#back in the trenches she goes

[nxmeolvides]

me when i have to remove a segment about the muerto county police department (derogatory) in one reply so i just slap a different one in the next reply instead. parkour

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

job applications: this is entry level! anyone can apply!

job applications: ...as long as you've done at least six months of highly specific work, or have this exact degree, or if you kissed a chicken during the last moon of 2012-

[sunrizef1]

big reputation pt 2

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader, Max Verstappen x ex!reader

Warnings: Cursing

Authors note: sorry this took so long bbgs

Pt 1 Pt 3

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

alex_albon

Friend???

Yeah, real fucking funny

yourusername

Get out of my DMs

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lilymhe

“Friend”?

Girl that's the love of your life

“Not because he owns me but because he rly knows me” or whatever

yourusername

Ah I love him 😍

lilymhe

Trust me, i know

I've seen more than I want to

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fernandoalo_official

friend?

Querida, ese hombre te ama.

yourusername

You're the third person to comment on the “friend” thing

fernandoalo_official

Porque las únicas personas que no saben que os queréis son ciegas 😂

translation: (Friend? Darling, that man loves you) (you're the third person to comment on the friend thing) (because the only people who don't know you love each other are blind)

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logansargeant

Friend???

yourusername

Oh my god

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TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

oscarpiastri

I don't appreciate being cut out of this picture

yourusername

Are you my boyfriend or his teammate

oscarpiastri

I'm his friend 😔

yourusername

you'll get an Insta story the day Im in your garage for race day

oscarpiastri

But you'd never be in my garage

yourusername

Well 🤷‍♀️

oscarpiastri

Damn 😔

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yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

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logansargeant

DELETE DELETE DELETE

THEYRE GONNA FIGURE OUT THATS ME AND BURN ME AT THE STAKE

yourusername

LMFAO

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TWITTER

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by logansargeant taylorswift and 31,998,776 others

yourusername guys!!!! Ive seen the support on reputation and after the year I’ve had, I’m so grateful for every person that’s listened to and supported the album. As a little present for your support, I’m going on tour!!! This is only leg 1, so if there isn’t a show near you, look out for leg 2 after this one, we’ll be visiting several more countries and cities! Tickets go on sale tomorrow at 10 AM, I can’t wait to see you all on the Reputation Stadium Tour!!! 🖤🖤🖤

load comments…

user1 YESSSSSS LETS GO

user2 omg I’m gonna be back in the trenches of Ticketmaster again

user3 I need to hear don’t blame me in a packed stadium plssss

user4 no KC????

yourusername we’ll be in kc on leg 2 100%!!!

user4 LFG!!!! Tysm bae

user5 damn she loves Vegas doesn’t she

user6 the most random schedule ever lmfao

user7 she’s going to Austria!!!! No one ever goes to Austria!!!

user8 this is the first tour I’ve seen that isn’t just entirely American cities lmfao

user9 there’s like actual European cities instead of just London lol

user10 I think I recognize the order of some of these stops…

user11 Baku is so random lmfao

user12 why does she go back and forth to the us like 4 times??? 😭

charles_leclerc can’t wait!!!!

yourusername 🫶

user13 she’s coming to Hungary 😍

logansargeant this schedule looks a bit familiar 🤔

yourusername wonder why that is 🤷🏻‍♀️

user14 these tickets are gonna be so hard to get

landonorris so which show are we all going too then

oscarpiastri from the looks of it, we could go to all of them

landonorris I might not go that far 😅

logansargeant I will 🫡

lewishamilton my votes for London n1

carlossainz I say Madrid

fernandoalo_official how about both

liked by yourusername

user15 I live in France but I will be buying tickets to Madrid and London in hopes of seeing the drivers

user16 OHHHH ITS THE F1 SCHEDULE

liked by yourusername

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yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

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yourusername

📍Toronto, Canada

liked by landonorris logansargeant and 35,998,004 others

yourusername Toronto you were absolutely electric for opening night of the Reputation Tour!!! I’m in awe of how many of you came out to support the show and I hope it lived up to your expectations! It was also nice to see some friends come out to support before their race this weekend 🫶. Thank you so much Toronto, I’ll see you guys again for Night 3!

Tagged: lilymhe alex_albon oscarpiastri landonorris fernandoalo_official georgerussel carmenmundt logansargeant

Load comments…

user17 WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE

user18 the show was so good!!!!!

user19 did yall see all the drivers hanging out in the vip tent 😭

user20 y/n kept pointing at the tent during every love song 😭😭😭

user21 it was so amazing!

landonorris what is that picture of me, I do not remember that

yourusername it’s from when your flight landed at two am and you both showed up to soundcheck at 6 am

landonorris and you decided to post that one???

yourusername it’s the only picture I have where you’re not wearing McLaren merch 🤷‍♀️

user22 wait Oscar and Lando showing up to soundcheck is kind of adorable

fernandoalo_official it was very good chica!!

yourusername thank you Nando!!!

user23 that picture of Alex and Lily is so cute

lilymhe it was so amazing, I’m so glad the schedule happens to line up so I can go to more shows!!! 🫶

yourusername you can have a reserved spot in the vip tent lils ❤️

lilymhe 😭🫶

user24 why is Logan tagged on the microphone slide??? He’s not in the slideshow but he’s tagged???

user25 slide 8 is 100% him but she just didn’t tag him, I know it

lewishamilton this is Lewis Hamilton erasure

yourusername ahhhh I’m sorry lew! I don’t have a good picture of you at the show where you’re not out of focus!

lewishamilton this is what happens when I let Fernando take pictures. Guess I’ll just have to go to more shows until I make the slideshow 🤔

yourusername you’re welcome any time, it was great to have you 🫶

user25 slide 8 is so cute 😭

logansargeant so good 😍

yourusername 🫶

user26 now why did Logan have the least to say out of anyone 🙄

user27 I’m convinced it’s because they’re sitting next to each other right now

alex_albon lilys now obsessed with the show so I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of us during leg 1

yourusername don’t act like you didn’t have fun as well

alex_albon oh I definitely did, I’ll have to start planning new reputation themed outfits to match the crowd

yourusername the bleached hair would match perfectly

charles_leclerc me and Alex had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting us!!!

yourusername it was so great to have you both supporting the show!

alexandrasaintmleux it was beautiful, mon chou!

yourusername tysm Alex ❤️

user28 all the drivers in the comments 😭

oscarpiastri Lando cried

landonorris no I didn’t stfu

yourusername there’s pictures lan

landonorris New Year’s Day is just so heartwarming 😔

yourusername dw lan, there’s also pictures of Oscar crying

oscarpiastri you know why I cried 😔 I’m just empathetic for his happiness 🙄

user29 “I’m empathetic for his happiness” okay so that’s about Logan and you can’t tell me otherwise

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yourusername added to their story

lewishamilton

Honored to make it into the slideshow 🫶

yourusername

lol you’re welcome lew

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alex_albon

Why do you have a picture of me asleep

yourusername

guess

alex_albon

Lily?

yourusername

Of course

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georgerussell

I’m going to be completely honest

I was completely black out

yourusername

I could tell

Not offended

georgerussell

Hey I do remember the giant snake though

this just means I’ll have to go to more shows and remember those ones

yourusername

You and Carmen are always welcome

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yourusername added to their story

landonorris

Thank you?

Not sure to reply to the small-ass text

yourusername

dw the lmfao wasn’t about you

landonorris

Yeah, I assumed lmao

Glad I could avenge you 🫡

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[mediumgayitalian]

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

[star-girl69]

protective clarisse save me ANWAYSSSS enjoy

*mentions of clarisse picking reader up and carrying her around

PLEASE ignore the fact i forgot ambrosia existed thanks 🙏🙏 yk i just be saying stuff

it starts out like any capture the flag game

except for the fact you’re on different teams

like in so it goes when clar tells y/n “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do”

everyone once in a while the teams switch up

and clarisse has a really hard time when you’re not on the same team, but she can usually function

she’s worried out of her mind obvi

we all know you’re her achilles heel

but for some reason this time clarisse just has a really bad feeling

she’ll probably threaten everyone on her team- if they so much as LOOK at you in the wrong way she’s going to make their lives a literal hell

and everyone is like ok scary lady 🫡

they all know clarisse don’t play about you

so the game is going pretty normal

you’re just doing your thing and clarisse is hunting around you

it’s really funny because you and a few of your siblings are just fighting whoever makes their way to you

and you win every time

bc clarisse is still letting you win 😭😭😭😭

the good members of her team get told to turn around

and then she lets the weaker ones, the stragglers she doesn’t care about, pass through and then smiles when you cheer after winning even tho she can’t see you

you feel her eyes on you tho sometimes it’s kinda creepy

but basically annabeth and the blue team had set up these trenches in random parts of the wood

they were lined with like a bunch of leaves and spare linens so they were soft at the bottom

but someone 🙄🙄🙄 ugh

forgot to soften up one of them and that’s the one you fall into

she hears you scream and she’s like WOAH HOLY FUCK

running through the woods you’re crying at the bottom of this 6 ft deep hole your siblings are screaming

like she literally throws herself to the ground and drags you out of the pit pure adrenaline

and like she could tell just by your screams and the look on your face that you were HURT HURT

but she knows you need her rn so she pulls you into her lap and asks what hurts

and you can’t even speak you’re in so much pain but you gesture to your leg and maybe clarisse just didn’t want to notice it before but like that bitch is BROKEN

she’s literally shaking

“it’s okay it’s okay baby it’s okay someone is gonna go get a healer right? SOMEONE IS GOING TO GO GET A HEALER, RIGHT?”

*cue like 10 random campers all running off*

and you’re screaming and crying and your siblings are freaking out so the game kinda stops bc everyone is like what happened 😭

then they just walk into this clearing and see you pale and crying and leg obviously broken, sitting in a shaking clarisse’s lap

one of her siblings definitely has to come over and subtly say that she’s like doing a good job LMAO

bc she is STRUGGLING

like she’s never been so scared in her life

her heart is pounding her hands are shaking

but for the first time in her life she’s not really angry right now

she’s just fucking terrified

and she HATES it

she’s stroking your hair and has her arm wrapped around your waist so tight

she tells you “just dig your nails into my arm”

and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on so she grabs your hands and let’s you squeeze so hard she swears her fingers come out a little crooked

FINALLY some apollo kids come over with a stretcher

so then she starts yelling at them “BE GENTLER SHES HURT DUMBFUCKS”

then finally after clarisse’s incessant screaming she holds your hand as they take you back to the healers

then 20 minutes later they reset your leg and put it in a little cast and give you some AMAZING painkillers

so you’re like omg

clarisse is like pale and sweaty and her heartbeat is so erratic one of the healers actually has to come over and be like “maybe you should sit down and get checked out..?”

she starts screaming at them

then you’re like “omg no my saviors are fighting ☹️☹️☹️☹️”

“no no i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make you sad it’s fine it’s fine we’re not fighting”

“yay!!!!!!!”

she has to lay down in your bed and take some really deep breaths in order to calm down

and you’re just happy bc you are floating and you have your gf with you

you’re babbling on about something and clarisse is like wtf is happening to me

but also she’s acting like you just died

holding your head to her chest and staring off into the distance like that one painting of ivan the terrible holding his dead son y’all know

and you’re just happy

she’s kissing all over your face and head and telling you about how she’s gonna help you

“i’ll carry you whenever you don’t feel like using your crutches, i’ll make sure you take all your medicine, i’ll find and kill whoever did this to you, i’ll sleep with you every night just in case, and i won’t let you out of my sight ever again, and i’ll make chiron switch the teams back”

she ends up doing all of those things obvi

she annoys chiron so much he makes a permanent rule that the ares and your cabin always have to be on the same team

clarisse becomes 10x worse in terms of protectiveness

like she’s watching you like a HAWK

she just felt so totally helpless in that moment so unprepared and she never wants to feel like that again

she doesn’t think her heart can take it actually 😭

she does find the person and loses dessert privileges for 5 months for what she did!!!!!

she sleeps with you ever night bc the meds make you sleep restlessly and she’s always there to whisper in your ear and lull you back to sleep

even if you’re like oh i can just use my crutches she’s always staring at the ground like it’s a monster that’s gonna hurt you so she’s like

“hm well i don’t think so actually haha just let me carry you”

“I WANT TO WALK CLARISSE”

*picking you up* “no it’s fine this is safest”

“LET ME DOWN”

basically you’re just the love of her life and she can’t imagine something else happening to you

[icarusredwings]

I don't know if kurt's baby bamfs can eat or not, but im thinking about what would happen if Logan found out they did, and suddenly, a LOT of things about him make sense.

He noticed that the first day or so here, he practically scarfed down anything he could find but also took some extra with him. He figured that he just got hungry in the middle of the night or it was normal food truama.

Look, Logan has been in the trenches. He's experienced imprisonment, starvation, and understands fully about resource gaurding food(something that he's gotten a lot better about since living with the professor because the table is never empty here) so he shrugs it off at first and sometimes offers him a little extra.

Well, it's not until he follows him (ninja shit he probably learned in Japan) and sees him feeding them, shushing them, telling them to be quiet and eat that Logans chest hurts.

Suddenly, it makes sense why he was starving in the circus, why he was so quick not to waste any food, and to immediately own up to any leftovers. Why countless time's hes taken a whole plate of food to his room only to come back a few minutes later. He remembered telling him that eating that quickly would only make it worse, and now it made sense why he was confused about it when mentioned.

It made sense why he could hear him talking or reading passages to "himself" and why sometimes he would frantically look around the mansion as if he's lost something.

"...You gave them the only food you had.."

At first, Kurts is a bit surprised but quickly calms down because, let's face it. You can't hide anything from Logan. He could smell the lies, smell his baby Bamfs from miles away.

"Mary Magdalene fed her dear son before herself, even if it meant her hunger would go on, no?"

"I suppose... Hey uhm... Kurt. You know you don't have to sneak food up here, right?"

"I don't want to take too much..."

"You won't. You're too kind for that. Just... stop taking too little.. okay? Mary who ever-"

"Mary Magdalene."

"Yeah yeah what ever. She lived in the dawn ages. This is a mansion bub. Eat until you can't anymore. And if anyone gives you shit for it, you tell them I got 6 reasons to let you. Got it?"

He clamps a hand on his shoulder only to be hugged, his tail flickering with delight. "Thank you mien freund... You are much kinder then you wish to let be known."

"Uh-huh. What ever.... just..." he goes to remember the last time someone called him this and smirks, feeling ironic as he puts a dinner roll into his hand. "..Last time someone called me that I was the one being given bread.."

"Perhaps it made you kind."

"The bread??"

"Ha! Nein. The kindess of another. It is most contagious you know."

Logan just grunts but by the end of the night, he's on the couch with a half empty beer and a full, extended stomach kurt curled up next to him, purring and dreaming of his new found life with endless possibilities.

He was told by the Professor that he would make friends. But no one ever suspected it to be the Wolverine..

Though Kurt would have it no other way.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Grand Line Crew Modern Au Gang!

i hope yall enjoy, this took a while to get all together, here

ASL post

East Blue Crew post

Friends we made along the way 1 post

Friends we made along the way 2 post

i dont have many additional headcanons for this lot, but i did write a short story with them :) enjoy

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

That’s just gonna have to be there 👆 tumblr likes to glitch out my posts.

Dont give chopper caffeine. He’ll either have a heart attack or operate on 5x speed, its a gamble every time.

robin and franky love watching home improvement shows, house hunters, how its made, myth busters, and other technical shows together.

When Luffy shows robin memes on his phone, she takes out her reading glasses and holds the phone like a mom does. Ya know that squint. You know.

Jinbei used to be a trucker and had a convoy with s bunch of his truckin’ buddies. They had matching leather jackets with “the sun truckers” embroidered on the back

Franky has a wig closet. It is vast. If you went in there you'd think you were in Narnia or something

Chopper is BEYOND CONVINCED that Sabo is a vampire.

One day, sabo volunteered as an assistant in a medical class chopper was taking. He was acting as chopper’s patient as he was learning the patient procedures of a checkup.

It was all going fine, chopper got all the patient identification out of the way and next was to acquire blood pressure, breath count, and heart rate. But the stethoscope and pressure monitor wasn’t working, and it make it seem like Sabo,,, didnt have a pumping heart,, or blood,,, or really breathed at all(he doesnt take very visible breaths).

Chopper was stricken with fear at this and assumed the absolute worse as he looked in horror at Sabo’s naturally pale complexion and long canine teeth. Chopper simply jotted down the average count of each recording instead of getting new equipment, and tried not to think about it, but

“huh, all of those numbers are usually lower than that. Maybe all that Special Concoction™ i drink is finally catching up to my heart rate.”

“how much have you.. drunk?”

“like for today? Or since I woke up.”

Chopper is fucking horrified. Sabo woke up to being a vampire and drinks blood as a special concoction. He cannot believe this.

”Never mind, I don't need to know, its all normal, you're normal.”

“Wow… that's the first time a medical practitioner has called me normal. My brothers are gonna get a real kick outta this.”

CHOPPER IS FUCKING HORRIFIED. HE HAS BRETHEREN??? Chopper just keeps his head down and finishes up the check up practice as Sabo remarks he has another class in the blood bank, which was lemon in the paper cut for chopper.

For a month or so after that day, Chopper didn’t see Sabo at all, and he forgot about his fear for a little while. However one night as chopper was hanging with Luffy and a few others in the straw hat friend group, there was a knock at the door. Chopper happily said “I’ll get it~” as the rest of the group continued in conversation.

Chopper skips over to the door and when he opens it, he sees the figure of Sabo standing in front of him. Tall and opposing, smiling a big toothy grin with bright blue eyes shining from the overhead lighting. He’s wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped and an ascot was wrapped around his neck.

What chopper was seeing before him.

Was the vampire.

He let out a scream right out of a horror film and promptly fainted.

A minute or two later, he awoke laying on the couch, feet elevated and vest unbuttoned, to his friends looking at him from the foot of the couch.

He goes to stand up, but a strong gloved hand stops his movement and guides him back down

“Don't get up too quickly, little man.”

Chopper looked next to him and saw The Vampire. What was he doing in his house?!?!?

“Are you alright, bud? You opened the door for me, screamed in my face, and then passed out.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chopper said with the highest voice-crack to word ratio in his entire life.

“Right. Well again, dont get up too quickly, if you need water or anything let your friends know. I just came here to pick up Luffy cuz some family stuff came up. Have a good night!”

“…you too, and thanks for taking care of me…”

“No prob!”

“One last question?” Inquired chopper.

“What's up?”

“Did someone invite you in?”

the end

PS: Sabo's "special concoction" consists of Red Bull and Espresso. He hasn't slept in 72 hours. This will have lasting effects on his health.

thats all for now! thanks for reading~

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (1) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n hello, this is called welcome to part 1 of a fic no one will read :) also i have a taglist now (yay?) so shoot me a reply if ur interested in being added <3

masterlist | prologue | part 1 | next part

TWITTER

lina !!! @EB_selina · 2h omg my f1wags debut??? y'all i've really made it 🫶

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 2h us when our frontwoman decides to hard launch her relationship that we were scrambling to denounce: 🙂🔪🩷 ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h the EB Bar admin working overtime bc lina insists on stoking the flames of this ridiculous rumour ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h media literacy where? this is a fucking confirmation bestie

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by oscarpiastri and 103,273 others

selinabui me when i lie to myself and go date yet ANOTHER athlete 🤠👍 this one goes vroom vroom in expensive cars (p.s. dear news sites, pls stop using my old photos)

cameliazzz all that expensive media training chucked down the drain i see

eb_jonno the orange jumpscare holy shit lina it's like u hate him or smth ↳ selinabui @eb_jonno wdym he's very cute 🫶

landonorris Oh hello there ↳ oscarpiastri @ landonorris 😀 ↳ mclarwins @ landonorris OMFG LANDO WHAT ↳ selinabui @ landonorris bro why are you acting like we've never met or smth ↳ pi4str1 @ selinabui there's something about her that's so 😭

TWITTER

🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 5h ok i fear we need to start weighing up the pros and cons ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 5h pros: WE'RE FREE FROM AMERICANS, he's actually cute, we already follow f1 bc of guanyu, he's aussie <3 cons: white, he's another fucking athlete, orange ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 4h 'free from americans' SO TRUE we were in the trenches with t*mmy

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h everything i find about this girl is just 😬 ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h oscar, get the FUCK away from that girl ↳ clovie @ luvyouvie · 2h omg why, what's up with her?? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h kinda the classic rockstar shit and her ex is tommy howard (nfl running back)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 18h SELINA WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS??? WHERE DID THIS ENERGY GO 😭😭😭

↳ emme @flowersforcami · 18h as smo with a footballer ex, the comment on massive egos is so true T_T

↳ Ryan Forrest @ryanforrest93 · 17h Every time that interview pops up on my TL, I just get reminded of how YOUNG she was going through all of that nonsense. She was barely 20 and totally being gaslit by that arsehole. ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17h ^^THIS!! yes!! it was crazy that ppl gave her so much shit about staying with tommy even after the cheating but it was her first real relationship and it fucked her up massively

INSTAGRAM

zhouguanyu24 Margaret Court Arena

liked by selinabui, oscarpiastri and 59,283 others

zhouguanyu24 Went to go check on the baby sister 💪

selinabui my personal photographer fr (good luck tmr 💚)

emptybottlesbar Always stoked to have family stop by for a listen! Best of luck on the track 💪 ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar he doesn't need luck. he needs his team to fix the pit stop problem. he needs divine intervention

zhouguanyu_br piastri is dating zhou's sister?? ↳ jemma.wren @zhouguanyu_br cousin actually, in chinese culture they refer to paternal cousins as just siblings

stakef1team Looking forward to seeing Lina in the garage ↳ selinabui @stakef1team oh lmao that's not happening 🥰 ↳ pastry81 @ selinabui IJBOL she said you ain't SHIT see you in the papaya garage

cameliazzz thanks for dropping by on ur race weekend <3 hope it was worth your while (and family-friendly 🤫) ↳ zhouguanyu24 @ cameliazzz Thank you for keeping her alive ↳ selinabui @ cameliazzz why has it taken you over 20 minutes to go get pizza 🤡 ↳ cameliazzz @ selinabui why are you asking in ur cousin's comments 🤡🤡🤡 (they need to cooka da pizza)

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

emme @flowersforcami · 34m walk with me here... if zhou went to friday's show, do you think oscar did as well? and if so... did they just watch empty bottles' almost 2 hours set of lina and kas flirting 😭 ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 22m i literally can't think of anything else now :) do you know what the encore song was? ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 21m kaslina duet of we don't talk anymore (og by charlie puth) ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 20m oh how do we even defend them

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 1h whole team in shambles... @EB_selina we hope it was worth it

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h every linami realising they need to defend her stage persona to piastri fans... ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h WE SWEAR ON OUR HONOUR THAT THIS GIRL IS A TOTAL LOOOOOSER. SHE'S NOTHING LIKE WHAT THE MEDIA WRITES HER AS. HER ONE HOBBY IS SUDOKU. SHES A COMPLETE DOORMAT 😭😭 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 1h ok well, hang on... i think they get the point

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 5h after a literal night of deep-diving, i take back everything i've ever said about selina bui bc she's such a cutie honestly i get it, i kinda want her now

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by cameliazzz and 113,292 others

oscarpiastri Finally got the green light to 'hard launch'

selinabui sorry i needed to be vetted so hard :/

logansargeant Oh so we're keeping secrets from each other now #fakefriend ↳ oscarpiastri @ logansargeant Sorry, did i forget the bit when you were there when we met or something 🙂

2cami4lina oh she let him in the studio, we're fucking done for

ausgp Some extra Aussie luck for the home race ↳ pi4str1 @ ausgp she's australian??? ↳ emptybottlos @pi4str1 do a simple google search first - the whole band is australian 🤡 they all grew up in sydney

piastri_lina but wait, the way i lowk manifested this... ↳ emptyb-aid @piastri_lina lock ur doors i fear i'm coming for you

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey sex witch I was wondering if you could help me out with a problem I've been having where every time I finger my girl my wrist starts to hurt or my hand tingles and goes numb. like every time has ended because either I'm in pain and pull back or she can tell I'm going to be in pain and tells me to stop. this happens both with penetration and nonpenetration(?) fingering. thank you for all your work in the trenches and have a great day

hi anon,

first off, while I would never attempt to diagnose you with anything, I ran this by my chronic pain consultant (who's incidentally my housemate) and they recommend getting your hands and wrists checked out for joint or nerve damage if numbness and pain are consistent issues.

but, in the meantime, worry not: there are options.

first off, the basics: change it up. try seeing if you can get your girl into positions that put less strain on your wrists, and switch out your hands when one starts getting tired instead of powering on. using your non-dominant hand might not be the most intuitive thing at first, but practice will get you a long way and learning together can be a fun project!

this article recommends some other options about posturing, as well as exercises recommended to help strengthen your wrist and fingers:

wrist braces are also a good option for some extra support, and you can never go wrong with getting some spicy sex toys to give your hand a break and/or help your partner get off faster. fingers + vibrator? hell yeah.

[stargalaxxy]

⋆˚࿔ Boyfriend Scenarios 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - Ninja Boys - Confession ⋆˚ʚɞ

๋࣭ ⭑⚝We made it!!! we're coming down the hill, oml I spent all day on this bcs I knew if I didn't this would have been left in the trenches of my word doc. Idk how well this is, but I know that I really like Zanes and Lloyd's part, the rest can sit in the back... but I hope you guys like it (,,>﹏<,,) °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝜗𝜚Now Playing: Call You Mine by, Jeff Bernat𝜗𝜚 (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) *

♡‧₊˚I Love You♡‧₊˚

♡‧₊˚Lloyd Garmadon♡‧₊˚

‧₊˚ ⋅You said, “I love you.” ‧₊˚ ⋅

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ You both have said I love you to each other multiple times, well sorta…

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ It would be when the other is knocked out or out of ear shot during a mission.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Being too shy and scared to ruin your friendship you and Lloyd have struggled with telling one another of your true feelings

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ It would be frustrating to outsiders too as you two had so much romantical tension that it wasn’t even funny.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Your brothers and sister would watch you two go in circles of who will confess first, now it’s a waiting game of who would initiate the relationship.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ But the first time you did say I love you to Lloyd is when he came back to the Monastery after being possessed by Morrow, 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ He was so weak and you were scared of if he would make it out…

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ You had so many what if’s going through your head, blaming yourself for not protecting him and not getting him back sooner.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Lloyd was so skinny and in so much pain you. Remembering that night of when it was your turn to watch him you broke down in tears.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ All you could think of was why couldn’t you be stronger for him?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ So that night you told him everything, of your feelings and when you started having feelings for him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ It was too much for you to hold in, you had his cold hands in your shaky ones.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Lloyd had woken up the morning after with you lying next to him on the bed the other half of your body still on the chair with tears stains.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ He used his other hand to brush away hair from your face, he doesn’t remember what you said, being asleep, he just wanted to comfort you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Lloyd has confessed to you as well, many times actually,

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Using the advantage of loud sounds during missions and final battles he’d whisper a quick I love you before going out, he’d smile whenever you called out for him to repeat.  ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ He’d cover it with a clever quip like, “don’t get caught!” or “try and keep up~” making you grin as you both go out fighting alongside each other. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ But with the introduction of Harumi, you couldn’t keep the back-and-forth secrets going, in fear that Lloyd might actually have feelings for her.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🎀 ⋅ ☆ ˖°

You liked Harumi when first introduced, she said you were the sister she always wanted, you admired her for being such a kindhearted princess, when Lloyd told you more about her you continued to fall in love with her character hoping you two could become friends.

However, when the castle got attacked and Harumi came to stay with you guys, you noticed how close Lloyd and Harumi were getting. Sometimes it scared you with how Lloyd smiles at her, you thought you were being silly, she was a great girl of course Lloyd would like her. 

Harumi was great at detecting emotions; she could tell instantly something was wrong with you as she would come over and lend an ear. You felt comfortable enough to share your feelings with the girl,

“Oh my, what a coincidence, I too have feelings for Lloyd..” Your whole world went dark hearing that. It’s like your heart shattered in a million pieces, “O-oh, is that right?” you try and calm your breathing as to not have Harumi worry. “But I don’t want to take him from you, you like him, don’t you?” you do, but you didn’t want to be selfish. “N-no, Harumi if you love him, you should tell him that!” you stand up to quickly leave feeling the tears start to pour, “t-tell me how it goes oki!” you try to sound cheerful as you hurry to your room crying into your pillow. You were too late, Lloyd and Harumi will be together not you and Lloyd, the thought stung you hard, you had never felt so hurt before. Your insides felt as though they were tearing as you hiccup and sniffle, “please, please stop these horrible feelings. Please..” you whisper into your pillow as you try to compose yourself, the only thing stopping your tears was sleep.

Soon the storm comes, and Lloyd and Harumi get pulled off the Bounty, the team are baffled at your lack of concern for Lloyd, but you told them how Lloyd will be oki because he’s with Harumi. 

Later you find out Harumi betrayed Lloyd figuring out her reasons sometime later, when Lloyd came back after sending Harumi to jail, he looked so distraught and angry. 

You felt stupid for trusting Harumi, for just letting Lloyd go so easily, you couldn’t help but blame yourself as you stare off in the distance inside the rails of the Bounty. 

“Hey, it feels like I haven’t seen you for a while” you jump at Lloyd’s voice, looking back to him you wipe a stray tear. “Well Harumi was pulling you around” you mutter a touch of venom laced your words seeing Lloyd recline back made you curse at yourself.

“s-sorry, I shouldn’t have said that..” you look back down at the clouds, Lloyd had made his way over to you putting his legs into the rails with you.

“I thought she was different but turns out she’s just the same as any snake.” Lloyd spoke with such malice as you continue to stare out at the sky, “don’t blame yourself, she totally got me too, she’s such a brat..” Lloyd nods as he lays back to stare at the stars. “She said she liked me.” You gasp looking over to him, “what did you say?” holding your breath you can’t help but feel tears bubble as they run down your face, your sniffles got Lloyd’s attention as he rushed up to sooth you, “h-hey what’s wrong?” he was holding your face as you cried sobbing. You gasp as you try and find the words, “L-Lloyd, I love you!” you hiccup between words as you cried, “what..” Lloyd’s face was red as he tries to brush away your flowing tears. 

“H-Harumi said she liked you, s-so I said she should tell you, b-because-because I thought you guys would be better for each other” you continue sobbing your cheeks were red as you try to continue unable to look at Lloyd in the face. “But I have feelings for you too, I wanted to tell you that for the longest time, when Harumi said she liked you I felt so much pain in my heart, it felt like I was dying Lloyd.” You look up to see Lloyd, he kept silent to listen to you so you kept going, “I want to be with you, I want to be the one to hold you, I want to tell you how amazing you are and-and kiss you, I want to tell you that everything is oki, and- I just love you so much” your voice squeaks running out of air from your confession, “I’m so sorry” you mutter laying your head further down into his hands, “but I can’t help it” Lloyd swallows as he brings you closer into his chest. He was quiet for a moment before speaking, “I’m scared, of being betrayed again..” you wrap your arms around him as you stain his shirt, “but, I love you too, I don’t feel scared when I’m around you.. I’m so sorry I put you through so much pain” Lloyd whispers into your hair as you shook your head. “I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner, I’m so sorry for letting you go” you held tightly to the back of Lloyd’s shirt. “Heh, I guess we both messed up this past week..” you chuckle at Lloyd who was trying to brighten the mood, “I was the dumbest for not telling you..” Lloyd chuckles as he rubs his hand up and down your back. “Dumber than me~” you snicker sniffling as you wipe away the last of your tears. “I don’t think anyone could reach your dumbness~” you tease as Lloyd laughs, “you’re so mean” he mutters grinning down at you as you pull away to look back up at him with a smile, “only to you~” your smile grows sticking your tongue out. Lloyd then chuckles and leans down to place his forehead against yours. “I love you, (y/n).” “I love you too, Lloyd” you both whisper to each other closing your eyes letting the night breeze wash away your worries. 

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

♡‧₊˚Kai Smith♡‧₊˚

‧₊˚ ⋅He said, “I love you.” ‧₊˚ ⋅

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ It’s been a year since you started University, you had hopes for new opportunities and furthering your education. To which some days were better than others,

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ However, you were disappointed that the bullying had followed you even at the University. You were so sure that the bullying was in the past leaving it in a different country didn’t seem to help though. 

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ You try keeping it to yourself despite the promise you gave to Kai, you just didn’t want him to worry about you,

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ You knew it was so easy to tell him, Kai would ask you every day if you were alright, but you would just brush him off saying finals were kicking your butt.

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ But you knew it was also someone else…

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ With him being a ninja he had more important things to handle, your time together has even become limited with his constant training, so you didn’t want to spend the time that you already have on sad stuff.

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ You can handle yourself, it’ll pass, just ignore them and they’ll ignore you..

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ But now the bullying is coming outside of school, 

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ They would find you at the park,

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ The convenient store..

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ Or the mall,

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ It was getting tiring to hide your struggles, you felt like it was high school all over again, you’ve been visiting Kai less because of it. 

✩˖ ࣪‧₊˚໒꒱⋆✩ And he’s been taking notice. 

✧˖°.🍒ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🍓₊ ⊹✧

You were walking back from the convenient store with bags full of snacks for a long shut in weekend, you would have normally called Kai or even Nya to hang out. But with the week you had you didn’t have the energy to pretend that you were fine, you felt horrible because Kai was texting and calling nonstop asking to hang out. You answered some texts but leaving others alone unsure of how to respond to them.

You had a honey bun in your mouth as you chewed on it lazily, staring down at your phone at the many canceled plans that Kai made. Sighing you shove your phone back in your pocket.

‘I’m horrible’ you thought as you marched on, you felt as though you were letting your feet carry you wherever. You didn’t want to go home, it felt depressing to be in your room all alone eating a bunch of snacks, 

But where else could you go?

You noticed how dark the area had gotten around you, looking up from the floor you scan the street, you stopped unsure of where you were.

“Where am I?” you muttered swallowing the rest of the sweet bread.

“Oh, look who it is~” you jump at the sickeningly sweet greeting behind you, looking over your shoulder you tsk at two girls and guy behind you, gripping the bag you try and move on to find a way out. 

“Hey hussy, where do you think your going?” the girl runs over and yanks the back of your hoodie making you fall, “ack!” you yelp falling on your butt as your snacks fall. You look down as you hear their laughter’s mock you, “is that all for you?” “No way you’re sharing all that with someone” “if you eat too much we’ll start have to calling you piggy~” the group continues to laugh as you seethe under them, feeling pathetic you stand up and push the closest person, it was the girl who pulled your jacket. You had made her fall into a puddle of water, she shrieks in disgust as she stands quickly looking behind her, you gasp covering your mouth as you had just reacted. “Ugh, you stupid girl!” she curses stomping over to you grabbing the collar of your shirt and smacks you hard across the face.

“oof” you found yourself back on the floor lying on your side you try and stand but the other girl comes and kicks you, “y’know my friends were right, you are annoying” the girl mutters as she glares down at you. “You won’t be needing these right, we’re hella hungry, we’re doing you a favor y’know~” the girl gets he guy to collect your snacks as they start walking away, all you could do was lay there feeling defeated, you couldn’t talk nor could find it in you to get up. 

That’s when you hear screaming and different noises of fighting, you raise your head to look to see the two girls running back as they ignore you to get away from whatever spooked them. You gasp as you hear footsteps coming your way, they were quiet though your body was shaking as you reach for your phone to call for Kai. But when the footsteps approached you, you saw that it was Kai in his gi. “K-Kai?” he was quiet for a moment glaring down at you as he removes his mask, he was so angry that it scared you, he was holding your bag of snacks in one hand as he kneels down to your level, “K-“ “why didn’t you tell me you were getting bullied?” straight to the point, “I-I didn’t want to worry you” you look down after catching a glimpse of Kai’s sour face. He tsked before looking away, “don’t you know how worried I was for you, you’ve been ignoring me, I thought I did something wrong” his voice was breaking but he was holding strong. “I’m sorry” there was silence before Kai sighs, “c’mon, your hurt, I’m gonna bring you back to get healed.” “wh-what no, I’m fine, K-Kai!?” he then picks you up in a bridal style and carries you back to the Monastery, you had your arms around his neck as you blushed, “I was really worried about you, (y/n).” Kai spoke breaking the silence. “I know.” You look down again not able to see Kai’s face, “then why didn’t you tell me, and don’t say because you didn’t want me to worry” he cuts you off with a sharp glare as you turn away again, “I..was just so tired, I felt that if I handled it on my own, it’ll go away. If it didn’t then I would just disappear with it, I hate being a burden on anyone, when we finally got back together, I didn’t want our time together to be about fixing my problems. So, I just decided to keep it to myself.” Your voice was hollow having no feelings at all, only feeling tired at the past week events, “You aren’t a burden (y/n) whatever you’re going through I want to help you, because I love you, I love and care for you to ask what’s wrong. I want to know what I can do to help because I hate to see you in pain.” You shudder at Kai’s confession, your cheeks growing warm as you finally look up, Kai’s face was red with tears in his eyes, it’s been so long since you’ve seen him cry. Only seeing this side of him when you were kids, “Kai. I love you too” you reach up to grab his face in your hand sliding your thumb to capture the stray tear, “I’m so sorry for worrying you” Kai laughs as he sniffles at your politeness, “you don’t have to apologize, it’s my job to worry..” you smile up at him as he reaches the step. “Let’s get you some bandages and let’s hang out” Kai starts making his way up as you nod, “yes, that sounds great” you sigh exhausted as you lean against his chest.

(╥﹏╥)

♡‧₊˚Cole Brookstone♡‧₊˚

‧₊˚ ⋅He said, “I love you.” ‧₊˚ ⋅

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Since Cole has figured out his feelings, he’s been more than affectionate with you,

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Doing more acts of service and just being around you,

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ It honestly makes people think that you’re already a couple, friends and families have asked you questions about Cole, and you had to tell them that he was just a friend

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ As much as you wanted to say differently neither Cole nor you have confessed, you guys have just been super close.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You try finding ways to tell him how you feel in creative ways, such as giving him gifts like sweets, but he would just view them as thank you gifts for helping you out.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You soon discover how oblivious Cole is when it came to romantic feelings, he was so sweet to everyone it made you question if he actually liked you. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You were about to lose hope when your dad was the one to tell you to keep trying, he would tell you all the moments that he has noticed of you two together.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Albeit the sharing made you a bit embarrassed, but when your father told you how Cole reminded him of how he would look at your mother when they were younger. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You knew you had to tell him of how you felt, you just had to find the courage. 

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧

You and Cole were in the kitchen, you asked if Cole would help you make extra treats for customers to try the next day. Even after Cole warning you of his accidents in the kitchen you were determined to have him help you.

“Oki, can you pour the sugar Cole” you held the measuring cup over the mixing bowl as Cole stood behind you, his tongue stuck out as he shakes the bag to get the sugar out. “Just a little though oki, we don’t want this too sweet” as soon as you said that Cole poured a heaping amount onto the cup creating a hill of sugar. 

“O-oh shoot, (y/n) I’m so sorry!” Cole backs away nervously as you giggle, “it’s fine Cole, luckily only a little bit of the sugar got into the bowl I’ll just measure out what we need from here” you even out the sugar as your pour the hill into the bowl then the rest into the bag. “Luckily this is just a test batch so let’s keep going” you ask for Cole to bring over the flour from the top shelf, “hey, (y/n) you said top shelf, right?” you hum as you look to see Cole searching in all directions for the flour. Shaking your head you grin seeing the flour was right in front of him he just had to move some things, “silly it’s right there” you point making your way over. You go underneath his arm wrapping around his waist causing Cole to blush pointing to the bag, “Oh I see it now” Cole grabs the bag, you then gasp as you suddenly remember, “w-wait be careful, it has a-“ soon flour falls on both of your faces making you look like powdered donuts. Out of shock Cole drops the bag and turns into you. “C-Cole wait-!” but it was too late, when you tried to move back you slipped on the flour falling on the flour. You grab onto to Cole’s shirt out of instincts making him fall with you.

“ack-“ “oof” you whine as you rub your butt to sooth the pain, Cole groans on top of you as he opens his eyes to see you. You finally open your eyes as well seeing Cole on top of you made you blush, but seeing you under him made Cole snort, “you look like those white dogs” he snickers as you groan, “har har, this is your fault y’know clumsy” you tease unable to hide your growing smile. Cole’s laughter soon stops as he lays his forehead against yours, you feel your cheeks grow red under the flour. You felt this was the moment to confess as you licked your lips opening your mouth to speak, 

“I love you, (y/n).” “Darnit!” Cole jumps at your curse looking a bit sad, “wh-what, did I say something wrong?” You huff before smiling, “no, you just totally beat me to the punch, I was just about to say the same thing” you giggle as Cole chuckles. 

“Well let’s say it together then~” Cole grins as he presses his flour nose against yours.

“I love you, Cole.”

“I love you (y/n).”

(๑>؂•̀๑)

♡‧₊˚Zane Julien♡‧₊˚

⋆｡°·☁️You said, “I love you.” ⋆｡°·☁️

⋆˚🐾˖   It’s coming close to a year since you met Zane, as it was now the ending of spring, and summer was coming, you were so excited for the plans that you and Zane have created.

⋆˚🐾˖   Ever since Zane revealed to being a nindroid on New Year’s your feelings for him never changed, having learned more about him and his passions just made you love him even more.

⋆˚🐾˖ Which brought you to the desire to confess your feelings for him, as you genuinely cared for Zane the thought of being only friends shattered you at the idea. 

⋆˚🐾˖   Of course you thought it through taking months to figure out your feelings and having the courage to confess. 

⋆˚🐾˖   You planned for Valentine’s Day, it would be so romantic, you made a card and was going to confess like your favorite Shoujo anime characters!! 

⋆˚🐾˖   But then you chickened out because you couldn’t find the right location, 

⋆˚🐾˖   Excuses excuses

⋆˚🐾˖   But no biggie, you’ll try for White Day, a day on March 14th where people give gifts to the people that they had received one from.

⋆˚🐾˖    Zane got you your favorite animal in a plush stating it “reminded me of you.”

⋆˚🐾˖   This was the perfect moment to confess!! ⋆˚🐾˖   And then Zane had to cancel because he was busy with important Ninja stuff,

⋆˚🐾˖   But you could have told him!!! He met with you a day before to tell you he couldn’t meet with you on that day you would have confessed.

⋆˚🐾˖   SO WHY DIDN’T YO-

⋆˚🐾˖    And that’s how it went, you felt like a dog chasing its tail, saying, “I’ll get you next time!!”

⋆˚🐾˖    But you never did…

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

You and Zane found yourselves trapped under a bus stop tent, mainly for shelter as Zane, forgot his umbrella. 

“This is such déjà vu~” you smile at the current location you both were in. Remembering the first day you met Zane under a tent much like this. Looking to Zane who had his eyes to the rain hands in his coat pocket. 

“Yes, however strange, the weather man never called for rain…” Zane seemed to be in his own world as if wanting to figure out how the weather man could be wrong.

You hid your laugh as you shook your head, holding your hand out to catch rain drops, for weeks now you have been trying to find a way to confess to Zane about your feelings. Every time you would a tiny voice would stop you, 

Clenching your hand recalling all those times you chickened out; you pull your hand back as you watched the droplets fall. You felt like such a coward not being able to communicate your feelings properly.

You then direct your attention to the roof of the bus tent noticing a bulge taking form, oh shoot, was that gonna break? You look nervously as more rain was collected looking like it would burst. 

You look to Zane for assistance, why couldn’t you open your mouth? Looking to the roof again you start getting nervous, looking back to Zane as you try to shuffle closer to him. It wasn’t enough, you knew it would break any second and drench you,

The words that had wanted to come out couldn’t why was this so hard…

Maybe you deserved this for being a coward.

You gasp as you hear the tent snap closing your eyes and stiffening your body to get splashed, but your body was quickly moved into Zane’s, your arms wrapped around Zane’s body his hands holding your upper arms shielding you from the rain. Your chest was close to his as the water splashed on to the floor, completely missing its target. 

You didn’t know what came over you, but it’s like the anticipation and Zane’s sudden movements pushed out the words that you’ve been wanting to say ever since you realized your feelings for the Nindroid. 

“I love you!” falls from you plump lips as you push yourself even closer into Zane’s form if it was even possible. Not wanting to let go in fear of rejection. 

You never felt so safe with someone his body was cold, but you didn’t mind as it was the only thing calming your hot face.

Zane looks to you with an expression you couldn’t read, did he hear you?

“I apologize, can you repeat that (y/n)?” Zane’s expression didn’t seem confused, did he not hear you?

Your face turns red, “I-I um-“ your hands hold tight onto Zane’s coat looking away, it took so much forced courage to say those words. How dare he not hear you!!

“I love you! Oki?” you finally face him holding a cringed expression as now you could hear the words fall from your mouth.

Zane finally processes your words as he smiles gently, geez his smile could stop an internal brain war.

His colossus hand slides up to cup the back of your head hair tangled in his hand pushing you into his chest as he lowers his head. 

His other hand moves to rest on the bottom part of your back pushing you even farther into him, he was leaning over you almost in a dip. He was trying to be as close to you as possible.

“I knew that’s what you said, I just wanted to hear it come from your lips again.” You smile as a sigh leaves your mouth, you were so happy, “you’re so dumb, Zane~” as tears collect in your eyes. “I can say it for you as many times as you’d like.” You confess as you close your eyes, the rain and Zane’s words were the only thing that you could hear now.

“That would be nice.” Zane whispers close to your ear.

You two had yet to notice that the sun had peaked out from the dark cloud’s birds rejoiced as clouds parted for the sun.

“I love you, Zane Julien.” 

♡‧₊˚Jay Walker♡‧₊˚

⋆˚✿˖°❀You said, “I love you.” ⋆˚✿˖°❀

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ You were getting tired of waiting for Jay to confess, 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ It had gotten to the point where you thought he didn’t like you, but every time he would stutter on his words or blush as red a tomato,

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ You knew he liked you; he was just super shy, you knew it would have taken awhile for him to confess so you decided to confess yourself 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ You didn’t think anything of it, just tell him how you felt and ask him on a date, 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ however your friends had other ideas, 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ “what no way, you should wait for him to confess!”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ “yea, (y/n) it’s much more romantic for a guy to tell you~”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ “but shouldn’t I tell him, I like him, and I know he likes me, so why keep running around the bush?” your friends huff at your lack of old fashion romance,

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ “because, when you hear him confess to you, you’ll be even more head over heels for him, just wait a bit longer” your friends nod in agreement as you sigh.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ You have no idea why you listened to them, none of them had boyfriends, that should have been a sign from the beginning, 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ But here you are holding out literal signs for Jay to pick up on to confess to you. 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ You find yourself always with him, Jay called you a puppy on accident because of it.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ And because of you following, you found out he was a ninja which shocked you, your lack of response at first had him nervous making him run.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ It’s been a while since you saw him, trying to call him and text him to say everything was alright, 

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ But he’d leave you on read making you even more worried.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ It wasn’t until a few days later when you saw him at the arcade did you take the opportunity to talk to him again.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ he was so apologetic saying sorry for hiding the truth and ignoring you in fear of you not liking him anymore for what he does.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ you assured him that he didn’t have to worry, that you liked him for who he was and that he was the reason why you liked him so much.

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“A-are you sure this is oki?” Jay lays next to you on your bed his hands wrapped around your body, you had brought him back to your house to spend time with him after the whole fiasco of finding out he was a ninja and him ignoring you. 

“Of course, Jay, I want you to be near me” you snuggle closer into his chest your arms around his neck, “are you oki with this?” you smile up at him feeling his grip tighten a bit as he was holding onto the bottom of your shirt.

“Y-yes, I’m fine, I’m just surprised, I treated you so poorly, I ignored you and-“ you place a finger to your lips to shush him, “you were nervous Jay, I understand, I already forgave you, so there’s no need to worry oki?” you give an assuring smile as Jay smiles down at you. “(y/n), I..uhm, d-do you..” Jay looks around the room nervously as he starts to sweat his fingers fiddled with your shirt as he struggles with his confession,

“Yes, Jay, I love you, I love you so much~” you lean up to kiss his nose leaving Jay stunned as he looks to where you kissed him,

“you’re so cute Jay” you smile blushing, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek having him look at you so you can count the freckles on his face, the blush on his face only fueled the fuzzy feeling in your chest. 

“I love you, (y/n)” Jay grabs the back of your head and leans you closer into his chest taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. You giggle after finally getting the confession you wanted, it felt so rewarding to hear it come from his mouth. But it felt even better to get it off your chest, you will definitely have to tell your friends about this.

Oml idk what to say but thank you for the support on my last boyfriend scenario, I was so excited to get this out...ᯓᡣ𐭩

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Love, ⋆˚࿔ Karrots 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[spdrvyn]

im begging for miguel x reader where he’s sick/tired/woke up from a nightmare and is in desperate need of shooting. so she takes care of him - pure domestic contentment- grooming him/washing/shaving/brushing hair/towel drying/changing clothes (and socks 🥺)/feeding him - doing everything to relax him and make him feel loved

solace in your sweetness

summary: in the deep trenches of the night, miguel wakes up due to night terrors and you're very deadset on comforting him. no matter how many times he denies you that.

tags: hurt/comfort. very sweet and fluffy. reader isn't a spider-person. fem!reader.

notes: i love this request so so much, i have been ITCHING to do it. thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoy reading this one!

Miguel didn't really have nightmares when he was younger. On the occasion that Gabe would bother him to watch a scary movie, there would be instances where he had them, but it wasn't a regular occurence. How naïve was he when he thought that he'd be able to leave those behind in his youth?

It started simple, he would be in the barren, empty streets of Nueva York. Before he would slowly watch every thing dissolve around him, glitch by glitch, pixel by pixel, unable to do anything but to just stand there, before he fell into the abyss and woke up.

The darkest part of his mind had always managed to make the scenario more horrifying, another time it was zombies, another time it was zombies again, but of only Gabriella. There was even a version where he was being chased by the other dead version of himself. He consulted many articles, read and bought a lot of books, and even tried meditating, but none of it worked so he just decided to live with it for a while. It wasn't like they happened every night, no big deal.

Though, it was a big deal to you. Which was his true fear, he didn't want you to fawn over something so trivial. He didn't want you to go out of your way to take care of him, despite how much it would fill the big, gaping hole in his heart.

So when he jolts awake from another night terror, he keeps himself as quiet as possible. He slowly looked over to the side of your bed, relieved to see that you were still in a peaceful sleep. He shifts silently and keeps his footsteps light as he makes his way over to the kitchen for some tea. The calming, minty aroma sweeped his senses, but it'd be better to work right now instead of relax.

He went back to the bedroom, setting the teacup down on the bedside before pulling out a small tablet. He winced as it opened, the brightness of it hurting his eyes even with glasses on. After lowering it, he immediately goes to rifle through his files.

That is until he felt the weight of your head on his shoulders, you looked up at him with a frown. "You're working."

"I am," Miguel spoke like he was caught with a hand in the cookie jar. As embarrassed as he was, it was too late. You should probably be going back to sleep, he remembered that you also had work early tomorrow. "I just got thirsty, go back to sleep, cariño."

A bald-faced lie, would you believe it or would you not? Your brows furrowed and your pout deepened, it made Miguel's palms sweat. Moments like these forced him to think if you really did have superpowers, there were too many instances where it seemed like you read his mind word for word.

"Why are you lying to me, Miguel?" Shock. It was his face, wasn't it? "Did you have any another nightmare? Why didn't you wake me up?"

Miguel's pride had shattered, you were too good at this. A little more and you'd be unmasking every single villain in the city. "You need to be up early, I just didn't want to ruin your beauty sleep." He closed his files and turned off his tablet, this was his fate now.

You all but groaned at his remark, kicking the bedsheets off of your body before stamping out of the bedroom. "Where are you-"

"Stay there, don't move an inch." He didn't want to incur God's wrath, so he obeys. Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the pillows, his smell picked up on the scent of food being freshly cooked. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but by the lord, it smelled delicious.

Miguel was left there to wait for a while, this sort of reminded him of his younger days too, granted a lot more blissful. There were times when he was younger where Gabe had nightmares too, he'd come knocking on Miguel's door, asking if he could stay there for a while or if he could play video games with him.

To which Miguel would begrudgingly agree, but he normally tried to keep Gabe as uninterested in whatever they were doing as possible so that he could fall asleep already. This usually resulted in him falling asleep then Miguel having to sleep on the couch, but it was whatever. I mean, he only stopped doing that at the young age of 11.

So now being the one taken care of, it made Miguel feel like there was an outside force tipping the scales. After being a caretaker, one way or another, his whole life, having you step in and take him for a breather was like seeing a fish head on a lion's body.

You came back soon enough with a plate and spoon in hand, it was made clear to Miguel exactly what you were cooking. Tomato sauce with meatballs, you diced a small bit of the beef with the spoon before scooping some soup up, bringing it close to his mouth. "Ahhh,"

"I can eat on my—"

"Ahhhhh."

"For shock's sake—" he quickly took a bite, his eyes lit up as he swallowed. "It's good."

You smiled knowingly, finally allowing him to feed himself as you handed him the plate. "I know," then your expression hardened. "I'd like to talk to you about what you dreamt about, if that's okay with you." Miguel sighed, reaching over to the bedside to take a long sip of his tea.

His heart told him that it was perfectly fine for you to know about what was troubling him for so long now, but his mind, his rationale, told him to shut his trap about anything that could cause you any sort of worry or distress. When he doesn't respond to you after another moment, you lean in closer.

"Miguel, I'm always going to worry about you." You whispered, "That's just how I am, but it's because I love you. I love you so much that I can feel how much you're hurting even when you're trying to hide it from me."

"I love you too," he closed the gap to press a kiss to the crease on your forehead, you released a short breath. "I just- I don't know how to say it, I guess."

You placed a hand on his chest, "I can put the pieces together, I just want you to get this off your chest." He wished he had the ability to deny you, you're his weakness, especially when you bat your eyelashes and look at him so sweetly like you have all the love in the world to give.

He tells you as much as he can about his dream, it's all a mess. There were many parts that he wished he could just go back and erase, he didn't even want to go through with this idea in the first place. But you were so... understanding of him, it felt creepy. Not creepy, that wasn't the right word, but it was unsettling.

Being comforted by someone else always made Miguel feel like the other person had a 'holier than thou' attitude, that or he was horribly pitied to the point where he didn't want to keep opening up anymore. You carried none of those qualities, you simply nodded, listened in pure silence, but you'd chime in with some remarks every now and again. He doesn't know how he got so lucky with you.

You gave him some advice. Miguel's experiences were gut-wrenching which resulted to his night terrors, but you could share the sentiment. To some degree, at least. The advice was to just talk about it, letting that feeling build over time and dreading the next time you fall asleep would result to more casualties in the long run. And that if he had no other people to turn to, you were the first on his roster (granted he'd talk to you first anyway, but that's besides the point).

After putting away his empty plate, you joined him in bed again, it's probably still very late into the night, only three hours until you get up for work, but you didn't mind as long as you got to spend it with Miguel. However he wishes to.

The feeling of yours lips on his forehead, face nuzzled into his hair while your fingers drew shapes into his back.

The way he wrapped his arms around your hips, slotting one of his legs in between yours, and the sound of your heartbeat.

He falls into a blissful sleep, knowing you will protect him from the horrors that lurk in the shadows. For once in his life, Miguel has been taken care of and he's so glad that it's you.

[motherofagony]

A HEART FOR EATING // vol. 2

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: post outbreak!joel x f!reader setting: jackson, wy (think tlou pt. 2 minus the golfing) rating: mature, 18+, minors dni word count: 8.7k series summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing. chapter summary: you take care of joel after a patrol injury, but you suspect there's more to it than he's telling you. the atmosphere shifts as you and joel grow (begrudgingly) closer. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), protective!joel, brief masturbation (f!reader), praise kink for two seconds, blood, bodily injuries, needles (reader gives joel stitches), dissociation/triggers, alcohol, angst, sexual tension intensifies, The First Kiss™, soft!joel vol. 1 // vol. 2 series playlist a/n: we're picking up speed, folks. world-building is my weakness, so i hope you enjoy this nonetheless. honorable mention goes to the readers in the trenches, waiting patiently for joel to [redacted] reader senseless until she [redacted] all over his [redacted]. thank you for the love on the series so far. taglist: @ghostwritesthings, @widowssbite, @p3rkerr, @eternallyvenus, @punkshort if anyone would like to be added/removed to the taglist (or if i missed anyone), please send me a DM!

You’ve always hated flying.

In the great before, the stone ages of family vacations and things to look forward to, fears were singular and planes were yours.

Your family never had a lot of money, not really, but on the special occasion of a death in the family, you’d find yourself trapped to a seat in a metal tube. Going nowhere but up. Sitting through safety instructions that came from smiling, lipsticked mouths that were only hypotheticals until they weren’t.

It’s like a rollercoaster, your dad would say, amused in the way only a dad can be and sleeping through damn near anything in the same fashion. It did nothing to calm the knocking of your knees, to quell the flip of your stomach as you climbed higher and higher until you couldn’t see anything but cotton ball clouds.

It was always unnatural to you that something so heavy could float, that you were supposed to go on doing human things and drinking your ginger ale and munching your pre-packaged snack option. As if you weren’t being hurled into the sky with no one walking you through it.

As if the plummet onto tarmac meant no harm, just completely normal erratic braking that felt a lot like the moments before a crash.

There was no control — it was in someone else’s hands that you never saw. And as you fell, you were supposed to say thank you, that’s exactly what I paid for.

This is your version of the oxygen mask. This is you putting yours on before you help Joel.

You’re on your knees digging through your med bag, thumbing through bandages, checking for a quick count of gloves, antibiotics, wash cloths. You fumble with the zipper, fighting with the tremor that starts in your forearms and liquifies into your wrists. There isn’t much in the way of supplies unless you ransack what’s kept in storage, but there’s no time, and you’re not sure of what you’re about to walk into.

Waiting any moment for a scream, or the blast of a gun when they realize Joel’s not Joel anymore.

And it isn’t really a big possibility in the grand scheme of things, if you consider that he would’ve likely turned on the route home. But it’s still there, tickling the back of your head, nudging your navel uncomfortably. Nothing’s impossible.

You of all people know that.

You linger in your living room, giving a final sweep. Worst case, you can run back for what’s forgotten, but something about the idea of abandoning a vulnerable Joel – if only for a minute – doesn’t settle right in your stomach.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving a bottle of whiskey into the bag, the only anesthetic on hand. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you need to score back some points.

The steps leading up to Joel’s house are sturdy, and you imagine it’s because of the pride he takes in what’s his. Before this, his house was just another skeleton of roof, foundation, windows, and siding.

The kind of houses you pass by every day that are rife with familiarity but you don’t know what it’s like to see the people inside eat dinner, brush their teeth. Fight. Fuck.

Fresh paint from only two seasons ago, reinforced porch posts. A swing. It’s weird to see permanence in this day and age, but his intention to anchor himself and grow roots here flutters meaningfully inside you.

It’s always been a sacred thing to you, you don’t know why. A place you’d never dreamed of entering, but dreamed about what it would smell like. A pair of boots haphazard by the front door, small piles of organized chaos, of collected tangibles. A you never know if you’ll need this in one corner, a saving that for a rainy day shelved in another.

So when you raise your hand to knock, you feel like an intruder, an unwelcome invasion of privacy. And you don’t know why you knock at all, you nearly think better of it given the circumstances, but you’re testing the atmosphere, hoping for voices inside instead of a struggle.

Ellie’s swinging the door open, relief smoothing out the lines in her forehead when she sees you. Her presence seems to answer any unspoken questions you had about Joel being infected, and you don’t voice them to her when you can see unrest in her antsy legs.

“Hey. Sorry for the wait. He alright?”

Her teeth are worrying her lip, probably more traumatized by the sight of him than anything. A few strands of hair have freed themselves from her lazy half-bun at the base of her neck, caught in the crossfire when she ran her hands through it, you think.

“Yeah,” Ellie breathes, committing to it. “Yeah, he’s okay. Bleeding stopped, nothing seems broken. Just needs stitches, I think.”

It sounds more to convince herself than anything else. There’s a foreign fragility to her, and you hate it.

“He tell you what happened?”

The question strikes a nerve. Ellie’s shaking her bowed head, scoffing in a half-laugh that doesn’t touch her eyes. Her hand wraps around her knuckles, cracking slowly in an effort to alleviate the tension that’s reached a fever pitch inside her.

“He won’t tell me, says it doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have gone alone anyway, he was bein’ a dick. ‘I wanna think, kiddo - need t’clear my head,’” she mocks in a gruff, rolling pitch, the perfect dosage of Texas.

It levels you, potent. Are you the thing Joel needed to clear his head of?

You’re weirdly longing for it, but being flicked away like a bug, peeled away layer by layer from him isn’t something you want.

There’s hope that you’re contagious. That you’re haunting him and lurking in the darkest corners of his mind like an apparition like he has yours. And maybe there’s hope after all, something left to salvage.

But you play dumb, furrow your brow a little too expertly.

Ellie’s measuring you, and there’s a glimpse of worry but she hides it in a way that you wouldn’t know what you were looking for if you hadn’t already found it.

“Anything you wanna tell me about the other night? He was pissed when he left,” she tacks on quietly.

You go a little slack-jawed. You don’t even know how to put it into words, and you couldn’t tell her what it meant even if you tried.

What’s there to even say?

“You know what, none of my business,” she says, her hands lifting in tired surrender when you don’t answer, ignoring your near-sputter. “But you’re not off the hook, just make sure the old man doesn’t croak. And tell him he scared the shit outta me.”

You exhale and hope it doesn’t read too much as relief. You’ll have to answer to her later, but at least you might have an answer to give.

“Handful of salt in the wound, rub in circular motions – got it. Tell Tommy I’ll catch up later.”

Your shoulders scrape affectionately as you nudge past each other, and you cast a wide look at the periphery of Joel Miller’s house. The feeling of unwelcome disappears, and if anything, you’re being tugged further inside. Imagining what it’s like to be a fixture, an adornment in his weird little life.

Nooks that you assumed would be messy are neat, coiffed even. There’s that unavoidable smudge of secondhand all over the furniture – mottled ever so slightly, aged uneven in places that only an apocalypse can do. But it’s an otherwise tidy existence. Another surprise from Joel that you’d never pick up on if you only witnessed him nursing a drink at the bar.

An oak bookshelf props itself at the bottom of the stairs and it rivals your own, dust gathering in thin lines where he’s repeatedly shelved this, reread that. There are paintings hung decisively on most of the walls, breathtaking rural landscapes of wherever.

You’re lugging the bag upstairs, counting your breaths with each step. The whiskey rattles mutely against the first aid tin, and it’s a toss-up now of who you really brought it for.

The landing mirrors the ground level, a purposeful littering of tchotchkes. Doors line the second floor, some closed, some ajar but not inviting, and you realize you have no idea which one you’re looking for. You sway uninvited by the bannister until you hear the unmistakable hiss of breath between clenched teeth, then a soft moan as his weight shifts.

And you’re stepping inside a room – his bedroom – warmed in the soft beginnings of sunset. Joel’s sprawled asymmetrically on his bed, eyes pinched shut, delirious with blood loss but already looking substantially less like a corpse. A damp rag settles just above his brow, and the handiwork of Ellie.

There’s an unrecognizable hurt in him, wounded in ways that he shouldn’t be capable of.

He doesn’t give any indication that he knows you’re here until he’s rasping out something weak disguised as stern.

“I ain’t bit. Shut the door behind you.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“How did you –?”

Joel just huffs in response, as indignant as his body lets him be.

“You see anyone else here? They might as well’ve jumped out the window, as fast as they dumped me ‘n left. I ain’t stupid.”

You accept that and drop the pretense, pursing your lips with a nod. He doesn’t seem that offended, knows it’s just the nature of the beast.

You move over to his bedside, unpacking the bag quickly on a side table, looping your metaphorical stethoscope around your neck and switching gears into a mode that’s strictly doctoral.

Yet, there’s still that hum beneath your skin, the fizzle of unfinished business. It’s thick in the space between you, in the way he flicks his gaze at you lazily. You’ll let him foster the anger, giving it a home. You can be the martyr he says you are.

This new lens feels calmer, almost professional. Your nerves are still firing rapidly, and your composure is forced, but it’s better than nothing.

You drag a chair from the corner up to Joel’s bed, not letting your eyes wander too far into the depths of the space. You don’t have time to dissect the idiosyncrasies of his life. Not yet.

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, but you get the sense that he’s tracking your every move. His limbs are concrete, the tendons in his forearms so tense and coiled like any and every movement is forbidden.

“Joel.”

He grunts, a pained translation. Still no effort to move.

“I need to take a look at you,” you say patiently, bargaining like you would with a kid. “Wanna tell me what hurts?”

Another grunt, softer this time. He motions vaguely, weakly to his head, then the left flank of his abdomen.

You already know what you’ll find under the rag on his head, and it bodes well that the bleeding looks to have stopped. His stomach wound, on the other hand, was enough to bleed through two layers.

“Alright. Lemme see.”

A muted whimper echoes in his throat, so uncharacteristically that it tugs on your heart. Still statuesque, unmoving.

Your fingers are deft, careful as they unbutton the first, second, third buttons of his flannel. Joel’s stock-still, and his breath comes in sharp, slow waves through his nose. Your own breath kind of sits in the back of your throat, and you pretend with a hurried exhale that you weren’t just holding it.

Your fingers reach his navel on the last button, and you’re gently tucking each panel of his shirt under him on either side, focusing too hard on not touching him. It feels like something is somersaulting low in your stomach.

You can’t even dare yourself to look at his chest, his stomach. The patch of hair leading down to the band of his pants.

Get it together. That’s not what this is.

An angry gash looks up at you, thankfully clotted with dried patches of blood. It’s about two delicate fingers long, a nasty slice. It looks clean, abrupt in shape but suspiciously manmade. Not too deep, but not superficial enough to heal without some assistance.

And thank god, not nearly as bad as you thought it would be.

Joel’s looking at you now through heavy lids, wary of you, but something like fear touches the corners of his eyes. You fight to stay medical, methodical in your diagnosis. No emotion slips out, nothing allowed in.

You sit back calmly, letting loose a sigh. Not letting yourself bathe in the intimacy of the moment, in the way he’s staring.

“You need stitches,” you announce simply.

“Like hell.”

“Joel.”

He’s scowling, a hurt animal pissed at its own vulnerability. Silence passes like a ship between you, and for a moment, you think he’ll really fight you on this. He can’t hide anything when he’s like this, the weighing of his options evident in the tick of his jaw, the pathetic pinch just in the center of his brows.

“Fine,” he grits out. “Make it quick.”

This fucker.

You’re rolling your eyes, unceremoniously tugging the rag from his forehead. The cloth is red but not soaked, just twinged pink around the edges. Joel curses, just an octave above unintelligible.

His hand is shooting to the cut near his hairline and you’re smacking it away before he can pollute it.

“Lay still, fuck’s sake,” you chastise. “An infection’ll put you out longer than a few days. Unless you have a puzzle you been meaning to get around to?”

The faux-threat calms him immediately, and the shift in restraint doesn’t go unchecked. He doesn’t say another word, but you catch a glare and a twitch of his mouth.

You make quick work of cleaning him up, squeezing rubbing alcohol on a clean towel and scrubbing patient circles through the mess of dried blood. Joel releases sharp noises you can only describe as growls when you get too close to the border of his cuts.

It’s primal, a dog asserting dominance with his leg caught in a trap.

You try to lose the attitude, and it’s difficult when your patient hates you, doesn’t hate you, won’t clarify either way.

There’s a hint of purple that’s developing like fresh film on the mountains of his knuckles that doesn’t go unnoticed. Places on the most taut peaks of flesh where his skin has split, marred with scrapes that look like indents of teeth. And in the right light, there’s a discoloration of something in the same family splayed on his ribs.

And that… you know that when you see it. Even if everything else can be explained away.

“You wanna talk about it?” you say quietly.

There’s an intermission where he doesn’t respond. Too long to be the truth, too short to come up with a lie. And you know he’s been waiting for this question, might’ve already thought of a story.

“Got clumsy,” Joel recites. “Tripped on some stairs that were caving in, hit my head.”

“Bullshit.” And it’s a statement, not an insult. It doesn’t cover why he has a certified stab wound in his side.

Another stretch of silence, lack of defensiveness, makes it clear that he knows you know. But he doesn’t elaborate, and for whatever reason, you don’t push it.

And maybe it’s enough to acknowledge this sort of thing for now. You can stow it away, let it keep you up at night. Draw parallels where there possibly aren’t any. If he’d run into a human thing, he’d be much worse off, right?

Just like you were.

You take care in lining up the supplies to stitch in neat order beside you, mulling over each step in your mind. Stalling, maybe.

You pull the whiskey bottle out of your bag by the neck and nudge Joel with the cap.

“Something to take the edge off.”

He kind of hesitates, but there’s a tenderness. Recognizing it as an act of mercy, a peace offering.

There’s nothing said, but he takes the bait, spinning off the top and swallowing a messy mouthful. A drip escapes through the corner of his mouth and slips into his beard.

You can feel the taste of it blossoming on your tongue.

He grunts his thanks and keeps a steady grip on the neck of the bottle, and the network of veins in his forearm unwind.

You clamp the needle, laced through with something thicker than thread but not quite medical grade. Joel exhales a shaky whine when you pierce the skin, and his fist grips the sheets when you twist clockwise to push the needle through to the other side.

“You’re doing great,” you murmur.

The needle weaves over the cut, greeting the other side. You pull it through and up, and his lower lip trembles, sweat beading his forehead.

“First one done,” you say, praising him but also yourself.

Joel’s still clenching the linens on the bed, ignoring you and hiding out in his own mind somewhere.

You don’t tell him that you’ve only ever practiced on fruit, that your suture knowledge comes exclusively from the one medical text you have and endless hours of TV you grew up on.

Silence envelopes you again, heavier than before if possible. The pressure waxes and wanes like nighttime waves, licking the shore between you. And it’s not angry, just something… else.

“Some house you got,” you note casually as a distraction, like you’re commenting on the weather. It comes off relaxed enough, though any conversation between you feels like flossing a crowded mouth.

His eyes sharpen, and you think it’s in excruciation, but there’s a twinge of apprehension. You straighten for a moment, hands fixed mid-stitch, and roll your eyes.

“Okay, cool it, Home Alone, I’m not casing the place.”

Joel takes a turn rolling his eyes. You swear that you see his mouth twitch again, but you hang your head, dabbing a cloth where pinpricks of blood form.

You try again.

“I like your paintings.”

You dare to look up, and his mouth is in a tight line.

“You like my paintings.” he repeats dully, not a question. Joel’s as cynical as you, and he thinks it’s a jab, not sincere.

“You’re not gonna make this easy on me, are you?”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

Now’s as good a time as any. You sigh at that.

“Look, the other night wasn’t my finest moment. It didn’t need to go that way,” you mutter, leaning on the concentration of sewing up Joel’s skin. Otherwise, you might feel too strongly, dissect your word choice with an uncomfortable linger. “Sorry. I know you were trying to help.”

He goes rigid as your second stitch meets a third. The bottle tips to his lips again, and you wonder if it’s an act of liquid courage. You boldly hope so.

“Nah, I shoulda kept my mouth shut. Been thinkin’ I needed to apologize anyway,” he admits, and you know he’s happy you made the first move. You can already feel him loosen, but maybe it’s the alcohol. “You ain’t a martyr, y’know.”

Oh.

The needle hooks into the final sliver of skin, your handiwork tightening into a neat line. You sit back, wiping your brow with the ungloved section of your wrist. It’s a treaty, a handshake at the very least.

“Actually, I think you hit the nail on the head with that one,” you smirk, olive branch fully hanging between your teeth now. “Keeping up the charade is so exhausting.”

Joel presses out a pained half-laugh, and you feel something crumbling between you.

You tie off the last stitch, trimming the excess thread off the knot. The clamp clatters into the tray, and you give it a final once-over before peeling a large rectangle of bandage from your kit and pressing it gently over the wound.

“All done,” you quip, peeling your gloves off. “Didn’t even have to amputate.”

“Not too bad,” he grunts.

“I’ll add it to your tab.”

While you’re riding the high of approval, you stand and move to the foot of the bed. Joel’s boots are still on, laced messily.

And for some reason, you don’t even ask permission, you just start untying, tipping them off and lining them next to one another on the hardwood.

He doesn’t say a word. Out of confusion, maybe.

You scoot your chair and makeshift flatlay along with you, positioning yourself at Joel’s head. That look is back, a side-stare that steals your breath.

That look that knows you could absolutely ruin him, and he’d either thank you or kill you.

The pads of your fingers brush back the hair from his forehead, still slightly matted with blood. It’s a surface cut, but crescent-shaped and easily hidden by a curl of brown, peppered with grey. Butterfly closure it is.

No signs of a concussion show themselves. At least there’s that.

“You might have a scar,” you murmur. Being this close to Joel makes you feel like you’re wearing two layers too many.

And he hasn’t broken the stare, not even minutely.

“Add it to the collection,” he says lowly, not an ounce of self-pity.

Your eyes flash to the scar near his temple. You’re exercising full-on restraint not to ask him about it. But it’s not the time, something you could try to pry out of him later. And knowing there’ll be a later makes you relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw.

He’s nice enough to pretend not to notice, or he’s in too much pain to mention it.

You dab the damp rag around the border of his cut again, mopping up any excess. You reach for the isopropyl.

“You might wanna take another swig,” you warn. And he obeys, down the hatch and white-knuckling through it.

“Good boy,” you’re murmuring automatically, and it just slips out.

Your mouth falls open just so, and Joel’s coughing, clearing his throat against the burn of whiskey. You’re pleading with the universe that his cough was close enough, loud enough to cover the words, but his face has turned a shade of red that’s probably rivaling the heat that reaches your ears.

Good boy? Jesus Christ.

If there was ever a heightened moment of being fucking touch-starved, it’s this.

You make haste with the disinfectant and place the closures over the cut. The bloodied towels and scraps from the DIY surgery are cleaned up, tied neatly into a plastic bag. And now, this is the part where you run and never face him again.

You’re already making plans to board up your windows, maybe have Ellie deliver your meals solely through a slot in the door.

But Joel’s pain is overriding everything, and he’s sunken even further back into the pillow, his head lolling to prop on his shoulder. He’s whispering a weak thanks that’s incoherent at best. You tug the blanket up and over him.

You grab a glass from downstairs, fill it to the brim with water and bring it to him. He groans at the sight, petulant.

“I’m not leaving until you finish this.”

His lifts his arm for it, scowling. “Gimme the damn thing.”

Satisfied, you hand it over and watch him drink it down, his throat bobbing in a hearty gulp. Your gaze can’t help but snag on it.

You have got to get the fuck out of here.

You come back with a refilled glass and sit it on his bedside table, close enough within reach. The medical bag is packed up and ready, sagging slightly in areas where you’ve emptied it. It knocks against your already-knocking knees, and you’re grateful to use its weight as an excuse for how blurred you feel.

“I need to talk to Tommy. You gonna be alright for a bit?”

His eyes are closed again, on the outskirts of rest, but his mouth pulls up in the ghost of smile.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart.”

And you hope he means it.

—

You track down an unsettled Tommy, finding him pacing in the back of the general store. He’s restocking some shelves but not quite – there’s an gross pairing of tinned fish and fresh eggs sitting on a display that’s unappetizing at best.

“He’s okay. No bite,” you add lowly, acutely aware of how many pairs of ears are in the store. “But he needs to be monitored.”

Tommy slackens, rubbing his eyes that are full of exhaustion and bruised with worry. Index finger and thumb stroking the respective tails of his mustache one, two, three times as the gravity of that strikes him.

He loops you into an embrace, and it’s kind, full of ease. The smell of firewood and smoke tickles your nose. His worry evaporates then, and honestly, so does yours.

“He doin’ alright?”

You chew on that for a moment and nod. There are complications, but nothing to do with Joel’s health.

“He was pissed about the stitches, but I didn’t have a choice. Cut was pretty deep.”

“So… he tell you what happened, then?”

There’s that question again. You feel like you should have an answer, but if he wouldn’t clue in Ellie, you sure as hell wouldn’t be.

Like squeezing blood from a stone, your dad used to say.

“No,” you lie instinctively. You don’t know why.

But it isn’t really. Not if you don’t know the full truth yourself. There’s just something about Joel’s omission that makes you feel entitled to find out first.

“He said he fell down some stairs,” you amend, “just didn’t say where or how.”

Tommy offers you the same look that Ellie gave you – a raised brow coupled with a touch of disbelief.

“If you say so.”

You shrug, playing it as cool as’ll come natural to you. “You know Joel. Doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and rolling out his shoulders that you know have been holding tension. He believes that, at least.

“Sounds like you know him, too.”

—

A few days come and go.

Ellie takes on a lot of the recovery, but she doesn’t like messing with stitches — creeps me the fuck out that you did that without puking all over him, she claims — and she’s eager to substitute for the patrol routes while Joel’s down and out. You offer to step in, with a totally normal and selfless motive.

If she thinks anything else of it, you’d be the last to know.

Your new itinerary consists of changing Joel’s bandages, cleaning up through his hissed breaths and every goddamn it. Twice a day, morning and night and sometimes in closer intervals, but never approaching the cusp of any boundary.

Joel’s fiercely independent, swatting your hands when you try to help. Donning a clean flannel in the space between your lunchtime visit and your nightcap, despite you telling him that he shouldn’t be pushing his mobility.

That said, he’s marginally better about following doctor’s orders, drinking the water you leave on his nightstand but neglecting the pills that would stop him from coiling in on himself like a ready spring. And he doesn’t say it but you know it’s because he thinks it’d be a waste.

You trade regular formalities at first, each of you standing behind your respective walls, daring the other to toe a bit closer.

Joel doesn’t ask, but you bring him some short stories to pass the time and he devours them. You didn’t think much of it other than just straying past the point of being nice, but your heart sings a bit at how he leaves his shell at your coaxing.

You learn Bradbury is his favorite, but when he finishes The Most Dangerous Game, it’s the most he’s ever spoken to you in one sitting, astounded at the perfectly tied bow of an ending, asking you questions that only the author could answer. But it’s a marvel to witness, something you think about when you’re cleaning stables or washing dishes.

He’s unraveling for you, a loose thread tugged too hard on your favorite sweater. He talks of the places in the paintings, sometimes abruptly, like he isn’t sure what his cue is or if he has one.

Mentions of pre-Jackson when there was so much uncertainty and isolation, but it was coupled with those types of watercolor skies that you couldn’t paint if you tried.

These little pieces of him that make him whole – it’s like you’re both in on the same secret. And Joel isn’t doing it to lighten the tension, to be nice; that isn’t his brand of politeness. He just revels in the holy act of confession with you as his witness.

You come to learn that his room is modest, different from the rest of his house. Clues of hobbies sprawled on his desk – leatherworking tools and hand drawn blueprints that you can’t get a good look at with just a sidelong glance.

There’s a dusty stereo tucked at the back towards the wall, and you picture a content Joel, sketching new plans for a porch swing or some small addition while old bluesy country croons from the speakers.

You like this daydream, placing him in something lighthearted where his only worry is that he’s losing daylight on yardwork.

The two of you talk about little bits of everything and nothing. Reminiscing about sending snail mail, discussing what you think places like Italy look like now. How close you came to crossing an ocean in another life.

Tonight, you have a night terror that clings to you like wet denim. Stop-motion, nonsensical. Your head ricocheting into concrete, hitting your temple just so. Flashes of the people that used to be your parents, your friends.

And just as the life drains from you, blood seeping onto the floor and into spidering cracks, you wake up a flailing mess.

You practice your routine, twisting on knobs of lamps and plugging in the twinkling lights hanging around the perimeter of the living room. You press your cheek to the floor, checking under your bed for monsters for good measure.

Bleary-eyed, you’re climbing back under the covers, pulling them snug up to your chin.

There’s a neediness crawling its way through your organs with a one-way ticket south. The juxtaposition of fear mingles with an otherness, and it anchors itself to Joel.

You never cared for a protector, still don’t, but the eagerness that sprouts from him to defend your honor — and for nothing in return — magnetizes you on a cellular level.

Your fingers are dipping into the band of your already-damp underwear, taking inventory of what the thought of him does to you. Body on auto-pilot. A pool of dripping neediness, so slick that you’re coating your clit in excess and rubbing in tight circles.

He doesn’t even have to touch you, and it’s pathetic.

Images of Joel’s beard scratching your thighs swirls behind your eyelids, your hand gliding between the glistening of your folds. Fingers crook inside you, dipping into the last knuckle, and you’re choking on a gasp, already on the edge.

You wish they were more calloused, thicker, with length that can hit the spot that’s desperately out of reach.

You wish they were Joel’s.

It takes only a minute, some curling and pumping of your wrist to make it quick in case it’ll only ever be a fantasy. The wet noises of your arousal are nothing short of obscene, and you’re coming loudly, sharply on a string of moans.

In some ways, you think, you have already died.

And fuck. It’s so poetic it makes you sick.

—

On the fourth day, Maria sends you to Joel’s with some stew — two hearty containers that're meant for the both of you.

She’s been taking her shift at his place, carrying over containers of this and that to keep him fed. You wonder how often she takes on that role anyway, sans injury. You don’t peg Joel as the type to eat three square meals a day of his own accord.

Tell Joel I can’t make it tonight. Gotta do inventory.

She makes no room for elaboration, so you don’t ask. But you thank her with a hug, and you could swear that she’s giving you a conspiratorial smirk.

When you knock on Joel’s bedroom, he gives a new, warm invitation, coated in subtle hospitality. It’s a far stretch from the unaffected what? you might’ve received a week ago.

You place the stew down on the bedside table, along with some bowls and spoons you plucked from his kitchen. He just looks up at you from his bed, uncertainty reaching the lines of his forehead.

“It’s all Maria,” you explain and he hums, catching up.

“Explains a lot,” he mutters.

You eat quietly for a little over ten minutes. Joel’s flannel today boasts a rich navy, buttoned up to the top but not far enough to hide the sprinkling of hair that peeks through.

He catches you staring and pins you with a dark glance.

“You afraid of the dark or somethin’?”

Joel’s ask cuts through the air, and your spoon stops mid-route to your open mouth. It’s so out of the blue that it stuns you momentarily.

“Sorry?”

“You turn the lights on at night.”

What you thought to be private moments of fear were actually on display for all to see.

For Joel to see.

And the memory of your thighs trapping your hand as you came over and over again on your fingers… you’re grateful to at least have had some decorum to draw your bedroom curtains.

“Um.” You dig for a way to say nope, I’m actually just a pussy and I see things that aren’t there. Also, I was touching myself thinking about you last night. “No, just nightmares.”

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s searing. A bead of sweat makes a slow descent down your spine to your tailbone. You laugh lightly to deflect.

Joel’s mouth thins into a tight line.

“It’s nothing,” you promise.

“Ain’t nothin’,” he snaps. His brows are knitted in fury, misdirected. But you get it.

Your stomach is rumbling, but you’ve effectively lost whatever appetite you had. The bowl finds a space on the side table, and you’re pulling your knees to your chest protectively, thumbing at the fray on the cuff of your jeans.

You don’t mean to scowl, but you can’t help it. You can’t even meet his eyes.

Joel’s sighing, his own bowl discarded on the nightstand, grazing the lip of yours.

“Look, it’s not my business,” he starts, choosing his words carefully, “but that kinda shit worries me.”

When you do look up, he’s rubbing his beard with rigid fingers. You should feel nice and fuzzy that he cares enough to point it out, but it’s just embarrassment instead.

That, on top of everything else, you can’t even get through the night without waking up in a cold sweat.

“I know how it looks,” you say in surrender, “but I swear I’m fine.”

You can imagine what it would feel like to really mean it; it’s just on the tip of your tongue. There is a defiance there, it’s just struggling to find a way out.

“You sure about that?”

You let your feet touch the floor, straightening out your legs and busying yourself with smoothing the creases in your pants.

“You worry about everyone else like this?” you muse, hoping to redirect.

Joel’s scratching the back of his neck, eyes fixed anywhere else.

“Always worried about you.”

If you were any farther away, you wouldn’t have heard him.

Outside, kids are yelling, playing tag. You watch in jealousy, can almost hear the crunch of their boots and their tiny, inconsequential conversations. It takes you longer than intended to give a response, and he waits, patiently. Just trickles a look from the crown of your head to your hands to your face. Searching for a reaction.

“You’re about ten months late, Miller.” And you’re smiling briefly. You mean it as playful, but it’s colored with sadness.

His eyes glaze, and the wheels are turning, wondering if that also means too late.

“Didn’t want you to think I was takin’ advantage of the situation. And I thought Max —” Joel bites down on the name.

“Fuck Max,” you spit in disgust. “That was never a thing.”

You don’t have to make eye contact to see that he’s pleased by that. He hums in the back of his throat. Resists a shit-eating grin. From the looks of Joel connecting the dots, you don’t need say much else.

“Yeah, well. We all failed you,” he insists. “I failed you.”

It sets an incredulous spark in some hidden part of you. Nails cut into your palm, your fists balling harshly. Everyone else? Sure, you’d give him that. Jackson spit you out, with the exception of a select few.

But Joel?

“You saved me.”

“Not good enough,” he says under his breath.

—

The next day, you let yourself inside, already learning the language of Joel’s house when you press a little extra weight against the door to seal it shut when it sticks.

It’s quiet, on the cusp of 8, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel’s on the brink of sleep.

The sun’s long settled over the mountain, so there’s not much in the way of guidance.

It’s dark, but you expected it to be. You draw the curtains one by one, moving blindly from room to room yet knowing exactly where your feet are. It strikes you as odd, a visitor keeping pace with an unfamiliar house.

But if Joel’s anything, it’s predictable. Unfussy in the way he keeps out of the way, even in his own space. Takes pride in it, sure, but lives in a way that demands nothing but cherishes everything, even the absence of something.

Meaning there’s nothing too unexpected, too risky in its placement. He doesn’t take up too much room in the event that it’s gone tomorrow.

When your hands fumble for the switch of the living room lamp, the bulb springs to life and bathes a wary Joel in light. Sitting on the couch, slouched with residual soreness, but waiting.

For you.

“Jesus, fuck — what the fuck, Joel —”

“You’re late.”

“— sitting in the fucking dark like a lunatic —”

He puts a hand up to stop you, as if to press your mute button.

“I didn’t fall down any stairs.”

Your hands have risen to your chest in the shock of him there, and you’re gripping your shirt in the way he had almost a week ago. You don’t miss that little detail, so much so that you struggle to piece together what he’s saying.

It punches you abnormal; you kept so busy with leaving the subject alone that it slipped your mind that he lied.

“Sit down.”

You’re obedient and you don’t know why. You find a seat across from him, pulling up a stool that’s meant for feet, not your ass. Something crackles beside you, and the embers of a dying fire glow and warm to the left of you.

Your leg crosses over your knee, creating a 45-degree angle that you rest your elbows on. “Yeah, I gathered as much, thanks. You’re a terrible liar.”

Joel’s just eyeing you. And it’s not in a way that sizes you up, more of a calculation of what to say next. What to give away. There’s a beat of this, then another, then another.

“I thought ‘bed rest’ was pretty self-explanatory.”

You’re growing impatient, filling the room just to do it. You both know what happened, and maybe that’s what’s needling at you. That you’re the one person who’d understand the most, but the one person he doesn’t want to know.

It feels wretched and seething, knowing something but not enough.

“I’m gonna need you to cut to the part where you tell me what happened, Joel.”

At that, Joel drags in a breath and leans deeper into the couch. His gaze has moved to somewhere far off, burning into the drawn curtains like he can see outside, can see directly into the window of your kitchen. And with sudden clarity, you realize that he could — it’s a clean diagonal stare.

Are you afraid of the dark?

How many times has he sat in this very spot, taking in the show, watching you make tea, watching you read, watching you stutter and shake with sobs? Witnessing the onslaught of a nightmare?

Touching yourself? Watching you undress?

You aren’t the voyeuristic type, just uncaring to the point of defenseless. But Joel keeping an eye on you in this way is the coup de grâce that does you in. There’s no question now of whether he cares.

“I took Mountain View, headed for the outpost. Not much up that way lately, maybe one or two infected every once ‘n a while,” he says, and it’s unsettling that he’s talking in a way that could be to anyone or no one at all. “Thought I’d stop at the pharmacy on the way up, check that off, too. ‘Cept I wasn’t the only one with that idea.”

He pauses only to crack his knuckles for effect. Fingertips splay on his spread knees, and what seemed so fragile earlier, watercolors of bruises stretching from ligament to tendon, seems threatening now.

“One was lootin’ in the back, didn’t hear me come in. I thought he mighta been alone ‘til his friend followed me in,” he pauses, lost in thought. “Got into it with him.”

As if on cue, the gory split-skin of his hands flexes. Offensive wounds.

You were right, but you wish you weren’t.

“His friend came up from the back, ‘n they took turns for a minute. Long enough for me to get a good look. I ended up takin’ out the shorter one, other one was gone before I could get up.”

Joel doesn’t lift his head, just his eyes. The skin around them crinkles in sinister shapes, lids disappeared, lashes nearly touching brow. You know it’s not anger directed at you, but it’s shrinking you back down into an armchair, your fingers digging and clawing at the fabric without recognizing it.

“Know what’s funny about that?”

You don’t think you can answer with the desert that runs through your mouth. And whatever it is, it’s anything but.

“Not a lot of activity along the outposts this way, unless it’s infected. Everyone else comes straight through to Jackson. The logs say we’ve only run into two groups of raiders in the last five years along the patrol route,” another pause for emphasis. “And one of them was ten months ago.”

Something catches in your chest.

And then there’s a dam that breaks, pure relief. Relief that Joel’s seen the thing you’ve been pointing and screaming at while everyone else shrugs their shoulders and squints.

Then — panic.

Ice sneaks into your veins. The tips of your fingers run numb. It strikes you that you’re standing, that the foot stool is tipped on its side.

He doesn’t move, but there’s a contained rage in his eyes and his voice. A temper bubbling now that you’ve confirmed what he suspected.

“He have any tattoos?” Joel asks roughly.

There’s a flash of stars, hand-poked, bordering on downright sloppy.

“Who?” You say dumbly, but it’s obvious what he’s referring to. He’s seen it, too, and he’s seen it this week.

“You know who.”

You do.

You could draw it from memory if he asked.

Your weight becomes too much for your legs, and you collapse back down, this time into a chair that supports your amoeba-like state as everything in you turns to jelly.

“They’re getting closer. We were in Teton, so if they made it this far —” you jumble out, not sure if it’s just meaningless vomit to his ears. By his solemn nod, it isn’t.

He’s up and out of his seat with a wince that’s not as severe as before, his eyes careful on you, on your hands that you’re gripping together tightly to keep them still.

The isolation of his side is evident in the way he closes the space between you, but he masks the grimace as best he can. There’s a reprimand in you somewhere that he should be resting, lying down at least, but you know it’s pointless.

“Hey.”

He’s kneeling as much as his flank will allow, a pain in his eyes that isn’t for himself. Those fingertips scale the cliff of your jaw, ghosting as if he’s afraid to overstep. They’re prodding you to meet his eyes, and when you do, he drops his hand like he’s been burned.

It connects fiercely to a memory that you try to hold in your hands. A snowy, reminiscent one that slips through like a ribbon of smoke.

“Ain’t gotta worry about him. I’ll take care of it.”

You laugh, a real one that’s stained with sarcasm.

“What does that mean?”

Joel softens now, and the shift startles you. He thinks for a beat before answering.

“Whatever you need it to mean.”

It feels incomprehensible that anyone would willingly put themselves in danger for you, even adjacently, but then who noticed you were missing that day? Who led the pack, found you bleeding out?

The weather was violent, incoherent — a lost cause, a needle in the proverbial haystack. He already toed the line of a dangerous, potentially fruitless rescue mission.

And you never even thanked him.

“Why?” You ask it for the second time in as much as a week. It’s disjointed in conversation, but he knows that you need this answer.

“You remember how you were before?”

And for a split-second, you try.

There are glimpses, a rickety reel of kids tugging on your pant leg as they beg you to join them during recess, a glittering spray of laughter with Ellie as empty beer cans and discarded guitars litter her living room floor.

Of your friends’ faces on too many relaxed, sunny patrols, sometimes forcing them into a detour into the abandoned record store through Alpine so you can see what’s left.

Dinner in warm houses like Tommy and Maria’s, so full to the brim of love and potatoes and mead that you stumble on down to your house with cheeks burning and tuck yourself in with all of the lights off.

Visions of Joel that are fleeting, taped in frames on a film strip, but friendly exchanges.

But it’s a faceless narration. The accident wiped clean of any room for interpretation. Any visitation with these memories. You can place yourself in them, but can’t for the life of you feel tethered to her.

Frustrated, eyes watering, you shake your head.

“That’s why.”

Now he’s holding your jaw like he would some fragile thing, slotting his thumb just under the pulse thrumming in your neck, feeling the echo of it in his hand. There’s a silence, as if he’s straining to hear, to know the sound and syllables of your livelihood. You wish he’d press harder, bring you to the precipice of pleasure and death.

If only to know what it feels to be glass in Joel Miller’s hands, to be given the taste of death after he’d given you the gift of life all those months ago.

Your heart is hammering against your ribs. You know he can feel the adrenaline in your pulse point.

“Joel,” it falls out as a whisper, and you hate how good his name feels in your mouth.

He’s looking at you with empathy, thumbing through the pages of every agony you’ve succumbed to. It’s new and buzzing, knowing that there’s nothing you’d ever have to explain to Joel. No reasoning or fine print for how you are, he just knows. And he stays anyway.

A tear tracks a salty line down your face and it meets the pad of his thumb, an easy swipe.

And there’s a surge low in your throat, seesawing with satisfaction and the tell-tale lump of more tears if you lean in hard enough. Joel never shows his hand, the last to fold, but it feels a lot like you’re the prize he was waiting to throw cards down for.

So, you lean. Concave cheek into his calloused hand, tears without sobs leaking between his fingers down into his sleeve. The weight of only the world — your world, plural and shared — pushing you into him. The cataclysmic release that you’ve been aching for.

Your head is against his chest, cheek pressed against flannel because he’s guided you there. And it’s nice, you think, nice that he’s being a gentleman about the whole thing.

A gentleman just finger-combing through your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

It’s serene, and you’d happily make a home there and fall asleep if it wasn’t for the hammering of your heartbeat. You know he can feel it, and your quickened breath is the cherry on top.

Joel levels your faces, and his fingers are deja vu on the braille of each ridged cheekbone. He’s waiting on a cue, a line to be given to him from offstage, but you see flames licking through each darkened iris.

Something keeps holding him back, keeps holding you back. He’s too careful, afraid of cutting his hands on you. And in exploring every facet of that, it’s because he doesn’t want to bleed on you, not because the sharpest parts of you could hurt him.

You keep telling yourself it’s foreign and you’re strangers to one another.

But is it? Are you?

As if he’s reading your mind, Joel closes the distance in one fell swoop, and he kisses you.

It’s clumsy at first, in the way that clumsy is when you’re learning each other’s mouths. You taste the dregs of whiskey, of something wanton, and every unspoken word that’s ever misted between you. Years of forming smile lines and the prickle of his unkempt beard against your chin, taste the stories of every scar.

You’re tangling with him, lips pressing urgently against Joel. His tongue’s expert but gentle when he dips it inside your mouth, and you’re swapping breathless sighs. You can only imagine what he’s tasting of you, what flavor he’s been dreaming of.

His hands are still at either side of your face, thumbs pressing sweetly into the bony part of your jaw. Joel’s stilling the unrest in you that’s put its bags down and refused to leave. It quiets, tips a hat and walks out, leaving a welcome calm in place.

There’s a chasteness, but you know he’s just as desperate and hungry as you are. Wanting to claim, to devour each other entirely. And it’s not lost on you that he’s on his knees, hands clasping your face in prayer like you’re some communion he’s drinking from.

He engulfs you, and you’re moving together, fitting together like you were poured from the same mold. Joel’s fingers have moved to thread through your hair, one of his hands cradling the back of your head and tugging just barely.

Enough that magma pools in between your hips.

But he slows, letting loose a low groan into the heat of your mouth. It’s helpless, like he’s accepted he can’t swim and has submerged his head underwater.

And when you finally break apart, Joel’s pupils are dilated, on the cusp of black. Your collective breaths are uneven. He looks at you in awe.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a long, long time,” he’s saying, but you can barely hear him. Not when your heart is catching up with the rest of you, roaring above everything else. His thumb skates over your bottom lip, and the instinct to unhinge your jaw for him shouldn’t be there, but it is.

Maybe this sort of suffering is worth it, if it’s Joel you’re suffering for.

If you weren’t in trouble before, you sure as fuck are now.

[bogkeep]

Would you recommend the SSSS comic? I know little of it beside the very beautiful artstyle and premise

to answer the question of if i would recommend SSSS as a comic: yes, yes i would.

a description for those who don't know: Stand Still Stay Silent is a post-apocalyptic horror + adventure webcomic set in the nordics (norway, sweden, denmark, finland, iceland) that have been isolated from the rest of the world and gone back to their old gods. the the world outside of safe zones is full of trolls and beasts - humans and mammals that got infected by a horrible virus and turned into monsters. the story follows a ragtag crew that ventures into the old world (derelict denmark) on an expedition to collect books.

the comic updated every workday until it concluded in 2022, and consists of two Adventures. the creator had plans for many adventures with these characters in this world, but ended it after two when she wanted to take a new direction with her life.

what i love about it:

- the art is GORGEOUS. it's been a huge source of inspiration for me. open any page and it's a masterpiece, and you will ask yourself "how the FUCK did she update this FIVE DAYS A WEEK"

- the characters are wonderful and endearing. i just, i love them so much. i am so thankful lalli hotakainen exists he is one of my #1 blorbos forever

- the world is so cool. the blend of chunky sci-fi and norse mythology fantasy magic slaps. it goes so hard. i fell so hard for this comic when i got to the big ferry ship with a viking style dragon head prow added to it. it's everything

- it really really gets nordic cultures. it's difficult to explain all the dynamics and nuances but it just gets it. it brings me as a scandinavian a lot of joy to read a story that speaks to my heart this way. the attitudes, the language barriers, the cultural differences... it was so refreshing to me in a media landscape dominated by american stories. when the pandemic hit, i decided to reread the comic because i found such an odd comfort in seeing how it depicted the scandinavian countries reacting to, well, a pandemic.

- there's kittycats

what i don't like about it:

- the most glaring and obvious flaw is that everyone in the comic is white. there's not a single character of color anywhere, not even i background shots or the prologue. there's no mention of the saami people (the indigenous people of northern europe), either. i believe this was done in ignorance more than malicious intent, but the implications are Extremely Bad and it's been bothering me (AND MANY OTHERS) since day 1. that is the number one caveat i will give to anyone wanting to check this comic out. i've been in the discourse trenches and i am not going to excuse this. it's just bad!

- you can tell in the middle of adventure 2 that the creator has kind of lost interest in the work, around the time when she found jesus i guess. like, very few people can keep up work on the same creative project for years and years and years and i think it's fine that she wanted to drop it, but it's a bit sad to see the comic dragged to its end like a limp corpse, and feeling like the creator no longer really cares about the characters.

- minna sundberg has said and done some questionable things, presumably gotten somewhat radicalised over time, and has also converted to hardcore christianity which is what her new works are about. there's nothing about this in SSSS - there is a moment of christianity represented in the story in a sort of mythological sense, just like the other religions, but this was written before minna's conversion. her new works... are a Choice. i have much to say about them, and i have, and im not gonna rehash it now.

SO YEAH hopefully this will help you take an Informed Choice! i got into this comic in 2015 and was deep in the fandom and it's for better or for worse part of my soul foundation now.

i also recommend A Redtail's Dream, minna's "practice comic" before SSSS, based on finnish mythology and the kalevala.

[pawnshopbleus]

Vigilante shit: giving abby a sexy lap dance while she sits in a chair, and you wear sexy and sparkly lingerie during this whole ordeal to treat her. With matching high heel stilettos, of course, Bonus points if they're Louboutin boots.

I'm going to try my hand at headcanons for this one.

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬

Lawyer!Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary - You give Abby a lap dance as a treat for working so hard.

Contains - lap dances, a mention of a fictional murder case (nothing detailed), suggestive movements, lesbians being lesbians, a chaste kiss, and a baby bit of smut at the end.

Authors Note - This is my first time doing headcanons so I hope i'm decent at them 🗣️ Also, anon, I'm not quite sure if you actually wanted a vigilante!Abby and if you did, I'm sorry for not delivering!

She’d come home, more tired than ever, but try her best to stay up. She makes her way up to her home office.

As she passes you, all she spares is a chaste kiss on the lips and a quick squeeze on your hips. She wants more and she can sense that you want more, but that’s all she can spare. There’s more paperwork to do and not enough time at the office to do it. She locks herself in her office, not wanting to be bothered.

You sense that she’s tired and frustrated. She told you a few facts about the case she’s been given. It’s a murder case. Abby hated those.

You've always respected her time alone. You knew that she could get snappy if anyone interrupted her work, but this time it was different. She has been working so hard these past few weeks and she deserves a break. Even if it’s a quick one.

You make your way to your closet and immediately find the lingerie Abby bought you two months ago. It was sparkly and red, perfect for the occasion.

You let your day clothes pool at your feet and slide all the straps and loops onto your body. A red mesh bra covered your tits and a red thong left nothing to the imagination. Thigh garters sat on your plush thighs and the belt that held them together snaked up your thighs and settled on the strap of your thong.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. You looked beautiful, sexy even, but it was missing something. Then in the corner of your eye, you saw the perfect shoes to match. You slipped on your red Louboutin's and nodded at your reflection in the mirror. You threw a trench coat on. You weren’t sure if it was yours or Abby’s, but it didn’t matter. It would be on the floor in seconds.

Your heels clicked on the wooden floor as you made your way to Abby’s office. The key to her office was in the pocket of the coat.

As you opened the door, Abby dismissed you, saying “Not right now, honey. I’m really busy and I-'' Her words got cut off as she inhaled once she saw you standing there in the doorway. The trenchcoat lay haphazardly on the floor. Your body is bare except for the red lingerie.

“I think you deserve a treat for working so hard.”

Abby got up from her seat, but you sat her back down. She needed to sit still for what you had in mind.

“You can look, but you can’t touch,” you warn as she reaches a hand out to caress your skin.

Abby’s hands form into fists as they sit in her lap.

You're dancing in front of her. Your hips swing to the music playing quietly from your phone. But Abby can’t hear the music. She’s just focused on the way your ass jiggles and how she’s going to mark it up later. That’ll teach you for teasing her

As the night goes on, Abby’s work is long forgotten as she fucks you with her strap on top of her desk. Your tits bounce as she thrusts into you. The wooden desk is a tad bit uncomfortable under your bare back, but that's the least of your worries. You just hope that Abby will let you cum this time.

That's what you get for teasing her 🤷🏿‍♀️

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 2: First Kill

AO3 Link  |  Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; cutting (not to self, but still); descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; brief allusion to transphobia

Note: I know I’m not the only one who wanted to be the one holding the knife in that scene…

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

The earth beneath Abby’s knees was wet. Rain cascaded all around her. When she was able to pull her eyelids open, she found that she was staring at the ground below her. It was dark, save for dim firelight.

Very slowly, she came to, her senses awakening one by one.

It took her far too long to realize that she was being dragged forward, toward a larger fire, with her arms tightly bound behind her back.

She was barely conscious when the arms that were carrying her suddenly let go, sending her crashing onto the ground with no way to cushion the fall. She let out a pained grunt and shifted, trying to get a better sense of where she was.

When she looked up, she found three bodies, hanged and gutted and very very dead.

Panic set in as she quickly got her knees beneath her, trying to get up. Instantly, the hands returned, roughly forcing her back on her face and holding her there, unyielding.

All too quickly, a noose was pulled over her head and tightened.

“No—” Abby pleaded, but the rope tightened further and she struggled as she was lifted off the ground.

She dangled and continued to struggle until something was pushed beneath her feet, just tall enough for her to stand on the tips of her toes and relieve some of the pressure on her throat.

Finally, she saw her attackers. She knew they would be Scars, but looking at them standing around her, watching…

She knew she was about to die.

There was a man and a woman directly in front of her, mutilated faces silently staring at her from beneath their hoods.

The woman removed hers and tilted her head, eying Abby.

She spoke. “It is time.” And then she took a step back. “If it is your will, Prophet, yield your righteous blade. Free this wretched Wolf from the evil within her.”

You stood in the shadows, unseen, previously unnoticed by the dangling girl. When the woman spoke to you, you stepped into the light, slowly moving toward them.

Where the other Scars wore trench coats, you were covered entirely in a long black cloak, your face concealed beneath a larger hood. Your movements were smooth and intentional. Self-assured.

In your right hand, there was a dagger, loosely held but steady in your grip.

As you stepped closer to Abby, she tried to focus. Tried to analyze you. But her airflow was severely restricted and any small movement from her could result in her losing her footing and falling off the bucket beneath her feet.

The two others stood on either of Abby’s sides, ready to intervene if she were to try anything… Not that she could do anything if she did try.

You were standing directly in front of her now, but she still couldn’t see anything beneath the hood through the rain and her faintly blurring vision.

She wasn’t sure what she expected. That morning when Isaac told her you existed, she hadn’t thought about what you might look like. She had seen the murals of the original Scar Prophet, and she always thought she looked like a regular woman. Just some random lady who became the leader of the worst cult ever.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for when you reached up with your free hand and pulled back your hood. Her eyebrows raised involuntarily.

You were beau—

You… You didn’t look like a Scar.

Your eyes met hers for just a moment before they swept downward, taking her in. You eyed her curiously, like you weren’t sure what to do with her.

Or maybe that was Abby just being hopeful.

The look on your face hardened, becoming determined. Your grip on the knife tightened. If any part of you had been hesitating, you’d just made up your mind.

Shit.

Fuck.

Yeah, she was definitely going to die.

“They are nested with sin,” you said, voice low. Your eyes were on Abby’s face, holding her gaze.

The other Scars watched as your eyes again went lower. You reached your hand toward Abby’s abdomen, lightly grazing before gripping the bottom hem of the shirt and pulling it up, exposing her bare stomach.

Abby knew that the lack of oxygen must’ve been making her lose her mind. She had to be sick. Because when she felt your fingers on her skin, she shivered. And she wanted to lean into the touch…  

Until you pressed the blade there, harshly enough to emit a trickle of blood.

Abby hissed and looked away, gasping for breath and closing her eyes against the sharp sting of the knife.

You pushed the blade further.

“Free them,” you continued, “That they may know My—”

You were interrupted by the sound of a whistle, and you instantly paused.

Abby opened her eyes to watch as you breathed out. You were – what – relieved?

The other two ran off to respond to the whistle. You remained in place, dagger still held firmly against Abby’s stomach. You stared at it, and she stared at you, waiting for you to either finish the job or pull away.

You did neither, frozen in place. It seemed like you were also waiting for something.

Abby didn’t dare to move in the meantime.

The other Scars returned with two more, another man and a younger girl who was struggling against the men as they held her forcefully on both sides.

“Yara,” the Scar woman said smugly. You visibly winced upon hearing the name, still not turning around.

“Where is the other apostate?” the same woman asked. She leaned closer to the girl, who responded by spitting in the woman’s face.

There was a moment of silence before the woman uttered the words, “Clip her wings.”

“No!” You spoke out immediately, turning quickly and bringing your dagger with you. Abby gasped and took as deep a breath as she could, still struggling against the noose and her binds.

“Don’t.” Your voice was authoritative, causing the men who were holding the girl to pause.

The woman looked quickly at you, surprised at your outburst, before turning back to her henchmen. “I am your direct superior. Do as I said.”

“But she’s the—”

“Do. It.” She seethed.

“No,” you insisted again.

The men threw the girl on the ground anyway.

You ran forward, but the woman grasped you and forced you back. You were too preoccupied watching the girl on the ground to prevent the woman from taking the dagger from your hands. She tossed it aside, far out of reach.

“I knew it!” she said through gritted teeth. “I told Elder Constance you weren’t ready.”

It happened quickly.

One of the men pulled a hammer from his belt and violently smashed it down on the girl’s left arm as she screamed.

“Yara!” You tried to push past the other woman again, but again she held you back.

“They’re apostates! Traitors to your people and your cause. You should be giving the order to have them killed!”

The man brought the hammer down three more times.

“Stop! Please stop!” you cried, fighting against the woman.

No one listened to you.

The hammer was passed to the other man. He raised his hand, ready to shatter her other arm too, when two arrows from an unseen archer stopped him short.

One through the face. The other in the chest.

Everyone turned to look for the unknown assailant, except for the girl.

She grabbed the hammer from the dead Scar’s grasp and slammed the claw of it into the other man’s throat, killing him.

The Scar woman pulled her gun to shoot the girl, but another flying arrow drew her away. She faced the surrounding forest, shooting blindly several times, not knowing where the archer was hiding.

The girl stood, left arm mangled and limp at her left side, hammer firmly grasped at her right.

This whole time, Abby could do nothing but watch.

But the Scar woman moved just close enough for her to wrap her legs around her neck from behind. She squeezed the woman’s head between her thighs until she dropped her gun.

The girl ended the woman by ramming the claws of the hammer through the side of her head.

As the woman went limp, she fell from between Abby’s legs, sending her swinging through the air by her neck, unable to regain her balance on the bucket.

And Abby began to choke.

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

The Elders referred to it as your “first kill”.

It was supposed to be the last trial before you fully stepped into your role as the Prophet.

You still weren’t sure of all that would entail, but after eight years in limbo, you were ready for something else. Quite literally anything else.

Years of memorizing the scriptures, learning to fight with multiple weapons (and without them), improving upon any and all skills the Elders deemed necessary for you to master, each one seemingly more arbitrary than the last. Hours upon hours upon hours of prayer and meditation. And a whole lot of nothing.

You could kill a Wolf or two if it meant your life would become anything more than what it had been for nearly a decade. If it meant things would be different.

And if it meant you could help your friends.

You knew everyone was searching for Yara and L. Hunting them down.

You’d heard through the quiet whispers of your servants at Sanctuary that he had cut his hair and told his mother that his name was Lev.

He had no choice but to run, and Yara went too.

You were so afraid for them.

And yet part of you wished they had taken you with them.

You weren’t sure if you still got to call them your friends. You hadn’t been permitted to spend time with anyone informally or without purpose since the morning of your scarring ceremony, so you hadn’t spoken to them since then.

You should’ve been able to be there for Lev. And Yara. You shouldn’t have been locked away.

But maybe once your training was complete and you were officially the Prophet – in authority, not just by name – you could protect them.

Maybe something good could come from your circumstances after all.

That would make it all feel worth it.

Emily had taken on training you in hand-to-hand combat some months ago.

You had a strange relationship with her.

On one hand, she was the only person who didn’t treat you like you were some mystical, cosmically-chosen goddess. She usually treated you like you were just another person.

But, on the other hand, she was an ass. So that was frustrating to deal with.

Still, there had always been a greater sense of normalcy between the two of you than there had been with anyone else in Haven.

The Elders decided that Emily would be the one to take you to the mainland for your first kill.

There were some disagreements about how large the hunting party should be.

“The people need to see Her as a conqueror. They need to know that she’s a capable fighter,” some of the Elders argued. But it was ultimately agreed upon that a smaller group would be safer. It would draw less attention from your enemies.

So Emily chose two of her best men, and your group set out.

The mainland was not what you had expected, and nothing like the island, but you were able to navigate it well enough.

Emily brought you to see Martyr’s Gate for the first time.

Prayer had long since become a mindless chore of yours. You rarely did it in earnest.

Today, you did though.

You prayed for strength. Because the closer you came to the killing, the less sure you were that you would be able to go through with it.

The idea of killing while fighting, either in your own defense or to defend another, was one thing. You were sure you could do that if the time came.

But this was different. It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t a true display of combat skills or strategy or anything else you’d been training for.

Emily explained that the plan was to “catch a wolf, string ‘em up, and cut ‘em open.”

The thought made you sick.

In a rare moment of compassion, Emily put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed lightly. “They would do the same thing to you, Prophet,” she said, looking into your eyes, “the second they got the chance.”

You tried to steel yourself, knowing that, just like everything else in your life, you didn’t have much of a choice.

When the time came, you weren’t even the one who “caught” the Wolf. The men had her pinned down and Emily knocked her out while you just stood off to the side, blinking, trying not to vomit.

As she laid still on the ground, you couldn’t help but to examine the girl whose life you would soon be taking.

She was big. And very strong. Strong in a way you honestly didn’t know a woman could be.

You wondered if all Wolves looked like this. You doubted it.

She wore a black sleeveless shirt, so you could see her arms, and they were incredible. Your eyes lingered for longer than you should’ve allowed yourself to.

Her dark blonde hair was long and braided.

She was covered in cuts and bruises. Definitely a soldier. Probably a very good one.

Your eyes traveled over her lightly freckled face, down her long nose—

Emily interrupted your train of thought. “I think I’ve heard of this one before… Never come across her myself though,” she said, joining you in eying the newly unconscious Wolf. “She has killed countless Seraphites. Numbers of Your people, dead at her hands.”

You felt a flash of anger upon hearing this and berated yourself for having been looking at her so… admiringly.

How many people did you know whose role of soldier was chosen for them, just as your role of Prophet had been chosen for you. They hadn’t asked for it any more than you did. And they had been killed for it.

Many of them by this woman.

Suddenly, the idea of killing her didn’t seem so impossible.

“It will be our honor to take care of the dirty work on your behalf, Prophet,” Emily said. “The only thing you need to worry about is this…” She handed you the dagger as the men dragged the Wolf away, into the forest.

You followed behind, pulling your hood over your head as it began to rain.

One of the two men split off, saying he thought he saw something and wanted to investigate. Emily nodded and took the Wolf’s arm from him, taking on half of her weight.

Once in the clearing, you watched as the Wolf regained consciousness, just in time for Emily and one of the men to put the noose around her neck and lift her off the ground.

You watched as she struggled to catch her breath and balanced on the bucket that Emily had shoved beneath her feet.

You watched, hidden beneath your hood, as she saw you for the first time, standing in the shadows, and her eyes widened.

You listened to her gasps and grunts as she struggled against her binds as you approached.

You pulled back your hood and looked into her eyes. Saw a living, breathing human being who had done nothing to you and could do nothing to defend herself against you.

And once again you weren’t sure if you could actually do it.

But you pushed ahead, just as you always do, and did what was expected of you.

Until the whistle had cut you off.

Yara had been captured, and you weren’t able to stop them from destroying her arm.

In the fight that ensued, you were useless, standing off to the side in utter shock as arrows, bullets, and hammers flew, everything happening too quickly for you to be able to react.

When the Wolf grabbed Emily with her legs and crushed her between her thighs, you couldn’t help but note the fact that you had been standing much closer to the Wolf, and for much longer…

But Emily was dead and the Wolf was choking, now dangling freely with nothing to stand on.

“Yara!” You heard him before you saw him.

He came running out of the tree line, pausing when he saw the hanging Wolf.

And then he saw you, still frozen. Still useless.  

“Prophet,” he breathed, bowing his head. The genuine sincerity in the gesture disheartened you, but you were glad to see him alive and unharmed, so you gave him a small smile and a nod.

His eyes stayed on you for just a moment longer before he went to check on Yara, quietly whispering her name. She waved him away, her arm limp and face pained.

“The Demons are coming,” he said, loud enough for you both to hear.

For some reason, that was what got you moving. You found the dagger on the ground where Emily had thrown it and rushed over to rope that held the Wolf.

“What are you doing?” Lev asked.

“Cutting her down.”

“She’s one of them,” he said.

“Lev,” Yara said, shaking her head.

He went quiet, watching as you quickly cut the rope.

The Wolf fell to the ground with a loud, painful thud and immediately began coughing and gasping for air.

You walked over to her, hesitant. You had been seconds away from disemboweling her just a few minutes ago. Maybe she would turn around and kill you the second she was free.

But you had already cut her down and Demons were on the way, so you knelt on the ground behind her and carefully cut away the ties that held her hands.

The moment she was able, she used her own hands to loosen and remove the noose, sitting up quickly and looking around for something.

Her eyes went to Emily and she crawled over, grasping the hammer lodged in her head and yanking it out.

With one hand to her throat, she stood.

You couldn’t believe she was standing so quickly after what just happened to her, but she was. And you knew that if she decided to attack you, you would not win that fight. Even now, in her weakened state and despite your years of training, you wouldn’t stand a chance against her.

But she didn’t come after you.

A twig snapped in the surrounding forest. She turned towards that, ready to face whatever came out first.

Yara stood, grabbing a knife that belonged to one of Emily’s men.

Lev had an arrow notched in his bow, ready to fly.

You gripped the dagger tighter in your hand and tried to remember everything you’d been taught about fighting Demons.

“Watch your backs,” said the Wolf.

You supposed you’d get to have your first kill tonight after all.

[motherofdogs1010]

Letters to Juliet & Romeo I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Heartbroken and in the midst of the Great War as a nurse, Y/N L/N writes to a person she never expected to write to before... her brother's friend, Thomas Shelby... But the war's over now and it is time to face the letters...

Warnings: wartime angst, talks of wartime violence, pre-Peaky Blinder Tommy, soldier Tommy

Italics: content of the letters

A/N: Inspired by the movie 'Letters to Juliet', also there is no real timeline of when Tommy goes into the tunnels in France

January 1916, 2 Years into the Great War (WW1)

"L/N, you got a letter."

Looking up from the book she was reading, Y/N set it to the side as one of the soldiers came in, handing her a envelope that was a little dirty, had seen a little wear and tear but she recognized the hand writing on it.

She recognized his handwriting after months of writing to Tommy, Y/N remembered the first time she had written Tommy; it came after months of not hearing from her brother when he had left to France with the rest of the men in Small Heath. Y/N had made the decision to join in as a nurse with the Red Cross and maybe it was foolish, but she remembered the night before leaving on the train, when her nursing uniform was on her bed as the nerves were coursing through her that she grabbed a piece a paper and began to write.

Dear Thomas that letter began, she poured out everything about how Small Heath was, how she had signed up as a nurse and how she prayed she wouldn't find any of them in the camp hospital she was going to be. She had written how she barely had made the qualifications of being a nurse for the Red Cross with her just having turned 25 and such.

"Who keeps writing you, F/N?" one of her fellow nurses teased.

"Don't you know that's her boyfriend?" another responded.

"He's not my boyfriend", she denied, feeling a heat go through her.

"Sure he isn't."

The letters have begun as something innocent when Tommy had responded back to her first letter, she could sense the shock in his letter about her writing him but as the letters progressed, so did their relationship through their letters.

Opening the newest letter, Y/N felt a sense of anxiety in her as she remembered having had the courage to send Tommy a picture of her in her uniform; she remembered taking the picture once her training had been done, having donned the periwinkle, long-sleeve floor-length dress with the white apron that wrapped around her and went down to the ground. She had to tightly wrapped her back back into the white cap like habit.

A big red cross over the chest of her apron, she had sent the photo off with her letter and prayed that he didn't dislike it.

Reading the letter, she traced over his handwriting, feeling where he pressed hard on the paper as he wrote as she read how he found her to be beautiful in her photo.

You look even more beautiful than when I last saw you...

It made her heart clench as she saw how he wrote how he hid the photo in his service jacket from the others, that he didn't want them to see the lovely girl that kept writing him letters because he felt possessive over this same piece of heaven that was keeping him sane.

Y/N could picture Tommy in the trenches, covered in grime and dirt as he had to listen to the horrors of the wartime. She read how he longed for the war to be over, how he was fortunate enough to be with people that he knew, but he was terrified.

They're sending me to the underground soon. They want me and the others to be sappers, dig in the tunnels under No Man's Land

Y/N felt her heart drop at the prospect of Tommy going into the tunnels, having to dig with shovels under the handles broke and he would be forced to dig with his hands. She had seen some soldiers came in, having treated their hands for digging under the trenches and dealing with the explosives.

My only comfort is you, being able to bring the picture you sent me down in the ground where death might be waiting for me... the only thing that has gotten me through this damned war is you...

"Ladies, we got mass casualties coming in!" their head nurse shouted into the tent. "Look alive, ladies!"

Y/N tucked the newest letter into her pillowcase, knowing she was once again about to face the horrors of the war as she reminisced on Tommy's smile, she knew he smiled a lot.

But now, she had a feeling he didn't smile as much.

Dear Thomas,

I'm sure you're curious as to why you received a letter from B/N's litter sister. Frankly, I'm a little shocked I'm writing to you, I've not heard from my brother no matter the amount of letters I've sent.

That was how the first letter started, Tommy sometimes would re-read the letter when he couldn't sleep amongst the noises of screaming soldiers and anxiety.

"Shelby, ya girl's sent another letter", one of his fellow soldiers said as he held out a envelope.

Tommy grabbed the envelope, none of his brothers were around as he opened the letter; he remembers the shy smiles Y/N would send him when he would see her as she visited her brother, the little nose wrinkle she got when she would laugh a loud, deep belly laugh (one that he knew others called unladylike, but that he remembered fondly).

He felt the smooth texture of a photo in the letter, pulling the picture to his eyes and he felt a sense of... love come over him as he saw the picture of her in her nursing ward uniform. A small smile on her full lips, the roundness of her cheeks that only made her look younger, he could see in her eyes the nerves of everything. The cap hid her hair from view and he wondered if she had cut it short like other nurses were forced to do because of sanitation and he was curious if she still smiled.

He hoped she did because the only time he smiled was when he got her letters...