t wanna be them.”

Luda Mae drops her smile and snaps “YOU HUSH UP RIGHT THIS SECOND! THOMAS AIN’T DONE NOTHING WRONG!”

Charlie just laughs and wanders off, Luda Mae looks at you and says,

“I’m so sorry ‘bout him dear, he’s got such bad manners, does whatever he wants.” She places her hands on her hips and squints in the direction Charlie wandered off.

You reply “It’s alright. You know, Thomas seems to not want to be around me every time I come here. I hope I am not seeming like an intrusion to him.”

Luda Mae gets a worried look and says “Oh sweetheart, as his mama I can tell you with full certainty that he likes when you come over. He asked about you the other day, wondering who you are”

You try to suppress the smile forming on your lips, “I didn’t know he spoke. I would love to get to know him better” for some reason you kept saying bold statements despite your mind protesting the revealing honesty.

Luda Mae smiles at you “He speaks to the people he feels comfortable with, so far that’s only been me and sometimes Charlie. I think you may have to make an effort with Thomas dear, he is going to be like taming a wild animal, so you have your work cut out for you”

You continue a bit of small talk about the town you visited and then take your leave back down the drive way to home. The walk back makes you think of so many scenarios in which you would be able to speak with Tommy, he seemed like he would have a lot to say. The prospect of making Tommy trust you and having such a unique friend was overstimulating and got you so excited that you didn’t notice Dover come out of the bushes next to you, making you jump from being startled. He gives you a dirty look and says,

“Seems like yer makin’ friends with them Hewitt folk. What a stupid girl ya are. You know their sons a violent sort dontcha?”

You have had enough of Dover and his cruelty, you reply,

“I thought you wanted to be left alone? Besides, Thomas is really shy, he doesn’t seem violent”

Dover laughs “Ya really are dumber’n ya look! That retard would string ya up and eat ya alive if you don’t get the hell outta here”

You stop walking and face Dover “Why are you telling me this? It seems like you don’t care if I live or die so what would it matter to you if he DID eat me alive?”

He stops and looks at you “I DON’T CARE IF YA GET BURNED ALIVE!”

You stare at him, saying nothing, and he awkwardly looks around, expecting you to get mad, he follows

“Ya like that fool dontcha? Yer fixin’ to have him split yer birthin’ bits in two huh?”

You sneer at the crass statement “What is wrong with you? If you don’t need anything from me then please just go find the peace you claim to want, and let me live my life”

You continue walking away and he yells back after you “Those fuckers ate people ya know! Next theyr’ gon’ eat YOU! Have fun fuckin’ a cannibal man, ya dummy!”

You keep walking and make your way to the front door of your home, the words said to you by Dover were heinous but they did make you think, -He might be right, Luda Mae and her family say some really weird things a lot and seem to change the subject when things get too suspicious. At this point, I don’t care anymore… this is my only chance to have a normal life and have friends, maybe even family. I’m going to continue Tilly’s legacy, if not for her… then for all the people who seem to actually care about me-

Next chapter-

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

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dr-trafalgar-law · 6 months ago

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Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader

**This is sort of a sister book to @quinloki 's Birds of a Feather (Marco x Reader). They take place in the same universe and you'll see some crossover scenes. **

Your drive to work was always a beautiful sight, even on a cloudy day. The early morning light cast purple shadows over the pine tree covered mountains that surrounded Lvneel City. It was a picturesque landscape, the perfect mix of a city plopped down in the middle of farmland.

You have worked at a very busy veterinary hospital for the past nearly five years as a receptionist. Phoenix Rising Animal Hospital was owned and run by Dr. Marco Newgate. It was a small animal clinic, meaning you only catered to dogs and cats. On very rare occasions Dr. Newgate would take on a special case from an animal sanctuary or rescue. He was an extremely talented board certified internist. As the practice grew a new doctor was added to the roster. An up and coming soft tissue and orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Trafalgar.

You didn't know him very well even though you saw him five days a week for the last two years. He rarely spoke to you and was very intimidating. To put it simply he was incredibly unfriendly. A pretty big contrast from your boss. He was also unfortunately infamous for being the reason assistants and techs quit.

You often found the doctors didn't deal with other humans quite as well as they did animals. He was no exception - blunt and a bit demanding, but an excellent surgeon. The world of VetMed was hard enough without having to deal with an uptight impatient doctor.

This particular morning wasn’t any different than usual. You pulled up to the hospital at 7:30AM and unlocked the doors before turning off the alarm and switching the lights on. Dr. Newgate’s classic Mercedes rolled into the lot not long after you.

“Good morning F/N.” he greeted as you powered on the computer and clocked in at the reception desk.

“Mornin’ doc.” you replied merrily, “I’ll get the coffee going in a few minutes.”

“That would be perfect, thank you.” he yawned heading into his office, “Don’t forget Chopper is training with you again this week-yoi.”

“I’ve already got his goals listed for the week.”

As if on cue the little reindeer in question entered the lobby with a small backpack hanging from his shoulders.

“Morning F/N!” he chirped trudging around the desk to drop his belongings and clock in.

“Hey Chopper, when you get settled would you mind checking the task log and start sending out appointment reminders for me while I go get the coffee started?”

“You got it.” he replied changing to his human point form to reach the desk more comfortably.

Chopper was in tech school and while he had to train with the medical staff, part of his schooling also required him to know the inner workings of reception. Not all practices have reception staff so it would benefit him if he ever left your hospital.

You made your way through the treatment areas and passed the doctors offices where the break room was. Humming a tune you started your routine of getting the staff’s coffee ready. This won’t be the only pot brewed during the day either.

While the machine groaned to life and the strong scent of breakfast blend filled the room you set out everyone’s favorite mugs making sure they were clean and started the dishwasher up with yesterday’s dishes. You continued to bebop around the small room heating up a poptart until you were able to steal the first cup of coffee. As you sang to yourself and focused on preparing your mug a tattooed hand reached out for the yellow cup to your left. You startled and let out a small squeak turning to the dark haired doctor that had so quietly entered the room.

“Oh,” you chuckled at yourself while he went ahead and filled his cup, “good morning Dr. Trafalgar, ya scared me.”

He wasn’t slated for surgeries on this day so he wore a navy button down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black slacks and boots.

His golden eyes swayed in your direction as he hummed and then turned to leave the room.

“Mornin’ F/N!” Shachi, the head scrub tech, called passing the doctor on his way out.

“Hey.” you replied with less energy than usual.

“Did he say something rude to you?” the redhead thumbed toward the doorway.

“No, he didn’t actually say anything. I’m pretty certain he hates me.” you chuckled.

“No one could ever hate you. He’s just a grump. Once you get to know him he isn’t so bad.” Shachi reached for the orca decorated mug that was next in line on the counter.

“Talking about Law?” Penguin, another tech, asked entering the room.

Technicians like nurses worked closely with the doctors and often addressed them by first name.

“What gave it away?” you laughed.

“It’s like Shachi said, once you know him he isn’t so bad.”

“It’s been two years guys, I don’t think getting to know him is an option at this point.” you placed your poptart on a small plate and got ready to head back to the front desk, “And that's okay, I don’t need to be friends with the doctors.”

“That’s hurtful-yoi.” your boss had now joined the conversation.

Blushing you choked out an awkward laugh, “Not you, of course,”

“Because I pay your bills.” he teased further.

“Y’know, I think I hear Chopper calling me…” you finally made your exit and hot-footed it back to reception.

The morning slowly continued on as consults and recheck appointments began for both doctors.

Chopper was slowly getting used to answering the phone but you stayed nearby and took over the more complicated calls. He switched back to his smaller form and sat on the desk next to you taking up less room.

Sometime after 9AM an emergency call came in.

The little reindeer was flustered as he hung up, "W-we have an ER coming in."

"I heard you ask if it was a hit-by-car. Is it a stat?"

"I believe so, it was actually attacked by people." he answered watching you grab the phone receiver and dial 999.

"ER 236 please." your voice chimed calmly over the hospital intercom, "ER 236."

Your extension rang almost immediately.

"Yo." Shachi said before you could say anything.

"Hey, we have a stat coming in. Can you send someone up to receive them? I'll get paperwork ready so we can make a chart when they get here."

"Bepo will be up in a minute and I'll let Law know."

"Thanks." you hung up the phone and turned to Chopper, "Next time we get a call like that we need a little more information so we can start a chart immediately."

"Ah, I'm so sorry F/N." he covered his little face.

"You're not in trouble, Dr. Trafalgar just likes to have as much information as possible when the patient gets here. I know the person you were talking to was probably a little panicked and in a hurry but it's helpful for all parties." you patted his shoulder gently.

Not long after the call the ER patient arrived being carried uncomfortably by an exhausted woman in blood stained clothes. Shachi and Penguin rushed up front with a gurney when paged to do so. They reentered with the saddest blue nose pitbull pup. She couldn't have been more than a few months old, shaking and covered in blood.

Humans were cruel.

Dr. Newgate escorted the client in after the poor thing threw up in the lobby. You assisted in directing her to the spare toothbrushes while Bepo gathered some clean scrubs from the laundry.

A little over an hour later, once things had settled your extension rang.

Knowing who it was you took a deep breath and answered,"hey there,"

"Hello F/N, the puppy will be staying for a femur fracture repair." Dr. Trafalgar's voice was soft and calm, almost tired, "Can you go over the estimate I've entered in the chart with the client and get a deposit?"

"Oh, uh actually she is not the pup's owner. I can ask Dr. Newgate what he'd like to do until we locate them."

"No need." he murmured curtly and hung up.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair.

"I wonder if they'll let one of us adopt the puppy if it has no owner." Chopper sipped a cup of tea.

"Yeah we get first pick of surrendered pets. I wouldn't mind taking her. It's been a while since I had a dog in the house."

"Good news for you then, F/N," Penguin had just stepped into the lobby and leaned across the desk, "she's not chipped."

#puppy love #one piece #slow burn #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #x reader #18+ mdni #marco the phoenix #fem reader #lyndsyh24 #heart pirates

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eruden-writes · 8 months ago

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Desperation's Summit - Part 13

widowed troll x human raising triplets enemies-ish to lovers? on-going

Summary:

What happens when a rich human woman gets kidnapped by a troll in the mountains? The troll claims it was an accident, but is that really true?

cw: spousal death backstory

❄ Part 1 ❄ Masterlist ❄ Previous ❄

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When Cordelia awoke the next morning, it was to a pounding head, a lung wracking cough, and a fever. After a loud sniffle, she added 'sticky congestion' to her list of ailments. Trying to ignore the agitation of being ill, she shifted and her eyes slid around the room.

Upon entering Rakash's room last night, she found a rough-hewn desk and chair a top of pelt-like rug and books in an array of amateurish to professional binding. She didn't know if the books belonged to Karina or if they were legitimately bound Trollish texts and her exhaustion had outweighed her curiosity. There had also been a large fireplace, attached to the one in the main cabin room, she thought.

It took her a few minutes to locate the stairs that led to the mezzanine-like partial floor above, where his more bed and dressing area resided.

On the left side of the bed, morning light squeezed between panels of a curtained window. A large, foldable privacy screen sectioned off a small area of the room, flanked by a heavy, crudely made armoire. Her eye caught on the occasional tunic or discarded sock, reminding her she was in Rakash's domain. As if the scent lingering in his blankets wasn't reminder enough.

Vague snatches of last night danced through her mind. Her run-in with the thrall, the magic that had sizzled from her fingers, Rakash's confessional backstory.

Cordelia rubbed her fingers against the blankets swaddling her, as if she could erase the phantom sensations still burning there. While getting the medicine for Ebra, she had quietly sworn to not indulge Rakash, flirtatiously or carnally. He had disappointed her. She didn't bed people who disappointed her. Or that's what she told herself.

Avoiding the thoughts lurking at the edges of her thoughts, she considered whether she should attempt to venture down the stairs, despite her body's preemptive twinges, and to the kitchen for food.

"How're you feeling?" As if summoned by her consciousness and appetite, Rakash appeared from the stairway with a tray gripped in his hands. The shadows under his eyes had returned, making his features as grim-faced as the first time they met.

Strangely, something felt something was softer about him. Though that might just be thanks to her illness.

"Peachy," Cordelia croaked, her throat aching. Uncomfortable heat, unconnected to her illness, crept into her cheeks as she remembered her impromptu bath last night.

Rakash brought the tray closer, setting it on the bedside table with a soft clack. Without warning, he pressed his palm to her forehead. It took Cordelia a breathless beat to understand what he was doing just before he hummed in consternation, "I was worried this would happen."

"What?" As he stepped back, relieving her of his cooler palm, Cordelia eyed the offerings on the tray. Thick greyish glop steamed in the bowl. She presumed it was oatmeal or gruel. A mug with a greenish yellow hue that was hopefully tea. A piece of toasted bread and - amusingly - a small bowl of fruit sauce.

Faintly, she wondered if a trolling or three had assisted on this breakfast. If so, then they were all feeling well. That eased an unexpected knot in her chest.

Also among the food was her bound journal. An odd offering, she thought, before she remembered. It was the journal with the proportions for the medication scrawled in it. Rakash picked it up, waggling it in the air gently. "Tell me the measurements."

She blinked up at him, not quite understanding before realization hit her. Ah... it waswritten in Common, wasn't it?

That didn't explain why he wanted to know about the medicine now. Her eyebrows furrowed further, a slow mounting dread sinking into her chest. "Why? Your kids are fine, aren't they?"

"For you." Rakash tipped the journal closer to her head but stopped shy of lightly bopping her on the forehead.

Oh, that was why? Cordelia swallowed down a sigh of relief, that cold dread dissipating. Not even looking at Rakash, she dismissively waved her hand. "I'll be fine. It's just a cold."

Rakash narrowed his eyes, his features darkening for a second. He supposed he should be relieved she was back to being obstinate, but her tone rubbed him the wrong way. Something lurked between the words. It reminded him of her words the other night, when she asked if she looked like a "creepy, death-dealing mage."

He realized it hadn't been disgust that colored her tone then. It was disbelief. How could she be a mage? It seemed strange that Cordelia couldn't imagine herself being something.

Quietly, he watched her daintily spoon some of the fruit sauce – a concoction the kids swore she'd enjoy – into her mouth. She swallowed slowly, face pinching with a subdued flinch indicating her throat was raw. At least she went for another bite, which would hopefully fuel the fight inside her.

As he watched her eat, he considered how to convince her to allow him to help her. Maybe she didn't want to rely on him. Or maybe she just liked lording her abilities and capabilities over him. Though, that didn't seem the case, given the last twenty-four hours they'd endured. So why would she fight his assistance?

He supposed it didn't really matter. Cordelia was an adult and could do what she wanted, even if it caused detriment to herself. But something about how she spoke of herself nagged at his thoughts. Further, if she did get worse, would she be able to tell him the correct instructions for the medicine? His lips thinned at that thought. He really didn't want to lose her thanks to her own stubbornness, let alone to an illness he had medicines to combat.

Medicines he possessed specifically because of her.

An idea sparked through his head, forceful and warm. Before he thought too long in it, Rakash stepped forward, grabbed Cordelia by her chin, and stooped over her.

Her body went rigid at his touch. Heat bit at her cheeks and she wildly wondered if this was a fever or blush. Either way, a surprised squeak left her as he forced her gaze up. "What are you doi—!?"

Cordelia's body froze as Rakash swept down and caught her lips. She became very aware of the weight of the tray on her lap, torn between tossing it at the troll and holding it tight to ground herself. She also became agonizingly aware of the chill on one shoulder, where her nightgown had slipped low.

His heat eased the stiff ache in her muscles, the cold from her bones. Tired and weak, Cordelia let her eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss, and tilting her head a little. Her cheek brushed against one of his tusks as his tongue breached across her lips.

Despite the suddenness, the kiss was achingly tender. The affection made Cordelia twinge with need on a level entirely different than carnal. Something that battled against the pangs of illness, craving more simple touches versus salacious need.

When Rakash pulled away, Cordelia's eyes dazedly blinked open. She was greeted with his grin spread beneath his tusks.

"Oh no, I've been exposed to this highly contagious sickness." His deadpan words couldn't hide the smug glint in his eye as he leaned back. Once more he held up the journal and waved it in Cordelia's line of sight. "And if I get ill while my children's nanny is sick, there will be no one to care for the triplets."

She blinked up at him, eyes round and cheeks aching where his stubble razed her softer skin. Trying to ignore the embarrassment rising in her, her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you are absolutely wretched."

"As you've said before," Rakash sighed, though the slight curve of his lips betrayed his self-congratulations. Again, he waggled the journal in front of her. "The measurements?"

Cordelia had half a mind to ignore him. Stubbornness and spite didn't want to give into him, especially after he'd kissed her without consent! A small part of her knew she didn't actually mind, since it was Rakash. She shoved that small part to the deeper recesses of her brain, hoping it would never be seen again. He was just looking out for her stubborn self, since without her he'd be alone to care for his kids.

With that thought in mind, Cordelia sighed and relented.

"Zalmir and Kazri got quarter doses as precaution, while Ebra got a half dose for symptoms. Adult humans get full doses. I'm not sure about adult trolls, but I bought enough for ten human adults, just in case." Taking the journal, she flipped to the pages with the doctor's directions. After she indicated the measurements, describing how to differentiate between the ingredients through description or labeling, she shot him a withering look. "Happy now?"

Rakash took a moment to consider her instructions as he rubbed his chin. Once he relieved her of the journal, she pressed back against the pillows, glaring down into the bowl of oatmeal. She fought to convince herself that the way he mumbled the instructions back to himself, personalized for his own understanding, was not making her heart flutter.

When Rakash was certain he had a strong understanding, he flipped the journal shut – keeping a finger on the page to keep his spot – and glanced down at Cordelia. She refused to look at him. Her cheeks were a deeper shade of pink than a fever warranted and small bead of guilt pulsed through him.

It wasn't enough guilt to regret forcing her hand. Still, his voice was soft and gentle as he said, "I think I have it. Thank you."

Only when Rakash turned to leave did Cordelia bring her eyes up, glowering after him. As he descended down the stairs, and out of her sight, she remembered her food. Forcing her attention to the tray, she forced herself to eat while fending off nausea and suffering her sore throat. Another uncomfortable sensation had taken root alongside the queasiness. Something that she, yet again, didn't want to look too closely at.

x x x

Days passed and Cordelia's health slowly climbed closer to what one could call healthy. It was aggravatingly slow compared to Ebra's exuberant return to boisterous health. When she accused Rakash of getting the medicine measurements wrong for her, he calmly reminded her she also had a run-in with a thrall, which may have slowed her healing process. Even more infuriating was the fact she couldn't argue against that.

Even with her sniping, Rakash continued to bring her food, a change of clothes, and an allotment of medicine every day. His attentive behavior made the feelings in her chest tangle even tighter.

Worse, he always settled on the edge of the bed, side to side with her, watching closely as she drank the tonic. It was like he didn't trust her to take her medicine and on a few occasions she had half a mind to spit it at him. She never did, of course. It would have been a waste of medicine, but the temptation was there.

These were Cordelia's musings as she accepted the tonic from Rakash and as he settled beside her on the bed.

Imagining the shock that would paint his face made Cordelia vaguely smile. Of course, then his shock would give way to anger. Maybe even a scowl or a baring of teeth with a curled lip.

Cordelia had fallen silent, as she was wont to do during their newfound morning routine. Rakash chalked it up to her not being fully awake just yet. However, a few days had passed and she'd gotten better over that time, making him want to gauge her health.

He settled on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the headboard but not looking straight at the human woman. "How are you feeling today, Delwi?"

Thankfully, Cordelia had already gulped down the remedy, or else she may have choked. Heat sparked up her, hearing him call her the nickname she grudgingly allowed the trollings to use. The rush of blood to her cheeks made her skin burn as she shot a glare up at Rakash. "You do not call me that!"

"Why not? My kids do." He bit down a grin, watching from the corner of his gaze as the woman visibly bristled. A few days ago, she wouldn't have taken the bait. Opting instead to burrow further into the blankets, while half-heartedly complaining about his stench on them.

"This may come as a surprise to you, but theyare toddlers whereas you are not." Cordelia sniffed disapprovingly at him, settling the cup to the side as she dragged her spoon through the broth he had brought for the midday meal.

"So you noticed," he returned, the ghost of a smile dancing at his lips as his eyes hooded suggestively.

If this was how he interacted with his late wife, Cordelia could almost see his appeal. The irate edge of his voice had softened over the last few days, sounding far smoother than it had since she arrived. Rolling her eyes, she ignored the observation and clung to agitation. "I've barely noticed the difference."

To that, Rakash snorted.

"What?" Cordelia shot back at him.

"You either haven't met many children or know some awfully large ones if you could mistake me for a toddler." He leaned toward her, raising his eyebrows. At some point in their conversation, he had extended an arm behind her shoulders, along the top of the headboard. With her hair plaited and pulled over her shoulder, a vague thought realized he could coast his fingertips along the nape of her neck.

If he wanted to, of course.

"This may be hard for you to understand but I was speaking figuratively, not literally. You do understand the difference, don't you?" She narrowed her eyes at him, funneling haughtiness into her tone. Part of her didn't think he was listening. His gaze seemed angled behind her and Cordelia suddenly felt the open air on her bared skin there. The ambient heat of his arm taunted her.

"Barely." Rakash leaned closer toward her, arm sliding further along the headboard in an attempt to ease the itch in his fingers. Her body language tensed, the faint pink on her cheeks darkening as she turned away from him with a huff and returned to her soup. Like how his body heat teased Cordelia, hers tempted him. The last few days of taking care of her, coupled with his gratitude for her interference, had further softened him to this arrogant woman. It didn't help that his 'stench' and her scent were intertwined in his bed now.

He found his eyes drawn to her lips more often, especially as she ate, recalling the smallest of sounds she had made during their sudden kiss. His fingers curled, knowing how soft she was from that very first night. When he had accidentally stolen her away. Sitting with her under his arm, Rakash knew he would have willingly made the same mistake again.

The thought struck him like a club over the head and he sat straight, averting his gaze with his arm falling off the headboard and to his own side. Rakash had to remind himself Cordelia was not happy with the circumstances. Even if he wouldn't change his actions, she'd surely wish otherwise. That notion spun around his head, even when she shot him a curious look as he retreated.

If he was a lesser man, he could have convinced himself she was disappointed at him moving away.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Cordelia quietly eating and wondering why he'd suddenly pulled away. Rakash continued to sit on the edge of the bed, leaned back against the headboard. A safe buffer of space had squeezed between them.

It was Rakash who broke the amicable silence as he turned toward Cordelia. "Do you feel well enough to get out of bed today?"

She paused, shooting him a suspicious look with her spoon clamped in her mouth. The momentary relief of his eyes being turned away from her as she ate fled as a breathless sort of apprehension crawled back into her chest. Why she suddenly felt fidgety under Rakash's gaze, Cordelia didn't understand.

With that though securely in place, her eyebrow raised cynically as she eased the spoon from her lips. "So eager to put me back to work?"

Only with willful determination did Rakash not let his eyes drop to Cordelia's lips and watch the utensil slip from between her lips. Well, determination and curiosity to see her reaction to what he had planned. "No, I have something to show you."

Cordelia's nose wrinkled with preemptive disapproval, her thoughts swinging back to their previous discussion. She ignored the bite of heat on her cheeks as she said, "This doesn't have anything to do with you proving you're bigger than a toddler, does it?"

"No," he snorted and shook his head, unable to keep his lips from twitching into a grin. "Though, if you ask nicely, I might be inclined t—"

His teasing words were cut off as a flustered Cordelia flung a pillow into his face. As he chuckled into the cushion, she faintly realized that weeks ago she'd been perversely curious how Rakash looked when he smiled, when he laughed. Now, she was woefully unprepared for that expression on his lips, so close to her own face.

She could have leaned over, closed that distance, and—

Before Rakash fully lowered the pillow, a mass of blankets rained down on him. Cordelia scrambled from the bed, moving her bowl of soup to the bedside table with her mug of tea.

"A momentary change of scenery should be fine," she primly trilled as she staggered on semi-wobbly legs to the little heap of her clothes that sat on a small chest by the privacy screen. In her effort to gain distance from Rakash, Cordelia didn't notice when he pushed the blankets off. Nor did she notice how his eyes followed her.

With the light from the window through the thin material of her chemise, memories of her nude form kneeling beside him washed over Rakash's thoughts. A lump formed in his throat as heat raged in his center. When did it become so warm in the room? Taking a deep breath through his nose, he averted his gaze and stood.

"I'll wait for you below as you get ready," he said and headed for the stairs. She didn't seem to care or notice, he thought, as he descended to the safety below.

Sorting carelessly through her clothes, not really seeing what she was picking up, Cordelia listened to Rakash leave. Try as she might, she couldn't ignore heart thrumming noisomely in her chest.

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