#did i tear up a bit? admittedly yeah a little bit

[ratatatastic]

"ive played in a canadian market ive been in st louis in the summer they won—ive never seen buzz like this" "we're really lucky we get to play hockey in such a nice place" the C and A clocking in on their Praise South Florida as a Hockeytown shift

2024-25 Media Day | 9.18.24 (x)(x)

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5 (Finale!)

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@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[fleuraimer]

I saw your reblog and i couldn’t help it…

I’m begging on my knees… write a breeding blurb. Doesn’t have to be long cause i can’t wait. Like 100-500 words

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

THIS IS MY FIRST BLURBY, SO I HOPE U LIKE IT :D pls excuse any typos, most of this was written on my phone 🧍🏽‍♀

wc: 1.7k

cw: smut, minors dni, 17+. breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

It really had started out as a joke.

Thanksgiving inspires spending time with family, and family means entertaining all the new cousins and little nieces and nephews that had joined the family in the past year.

So, Y/N naturally gravitated toward the children.

They’re irresistible! With their chubby cheeks and gummy smiles, innocent stutters and big wide eyes that are subject to tears at any moment.

It’s not as if they put up much of a fight either, Cole and Oliver practically fell over each other to claim the thorn that was her lap.

She was consumed by them; if they went somewhere, she was right behind them making sure their little heads didn’t knock, stubby legs wobbly like a newborn doe. She ate on the floor with them (“The carpet’s comfy, Titi!”), played games with them—if you could even call it playing, they just oohed and ahed and slobbered over a deck of cards—laughed with them, wiped their tears for them, held them close, cradled them into a dreamy state that had her cooing in their ear.

And he saw. From his personal spot on the couch, that he’d homed since the first thanksgiving he could remember, he saw his girl becoming his family, too. He saw the hearts in the eyes of his nephews, he saw her adoration for them (not that he’s much better, they’ve got him wrapped tight around their tiny fingers), saw the bond that began to blossom between them.

He saw how calm Y/N looked as she cared for them, saw how natural she was.

And so maybe, on the car ride back he made a few teasing remarks about her motherly tendencies. And perhaps he mindlessly let it slip that he’d thought about her, pregnant, with his child.

But it was all in good fun, right? She’d scoffed in her seat—though the flush of her cheeks did not go unnoticed—slapping his shoulder to halfheartedly reprimand his crude comments. Sure, it sent a yummy tingle up her spine. And, yeah, okay, her panties got, admittedly, a little more uncomfortable after hearing his confession.

But that didn’t matter, because it was just teasing. Just words that he said to get a reaction, like always.

…Right?

———

Y/N now understands that he was not joking.

Not one fucking bit.

It’s kind of difficult to find miscommunication in any of his words now. She understands him, she gets him—Holy fuck, she gets him.

“Prancin’ around with babies on your hips, an’ you think m’not gonna wanna get you pregnant with my child?”

She gets him, with his fat cock stuffed in her snug, tiny pussy, filling her up, up to her fucking stomach. Literally. With the way he’s got her bent into herself—ankles up to her ears, thighs squishing her arms in, which in turn pushes her tits together, shiny with spit and quite bruised—his cock molds to her, pressing at her tummy, glaring at her. It scares her.

And it’s fucking everything.

She gets him, but she doesn’t fucking get how he has the ability to tease, mock, and degrade her so thoroughly, after so much time spent doing nothing but abusing her poor, helpless cunt. He stretches her out to the point of pain—unsurprisingly, there was little to no prep in the build up to their current state, though, at the time, it didn’t feel needed, she’d been dripping down her thighs as soon as the first button of his dress shirt popped. His cockhead shoves into her cervix relentlessly, viciously. He bullies his way through her, her essence soaking his prick to the base, a sticky mess between their crashing hips.

“Wan’ you stuffed full by the time m’threw with you,” he grunts against her lips, his hot breath fanning over her face, grounding her to this moment. She gasps with every plunge of his hips, the lack of activity in her brain clear as day from the cute, stupid look on her pretty face.

Eyes crossed in the middle every other second, glossy from past and reoccurring tears. Her cheeks puffy and rosy, glistening in the lamp-light from drool and salty droplets of tears. Her hands push fruitlessly against his hard, sweaty abs, chocking out spineless protests.

“S’big, too big— too deep, Daddy!” She cries sweetly, hiding in the puff of his pillows cushioning her head.

“Shhh, Baby, lemme fuck you, plug you up with my cum…” His hands move from the headboard, one pushing down on the back of her thigh, keeping her spread open for him, and the other to her ruined face, three fingers shoving between her kiss-swollen lips. She slobbers over them immediately, brows furrowed in devoted concentration, desperately aiming to please him. “Tha’s a good girl, Puppy, jus’ suck on Daddy’s fingers while he uses your cute, slutty little pussy.”

She whimpers through her gag, nodding dumbly, drooling all over again, the sparkly, moony glow in her eyes letting him know that her head is empty.

“You wan’ my babies, Pup?” His thrusts slow, working himself into her with a heightened calculation, forcing her to feel every vein and ridge of his big cock. She squeezes around him, whining. “Yeah? Tell me, were y’thinkin’ ‘bout it when you were takin’ care of the little ones?” His fingers slide farther into her mouth, his cock hitting places brutishly and delicately at the same time. “Were y’thinkin’ ‘bout bein’ my pretty baby mama?”

“D—addy,” She chokes pathetically over his fingers, tensing up in every way.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “you wan’ my babies, Puppy.” He picks up the pace again, pistoning his hips so her special spot, oversensitive from so much use, gets completely smooshed by his prick every single time he grinds back inside of her weepy pussy. His hand on the back of her thigh moves to the crease between her leg and her slippery cunt, his thumb poking her puffy clit.

“Oh, ma goo—ness!” she bleats, huffy, wiggling away from his assault.

“Cut it out, Sugar,” he tuts, the hand on her thigh coming down to smack against her cunt, strings of her silky cum stuck on his palm when his fingers move to fuss over her achy button meanly. “Fuckin’ take my cock,” he strikes her again, her hips jumping in response, tears sprouting and spilling from her bleary eyes. “Keep still before Daddy gets sick’a your squirmin’ and ties you to the fuckin’ bed.

When his palm makes rough contact with her swollen clit for the third time, Y/N comes instantly.

She squirts, everywhere, as a matter of fact.

“Oh, fuck, Puppy,” he groans, hips stuttering as his cock twitches, and before he can stop himself, he’s being flooded with an overwhelming warmth, his cum spurting in thick, white ropes that paint her insides.

There’s a lot. More than usual, probably. It fills her up to the hilt and then some, dripping from her cunt and smearing down her sloppy pussy lips, over her mound and his faintly hairy pelvis. He fucks her through their simultaneous orgasms, through the crippling, divine sensations that somehow fatten his prick even more, urging on his insatiable desire.

Y/N shakes beneath him, still crying over his finger, chomping mindlessly on them as the pleasure continues to roll over her in waves.

Eventually, his cock slips out of her, too soaked for his thrusts to remain precise. She gasps at the sudden, jarring emptiness, and he grunts, animalistically, at the loss of familiar, snug, wet heat.

He doesn’t immediately push back in, however. His eyes get distracted on the view of his milky cum gushing out of her stretched, abused hole. His hand drops from her mouth to join the other, smearing their mess into her flesh and spreading her puffy pussy apart. Inspecting.

His head tilts curiously while he collects his cum on his middle and ring finger that’d dripped down to her puckered entrance, scooping it up before tentatively pushing it back inside.

It does more bad than good, honestly; more cum spills from around his finger, leaving them right back where they’d left off. But, that doesn’t stop him from repeating the action. Once, twice, hushing her screechy crying when her massages it into her silken walls the third time, smearing it onto her special spot when he pushes it back in the fourth. He jams his fingers into her cunt until he loses count, and the sound of her messy, stuffed pussy is louder than both their moans combined. He adds a third finger and picks up speed when her hand wraps around his wrist, when her voice grows hoarse and she screams bloody murder.

“Too much, too—I can't, please!” she screams, eyes clamped shut, body trembling.

“Shut up, Puppy, ain’t shit too much,” he dismisses, standing to his knees and using his free hand to keep her pinned to the mattress. “M’gonna fuck my cum back into this slutty, precious cunt ‘til you fuckin’ squirt f’me again.”

His gruff voice, his big, veiny hands trapping her to the bed, the incessant press of his fingers into the perfect spot that makes her toes curl and her stomach coil tighter and tighter. The sweat that drips from his face—from the tip of his nose, across his forehead and temples, glazed along his cupid’s bow—his beefy biceps, straining as he fights against her involuntary shudders. His chest, massive and buff, firm and slick with sweat under her palm.

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to oblige his demand.

“Just like that, Sugar, wet the fuckin’ bed, keep fucking coming.”

She keeps fucking coming. When his fingers are gone and his pretty, fat, perfect cock is reintroduced, she comes then, too. Like, as soon as he starts to push in.

It’s embarrassing, pitiful; pathetic.

But she can’t help it. She can’t help anything that she does or says when her cunt is stuffed with cum and cock, her sore pearl rubbed and swatted cruelly, her tits fondled demeaningly. She just lies there and cries, and takes his lovely cock. She lets him dump load after load of his spunk into her, claiming her, marking her as his. Making it stick.

“You’re my little cumdump, Pup,” he grumbles harshly, squeezing her pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re fuckin’ mine to kiss, love on, take care of,” she whimpers below, crying for his mercy, “my dumb slut to use, fuck, breed,” he plunges into her as deep as he can go, leaning in close and whispering, “you’re my fucking girl; my pathetic, needy fucking puppy that’s obsessed with my cock.” Y/N nods, gargling agreement.

He smirks, “Yeah, my little breeding bitch.”

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees. ( chrono || non-chrono )

And they must have a Clark. Kon can’t imagine how they couldn’t. 

He can’t imagine how anywhere couldn’t, if it came to it. 

Yeah, that’s a healthy thought, Kon reflects resignedly as Alfred shuts the car door and goes around to the driver’s side to slip into his own seat. Alfred starts the engine and pulls out of his parking spot, and Jon nervously grips Kon’s sleeve. He twists his wrist to grab the kid’s hand, and immediately ends up with Jon pressed completely against his side and resuming his earlier sniffling buried against his bicep. It’s whatever, obviously; Kon figures if the kid cries on the suit a bit, he can just get it . . . dry-cleaned, he guesses? Probably this is a dry-cleaning thing? 

God, who knows, Tim got the damn thing for him. It might need to be cleaned by a hyper-specific radiation or fresh water from snowmelt on the Alps or a custom-designed spray from the Batcave, for all he friggin’ knows. 

“Hello, Mr. Kent,” Alfred says as soon as the aid workers on the street have directed the towncar out of the immediate area of the refugee camp, his voice wryly but politely amused, and Kon feels an immediate rush of relief. Thank fuck, yeah, okay. Not that he really thought Alfred of all people thought he was actually a version of Batman, just . . . yeah. Just–yeah. It’s a relief. “Dare I ask why you informed the aid workers that you were Master Bruce?” 

“I did not, but I winked at a pretty lady while wearing a very expensive suit and holding a traumatized kid, so apparently some assumptions were made,” Kon admits sheepishly, and Alfred’s mouth quirks in the rearview mirror. 

“Do tell,” he says. 

“Please tell me Batman isn't gonna pull the ‘no outside capes in Gotham’ card over this,” Kon says, dragging a hand through his hair and slightly wrecking the carefully slicked-back style he had it in. At this point, he does not care. “My Batman knew I was in town.” 

“Oh, did he?” Alfred asks, still seeming wryly amused. 

“Mine too!” Jon blurts, straightening up a little as he leans back a bit from Kon. He keeps a hand on his arm, but Kon figures that’s no surprise. He’s a pretty familiar face, considering. Like, double-familiar, in a sense. 

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, glancing carefully at Jon in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, young man. May I inquire after your name?” 

Well, shit, Kon thinks as Jon wilts immediately and tightens his grip on his sleeve, then buries his face in his bicep again. Not ideal, probably. At least, explaining Jon as a person is probably gonna be a whole thing, and not a thing the local Batman is gonna be thrilled to hear. 

Could be worse, admittedly. Could be “oh, Lex Luthor cooked me up in a basement”. 

Yeahhhhh. Well, at least Alfred actually recognized him, so apparently he does exist here. So like, at least they’ve only got to get through one of those explanations. 

“Jon Kent,” Jon says quietly, and Alfred . . . pauses. Kon does not let himself wince or look guilty or anything even remotely similar. Look, he’d have forewarned them if he’d had the option, okay? 

“I see,” Alfred says carefully. “May I inquire, young Mr. Kent, as to who your father might happen to be?” 

“Clark Kent,” Jon says, his voice still quiet and grip on Kon’s sleeve probably at hydraulic-press levels by now. “And my mom's Lois Lane.” 

“Ah,” Alfred says. “Please don't take this question the wrong way, young man, but would you happen to be adopted?” 

“No,” Jon says, setting his jaw stubbornly. 

“I see,” Alfred says. Kon–sighs, for lack of a better idea, and just wraps his arm around Jon. 

“I got you, Jonno,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. He’s not as good at that as Clark is, which is immediately proven by Jon tearing up and just clinging to him, full super-strength and all. A less invulnerable version of him would definitely bruise. 

And literally any baseline human would get their fucking spine crushed.

“I’m not dangerous,” Jon mutters. “And I’m not gonna hurt anybody. You know I wouldn't, right? I–I know you haven't had me yet in your reality, but–” 

Wait. 

What? 

“–but I'm not bad, I wouldn't hurt anyone, I promise, you know you and Mom wouldn't ever have a kid who was bad!” Jon chokes past an almost-sob, and Kon’s stomach sinks like a rock. 

Okay. Jon does not, in fact, have a version of him in his reality. 

Fuck. 

Also, apparently has some really concerning ideas about biological determinism and nature versus nurture and whatever else, but like, he’s like ten, that’s–normal, or whatever, that’s–

Fuck. 

“Jon, kiddo, no, I’m not–” he tries, and then the car dashboard lights up with a low, melodious sound, and Alfred presses a button on the steering wheel. 

“Report,” Batman’s voice says neutrally from the speakers, and Kon immediately winces. 

Well, this is gonna go just great, isn’t it. 

“Well, it seems Batman doesn't yet have to worry about an interdimensional territory dispute,” Alfred informs him dryly. “Superman, however . . .” 

Fuck his entire fucking life, Kon thinks. 

So much for not having to give both of the awkward explanations. 

“. . . Kent,” Bruce says, sounding immediately exasperated and also way less “Batman”, which Kon wishes he could assume were a good sign. “Why the hell did you tell the aid workers you were me?”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Bring Us Back to the Heroes We Were

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Setting: France

Summary: Daryl loses his temper with Laurent and you are having none of it.

Warnings: SPOILERS, Yelling at a child, mild violence against a spouse

A/N: That scene was emotional. I felt it in my soul. morgan556 suggested this and I had to go with it!

*gif is not mine

You had admittedly lagged behind when Daryl and Laurent had walked away to the waiting boat. Azlan had been so kind to both you and Daryl, smiling and welcoming. He had shared his stories and his wisdom. Even so far from home, you felt less alone in his company. 

You knelt and placed a trembling hand on the fresh pile of dirt. “We’ll get him there. I promise.” Sniffling, you wiped at your face. You turned once, thinking you heard Daryl’s voice but he’d have to be yelling for you to hear him from there. When you heard it again, you were on your feet in an instant, bolting toward the river. That was definitely Daryl. 

“You stupid little shit!” Daryl was leaned into Laurent’s space, fury radiating from him in waves so strong, you lost your breath for a moment. “Do ya know what ya’ve done?!”

“Daryl!” You dropped your bag and ran toward them, your own rage bubbling to the surface the minute your husband’s fingers came in contact with the kids’ jacket. 

“Ya think you’re so goddamn smart! Worthless!”

“That is enough!” You grabbed both of his forearms and squeezed, making sure your nails bit into skin. He was bigger and stronger than you, but you had to get him to let go somehow. Placing yourself between him and Laurent, you shoved Daryl back hard, but he stepped into you and leaned around to point a finger in the kid’s face. “I should’a left ya right where I found ya! What do we do with ya now?!”

“Stop it!” You shoved him again and when he came back, your palm met his cheek with enough force to whip his head to the side. “Get yourself under control! No matter what he did, he is a child! A fucking child! Calm the fuck down!”

The slap seemed to have made him take a breath, his voice much lower when he pointed to Laurent again. “I wanna know why. Why would ya do this?”

Barely containing your wrath, you looked over your shoulder. “Laurent, why would you cut loose the boat?” While your head was turned, Daryl shoved past you and grabbed the kid again. 

“Why?! Tell me why?!”

You grabbed the back of Daryl’s jacket and yanked, nearly throwing him off his feet while you placed yourself between him and Laurent. “Try it again, Dixon. I dare you. If you think I will let you—”

“Everyone I care about is gone.” Laurent’s broken voice had you turning, his tear-filled eyes flickering between you and your husband. “When we get to the Nest, you’ll both go, too.”

“Laurent.” You said gently. 

“I don’t wanna be alone.” 

You didn’t hesitate to pull the boy into your arms, burying your face in his hair and letting him cry. When you saw movement in your peripheral, you turned your head to see Daryl reaching for Laurent, his expression softened, those blue eyes shining. You only spared him a warning look before allowing him to pull the kid to him much as you had done. 

“Yeah. C’mere. I didn’t mean it.” He placed his chin on the dark mop of hair, shaking his head. “It’s gonna be alright.” He let Laurent step back, the boy’s eyes searching the both of you for reassurance. 

“It’s alright.” You smiled gently, wiping away a tear from his cheek with your thumb. 

“C’mon.” Daryl picked up your bag with his own and held it out of you. You snatched it from his grasp with a sneer, glancing over your shoulder to see Laurent staring at the empty spot where the boat once sat. 

You pointed back and forth between you and your husband. “You and me. We ain’t done.” You spun on your heel and wrapped an arm around the boy, setting off on foot to follow the river. 

You heard Daryl’s quiet grumble of “yes, ma’am” behind you before you could hear him following. 

[valentine-cafe]

I wanna see some of your characters (*any* of your characters honestly, i'm not that picky and theyre all attractive anyway😍) and their first time bottoming for dom!top male reader because ive been going through that tag specifically and i would just love more of that typa content with your characterss

(Ps. Ive been reading your works for a while now and i gotta say im a huge fan)

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆◞ ₊˚

𖹭. a selection of characters when you top them for the first time /top male!reader

꒰ EEE we’re so happy that you like our content! we wanted to write this with all the characters but who knows how long that would take us sobs - might redo this req in the future with even more! BUT YES MORE TOP MALE READER <3 . . . might have gone a bit wild with rishen 1311 ꒱

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 781 ꒱ is someone that people tend to forget is a switch. top-leaning, yes, but a switch no less. he’s gotta really trust you in order to let you take control though. but when you do? he makes you work for it. the first time you topped him was a late night in his apartment. both of you kissing and making out on the sofa after playing a few games. the last thing he expected was for you to actually fight him for dominance. it was thrilling - but what was even more thrilling was when you won.

admittedly he was a little nervous. it was so new. seeing the cocky merc now gripping onto your arms and looking at you with those glassy emerald eyes of his. “stop if I tell you to - okay?”

but oh he wouldn’t even dream of telling you to stop. he was squirming and creaming everywhere by the time you fucked the bratiness out of him. which took quite a bit in all honesty.

but when you had him there. pinned to his bed and pounding into him from behind. so that all he could do was cling onto the sheets and let out all sorts of noises of pleasure. his deep voice now pitched. whiney.

“a-amor - d-dios amoorcittooo,” he whines out as you milk another orgasm out of him. all while he whimpers for you to fill him up again. splutters about being a good boy for you. it’s like a complete switch up when you get him under you — and the poor thing cums like a fountain.

he wants you to manhandle him. to be rough. mean. put him in his place and make him feel vulnerable — because he let you. and he wants you to fuck him until he’s on a verge of tears. might as well make the most of it, yeah?

mercenary x reader, antihero x reader, enigma x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHIMA 781 ꒱ would be quite the surprise for you as well. one would think that someone of her demeanour is a top dom, right? she’s a switch — she can quickly flip between being the mommy making you hump her high heel or the pillow princess.

listen, she also needs some taking care of. especially with how hard she works. so when you offered to top for the first time she wasn’t too opposed. doesn’t mean she didn’t make you work for it a little.

she can be a brat too — but one who backs off immediately when they know they’ve met their match. needless to say, when you had her bouncing on your dick and digging her black nails down your shoulders and back, she had long since given in.

“f-fuck - fuck anh doll - please - please can’tcantt-” she’d bury her face into your neck to try and hide her noises. you’d have to stop her from rolling her hips down and trying to please you instead. murmuring to her ear about how tonight was about her.

you’d push her into the pillow eventually. letting her rest comfortably while you did the work. being mindful of how overstimulated she can get and making sure to eat her out nice and slowly when it was all over. all so she could gasp into the air about how perfect you were while clinging onto your hair and whimpering.

scientist x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 209 ꒱ is another switch but god is this man a brat. he’s awful. riling you up in so many different ways because he wants to see just how far he can push you. because he’s in for it. whatever your kink is — so is his. he’ll go to the extremes and he wants to know just how far you go too.

so imagine his surprise when you pinned him over his examination table. pushing the dress he’d worn for work up and spanking his red-laced ass. how you tied his hands behind his back with his lab coat. pushing into him without a care and rutting his poor, bratty hole until he was creaming all over.

he’s sensitive. beyond sensitive. by the second climax he’d be whining for you. spluttering out apologies and trying to earn your favour. if only to grin at you all tiredly and splutter out a firm no when you asked if he was “really sorry?”

strap his wrists down to that examination table and make him fuck his hips back into you. make him work for it as he cries and whines to cum. because here's a beautiful thing about the scientist - he can’t make himself cum.

“p-please- por favor p-porr favv- hngh b-baby I - I’ll be good pleaseplease hnnhh need t-to cum so bad.”

be rough with him. force him to his knees and fuck his throat. he’ll look at you with pretty maroon eyes and beg even more. all so that you can ram him on your cock again and make him squirt until he’s seeing stars. make him feel helpless. make him feel like all he’s good for is clenching around your dick and cumming all over himself. he’ll love you for it.

mad scientist x reader, moth-mantis-spider monster x reader, yandere x reader, villain x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ HAITĀO 99484 ꒱ is a bottom who was more than thrilled to have you top. he did inform you of his scoliosis before hand, reminding you that while he did have quite the stamina as a reaper, to just not overdo it because of the pains in his back.

as such you’d make sure to lay him back nice and comfortably. your first time with him was rather slow and tender. mostly because you were a little afraid of hurting him.

he’s whiney. vocal. making sure that you know just how much he’s enjoying it. the way he keeps pressing desperate little kisses down your throat and stirring his hips up into you tells you that he wants you to feel just as good.

might at one point beg to take a break just so he can suck you off for a bit. he loves the feeling of your hand in his hair and gently guiding him. and his mouth? fuck it was heaven, he definitely knows what’s doing.

would eventually offer to ride you after. which you were a little hesitant about because of his condition — but he assured you that he’d be fine. so the night would drone on with your back against the headboard and arms hooked around you. kissing and whining into each other’s mouths as he bounces at the pace you set for him.

“s-s’good gege - gege,” he whines, creaming all over your abdomen again as he rocks his hips sloppily. “m-more please - please gege, promise I won’t break, please?”

grim reaper x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ YIZÉ 9948E ꒱ is another switch who really loves the rough treatment. he really likes the fighting for dominance. however, he might find himself in some conditions where he just wishes to be pampered and taken care of.

your first time topping was the former. he’s a mercenary and a reaper — he had you pinned and taking his dick first - if only for the tables to be turned before he even knew it. slammed into the sheets and forced to stay still as you snatched a pair of handcuffs he always seems to keep in his drawer.

oh he loved the way you took charge. how you degraded him. bit into his neck and shoulders. spanked and clawed and made his eyes roll back as you pounded him into his own sheets.

all so that he was drooling. all so that he could barely whine out your name. and when you’d slow - thinking he had enough?

why he’d grunt at you to keep going. maybe even call you a bit of a coward.

“wh-what? done? can’t fuck me right yeah?” would quickly turn into a series of gasps and sobs and - “s-sorryssooryy b-baby sorry I’m sorry nhhgfuck fuck! please!”

hes’s a loud one. that much you’d garner. until you fucked his mind numb and he was left to aimlessly cling to you. begging you not to stop. . . even if he blacked out. he’s a wild.

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 1311 ꒱ is a switch who just yearns to be taken care of. he wants it rough yeah, he’ll fight you for it a bit. but you know what? someone of his stressful work life and always having to be the one in control. . . he really wants to let go for someone.

he wants you to take it from him though. he doesn’t want you to be gentle — he’ll tell you that too. tell you that he wanted you to claw, and bite and take.

so when you yanked him by the hair and pushed him up against his desk - making him stand on his high heels as you leaned him over edge. pressing into his front and shoving your tongue down his throat. . . oh he was in heaven. how you gripped at his jaw and made him keep eye contact with you. ordered him too.

how you shoved his panties off to his thighs and mocked him for the lace. he’d be whining for you before you even put it in.

don’t expect him to be so pliant though. he’s got quite the sharp tongue. maybe he just likes the thought of riling you up too.

“that all you got?” “fuck hurry up.” just to see how he gets to you. but that would all fade the moment you’re fucking up into him. forcing his leaning body to steady itself on those high heels that are stained with the number of times both of you have come.

he’ll rake his nails down your shoulders. try to hold his sounds until you’re yanking him by the hair and encouraging him. make him ride you while you sit on his chair. fuck him until he’s squirming and telling you its too much. because it’s never too much. you can tell each time you try with withdraw and he instead pushes his hips down and forces his ass flush against your dick. squirming.

“f-fuck me - fuckmeeplease dios lo n-necesito tanto.” ( “god please I need it so bad” )

he’ll let you take him back to his apartment to go at it again. fuck him into his sofa, his bed, anywhere you want. he’s all yours. always. and god is he touch-starved enough to keep reminding you of that. even when he’s all covered in your cum.

assassin x reader, spy x reader, admiral x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ DENARA 9819 ꒱ is a bottom who really wants to make you feel good and might tire herself out in the process. she’s so used to pressure and having to perform well so during your first time topping her you had to quite literally pin her down and tell her to stop. tell her that you were gonna take care of her. that she needs to relax and just let you fuck her the way she wants.

and oh once you got that out of the way she was all over you. denara is a freak. you got a kink? sure, she’ll try it out. her only request is that you fuck her dumb and drooling.

she was so loud when you took control and drove her into the sheets. admittedly she kept whining about wanting to ride you so eventually you let it happen. pulled her onto your lap and bounced her on your cock. didn’t even give her a smidge of control. watching as her tits bounced and her thighs jiggled as she whined for you.

“b-baby babybabyyy y-you’re sosooo mean angh- mnhhhhgg-”

she wants you to be mean though. wants you to pull at her hair. smack her. grab her. anything you want. all so that she can look at you with her black eyes all teary and her make-up all messy.

will probably beg to suck at your dick so give her that at least. you’ll end up fucking her throat anyway and making her cum untouched. if only to flip her onto her tummy again and fuck her until she’s drooling and whining.

she’ll probably hump at your thigh somewhere through the night when it’s all over. just desperate for more.

sorcerer x reader, healer x reader

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-six — br(ok)en (💋)

You stared at your phone light up for the twelfth time within five minutes with a dull expression.

Admittedly, you felt angrier knowing that Scaramouche still had the audacity to even text you after everything. After tormenting you for years and years, what kind of shame should someone feel after that, you wonder. The relentless pursuit of making your life miserable—to which he failed at, but it did make you wonder.

Did you do something to deserve it? Each notification felt like another jab that he took to the heart, reopening your wounds from each time he said something messed up to you. As you laid there motionless, with no light ruminating in the room except your phone, you began to feel tears well up in your eyes for the thirteenth time today.

Pursing your lips, you swiped up to read the messages and only felt reminded even further of every harsh word he said. Every cruel taunt, every moment of humiliation...and yet...

He was still right, despite being the biggest hypocrite known to man. And it pissed you off.

Why were you even laying here? Ignoring the world, rotting here like you're a vegetable. You knew that you were something to people, you knew that you were valued.

There wasn’t anything that was particularly motivating for you to get up, however. You ignored every need that you could have possibly wanted, subjecting yourself to sparseness. No matter how much you wanted to, the thoughts always came back and you didn’t know how to deal with them.

A small knock echoed from the front door. It was loud enough to hear, and you still shoved your head in the pillow and hoped it went away.

The longer time you went without answering it, the knocks became more frequent. It wasn’t Thoma, that’s who you could observe without getting up.

You finally managed to drag yourself out of bed, lazing about sounded so much nicer now that you were dreading who’s at the door. With a frustrated sigh, and irritation already to its peak of your heart, you opened the door to a familiar-ish face.

Little girl?

“Did you forget that you exist?” She said with a smile. “Welcome back to Earth! I didn’t know how long you’d be cooped up in here so I brought treats.”

You stared a bit longer than you meant to at the Tupperware of Asafiri in her hands, momentarily taken aback. “Heh?”

“Yanfei sent me here. Looks like you’re having a little bit of trouble getting back on your feet. I take it you know her?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” You blinked slowly, before holding the door a little wider. “Uh…come in, I guess. Thanks for the…treats.” You cringed. “Wow, I get why Heizou keeps being called a creep now, this can look so wrong.”

“The difference is that he does it to himself.”

The warm water on your body was oddly refreshing.

Getting out of the shower was harder knowing that you'd come back to the gust of wind in your living room, but knowing you had fresher pajamas on was also a plus. Things didn't look too great on your mental, especially since you were accustomed to showering a lot in your fresher mind.

You put on the Lightning McQueen slippers you quite often wear, and moved to the kitchen after hearing soft chops of a knife. You wondered what Nahida was up to, staring at her cut apples and bananas before putting them into a huge bowl she found in your cupboard.

"This is a very odd fruit salad you're making." You drew attention to yourself before her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know whether or not to tell you to be careful with knives."

"I'm smarter than you think I am." Nahida cooed. "I'm used to people being condescending."

"Oh...I'm sorry— You're killing me here, kid. Lady? Are you a child or not?" You asked desperately.

Nahida turned to you, her saturated green eyes stared at you with obviously deliberate thoughts roaming her head before she took a sharp breath. She pointed the knife at you. "Do you feel better?"

"Not...really? I mean, it happened. All of this at once." You tried to process it quicker, but your head failed you. It's like how you actually felt in the moment was blocked. "I feel like I'm in limbo, I don't want to see the sun these days."

"Your thoughts are your biggest enemy right now. Easy to overthink. It's a lot to deal with on your own, good thing you aren't, right?" Nahida lowered the knife, her expression softening. "I cut you up some fresh fruit. It's better than the Asafiri for now, you don't need that much sugar after not eating for a while, or you'll crash hard. And get a headache."

Looking at the bowl loaded with bananas and slices of apples, you couldn't help but wonder why you were even granted this much care anyway. You were in mild disbelief, sitting down at the island counter in front of Nahida. "Why are you actually here?" You said in defeat.

Nahida stopped cutting the fruit, gaze shifting from it to you. She couldn't find what she could say to answer you, but she did press her lips together. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"A little." Your voice lowered.

"Yanfei and Heizou," Nahida paused, trying to find her words, "They wanted to see if I could convince you to start streaming again."

You frowned immediately. "Oh. Thanks for being honest."

"You made progress today, but I don't expect you to be up to it. It's a really big step." She asked you, but you couldn't even decipher the intentions behind her eyes. It was impossible to detect what anybody was thinking nowadays. "They just told me to come over so they can hope their investigation moves."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair once you felt the bitterness course your body again. Hearing that made your mood possibly worse than what it would've been if you were in bed. "Not happening. Thanks for checking on me though, you can leave if you want."

"I knew you'd say that. I guess it's fair, people are...going crazy right now figuring out whether you're okay or not." Nahida smiled once you looked back up at her. "Both Scaramouche and your fans are trying to get anything they can on your wellbeing. It's better to wait it out."

Your hopeful face turned into a sullen one, shoulders slumped at the mention of his name. "I don't know if I can even go back at all."

"I'm not sure how hard this is for you, but with what happened, you've obviously been through enough. While it's your choice to go back, Yanfei is under the impression that you can get revenge." The shorter girl explained. "In my eyes, though...I think you're able to decide that for yourself."

You felt the weight of the memories heavily, your head daunting enough for you to let out a shaky breath. "You think so?"

Nahida nodded, humming, "You don't have to stream, but don't give him the satisfaction if you're upset. You shouldn't let him know that you're suffering because of what he did. The worst thing that you can do is prove him right."

Funnily enough, as soon as she said that, you felt tears well up in your eyes again. It struck a cord, and you knew she was right. It was just knowing that anybody would say it verbatim. "That's the same thing he told me too." You blinked back your tears, more resilient than you were a few minutes ago, but also to the brim of misery.

"He?"

You shook your head, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Thanks," You muttered, choking on your words. You couldn't manage to say anything else, otherwise you'd betray your steely posture. "I'll think about it. Just...stay here a little more with me, please. Maybe I'll...find the resolve or something."

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @melpomenelurks @yumejo89 @liuaneee

@franaby @tiddieshakeshownu (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[araybiaaa]

“𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓”

rafe x sofia

“HOW’RE you feeling?” Rafe asks, his hand tentatively lingered on Sarah’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Their long journey from Morocco back to North Carolina in addition to JJ’s macabre death had taken an emotional toll on everyone.

Kiara looked shattered. She sat in her seat, unmoving, with only her bottom lip trembling as tears stained her cheeks. Cleo and Pope were consoling each other, her head tucked on his shoulder as his expression reflected one of anguish. John B sat on the other side of Sarah; his elbows rested on his knees as he buried his face in his hands completely heartbroken.

He looked over at his sister; equally as broken as her friends, mourning the loss of someone she loved. He knew that JJ and Sarah had developed a close relationship over the years. He became a pseudo brother to her, seemingly filling the void of Rafe’s absence.

Admittedly, he was a bit jealous at this realization. Because he’d tried so hard to reconcile with her and yet it seemed as his unnoticed attempts meant nothing to her. She had replaced him with JJ and the rest of the pogues. He was envious of their relationship as a group; at how they became the family Rafe wished he and Sarah could be again.

But now, Rafe realized that when JJ died, Sarah lost a brother, someone who was there for her in the times that he wasn’t.

She chuckled wryly, shaking her head as she ran her hands through her hair. “It still doesn’t feel real,” She murmured, wiping her face with the back of her hands.

“I’m sorry,” He laments sympathetically.

While his relationship with JJ wasn’t as amicable and familial like theirs, it seemed cruel that the universe would take away someone so young and effervescent like JJ.

Sarah nodded, giving him a feeble smile. She reached a hand over and intertwined her fingers within John B’s who still seemed to be paralyzed in his own disassociation. “It feels wrong going back there without him, you know? Out of all of us he was the one that lived and breathed OBX.”

“The poguiest pogue,” Rafe accents.

Her smile is a little disheartened as she nods her head in agreement. “Yeah,” Their remembrance of JJ retracts John B from his reverie. He’s blinking rapidly through his foggy vision, choking on a sob, overwhelmed in his grief. And Sarah’s catching him as he falls against her chest—releasing a guttural cry that nearly has Rafe tearing up.

He offers his sister’s shoulder another consoling squeeze before he leans back in his seat to allow Sarah and John B some privacy.

…

They return home a few days later.

As they begin to disperse off of the boat, Rafe approaches Sarah, still admittedly hesitant. It seemed as if she’d forgiven him for his past wrongdoings enough to want to reconcile their tainted relationship, but he also wasn’t certain if she’d done that in that moment or if she truly did want them to be a family again. (He desperately hoped it was the latter.)

“You guys need anything?” He offers, wanting to extend his consolation as much as he could.

Sarah shakes her head, “No. You’ve helped us enough, seriously Rafe. You should go home and see Sofia. You’ve been gone for weeks. I know she misses you,” She contends, giving him a small appreciative smile that substitutes for a furrowed frown when she notices the despondent look that marred his features.

With the chaos of events that occurred, he had momentarily forgotten about the news of her betrayal and their breakup. Rafe was completely taken aback when Chandler informed him of Sofia’s deception.

At first, he assumed it was a ploy to pull a reaction from him but then Chandler said Sofia’s name—and it only took Rafe a second to realize that he’d never introduced the two of them to one another—and then the recollection of their conversation on the beach when he was proposing to her, of Sofia looking guilt ridden about something—that’s when the gut wrenching realization suddenly hit in an ambush.

Chandler wasn’t saying it to deceive him, he was saying it to taunt him. Because he knew that Sofia had conspired against him with Hollis and that Rafe was completely oblivious to it all.

Maybe it was his fault for getting distracted, for holding onto the foolish belief that he had found someone to love and that reciprocated that love for him. He was naive to think Sofia was different; that she wasn’t like everyone else in his life who sought out to hurt him.

He fell in love and got attached to this idea of them building a life together. Hell, he even proposed to her with his mother’s old ring, ready to turn into a family man all for her. But it’s obvious that while he was falling in love, she was concocting a plan with Hollis to scam him out of millions. With the year and a half of dating, Rafe thought he knew Sofia enough to believe that she didn’t care about the luxuries of money, that she liked him for who he was not what he had.

But he soon learned that people’s intentions weren’t always innocent and they aren’t always who you perceive them to be.

“What’s wrong, trouble in paradise?” She asks, through genuine concern that’s worn in the furrow between her brows.

Rafe hesitates, recoiling a bit before shaking his head. Sarah had endured enough drama to last a lifetime in these past few days, his and Sofia’s relationship issues seemed comically trivial in comparison. It seemed redundant to even bother mentioning it with everything her and her friends are going through.

“Uh, no, everything’s uh, everything’s good,” He placates, nodding his head as he gave her a feeble smile. She narrows her eyes at him in disbelief. She looks like she wants to interrogate him further about it and pry the truth out of him, but she relents in doing so, probably too exhausted to do anything else other than lay down.

She stifles a yawn behind her hand, her eyelids lower at her exhaustion. “Okay. Well, I should get going,”

Rafe nods, “Yeah. Right.” His eyes wander to the rest of the pogues. It’s only been a few days since JJ died but he knew they’d be carrying the weight of his death for the remainder of their lives. “I’m gonna get going too. Call me if you—if you need anything or if you just want to talk or whatever. I’m here.” He offers her in consolation, only a slight bit aghast (though pleasantly) when she approaches him and embraces him in a hug.

And unlike back in Morocco, he’s not apprehensive to reciprocate the embrace as he wound his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest.

…

Walking through the front door of his house, Rafe immediately feels numb. In what was supposed to be a jovial return coming back home to Sofia, he was left with an emptiness that clawed tightly at his chest, the only remnants left in its wake were the memories of her before he knew.

How could she do this to him?

He thought she loved him.

He thought that the vulnerability, feelings and time that he shared with her actually meant something—that it was real. But it’s evident that while it was everything to him it was nothing to her. He meant nothing to her.

Exasperated and completely depleted, Rafe groggily ascends up the stairway that lead to his bedroom. He needed a proper day’s rest and a temporary distraction to get his mind off of Sofia. But more importantly, he needed to fucking shower and scrub off all of the dirt and grime that clogged on his skin.

Trekking into the bathroom, he approached the shower where he crouched over slightly so that he’s able to tug at the knob. Water emerges from the tub’s faucet as he turns it on, adjusting the lever to the right as hot water filled inside.

When the water’s temperature is at his satisfaction, he turns on the shower until water’s spewing from the spout of the shower head. Rafe doffed out of his clothing, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt until he's shrugging it off of his shoulders as it falls to the floor with a soft thud. His briefs and pants soon accompany his sweatshirt as it lay at his feet, a discarded pool of fabric.

He withdraws the shower curtain back, setting one foot after the other onto the shower floor as he stepped inside. Condensation from the shower’s hot temperature clouds the room in a steamed fog.

He steps beneath the shower head, allowing the water to fall against his skin. Just as he opens his eyes to reach for his bottle of body wash, he sees a bottle of cucumber melon shampoo tucked on one of the shelves.

He remembers the smell of it; of how he’d bury his face in her hair whenever they were cuddled together in bed and how the saccharine fragrance enticed him as it lingered in his nostrils. He remembers using his fingers and scrubbing a palm full of it against her scalp as he washed her hair whenever they showered together.

His throat bares as his emotions heighten.

He clenches his jaw, inwardly chastising himself for getting emotional over a fucking bottle of shampoo. He was being pathetic. He needed to move on and forget Sofia.

But how could he move on from a year and a half relationship that he cherished more than anything he’s ever cared about? Ridding his thoughts free of Sofia, he proffers his hand past the bottle of shampoo and reaches for his body wash.

He squeezes a dollop of it onto his wash cloth before he begins to scrub his body clean. He lathered the soap laden cloth across his body, starting at his arms then proceeding downward to his abdomen, thighs and legs before he rinses himself off underneath the shower head again. He continues this process until his body’s no longer caked with junk and the repugnant smell of sweat and salt doesn’t stick to his skin anymore.

Rafe steps out of the shower, grabbing a cloth towel from the linen closet that he uses to scrub himself dry. Just as he’s sauntering back into his bedroom to retrieve his clothing, he’s aghast when he sees Sofia stuffing a pile of clothes into a bag.

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to get your shit out of my house weeks ago,” He reprimands, wrapping his towel securely around his waist as he watched her jump startled at his stealth approach.

She rests a hand over her chest, attempting to lull its erratic beating as she closed her eyes and murmured a soft curse. When she comes to, she blinks her eyes back open and stares at him. Her expression weens into one of remorse—she nods, timidly writhing her hands together as her eyes met his—doe and solemn. And Rafe has to momentarily look away from her when his feelings begin to overwhelm him.

“This is the last of it. It’s been hard trying to get over here to get everything. I’ve been too busy working,”

He chuckled wryly, nodding his head. “Yeah, well, now that you have everything you can get the hell out of my house.”

Sofia nods somberly. Her bottom lip catches in between her teeth, her eyes lower abashedly to the floor. And damn her for making him feel guilty when she’s the one that lied. Even when he’s supposed to be mad at her, he’s still guilt ridden at the abrasiveness in his tone as he speaks at her. He could feel his defenses wavering, nearly conceding mercilessly to her pleading doe eyes and deepened pout.

But his anger and hurt prevails.

“I can’t believe that I thought you were different. But you’re just like everyone else, huh?” He accosts accusatorially, shaking his head as he looked at her. “Was that your plan all along, trick me into falling in love with you so you could help Hollis and Chandler scam me out of my money? God, Sof! I trusted you!”

Sofia’s eyes turn glassy as she begins to cry. And it takes everything in him to not walk over and brush her tears away.

“I didn’t mean—” She bit on her trembling bottom lip, exhaling shakily as she struggled to catch her breath. “Everything that I feel for you is real. None of it was a lie. The only reason that I did it was because I was hurt. I overheard you talking about me that day and I acted on impulse.”

“You overheard me talking about what?” Rafe inquired, folding his arms against his chest.

“You, Topper and Ruthie talking about me not being good enough for you. About you saying that you have standards and that you’d never live with me or call me your girlfriend,”

He murmurs a soft curse.

He was unaware that she overheard their conversation. But it wasn’t as if he actually meant anything that he said. He only said that to keep Ruthie from interrogating him about their relationship; what he and Sofia had was sacred and special and he wanted to maintain the privacy of that so he just said what he knew would satisfy Ruthie’s drama seeking.

It hurt having to trivialize their relationship, but he did it for them. What Sofia did was solely for her. She broke what Rafe tried so hard to build, rupturing his dream of their happy ending.

Rafe nodded slowly, kissing his tongue against his teeth. “So, instead of coming to talk to me about it you choose to go behind my back and lie—”

“I wasn’t thinking. And believe me when I say that I regretted it immediately after. That’s why I told you not to go through with it! I tried to fix it, Rafe. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

Part of him believes her.

But another part of him, the one that’s acting on his emotional irrationality, was too heartbroken to trust her. It wasn’t about him losing the money, it was about her breaking his trust. He’s had too many people fuck him over in his life; from friends to his own family, the one person he thought was different was her.

She started off as his confidant, his solace in the constant chaos that erupted in his life. Now? He didn’t know what to believe.

“Rafe—”

“You should go,” Her face blanches at his dismissive demeanor. “Make sure you leave the house key and the ring on the nightstand.” Rafe gives her one last look before he pushes himself off of the dresser he was leaned against, turning around to rummage through his drawers for some clothes.

He hears Sofia’s sniffles as she walks past him. The clinking sound of metal as she set the ring and key on the dresser ricocheted throughout the quietness that filled the room. He only turns around when he hears her footsteps descend down the stairs and out the front door when it closes shut.

Rafe runs a hand wearily down his face, “Fuck.”

…

“You’ve been mopin’ ever since you got here bruh,” Barry reprimands, bringing his can of coors up to his mouth as he gulped down a swallow. He belches, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s got you down, country club? You got your money back didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rafe nods, exhaling a deep sigh of exasperation. He couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with Sofia. He laid awake all night, a prisoner to his insomnia, recalling her confession as he was tormented by the remorseful look straining on her face.

He contemplated on his response.

Did he overreact? It wasn’t like she didn’t try to tell him the truth but maybe if she tried harder then he wouldn’t have been so blindsided. He fucking hates this. What he hates most is that he feels so lonely in the house without her there. He couldn’t sleep, not when the smell of her shampoo still lingered on the pillowcases and the vacancy of the space beside him where she previously slept, reminded him that she was gone.

He was miserable without her.

But he was still too heartbroken to forgive her.

Barry raised a curious brow at Rafe before simpering in amusement. “Ah, you must be mopin’ over shortie. What’s her name again, Stephanie?”

“Sofia,” He corrects, reaching forward to rummage through the cooler to grab himself another can of beer. “And no, it’s not like that. We’re not together anymore,” He murmurs as he pried open the can. The froth of the brewed drink fizzles until it eventually subsides.

Rafe parts his lips and brings the can up to his mouth chugging it down in nearly one gulp. He only coughs a sputter, groaning as the beer pooled in his stomach.

“Woah, woah, what happened?” Barry inquired curiously, his body language engaging as he leaned forward in his lawn chair closer to Rafe. “I thought y’all were in love?”

“I thought we were too,” Rafe says sardonically, chuckling in disbelief as he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “You know that I proposed to her? I gave her my mom’s old wedding ring, told her that I wanted her to move in with me so that we could build a life together…how fucking stupid was that?” He laughs, though it’s devoid of any mirth or comedic hubris.

Barry whistled as he leaned back in his chair. “Damn, you proposed to her? I don’t know, bruh. It must’ve been serious enough for you to do that. What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe shrugs, “We’re done,”

Barry gives him a disbelieving look, but thankfully, didn’t offer any input rebuffing against his claims even though they both knew he was still sulking in his misery of her. And before Barry could continue with any more prodding, Rafe’s popping open another beer and chugging it down, allowing the alcohol to lull him in a stupor.

…

Her head aches from all the crying she’s done; her throat’s scratched and her eyes are nearly swollen shut. He hates her. This realization dawned upon her immediately, causing her eyes to weld and a heavy sob to catch in her throat. She didn’t know how everything went so wrong so fast; how one minute she was bathing in glee at the thought of a life with Rafe to now mourning the loss of their relationship.

When she learned of Hollis’ murder, she tried to tell him about her involvement but he told her that he didn’t care about her past or what she’d done so she reluctantly decided to move on. Because if he was willing to overlook anything she might’ve done, she knew that he had to truly love her.

She didn’t think that the happiest moment of her life could be snatched away so quickly. What hurt her more than anything was Rafe second guessing her as if he didn’t know her.

How could he disregard their entire relationship with such insouciance like that? She’s aware that she made a mistake co-conspiring with Hollis, but how could Rafe treat her like this? He told her that he’s done stuff too—way worse than she could imagine but apparently, that meant nothing to him anymore.

A knock against her bedroom door has her groaning softly. She’s been barricaded in her room for days, sulking in her misery and she knew that her placating reassurances that she was fine had finally started to become unbelievable to her father after the third day.

“Cariña,” Her father laments, opening the door as he sauntered inside. She blows her nose into the waddled up piece of tissue, sighing wearily as she resisted the urge to cry again.

“You’ve been in here for days, it’s not healthy for you to sit here and rot in your bed all day.” She knows that he’s right, but she was in an insufferable amount of pain that he just couldn’t understand. “That boy doesn’t deserve your tears,” He condemns and she knows he’s prepared to give her a parental spiel about how Rafe wasn’t good enough for her to begin with from the way his lips purse in a thinned frown in that familiar way it always does whenever he’s about to give her a stern talk.

“Papi,”

Her father murmurs a low curse, shaking his head. “Pinche cabrón! I should drive right over to figure eight and tell him—”

“Papi, Rafe didn’t do anything. It was me.” She confesses, knowing she couldn’t let him continue his berating of Rafe when he didn’t even know the full details of the situation. Of her responsibility in this. “I did what Hollis wanted and he found out and broke up with me,”

Her father’s anger slowly subsides.

He gives her a sympathetic look, his own guilt surfacing at the realization that he was the one that initially came to his daughter regarding Hollis’ offer. But he shouldn’t feel any responsibility because Sofia decided to betray Rafe and now she was dealing with the repercussions of her actions.

She musters enough strength to go to work the next day. It was the last place that she wanted to be, but she knew she couldn’t prolong her return any longer if she wanted to keep her job. She’d already used enough of her sick days and unfortunately didn’t have any more to spare.

So she clambered out of bed, showered, primped herself up with a little bit of makeup to hide the drained pallor of her skin that became flushed from crying, and drove to work inwardly preparing herself for her eight hour shift. It was torture; having to smile in customer’s faces and engage in conversations with them like she wasn’t suffering on the inside.

“Valdez,” Her head turns at the sound of her manager, Leo calling out her name.

He’s standing at the counter behind the register, ringing up a current customer’s total. “Table 7 has been waiting for almost five minutes. Sandra’s on break. Could you handle them for me?” He asked, while handling the customer over their drink.

Sofia nods, knowing that his asking had no effect on her doing so anyway. She walks over to the counter and reaches over to grab her pen and notepad. Her eyes wander around the outside seating area narrowing in on table 7. She halts mid-gait in her steps, eyes widen in shock as she hurried back to the counter.

“Leo, can Paige or someone get that table?” She asked, inwardly hoping that he wouldn’t further inquire or prod her of why she didn’t want to wait the table.

But of course he did and Sofia wasn’t able to stammer a believable enough excuse to get her out of the situation.

“Is there a reason why you can’t do it?”

Yes, but the reason is so pathetic that you’ll end up sending me out there anyway so there’s really no point in me trying to fight against it. “No, sir. I’ll get right on it.” She gives him a forced, feeble smile before turning around to head back to the table. Her smile immediately drops, transitioning into a sullen frown.

She inhaled and exhaled deep breaths as she began to approach the table. Her eyes wandered between the two of them, already feeling a tightening grip coiling in her stomach. She wanted to run, cry, vomit, disintegrate into the very ground that she was walking on. Because just when it seemed as if her days couldn’t get any worse, she turns to see that the table that she was forced to serve was Rafe—who was accompanied by a blonde girl who’s standing so close to him that she’s nearly cemented at his side.

Sofia swallows the thickness of emotion that clogs in her throat, harrumphing softly to announce her presence. Rafe and the blonde were in deep conversation, but at her beckon they turn around in tandem and look down at her. And she’s suddenly flush in chagrin.

“Hi, my name is Sofia and I’m your server. What can I get for you guys?” She tried so desperately hard to maintain a neutral demeanor, but the longer she stood there the more she could slowly feel herself beginning to succumb to her emotions and starting to crumble.

But she couldn’t; not right here and work. So she bites down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and rapidly blinks away her impending tears.

“I’ll just have some mozzarella sticks and a beer,” She answers as Sofia scribes down her order. She taps her pen against her notepad while she waited for Rafe.

“I’ll just take another whiskey.” Sofia writes down his order as well, briefly looking up at them and catching a haste glimpse of Rafe’s gaze.

She quickly pulls her eyes away, “I’ll be right back with your order.” She says, placating a genial smile on her face before turning around and walking away.

Once she’s inside and out of their view, she squeezes her eyes shut and released a deep, shaky breath. Had he really moved on that fast? It was only a few weeks ago that he was crouched down on his knee proposing to her and telling her that he loved her, now here he was, nearly parading another girl on his arm at her job. Was he doing this just to spite her or to get a rise out of her? Did he really not care about her feelings anymore that he was willing to result to such petulant tactics like this?

While the chef’s cooking the food, she goes to the bar to retrieve their drinks. She snags a cold beer from the refrigerator then fills whiskey into a glass. She places everything on a serving tray, inwardly preparing herself to face him again.

“Here you go,” She announces as she places their respective drinks in front of them along with the plate of mozzarella sticks. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything else,”

Sofia tries to not ogle unabashedly as he watched the two of them interact—at how the blonde’s smile widened at whatever coquettish remarks that Rafe was feeding her and how he had fallen into his role of interest with such ease. The blonde had moved closer in Rafe’s proximity, brushing her hand against his forearm before giggling girlishly at his words.

They were openly flirting in front of her.

He was doing this on purpose, trying to punish her for what she did to him. And as much as she knows this and knows that she shouldn’t allow his childish behavior to effect her, it does and she could feel the tears that she’d been trying to hard to suppress suddenly falling from her eyes and fogging her vision.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 17

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Drew Tanaka's True Love Connections by @buoyantsaturn

Will smiled. "I have an appointment next door with the, uh… Matchmaker lady?” He winced at his own awkwardness, trying to bite back the embarrassment he felt. “Well, actually my friend set it up for me, but-- Sorry, do you know anything about her? The matchmaker lady, not my friend, I mean. I’m just not sure what to expect, you know? I’ve never, uh, done something like this before.” 

THIS WAS SO SICK I LOVED IT!!!!!! flowershop au with a twist oh yes ma’am. also im so pumped drew was in this every time i see her im like hello my love how are you

2. just desserts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

It’s just a cupcake, Nico reminds himself. Surely that justifies breaking into the infirmary at the break of dawn. or: nico's love language is baking and will solace gets a lot of cake as a result.

end note hate me GIGGGGLIIING. also i am OBSESSED with this author but i haven’t read the solangelo book yet so i haven’t read a lot of her stuff and i’m DYING to. this was as sweet as nico's baking fr!! i'm writing less of a note on this fic (altho i love it) bc the WORDS i have to say about the next one,,,

3. caught in the river of tears that i cried by @thegoldenappleofdiscord*

In all honesty, it was really for the best that Will didn’t think about all the strange things that sometimes happened around him. After all, his mama had more than enough on her plate already. He was a good kid, and it was best everything stayed as it were. (Though admittedly, the flock of flesh-eating maniac pigeons, men with hooves, and the growing darkness in his veins might just make this a tiny bit more difficult than he anticipated) or: will can only push down a part of him for so long (will has plague powers, but he's known it from the very start.)

UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN REESE PLEASE 😭😭i am genuinely so obsessed with this fic and the WAY everything is woven together....like fear is a driving force!! you can feel it!! this is one of those starred fics fr bc it Changed the way i wrote and characterized will. he is fr a character who has been controlled by fear his Whole life actually. of the world and what it takes from him. of the Fates that do not care for your fragile love. of the things they are forced to do. of the precarity of life. and perhaps most intimately and ardently Himself, and the abilities he does not want to have, the life he does not want to live. the parts of himself that do not fit in the mold he has Built for himself and Forced himself into. and this fic shows that so so beautifully like this story is Woven.....i think about it literally all the time it's insane

4. a handful of almosts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

He’d said it so easily: “Best friends don’t do that to each other, Will.” It had been a throwaway comment after Will decimated him in a card game, which was usually Nico’s forte. Following that had been a furious, “Besides, it’s war. Entirely luck-based. Winning this game doesn’t mean anything. Stop laughing – why the hell are you laughing?” He’d mostly been laughing because of Nico’s expression – eyebrows drawn tight, mouth twisted in an adorable scowl – but also because of the sudden elation pumped into him like helium. They were best friends – and maybe someone else would be hopeful for more, and maybe one day he'll pursue it (he did want it, had wanted it for a long time) but for now, he’s content where they are, sitting in Nico’s room and cursing at each other through a deck of cards. or: 5+1 of will solace being a pining loser

A HANDFUL OF ALMOSTS!!! WHAT!!! every once and a while u just hit a title that Hits u u know. like a handful of almosts. yeah. what a deeply poignant and tragic thing. how fitting for the pjoverse, a universe of people who are haunted by their almosts. god. and then to turn around and make this story FLUFFY?? MAKE IT THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD??? "will solace and his rose coloured glasses" REESE!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!

5. Damage Control by @nikkira

“I couldn’t save Lee. I couldn’t save Michael. I couldn’t save Silena.” “You saved Annabeth when she was stabbed, right? And Annabeth was kind of imperative to the whole saving the world effort. The people you save go on to do things and help people and save people. When you lose someone, you lose them. But when you save someone, you save a dozen more people.”

"i dream of the people i could not save. they're mad at me." oh i am UNWELL. ill i tell you. i read this line and had to sit down for a little while like actually. one thing about will solace is that he never stops punishing himself and no one got that like this fic nine years ago

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls (VII) | Max Verstappen

Words count: 3.4K

Driver!oc X Max Verstappen

Platonic!Driver!oc X the grid

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

This is a secondary blog so I won't be able to respond but I'm adding you all to the taglist.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Previous || Next

Families 

2021 

Cecilia has left Mclaren and is now with Mercedes, Daniel Ricciardo taking her place in Mclaren, saying goodbye to her team and to Lando was hard, she cried alot on her last day racing with them and her last day with the team. Her and Lando exchanged helmets, once the cameras were off she was in tears hugging her teammate. It’s not like they won’t see each other but they’re each other’s first teammate, they came into the sport and helped each other adapt and develop as drivers and grew incredibly close.

Cecilia feared Max’s reaction when she told him she agreed to Mercedes’ offer, but her boyfriend surprisingly encouraged her, this is her best move. 

The day Cecilia went in to talk to Toto about her contract before she signed it, she knew she had to tell him about her relationship with Max. Admittedly she should’ve told him very early on, but she wasn’t as confident as she is now.

Knocking on the team principal's door, he called for her to come in, the female opened the door and saw Toto behind his desk, he took off his glasses and sat them on the table. Cecilia closed the door behind her and greeted the Austrian man. She really admires Toto so much. 

“I hope you aren’t reconsidering.” Toto said once they sat down, Cecilia across from him.

“No, no I haven’t but you may change your mind.” Cecilia said pushing back her hair, a habit she developed when she’s nervous. 

“What’s wrong?” Toto frowned and leaned forward a little. 

“I should’ve told you this when you first came to be, but I was a bit hesitant and admittedly scared.” Cecilia started out, she looked at Toto, she wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, and she’d understand if he changed his mind. “So, uh, what would you say if I told you I’m in a relationship with another driver.”

Toto leaned back in his chair, it isn’t as bad as he thought, everyone already knows about Nathalie, Mclaren did a good job handling the media in that aspect, but if Cecilia and the other driver came out to the public then it’ll be something Mercedes and the other team will have to deal with.

“Who is it?” Toto asked, and tried to think of who the female has been spending a lot of time with, however her group of friends is big, she’s the only female, there’s a lot of males, but he was leaning towards Charles. The two are a fan favourite, and they spend a lot of time together.

“Max.” Cecilia didn’t take her eyes off Toto, she tried to read him but he was giving him nothing.

“Verstappen?” He had to be sure.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Start of lockdown, so just a little under a year.”

“Huh.” He wasn’t expecting this, RedBull is Mercedes’ biggest rival, but regardless he never saw that one coming, they let nothing on. Nothing different from other drivers that is. 

“It hasn’t affected my driving, me and him on track we’re rivals, I’ve done so much better last year than the year before it, and we’ve never shared anything about our teams, so secrecy is something you don’t have to scared of, I - I’ve always wanted to drive for Mercedes and I’ll never do anything to sabotage that.” Cecilia may have word vomited but she wanted to get her words out before Toto made his decision. 

“I can see that, this hasn’t changed my opinion, but to be sure, we’ll have an NDA written up for you as well.” Toto said and Cecilia nodded, fair is fair. 

“Yeah, whatever you want.” Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief, they talked a little more before she went to leave.

“Cecilia.” Toto called the driver. “I trust you, welcome to the team.”

“Thank you.”

She called Max once she was out of the building.

“What did he say?” Was the first thing that came out of Max’s mouth when he picked up. 

“He said I’m in the team, it doesn't change anything, but i’ll have to sign an NDA.” Cecilia was smiling like crazy. “What about you? When are you telling Christian?”

“Uh, I don’t know, I don’t know if I should tell him first or dad first.” Max has been debating this for a while, his mum and sister already met you, but his dad is in the dark about this.

“Who will make the bigger deal about it?” She already knew, but she isn’t going to say it.

“My- my dad probably.” He hated how he knew his dad would react, he won’t be happy.

“Then tell Christian, that way you have backup.” Cecilia knows how intense Jos can be, Max loves him but he’s done some questionable things and Cecilia just doesn’t want Max to face him alone, she doesn’t know how much of a help she can be. “We can invite him over, he can meet my parents.”

“No, no he’ll want me to tell him first.” Cecilia hummed.

“Let’s talk more when I’m back.” Cecilia said they were currently in the UK, Christian invited Max and Perez to his house, and Cecilia had her meetings and things with Mercedes to wrap up before the beginning of the season.

The day before the dinner Christian was hosting at his estate, Max met him one on one. Max went to his house for more privacy, the men sat in Christian’s office alone so they could talk.

“What’s on your mind?” Christian knew Max since he was young, and he likes to believes he knows him very well, he could tell his driver wanted to tell him something but was hesitant.

“What would you say if I was dating someone that works for another team?” Max asked, wanting to see his reaction to that question before dropping the big bomb.

“As long as there’s no secrets shared, then I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Christian answered growing curious, his mind tried to run over all the people he saw Max with from other teams, but he came blank, he only saw Max with other drivers, they’re the only people he interacted with from other teams. “What team?”

“Would it matter?” Max asked his face not showing any emotion, he had his walls up at that moment. 

“Not really, but I would like to know.” 

“Mcl-Mercedes.” It clicked in Christain’s mind who Max was talking about, Mclaren to Mercedes, Cecilia.

“You both have to know that when it comes out, and it will at one point, that Cecilia will be getting a lot of hate.” Christian warned, the female in his eyes has been causing a bit of a stir since she came into the sport. She is talented, he has to admit, but she’s a PR nightmare in his opinion. Mercedes definitely have their hands full with her now. He doesn’t really want her to distract Max either, but for Max to come tell him he must be serious about it.

“We’ve talked about it, we know the risk.” Max clenched his jaw.

“She has a daughter.”

“I know.” 

“How long have you been together?”

“Start of lockdown.” this was kind of a repeat of what Cecilia had to go through, but it was expected, both team principals wanted the best for their teams and drivers, both are doing well and they want them to do better, any distraction could coast them points and championship.

“Okay, bring her with you tomorrow, I want to meet her officially.” Christian had to see them together to make a decision, upsetting Max won’t get him anywhere. He never really spoke with Cecilia, he’s of course spoken about her in the media and has seen her around the paddock and what not but he doesn’t think they spoke a word to each other, maybe a polite hello in passing.

Christian is happy he asked Max to bring Cecilia, it’s his first time seeing Max let go and laugh and just have fun like he was at that moment, his arm was around Cecilia. They looked happily in love, always making sure the other was close. 

A few drivers were also present, Daniel, Pierre, Alex and Checo. And they all knew, no doubt about it. No one batted an eyelash at the couple, to be honest the drivers were used to the couple in private they were always stuck at the hip. You wouldn’t know it though if you saw them in any place that had cameras and phones that didn’t belong to any of their friends and people they trusted. They’re so good at hiding their relationship. 

“This is why women shouldn’t be in sports.” Helmut muttered under his breath his distaste to the female clear as he glared her down, Christian sighed, having caught his words. 

“Try to not let Max hear you.” Christian advised, Max is a protective person by nature, he loves his friends and family, his close circle he holds close to him and doesn’t like anyone to come near them and that includes Cecilia now.

“Well, he needs to wake up.” Helmut didn’t let it go, taking a swing from his drink.

“That’s the thing, he is.” Christian pats his shoulder and walks away, leaving the old man on his own sulking.

Christian knew then that any thought about breaking them up would cause more trouble than it’s worth, that only brought on one question, how the hell are they supposed to tell Jos? 

Max was at the RedBull factory to run some simulator work, and Jos had made it there. He stood back watching Max as he ran through the tests, his eyes like a hawk taking in every little mistake. 

Christian just made it in the room, seeing Jos’s imposing aura. Let’s just say that a lot of the RB mechanics like to stay away from the Dutchman. Christian makes his way over to Jos, they greet each other before they watch Max finish up. 

Max and Christian share a look before Christian leads the father son duo to his office for privacy. It’s now or never, Jos will be mad that he’s not the first to know, but as the season starts and progresses Christian has an inkling that more people will know.

“What’s going on?” Jos asks, seeing the look on both their faces.

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you something?” Max said his eyes met his dad’s. “I am seeing Cecilia… Hansson.”

“What? Seeing her? Seeing her as in-” The frown on his face and the distaste in his voice is very telling about what he was feeling. 

“Dating, we’ve been dating for almost a year now.” Max confirms and he holds his dad’s gaze, Jos’s face got red his frown looked like it got stuck.

“Jos this may have come as a shock but-” Christian said as he tried to stop Jos from saying anything that’ll blow the subject out of proportions. 

“But nothing! She’s a rival, she’s always been a rival, a mclaren driver!” “Mercedes.” “Doesn’t fucking matter! What are you thinking Max?”

“Dad you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Max tried to calm his dad, but he barely said his words before he was interrupted once again.

“You can date anyone, why does it have to be her? She’ll distract you, or take information out of you to Mercedes, this is irresponsible, I didn’t spend years getting you here for you to throw it all way from some woman! She’s only here because of her money, she’s always been in the sport because of her money, and-and she has a daughter, a fucking child Max! She’s a whore-”

“DAD! Stop okay! Stop.” Max was on his feet in an instant 

“Jos that’s enough.” Jos was glaring at his son almost panting. “This isn’t helping, Jos, I talked to Max about it and both him and Cecilia have signed contracts to keep any and all info about the other team a secret.” Christian said and sighed looking at both men. “Max sit down, just sit down.” Max sat back in his chair, but the frown on his face stayed. “Now can we be civil about this and talk it out."

"There's nothing to talk about." Jos dismissed Christian his glare still fixated on his son. Max scoffed, he really doesn't like fighting with his dad but Cecilia is a fact not an option and if he has any say in it isn't going anywhere. 

"I'm leaving then, when you want to talk call me." Max left the room before any of the older men could say anything. 

Horner sighed and rubbed his forehead in defeat. This isn't what he had hoped for. He now had the task of talking to Jos on his own. 

Yeah, Jos was unconvinced. The season just started and he's still unconvinced. She was under instruction from Max to not speak with him alone, so when she was walking around the paddock and saw the Dutch man walking her way she did a 180 and started walking the other way, spotting an Aston Martin kit walking close by she changed her direction and slipped by people until she reached the older man’s side.

“Quick act like we’re in deep conversation and shouldn’t be interrupted.” Cecilia whisper shouted and the German driver looked confused, he could see Cecilia’s eye kept darting to someone over his shoulder, he only managed to take a peak. “Don’t look!”

“Mind telling me why you’re hiding for Jos?” Sebastian was confused, he had no idea why she’d be hiding from the father of her boyfriend, unless. “Did you and Max break up?”

“What? No!” She said instantly sounding offended by the statement.

“Then why are you hiding from his dad?”

“He doesn’t like me, and I’m under instructions to avoid him.” Cecilia told Sebastian who moved so she’s mostly hidden by him, only then Cecilia’s eyes settled on Seb’s.

“Why deosn’t he like you?” Seb knew how harsh Jos can be, but Cecilia is an incredible woman, who anyone would be lucky to have her.

“Uh not 100% sure but it’s along of the lines of, I’m a rival, I’m a teen parent, I’m a female ruining the sport, and I’m a spy… yeah that’s it… i think… that I know of.” Cecilia nodded to herself once she listed.

“Huh.” 

“Yeah.”

“Only one thing you listed is true.” Seb pointed out and Cecilia shrugged muttering an ‘I don't know’. “It’s stupid, but I think Max will get it handled.”

“Hope so, because that would make family gatherings awkward.” Cecilia laughed it off, but it bothered her, of course it did. She hates being the reason why the Verstappen men were fighting, things are tense between them and in turn the garage, but there’s nothing she could do. She’s not leaving Max, and she likes to believe that Max isn’t leaving her as well.

Cecilia has managed to stay out of Jos’ way, even though it was hard. It seemed like the man was everywhere all of the sudden, Max still wasn’t talking to his father but Jos insisted on coming to almost every race. 

It was the Dutch GP round 13, Max’s home race. That meant that a lot of his family were present, including his mum and sister. Max did book a place for the four of them to have dinner the day after the race.

Qualifying day. Cecilia was somehow alone at the Mercedes garage sitting at a table in the corner going over some data, the garage was in a state of unusual calm. In a few hours the calm will be gone  and the storm will be here. Cecilia was in her own world with her headphones on and focused on the papers in her hands, she was startled when she heard the chair in front of her scrape on the floor as it was dragged. She looked up and her heart dropped, meeting eyes that are familiar in colour but nothing else. 

“Mr. Verstappen.” Cecilia has never really spoken to Jos before, not when they were young and certainly not when she got into F1. her headphones were off and the papers on the table facing down.

“Drop the formalities, why are you with my son?” Cecilia was startled to say the least, her eyes moved around the garage, and a couple mechanics eyed the man in suspicion. 

“W-what? what do you mean?” This is one of the last things she expected him to ask, to be honest she just expected him to tell her to break up with Max and maybe call her a few names and that’s it. 

“You can’t be that slow.” the Dutch glared at Cecilia, she blinked a few times, she was too stunned.

“With all due respect, Mr Verstappen, but the reason I’m dating your son is between me and him.” Cecilia said gaining her bearings, she isn’t about to allow Jos to walk all over her, those days of men disrespecting her and her taking it are over. “But I’m sure you can take out a few things.” Cecilia held his menacing gaze and didnt waver as she started counting on her fingers. “It’s not for money, i have more than enough, it’s not for red bull secrets, I never asked about a single thing about Red Bull, it’s not for attention, no one knows but our friends and family.” She shrugs and laeans back in her chair. “So you can rest assured that I’m not using your son.”

“This is bullshit, you’re trapping him.” Jos pointed his finger at the table, his anger clear as day, he didn’t like her tone and her nonchalant attitude. “And just because your family is okay with this, doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Sophie and Victoria are okay with us, besides-“

“You met them?” He asked in disbelief, he’s usually at every race so it made sense in his mind that he’d be the one to meet Cecilia first.

“Yes.” Cecilia muttered, thinking that maybe it was a bad decision to tell him this.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“With respect, Mr verstappen, but Max isn’t a child, he knows what’s best for him and he’s a good judge of character.” Cecilia said leaning closer to the table, she never wanted to be on bad terms with Max’s dad, but when he came in with prejudice and his own opinions and notions it was hard not to take the defensive side.

“Jos! I don’t believe you have access to the Mercedes garage.” Cecilia felt a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t have to look up to see it’s her team principal. 

“I was just leaving.” Jos muttered his glare moved from Cecilia to Toto, but the Mercedes principal didn’t let it affect him, family matters always leaves people a bit sensitive.

“Maybe you should trust your son’s judgments.” Toto said for the Dutch as he was leaving, but Jos didn’t react at all to this. “Are you okay, Cece?”

“Yes, thank you.” Cecilia looked up at Toto with a smile of gratitude.

“No worries, some of the mechanics were a bit startled to see Jos here so they called me.” Even if they only called Toto in fear of information being stolen it still made Cecilia feel more welcomed and loved in her new team.

Cecilia took out her phone and pressed Max’s name from her recently called list. 

“Cilia, I’m a bit busy.” Max said once he picked up, the only reason he picked up is because they usually never call each other in the middle of working hours only text.

“Sorry, amour but your dad was just here-“

“Did something happen? Did he do something?” Max cuts her off and steps away from his engineers.

“No-no, we talked and I may have said that your mum and victoria know about us and he’s a bit pissed at that.” Cecilia wasn’t about to tell Max everything before quali, they’ll sit down and talk later in her hotel room at the end of the day.

“Anything else happen?” Max asked, he knows how his father can get, there has to be more.

“Nothing that couldn’t wait until tonight.” Cecilia answered him and looks around her garage from her spot in the corner.

“Cilia tell-.”

“Max, nothing will change from now to tonight, you should get back to what you were doing.”

“Okay, but if he comes over again you call me okay?”

“Okay… He'll come around and I love you mon amour.”

“I hope so, and I love you too.”

username1: here's a thread of my fave queen Cecilia killing the fashion game week after week on and off the paddock

She has me on mmy knees

i LOVE her

when said COLOURSSS

more colours

username2: I'm adding some of Cecilia and Nathalie matching outfits bc can cecilia adopt me plz

no bc like i can wash the dishes and do the laundery

Next->

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif  . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader , @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 .

[gloomzi]

THIS MAY BE BASED OFF A SAM C AI BOT I TALKED TO BUT OML ILL LOVE TO SEE YOU WRITE IT

This will take time after Sam escapes and is in readers dorm.

The reader ends up taking Sam out to a local place like Walmart because earlier Sam said he wanted to get out for once a be a normal person. But the reader wasn't one to get out themselves or evening party, so they did the best they could. Take sam to Walmart. Once arriving the reader pulls out a shopping cart, looking over at sam with a half smile "wanna get in and I push you around?" Which leads sam being pushed around a Walmart in a shopping cart by the reader. So they takes him down different isle with the frozen snacks, spicy chips, drinks, etc and this kid looks like he is in mfing disney land but the characters are actually the characters.

(I ended up taking sam to the toy isle and he picked out a monster high doll and I educated him on the lore to which he picked frankine. Boy got taste)

waaah thank u for the request! sry it took longer than expected, shit just kept coming up in my life TvT but regardless i hope u enjoy it!

WORD COUNT 2622

WARNINGS is primarily fluff but ends on a bit of a hurt/comfort note (sry), prose heavy

Ever since Sam had started staying in your dorm, he had been asking to go out and do something normal for once—nothing big, just something to get him out of the building, like grocery shopping or going to a party. Something where nobody would be paying attention to the people around them or would be too drunk to remember anyways.

Unfortunately for him, you were a bit too paranoid about your current predicament to want to bring him out in public—you wished that you could, but you knew all too well the lengths others would go to to hurt Sam, to bring him back to the woods, and you didn’t want to risk that—and you didn’t really have friends that were the partying type anyways. Or well, not anymore. Not since that last party where Andre nearly killed someone and Marie was almost expelled.

So, that left you with two options: keep telling Sam no while he gets more and more frustrated at being stuck in your cramped dorm room with little entertainment, or drive him far enough out of town that there was a decreased chance of him getting caught. 

You chose the latter.

As soon as you came back from classes that Friday, you were throwing an oversized hoodie at the boy and a plastic package containing black face masks, “C’mon Sam, we’re going on a trip!”

He was ecstatic, immediately dropping whatever it was he was holding—upon second glance you realized it was a few of your minifigs, embarrassing—to get dressed.

Seeing him struggle to change into his not so stellar disguise, you giggled, helping him tug the edge of the hoodie off his elbow where it had been stuck and over his stomach, flattening the fabric for him before handing him a cheap pair of readers off your desk and the masks which had fallen to the floor.

“Ground rules, Sam, okay? We’re going to be heading out of town, but until we cross town lines you have to keep all of this on, got it? And when we get there you can’t leave my side, you gotta stay where I can see you.” You said, watching as he slipped on the glasses, which were, admittedly, a bit silly looking on him, but it was endearing in a way.

Sam nodded quickly, grinning down at you, “Yeah, yeah, of course! Whatever you say!” Sam paused, tearing open the packaging on the masks before looking back up at you, “Where are we going again…?”

You chuckled, turning on your heel to switch your school bag out for a smaller one, stuffing your necessities in it, “Walmart, honey. You been before? When you were younger maybe?”

Sam hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “I mean, probably…the name sounds familiar, but I don’t really remember.”

You found that Sam didn’t mind talking about stuff he remembered from before The Woods or Sage Grove Center, in fact he usually recalled those times fondly, but his memory seemed pretty spotty before then.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged back, “Ready to go?” You held out a hand for him to grab, tugging your bag onto your shoulder with your other hand.

Sam nodded, smiling softly and taking your hand, allowing you to lead him out of the building and to the parking lot. 

Not many students on campus had cars, you yourself having only got one from your parents which you pay them back for monthly, meaning it was fairly easy to find where you had parked earlier in the week. Your car was on the older side, nowhere near glamorous—the thing didn’t even have an aux cord, so CDs were practically your life line now—but it ran well enough and you kept it clean and nicely decorated, from bumper stickers to stuffies in the backseat.

Sam peaked in the window, seemingly intrigued by the unreasonable amount of plush toys taking up space, but quickly snapped out of it when you pulled open the passenger door, waving him in.

You rounded the car quickly, hopping in and starting it up so you could show Sam how the radio worked and help him readjust his seat until he was comfortable.

“See, you can pull this thing right here backwards or forwards to bring your seat closer or further away from the dash, and if you pull this other one behind it it’ll adjust the back of your seat to recline more.” You guided him, holding your hand over his to make sure he felt where everything was, “And if you want to change any of the CDs, I keep all of mine right here in the center console, you just need to hit this eject button here to take out one and then the load button to put in the new one!”

Sam nodded along, asking questions about your CDs and which ones you liked best, fiddling with the volume to hear better before settling on one.

“Alright, ready to go now? Seatbelt on?”

“Yeah, let's go!”

Pulling out of the parking lot, you and Sam talked lightly, him mostly staring out the window and asking questions about the town and little stores you passed while you focused on driving, answering with fond amusement.

The drive was a bit longer than you were used to making, but you had to get out of town, so you knew it would be at least an hour, CDs seeming to come and go faster than you remember them being, though you guessed it might have something to do with Sam being there to talk over them.

By the time you had made it to the Walmart Sam had changed out of his sad excuse for a disguise, the hoodie being thrown into your backseat in favor of just wearing a white long sleeve with a graphic tee over it, glasses tucked into your sunglasses compartment and mask shoved into your glovebox. Both of you were getting a bit hungry at this point, so you felt relieved to see there was a Dunkin inside the Walmart as well, ordering you and Sam some hash browns and a vanilla bean coolatta to split.

Just based on his reaction you could tell he wasn’t used to having anything as sweet as that drink, his lips puckering as his eyes went wide, “Jesus christ, this shit must be loaded with sugar!”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we’re splitting it, I’d get sick otherwise,” You laughed, “You like it though, right? If not, I can buy you something else.”

“No, no, it’s really good! I like it!”

You hummed in acknowledgement, starting to walk towards the carts, knowing Sam would follow. Grabbing one of the large carts, you tapped the side, “Wanna get in? I’ll push you around.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, as he practically bounced up to the cart, “Hell yeah!” He cheered, throwing a leg over the side, cart wobbling lightly as you tried to hold it steady before he finally fell the rest of the way in, drink held in the air to keep it safe.

You giggled, holding your hand out for the drink so you could take a sip before handing it back to him, “Do you want to get some snacks for the dorm first? Anything you want as long as it’s not ridiculously expensive.”

Sam nodded, sipping on the drink once more with a small smile. He looked like a kid on Christmas, eyes lit up as he looked at practically every item you came across, trying to decide whether or not he liked the sound of different chip flavors and microwave noodles.

Maybe I should just get him one of those mini stoves that plugs into the wall…does he even know how to cook though? Probably not. You thought, rolling the cart into the drinks aisle and grabbing a case of water bottles.

“Hey, do you know how to cook?” You asked, starting to push the cart again. You had cleared all the food aisles, so now you just needed to grab him some clothes and maybe check out the toy aisles too. You always liked looking for figurines and board games in there, Sam would probably like that stuff too if you had to venture a guess.

“Sort of? My mom taught me simple stuff when I was younger.”

You nodded, “I can show you how to do some other stuff then, I’ll just have to get you something to cook with in the dorm.”

“Thank you…” Sam muttered, pursing his lips like he had more to say, but decided against it. You didn’t push. If Sam really wanted to say something, he’d say it in due time.

Finally arriving in the men’s section, you pushed the cart to the side, motioning for Sam to get out. He looked confused, but got out anyway, clambering over the side with about as much grace as a baby deer.

“You’re gonna have to try stuff on or at least hold it up to your frame to make sure it fits,” You said.

“Ohh, okay.” He said, putting the coolatta down in the cart’s baby seat.

For the next few minutes you watched him pick out clothes and hold them up to himself, pulling them on over his own shirt occasionally, but mostly just sizing up if he was unsure. He didn’t seem too picky, but you could tell he liked the more colorful patterns, only picking up darker clothes for “outings”, as he kept referring to them. He even picked up a few anime shirts, asking if you were familiar with the shows and if they were any good before deciding to just get a Naruto shirt anyways, thinking the design was cute, which got a hearty laugh out of you.

You made sure he picked out some sweaters and sleep clothes as well, boxers and socks, a few pairs of jeans and a pair of sturdy shoes, since his old ones were pretty beat up. The perks of working a part time job while having only a couple expenses meant you could pretty much splurge on him all you wanted and thank god for that, you didn’t know if you had the heart to say no to him.

After he had been satisfied with all his selections he had climbed back into the cart, pushing the growing pile of stuff around until it surrounded him like a nest of clothes and food.

“Do you want to check out the toys now? Or maybe some books?” You asked, lightly pushing him through the rows between the aisles. You figured you would be passing the section anyways and you had caught him reading once or twice in your room, maybe he’d want something newer.

“Could we do both? I think I’ve read through most of your collection already and Emma doesn’t have anything that isn’t from 2013 or earlier,” He groaned.

You huffed a laugh, smacking at his shoulder, “Just because Emma is reliving her YA fantasy doesn’t mean you get to shit on her taste!”

Sam whined dramatically, rubbing his shoulder as if you had actually hurt him, “Owww, careful or I’ll never even make it to the books!”

“‘Owww, careful’,” You mocked, snorting, “go pick out a book you menace!”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he climbed back out of the cart, perusing the aisle, muttering to himself about each book. 

As he looked at the books you watched fondly, leaning against the cart until he was finished debating and set two thick hardcovers into the growing pile of items surrounding the empty spot he quickly climbed back into.

“To the toys!” Sam whooped, fist pumping the air as you pushed off in the direction of the aisle. 

You giggled, ruffling his hair, “To the toys!”

As soon as the aisles of toys came into view Sam was practically throwing himself out of the cart, tripping over his shoes until he was picking up a couple Barbie dolls, looking them over with excitement, “How many can I get?”

“How about we look at everything and then you pick out a few, okay? I can always get you more if you want.”

Sam nodded, beginning to saunter down the aisles, not checking to see if you were following as he picked things off the shelves to inspect before putting them back. After what was probably 10 or so minutes he started going back through the aisles and making his final selections, at which time you decided to actually look at some of the games and cheaper action figures.

By now you were pretty confident he wouldn’t wander off so you didn’t mind turning your back to him, grabbing a couple packs of cards to replace ones that had been ruined by a drunk Jordan months ago.

Shuffling a bit to the side you crouched down to check out some of the board games, tracing your finger over the price strips as you checked each one. Just as you pulled out one of the monopoly boards you heard Sam’s voice from across the aisle, anger clearly laced into his words, though he was quiet enough that you couldn’t make out the whole sentence.

Standing slowly, you padded over to the boy, making sure you were loud enough that he heard you approaching before you crouched at his side, a hand sliding over his back to squeeze at his shoulder, “You good?”

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders wracking as he exhaled before a small no fell from his lips, the plastic packaging on the doll he was holding creasing under his hold.

“Did you want her?” You asked softly, your other hand sliding over his wrist softly to ease the toy out of his grip. It was a Ghoulia doll. 

Sam nodded shakily, letting you take the doll and place it in the cart before you went back to help him up, “You wanna go now?” You asked softly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to give him the choice rather than just saying you were leaving. He was quick to nod. 

“Let’s go through self checkout then, okay?”

Sam nodded once more, shuffling to stand by you, one of his hands looping around your arm as you started to push the cart.

You weren’t exactly surprised the trip was ending like this, Sam was still easily overwhelmed by new things, not to mention his still untreated illnesses. It wasn’t the first time you had taken him out to buy something and he had been triggered or had a hallucination, but you didn’t mind helping him through it in any way you could. He still needed to get out sometimes, if not for him to start to readjust to normal society outside The Woods, then for him to pick out his own things. You didn’t want him to keep living like a prisoner who didn’t even get his clothes anymore, let alone a choice in his dinner or snacks.

As soon as you got to the self checkout Sam let go of your arm, letting you ring up everything and bag it as he watched in relative silence, tugging at strands of his hair in an attempt to self regulate. Once you had finished paying, you were quick to lead him back to the car.

Just as you were pulling open his door, you just barely caught the sound of him speaking, his voice wavering, “‘M sorry, (Y/N).”

Shaking your head, you reached up to cup the side of his face, tucking his hair behind his ear, “You did good, Sam, really. There’s no need to be sorry, these things happen. Let’s just get home now, okay?”

[bigenargy]

Cw! : no physical descriptions of reader mentioned, no pronouns used to refer to reader, slight nsfw (nothing explicit or descriptive), 320 ish words, liitle bit of angst (Tom being Tom tbh) obviously toxic relationship, spoiler: he does love you, post-dark lord Tom but he's still hot so dw, not proofread cause I happen to be a real man 💪🏾

"Where'd you get that ring," Lily asked.

Your hand instinctively flinched at the mention of the ornament.

"Um," you hesitated, "it's a promise ring."

Silence, followed by a knowing "oh" was her reply as she fruitlessly tried to mask the judgment her face was rightfully showing.

"I would take it off," You hastily started; "but it's hexed in place."

She sighed, visibly releived. "Yeah, that makes sense." Still, it's weird knowing it's from him.

"Yeah, I get i-"

I tried to reply, only for her to suddenly grab my hand to inspect the ring.

"Wait!" I cried as I retracted my hand from her grasp, but I was too late.

Tears were forming at the rim of her eyes as she held her own hand, trying to soothe the pain. It looked fine, really. There was no redness nor bruising, yet I knew just how much pain she was in. She touched my ring, after all.

It was during 5th year when he gave it to me and during 6th year when he hexed it so I wouldn't be able to take it off and no one else would be able to touch it.

The memory of it is a bit fuzzy, represed memories and all, but what I do recall is the shouting, tears, and his cruel words.

I recall finally snapping and throwing his damned ring right in his perfect little face.

"I'm done, we're done." I spat furiously.

...

He went silent at my words, as a look of pure astonishment annulled his gorgeous features. The fucker was genuinely surprised that I  intended to break up with him.

I turned to leave, rightfully offended, but, the moment I cracked the door open he came up behind me and slammed it shut. His eyes were dark and and his entire body was tense.

"You think that ridiculous ring will change anything? You're still fucking mine, dizzard."

Admittedly, at the time you found that incredibly hot, The boy just had the sexiest red flags. It wasn't one of your proudest moments, but, the intensity of the situation, his piercing gaze, and the proximity of your bodies all sent your hormones into overdrive. That argument, like many before it was never properly settled or ever talked about again as the two of you opted to fuck instead. (As you very often did).

That night as the two of you laid in bed he presented you with ring again just before shoving it onto your finger and reaching for his wand to hex it in place. You only frowned at him before he pulled you into a deep kiss.

"Merlin, make it stop!" Lily cried, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Right, sorry!" You apologized, "It should stop soon."

"I swear the mans' mad!"

She was right, he is. You initially thought he only hexed the ring in place so imagine your surprise when you tried to take it off again and it tightened so hard around your finger it turned purple and just try to picture your absolute bewilderment when you held a first year's hand and the ring had the poor boy holering in pain.

Riddle was smart but so were you. He excelled in all areas especially potions but you excelled in spellcasting. Really, you could have removed the ring with your magic at any time but you didn't want to. Even after the both of you graduated and went your separate ways, even after you heard the news of how many people he'd killed and his plans of mass genocide, you still loved him and You were sure he felt the same.

Call it delusional or plain idiocy but you knew he still loved you he had to.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

Ok wait hear me out… landoscar 27

27 - Landoscar, a kiss on a place of insecurity.

OKAY this is at least getting the feral evil part of my brain that wanted to put Oscar in a dress out into the universe. I do ACTUALLY plan on writing something proper for this at some point, but HAVE THIS LITTLE BIT FOR NOW. Written to "Dress" by Taylor Swift on repeat. Honestly probably mildly USFW, contains feminization

The dress fits perfectly. 

There was something tight and breathless about the thought of ordering it for himself. It’s not that he wants to be a woman, but he just wants to look pretty, and a little soft. Wants to feel what it would be like, wants to know what he would look like in a dress, maybe with a hint of eyeliner, a dusting of mascara. 

He feels a little insane about it, actually. 

Had worried Lando was going to laugh about it, if he brought it up. Is still in disbelief that it took approximately two and a half seconds for Lando to get on board, giving Oscar that smile, broad and knowing. Had helped him pick it out, had made a comment about how the low-cut back would look almost delicate despite the muscling along his spine. 

Lando had leaned in, pressed a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, trailed a line of kisses down his neck, before biting a mark into his collarbone. “You going to be a pretty girl for me, Osc?” he’d asked, and Oscar had flushed red hot, down his chest, had made a pathetic, needy noise. And so Lando had plucked the phone out of his hands, had tracked down his own credit card, and bought it for him. 

“That’s going to look so sexy, Osc,” his voice throaty with the rush of arousal. 

Looking at the mirror now, he wishes he felt the same way. 

There are parts of him that are admittedly almost feminine, the way his blonde hair curls around his ears, the narrow slip of his waist, slim legs, the swell of his ass. His thighs are maybe a little broader than could be considered feminine, well muscled, but despite this, the dress sits perfectly, a little shorter than mid-thigh and stretched across the curve of his ass in a way that could almost be considered scandalous. 

It’s fine, perfect even, if he doesn’t look above the curve of his waist. Nearly enough to make him feel pretty. 

But his gaze keeps catching at the thickness of his neck, where the ties of the halter neck strain, at the breadth of his shoulders and how they’re too well muscled to look delicate. Has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. It’s enough to ruin the illusion, really. 

It feels like he didn’t put enough time into it, didn’t think it through before he let Lando buy it. It makes him feel a little bitter. Because there’s no way to change the width of his neck, trained to withstand the force of a Formula 1 car. It’s important. 

In the same breath, it makes him feel a little ugly. 

He doesn’t want to look at his own face in the mirror, because he’s fairly certain he’s going to see a glimmer of tears reflected back at him. It’s stupid, really, to be crying over this. But there’s just something bitterly disappointing about it. 

“Hey, Osc, did we have plans later or was Max just trying to…” Lando rounds the corner to the bathroom and stops dead, mouth open, breath rushing out in a gasp. “Holy shit,” the words are almost reverent as Lando takes another step closer, head tilted. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s…” Oscar can’t hide the frustration in his tone, waves his hand vaguely, “Not great,” he swipes the back of his hand across his eyes, to brush away any wetness, swallows heavy, the click of his throat loud in the silence as Lando just looks, gaze burning through him. 

“You look so hot, Oscar,” there’s something in Lando’s tone that speaks of promise, that makes it sound like he wants to eat Oscar alive. “Look at you, all pretty and dressed up for me, look like a pretty doll,” his voice is a little hoarse, and he takes one step closer, and then another, until he’s pressed up against Oscar’s back, hand wrapping around the curve of his waist. 

“Christ, look at yourself, you’re…god,” Lando swipes his tongue across his lips, squeezes, where his hand sits just above Oscar’s hip. Leans in to press a kiss to the column of Oscar’s neck, scrapes his teeth across the tight muscle there. Oscar lets his head roll to the side, soft whine escaping him at the hot press of Lando’s lips. 

“It’s fine, I know…” Oscar gestures vaguely at his neck, “Neck’s too broad to make it look good or whatever, but it’s fine,” tries to keep the whine out of his voice, but Lando’s eyes dart up to meet his in the mirror, and his breath catches in his chest at the hunger he sees reflected back at him. 

“Such a pretty girl for me, Oscar,” Lando’s voice is sharp and a little mean, as he reaches up, tangles his fingers in the short strands at the nape of his neck and yanks Oscar’s neck to the side, leans in to lick along the column of it, before sucking at the skin, worrying his teeth into it, marking him up in a way that will stay. “If I bend you over the counter will I get to see how wet you are,” 

Oscar can’t help the flush that climbs up his cheeks, the way he squirms in Lando’s grasp.

[frozenjokes]

An Exercise In Wishful Thinking

a fic about HotGuy, and his pathetic little (MASSIVE) crush on an ordinary guy, an ordinary guy who kind of couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried.

Scar’s face smashed against the pavement, his visor splintering against his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as momentum carried him rolling forward, toppling like a ragdoll across the top of the small apartment building. He groaned, disoriented as he finally landed on his back, but CuteGuy’s boot against his stomach forcibly pushed the noise out, leaving Scar wheezing.

“You’re off your game today, HotGuy,” CuteGuy sneered, sharp teeth visible just below his mask, though it wasn’t a shocking thing, sharp teeth, practically everyone had some kind of fangs, and really, it was a bit boring; if Scar was meant to be intimidated, he certainly wasn’t, “Something the matter?” CuteGuy cut through his thoughts, which was rather rude, Scar wasn’t done thinking badly about him yet, but, “We all have bad days. How about you take a day off, get some rest, nap a bit, and leave me alone for once, hm?” Cuteguy pushed again against Scar’s stomach, using more force, enough to shove his entire body back. Scar was only aware of how close he was to the edge of the building when his head hung over the side, half limp. Hm. Not great.

Scar raised his hands, shaky from the strain, “Well, since you asked, I guess, yeah, I’m not really feeling too great. I dunno. It’s just hard to be adored and famous all the time, you know? Life’s starting to feel less like fun and more like business, brand deals, work, work, work. I just feel like I don’t have many friends, y’know? Real friends, god forbid, human friends. Hardly a human even lives in this dumb city anymore, too dangerous, too many assholes with wings enacting petty revenge on their landlords from like ten years ago. I-”

“Shut up, I don’t care.”

“You asked! And while we’re on the subject of things you did, I was minding my own business up here before you attacked me! You can’t tell me to leave you alone if you started it!” Scar would have said more, but CuteGuy pressed his boot harder into his stomach, almost stomping, just without the wind up.

“You were looking for me. Thought I’d just send you home on my terms before you decided to become a problem.”

Scar’s head lolled a bit more off the edge of the building, eyes squeezed shut, “I’m not always looking for trouble,” he wheezed, managing to open his eyes just in time to catch a sight of what he’d actually been looking for tonight, just a glance being enough to restore the air back into his lungs. Not tearing his eyes away, he pushed against CuteGuy’s leg, admittedly, a little pathetically, but his priorities were elsewhere, “Pause, pause. Off.”

“Pause?” CuteGuy squawked, bird-like as he tended to get when he was particularly surprised, “What do you mean pause, this isn’t a game you-” HotGuy gathered all the strength he had left tonight to grip CuteGuy’s boot, heaving up and unbalancing him while he was distracted, then rolling away and stumbling to his feet.

“I have to go! Emergency! We wrap this up tomorrow?” Scar hurried over to where he’d dropped his bow when CuteGuy ambushed him, then back to the building’s edge, bouncing in place on his andriod legs.

CuteGuy hissed, and Scar wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen CuteGuy’s feathers so puffed out; even the bits of his face that weren’t covered by a mask were beet-red, “You are not seriously just going to leave! I’m not done with you!” CuteGuy lunged forward, but Scar’s arrow was nocked just as fast, the shot just barely grazing one of CuteGuy’s wings as he awkwardly sidestepped to avoid it. Scar was over the edge before CuteGuy could recover, rolling as he hit the pavement, then running down the street.

The civilian didn’t seem to hear him coming, or any of the other commotion for that matter, clearly oblivious to the danger so close by. It was a good thing that CuteGuy had never been slighted by this particular civilian, or he’d surely be dead by now, walking so carelessly by himself by night. Thank goodness HotGuy was here!

“Cub! Cub!” Scar called, still running, but Cub did not respond, the wires of his earbuds dangling loosely from his ears. Ah. Classic. Cub was fiddling with his phone, brows furrowed as he held it up toward a street sign- taking a picture, maybe?

“Hello! Sir!” Scar called as he got closer, and mercifully, Cub seemed to hear, taking out one of his earbuds and turning around. “Hello!” Scar said again, feeling his heart flutter, though, now was not the time.

Cub looked a little nervous; reasonable, anyone might be intimidated by a superhero running their way. “Hey, man, what’s up?” ‘Man’ Oh, Scar adored how Cub addressed him, so casual, so familiar. It was exciting to be ‘man,’ like he was a friend, oh, could they be friends?

“Hello there! I thought I should warn you, there is a very angry supervillain out and about right now, so we should probably be running in the other direction!” Scar kept a light tone as not to frighten Cub, though the other’s demeanor hardly changed.

“Oh, which one?”

Scar couldn’t help but stumble over his feet and words in his surprise at that question, which was apparently more emotion than Cub felt at being told he could be dead in the next couple minutes if they weren’t careful (though, of course, Scar would never allow this to happen). “Uhm- CuteGuy.”

“CuteGuy..” Cub furrowed his brow in thought, a bit of a distractingly adorable look if Scar was being honest.. hm.. something was different about Cub’s face today. Actually, something was definitely off. Had he gotten a haircut? Scar jumped when Cub spoke again, “Don’t think I’ve wronged any short blonde avians in the past week. I tend to try not to, so I think I’ll be alright.” Cub kept walking. Scar gaped.

“I- well I- I mean CuteGuy doesn’t exactly like me very much, so we may still have a bit of a problem.” Scar had to jog to catch up, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

“Oh man, well, good luck then. Sorry ‘bout that,” Cub glanced back, and didn’t look entirely too thrilled to see Scar still following him, which, maybe that was fair. Though, Cub never looked too incredibly thrilled about anything most of the time; Scar had only seen him smile once. It was a delightful thing, Cub’s smile, one Scar was sure he’d never forget. Like, come on, it’s not every day you see someone with flat teeth-

“Hey, could you read that street sign for me?”

Scar blinked, too stunned to do much else but follow Cub’s gaze, “Uh, that's Wright Street.”

“Thanks, man,” Cub said, and then he just kept walking, kept walking like there wasn’t a supervillain just a block away, probably seconds away from being very rude and interrupting all this chemistry!

“Cub,” Scar stressed, “I just think maybe-” but Scar stopped when Cub startled, whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Shit- I didn’t- I don’t have my glasses, I dropped them on the,” Cub floundered, and Scar threw up his hands in a placating motion, surprised by the sudden change. Cub squinted, looking a little distressed, and Scar wanted nothing more than to take it all away.

“It’s okay! I don’t mind reading the street signs!”

“I-” Cub struggled, and with him, Scar’s heart ached, “What’s your name, again?” Oh. Oh. Scar stopped short, stuck somewhere between shock and confusion. Was- Was he not in costume or something? Scar looked stupidly at his own clothes, dumbfounded. How bad was Cub’s eyesight?

“I’m HotGuy.”

Cub stared. Scar stared back.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Cub kept walking. Scar struggled to feel normal about that. Well, maybe he was just embarrassed! Everyone dealt with emotions in different ways, and Cub tended to deal with them by not emoting at all! Nothing wrong with that! Sure, they had only met twice, but Scar had been properly embarrassed not recognizing the faces of fans who had spoken with him before- he couldn’t imagine how Cub must be feeling now, especially with HotGuy being as recognizable as he was (even a little bit blurry).

“It’s nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all! My face is plastered just about everywhere, but I still look different in person I’m sure, and it's dark out, and you don’t have your glasses, of course.”

“Oh, not that, I was thinking of the CuteGuy thing,” Cub didn’t even look back as he spoke, not harsh per se, but extremely.. Honest. “Lots of people look kinda like you, all colorful and dressed up. I thought you might be cosplaying or something.”

Scar struggled to keep his smile, unable to do much else but stare. Cub wasn’t looking at him anyway. “..Do they now?”

“Yeah.” Cub continued on. Scar was beginning to suspect they did not live in the same city. Maybe not even in the same world. Cub was starting to get a little far, and once Scar remembered to stop gaping, he had to jog again to catch up. Cub seemed a little more confused by his presence, fiddling with his earbuds again (surely he hadn’t turned his music back on, right?) before turning, “You said CuteGuy was close, right? Are you going to.. fight.. him?”

“Oh!” Scar jumped on his toes, “No, probably not again. At least not right now, I hope. I’m guessing if he was going to he already would have- well, actually, I beat him so badly he’s probably still licking his wounds, like, metaphorically. I kind of embarrassed him, there was a crowd and everything.”

“A crowd?” Cub sounded surprised- no, amused when he turned his head. He had a little smile on his face, gosh, what Scar would give just to be able to look at that forever. “Just a block away, right? On this empty, quiet road?” Cub stopped walking, and Scar was so thrilled to have his attention, it took a couple extra moments to process the words he was saying.

“Ah-” Scar felt his face heat up. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to hide his embarrassment, “Small crowd. Quiet crowd. I mean, you know CuteGuy, if he feels slighted by anyone, he’ll probably get his friend Poultry Man to egg all their houses or something.”

“Oh yeah, petty guy.”

“Extremely so!” Scar lit up, though Cub still didn’t look like he believed a word Scar said. Scar pursed his lips momentarily before continuing, “You know, you could say my glasses are broken too! We’re like, totally on the same page right now. CuteGuy put up quite the fight, well, a little bit. He didn’t put up that much of a fight, but he did smash my visor. Again. Seriously, someone needs to figure out his identity so I can start sending him my bills, I hate replacing stuff.”

Cub cocked his head to the side, and even without the glasses, Scar felt like he was looking right through him. It was vulnerable, in a magical kind of way. “Can I see it?”

Scar startled, missing the question. “What?”

“Can I see your visor? The place I work manufactures this kind of stuff, I might be able to hook you up for something a bit cheaper.”

“I-I can’t just take off my visor, Cub, you’d see my face. Secret identities, you know how it is.”

“I can’t see anything right now. If it makes you uncomfortable, you could just cover your face with your hands or turn around. Doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not going to steal a look; I couldn’t care less about superhero stuff. It’d be nice if you came by, bought something, then let my manager know who referred you though.”

“I- ah- Well of course! But I-” shouldn’t, was the word he meant to say, and couldn’t would have been even more accurate. Scar could not take off his visor, no matter how many cracks it had. It would be completely irresponsible! And for all he knew, CuteGuy was still around- everyone knew avians had impeccable eyesight. But on the other hand… Cub, Cub removing his visor. His hands in Scar’s hair, undoing the mask, gentle and kind and not sharp, goodness, someone without claws touching his face, peeling back the mask and (not really) seeing him. Scar felt himself melt into that non-existent touch. “Be my guest, then.” He closed his eyes. … He opened his eyes. Cub was staring at him.

“Are you going to take it off?”

“Ah-” Again, Scar felt his face heat up, and suddenly, he wanted much less to remove his visor, “Sorry, just nervous! Never done this before, haha!”

“I can cover my eyes if you-”

“Yes. Do that.” Scar nearly hissed, struggling to contain his own embarrassment. Cub didn’t hesitate, his expression almost crushingly neutral as he closed his eyes, then turned around. Scar bit his lip. The mask wasn’t easy to remove- it was important it stayed on during a fight, so despite doing this thousands of times, Scar still had to fiddle with it to get it off, practically shoving the thing into Cub’s arms so he could properly cover his face, feeling stupid as he cowered with his hands over his eyes. If Cub was paying him any mind, he didn’t know.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Cub mused, “It’s only the screen that’s shattered; the frame is a little beaten up, but still sturdy. Shouldn’t need replacing, but I guess you’d know better than I would. You want another orange one? Come by after 12:00 tomorrow and I’ll have it ready for you to pick up?” Scar felt the mask bump against his hands, and when he snuck a peek through his fingers, he saw Cub’s eyes were firmly shut. The gesture, benign as it was, made his heart flutter.

“Blue works too. As long as it matches.” Scar took the mask, quickly refastening it to his face. God that was stupid. Why had he done that. He already had suppliers, why did his brain have to be so dumb? “Thanks,” he choked out, “It’s back on.”

Cub opened his eyes, though they didn’t focus much; damn, he really must have awful eyesight- whatever. Fine. But he’d get to see Cub again! He’d have a real excuse, oh, maybe this was worth it. Wait a minute!

“Could I get your number?” Scar felt himself blurt out the words, flustered enough for the extra bit of awkwardness to embarrass him further, “For- ah- directions.” He tried to smile. Cub might have smiled back in his own way; which is to say, not actually smiling at all or making any sort of expression that might ease Scar’s nerves.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if I gave you the address?” Genuine. Honest. Fucking brutal.

Scar pursed his lips, an expression Cub almost certainly didn’t see. “Yup. Probably.” Hopefully, tomorrow Cub would have another pair of glasses, so at the very least if he wasn’t persuaded by an extraordinarily attractive man desperately vying for his attention, he might just take pity on him. Though this didn’t quite feel like rejection, more just misunderstanding- Scar still had a chance here. Cub gave him the address and Scar wrote it down, still unable to squash the lingering disappointment as Cub, entirely unconcerned, waved goodbye, beginning his walk in the other direction.

But just as Scar turned around, “Wait!” and just like that, he had never stopped so quickly, spinning right back around to face Cub, who had also stopped. “Sorry, I just forgot, I wanted to get a picture-”

“A picture!” Scar cut him off accidentally, excitement taking over, “Why of course! I’d love to!” Scar trotted over, and Cub looked a bit put off, but no matter! Scar was great at taking pictures. Maybe once he managed to get Cub’s number, Cub could send it to him!

Cub shifted his weight, clearly a bit nervous, but that was nothing new. Honestly, it felt incredibly normal, a welcome feeling, and Scar felt right at home bending to Cub’s level as the other fumbled with his phone, flashing a practiced grin. Cub did not smile in the picture, looking nothing less than bored- utterly bizarre, but to each their own! With any luck, they’d get to take many more pictures.

“Thanks,” Cub mumbled, somewhat sheepish, “This is like the third time I’ve met you, and my roommate still doesn’t believe me. Didn’t take my word for it the first time, didn’t believe the picture I took the second time, but now that I’m in this one, he’ll have no choice but admit it.” Cub ended the sentiment sounding deeply pleased with himself, and that.. well. That made a little more sense. That was fine though, Scar wasn’t deeply wounded or anything that Cub didn’t actually want a picture with him just to have it. All good. Normal feelings.

“Well, if they don’t believe you, I’ll march right over there and tell them myself,” Scar joked, somewhat halfheartedly, but Cub didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks. I’ll tell him that. Bye, HotGuy.” Cub waved, then kept walking, a look on his face that Scar hoped was contentment. Preferably, it’d be something like awe, admiration, or some amount of being utterly starstruck, but contentment would have to do. Hopefully next time, Cub would at least recognize him.

Part (all) of Scar hoped he and Cub would look back at the same time, catching each other’s eye in a moment of romantic tension, but after looking back several times, Scar was pretty sure Cub was just not looking in the first place, and then certain when he started to walk backwards to make sure. Cub didn’t turn around once.

That was fine. That was okay. Scar would win him over eventually- no- tomorrow. Tomorrow at noon, Scar would win him over. Cool! Great! Everything was cool and great. Up until, still walking backwards, he ran into someone else, a clawed hand wrapping firmly around his neck.

“It’s rude to leave a guy hanging, HotGuy, did you know? Or do you just not care. You don’t have to answer, I already know.”

“CuteGuy!” Scar half laughed, forcing as much energy into his tone as he could possibly manage, “It’s getting late, you know. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? You know, we’ve already fought tonight, and you bested me fair and square, so how about I give you a deal?”

CuteGuy’s talons tightened around Scar’s neck, the villain clicking his tongue, “I’ll humor you.”

“You won, you won, definitely not unfairly by ambushing me for zero reason, and I respect you CuteGuy, I respect you. So here’s the deal. You beat me, so tonight and tonight only, you do whatever you want, beat the piss out of whoever for whatever petty slight they committed against you like twenty years ago, and I’ll turn the other way. Won’t give you a single bit of grief! Like it never happened. A generous offer, CuteGuy, one I don’t extend to just anyone. An offer you can’t refuse, truly.”

CuteGuy hummed, and Scar felt his breath close to his ear. It took everything in him not to scoff, but CuteGuy didn’t keep him waiting long for an answer.

“You’re right. That is an offer I can’t refuse. You have a deal, HotGuy. You have a deal.”

“Great! So let's put the claws away then, shall we?”

“Mhm!” CuteGuy released his hold on Scar’s neck, and Scar rubbed it with his own hand, sighing at the pinpricks of blood. That grip would probably leave a mark tomorrow. Well, nothing a little makeup couldn't fix. But something clicked at his back, and Scar felt the absence of his bow right before he was kicked to the ground, yelping as he fell hard to his knees.

“What-”

“Take a guess which idiot I have a vendetta against tonight, HotGuy?” CuteGuy played with Scar’s bow for a moment before tossing it carelessly in the other direction, and Scar was beginning to get a pretty good idea of exactly who CuteGuy was angry with.

…

“Look. See? It’s me and him, super close to our apartment.” Cub held up his phone so Grian could see it, the other taking it from Cub’s hands and examining the picture with so much scrutiny, he almost looked like he was glaring. Something sly crept up Grian’s face after a moment, and he pointed decisively at the photo, tapping the screen with a talon.

“Photoshopped.”

“What?”

“As much as you claim not to care about heroes and villains, you sure do seem awfully insistent on convincing me you’ve met HotGuy. What is this, three times now? Come on, Cub. This is getting sad.” Grian cackled as Cub gaped, giving his roommate a hard shove before snatching his phone back.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you! Especially when you’re this desperate!”

“I am not desperate. You’re either insane, or fucking with me. At this point, I’m pretty sure you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got some secret obsession with HotGuy. What gives? I thought we agreed we hated that guy; total arrogant piece of shit if you ask me. Complete idiot.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Cub! I can’t believe you!” Grian crossed his arms, turning away with a huff, but Cub only laughed, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, you can be nice and an idiot. Listen, I understand you’re jealous and all, but rest assured, he told me if you didn’t believe me this time, he’d march right up here and tell you himself. You’ll get all the HotGuy you’ve been missing out on.”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Have fun pretending, then. I’ll see him at work today, so I’ll make sure to let him know you’re just dying to see him.”

“You- you’re what?”

“Yup. He broke his visor, or CuteGuy did at least. Told him I’d get him a new one if he put in a good word with my manager. You know she loves that guy.”

“I-You-” Cub wasn’t exactly sure what the expressions flashing across Grian’s face meant, but he managed to stop spluttering for long enough to say, “You are not allowed to make friends with HotGuy.”

“Uh, sure, I don’t think it’ll be hard. Don’t think he’s short on friends.”

Again, an odd expression crossed Grian’s face, but Cub dismissed it as one of Grian’s Moments; which is to say, exactly what he was in therapy for. To get a handle on the anger, reduce the frequency of flare ups at odd times, all that jazz. For now, best to change the subject.

“See any cool stars while you were out last night? It was pretty cloudy, so I didn’t really get much on the walk home.”

“Oh, right,” Grian relaxed, looking momentarily embarrassed, but the rest of their conversation was pleasant, Cub smoothing out the feathers on Grian’s wings so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Lots of things tended to set him off, and embarrassment about getting worked up was a big contributor. Best to let him know he didn't have anything to feel bad about, not around Cub.

[panda-of-the-trash]

Drabble 3: Inner voices

Nightmare had this power.

A power where he could speak in the minds of others, his voice echoing among their thoughts. It was mostly an intimidation display, a tactic to spread fear among people.

It was small compared to his other powers but it was affective. And he still had his fun with it.

A little too much fun if you asked Cross.

The god could admittedly be quite the asshole. It happened often that he suddenly but randomly used his power on an unsuspecting castle inhabitant that was in the middle of performing a task and they ended up getting spooked by him.

And to say he abused his power with Cross was a bit of an understatement.

Everytime they greeted the new recruits, Nightmare would try and break Cross out of his stoic demeanor by telling him jokes and ridiculous nonsense, but he had yet to succeed.

Whenever Nightmare caught the guards training, he´d tell Cross how good he looked and how he couldn´t wait for him to join him in their chambers so he could tear the guard´s remaining clothes off and do unspeakable things to him. That, on more than one occasion, earned the king a deep blush from Cross.

Sometimes, when he was walking through the halls, Nightmare´s voice would boom inside of his head all of the sudden. The physical appearance of the god Cross could handle. Whenever the god approached him, he could feel his presence. But hearing his voice out of nowhere without feeling his presence? He was a little ashamed to admit that a couple of foul words left his mouth when it happened.

So whatever chance Cross had to take a little revenge on the god, he took.

This was such a moment.

Cross put away the practice spears. He had just finished a training session with some guards. There was a new guard that had been a little too eager to spar with him, ogling him whatever chance he had. He was indifferent to it, he had Nightmare after all.

He closed the weapons cabinet when a shadow fell over him. Cross slowly turned around to meet the eyes of the new guard, grinning at him. Cross gave him an unimpressed look. "Can I help you?"

"You most certainly can." The guard winked at him. Cross gave a little huff of disbelief at the utter audacity he had. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You say I couldn't help but see how fast you were on your feet and I was wondering if you could show me..maybe one on one?"

'Who the hell does this buffoon think he is?'

Cross gave a little snort, picking up on the tone Nightmare had.

"We´re alone at the moment, what do you need me to show you?"

'Cross, Cross what in the gods´s names are you doing.'

The guard grinned, putting a hand on the wall next to Cross. "Well I was offering you an opportunity to meet when we were less sweaty but this´ll do." Cross crossed his arms.

'You cannot actually be serious. Are you really entertaining the likes of him??'

The guard started leaning closer and Cross quickly put a hand on his chest to push him away. "Are you going to tell me about the move or can I get on with my day?"

The guard smirked at him. "I think you know what move I'm talking about." He again walked closer, Cross taking a step back. "With you down on your knees~"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both Cross and the guard turned to the doorway, where Nightmare looked at them with a stern eye.

"B-boss! No of course not. Captain here just helped me with a move." Nightmare walked closer, looking neutral to those who didn't know him, but Cross saw the subtle signs that the god held no patience.

"Aren't you supposed to be at dinner? Go on, I have things to talk about with the captain."

The guard quickly and nervously bowed, half running out of the training room. As soon as it was just the two of them, Nightmare turned to Cross, looking pissy.

Cross grinned up at him. "You said we have things to talk about your grace?"

"You did that on purpose-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you're not." He gave a huff, paling around the room with a pout. "He tried kissing you! He wasn't even being subtle about it!"

"And you know that how?" Cross raised a brow.

"Oh let's cut the crap, you knew I was watching. You did that on purpose to make me jealous."

Cross gave him a wide grin. "Did it work?"

"Wh-you! Of course it worked! I don't like anyone touching what´s mine-" Nightmare growled, pouting like a child.

Cross chuckled softly, walking up to him to wrap his arms around his waist. "Oh Nights, i´m yours for a thousand planets and a thousand stars."

Nightmare huffed softly, cupping Cross´s cheeks, making the guard melt into his hands. "I know…I just don't appreciate someone trying to take you from me."

"Let them try, they'll never succeed." Cross kissed the palm of his hand. "I'm forever yours."

Finally, a small smile graced Nightmare´s face and he pressed a kiss to Cross´s forehead. "Forever mine."

[tupperwaretub]

Blood-Ridden(part 3)

Pairing:Top!Joel Miller x bottom!male!Reader(firefly)

Warnings: excessive drinking, trauma sharing, unprotected SMUT, mainly angst, a bit of drunken fluff. Fluffy end.

Summary: Joel invites you over to his place for a few drinks, you both end up drinking too much and doing some things you regret.

Part 2: here

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

You and Joel have gotten really close since the incident with Charlie, he invites you around on Saturdays for a couple drinks to try and bring some normalcy and structure to the both of your lives, its been a year and admittedly its worked a charm, ever since you and Joel had started hanging out your intrusive thoughts had quieted down, still there... But you can ignore them.

Just like every week Saturday rolls around and you're letting yourself into Joels apartment, his apartment is a little more run down than you and Tommy's but you two tend to put some effort into the structural integrity Joel obviously doesn't care enough.

"Hey Joel." You greet him with a smile and he smiles back. "Hey y/n." You walk over to him and pull him into a hug which he reciprocates. When you both pull away Joel begins to speak "Me and Tess raided a liquor store on our last run outside the QZ, most of it went to buyers but i made sure to save enough for us." He says as he tugs up his floorboard where he keeps his contraband, he pulls out three bottles of liquor. "This'll last us a long time what d'you think?" He shoots you a glance. "Yeah definitely."

Joel turns to grab two glasses and you head for the couch, he joins you soon enough with a shot of liquor each. You clink your glass with Joel's and down it.

.............

You're not sure how long its been since your first drink, you're not sure when you and Joel decided the glasses weren't necessary and started drinking straight out the bottle. You're not sure when you finished that bottle and started on the second but you can tell it couldn't have been long ago because the bottle in Joel's hand is almost full. You direct your eyes to Joel's face, he's saying something.

"On outbreak day.. i lost my daughter." He hiccups "I fuckin' ... Uh.. she got shot by some fedra asshole.. and I.. I couldn't save her.." He wipes his eyes and takes a long swig from the bottle in his hand. "What 'bout you." His eyes lock with yours. "Huh?" You rub your eyes and try to sober up a little. "Did you lose anyone on outbreak day?" You look down at the couch you're sat on and remember daniel. "Yeah." Joels hand rests atop yours. "Tell me about them." You swallowed down your emotions the best you could and told him about Daniel, how you lost him. You had no idea you had started crying until Joel wiped your tears with his thumb. You both went silent for a while, the bottle of liquor set on the table while you basked in eachothers company.

"Y'know how i was a complete ass when we first met?" Joel says breaking the silence. "Uhh.. yeah." You reply swinging your head to face him. "I think... It was just because I found you attractive.." His words are slurred. You sit there and stare at the wall thinking of a response, your brain working slower than you want it to. "Do you still find me attractive?" You say with drunk confidence. "Yeah. I do." You shuffle closer to him and cup his face "why didn't you say sooner?" Your eyes meet and he frowns. "I'm scared... That if i confess things to people, and i get attached, they'll die and I'll have to go through the same grief i went through with sarah all over again." He blinks and a tear rolls down his cheek but you wipe it away. "Well I'm not going anywhere."

Suddenly Joels lips crash against yours and his hands land on your hips, when you process whats happening you sink into the kiss and your arms wrap around his neck. Joels hands slide to your ass and he hoists you onto his lap. He pulls away from your lips and starts kissing down your neck leaving a trail of light hickeys. You let out a surprised gasp as Joel stands up and carries you to his bed, he places you down and starts to fumble with his belt. You slide your pants and underwear down and kick them off and Joel finally unbuckles his belt and takes his pants and briefs off.

Joel pushes you down gently and pulls you into a messy kiss, your hands seek refuge in his soft hair. You pull apart and Joel slowly kisses down your neck, bringing his hand up to your lips his middle and index fingers gently poking for entrance. You take his fingers into your mouth and suck, knowing exactly where they're going next.

As soon as Joel was happy with how wet his fingers were he moved his hand down to your hole, they're a tight fit but the alcohol drowns out any discomfort. His head his still hidden in the crook of your neck as he kisses and sucks dark hickeys that you'll both regret "Joel." You whine, he doesn't even look up but he removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock.

The sex is rushed, careless, there isn't an ounce of intimacy behind either of your moments but more desperation, fear and want.

Joel finishes on your stomach and rolls over, hes fast asleep within the minute. You lay on your back as sleep slowly takes over, the alcohol acting as immunity to any regrets for now.

........................

The light was blinding as you made out the figure of a soldier, he can help. "hello! Hey! Over here! Please, we need your help my friend hes broken his arm and one of those crazy people bit him, he needs medical attention!" You shout towards the soldier. "hands up! Put your hands up!" The soldier exclaims, you both comply but Daniel is unable to reach both arms up.

"your friend, this guy here? He was bitten?" The soldier finally asks, lowering his voice but keeping his gun raised in your direction.

The soldier goes quiet, reaching towards his walkie and mumbling a few things, then finally saying "yes sir." He raises his gun once more now pointing it towards Daniel, and then that familiar bang echoed through your ears.

.........................

Your breath hitches and your eyes open wide to a view of Joel's ceiling, you slowly come back to reality and sigh as you kick your legs over the side of the bed and sit up - your head pounding away. You turn to see Joel's sleeping figure as you remember the events of last night.

Quickly and silently you collect together your belongings and leave Joels apartment, you don't want to be there to find out how he reacts.

Its still dark outside as you sneak your way back to you and Tommy's shared apartment, you find him awake getting ready for the day as you attempt to sneak through the door. Tommy practically jumps out of his skin.

"shit y/n! I thought you were at Joels.." he says with a sigh. "I was." You reply blankly as you place down your things and go into your room but Tommy is quick to follow, "Something happened. What?" He glances at your neck "Oh.. I see." "What? What do you mean?" Your hand covers the area Tommy had glanced at. "He was pretty rough?" He asks, not letting Joel's name slip from his mouth. "Ew Tommy stop it. I just want to forget about it." You rub your eyes and sit on the edge of your bed.

"so it was a mistake? I mean i get it my brother can be pretty charming I've seen him do -" Tommy begins to ramble. "No. Tommy, it wasnt a mistake. Not for me. But i don't know what Joel is going to think when he wakes up, fuck, we had something good going and one drink too many and now its gone." Theres a pause between the both of you before Tommy makes his way next to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. "If you don't wanna speak to him it's fine, I might be his brother but I'm your best friend. I wont make you talk to him." You turn to look at Tommy "thanks.." he shoots you a sympathetic smile before playfully shoving you and getting up. " So how hungover are you on a scale of 1 to 10."

You flop back and laugh "fuck Tommy, like a 9." He chuckles "gonna have to get through it today buddy. Come with me on tonights run we'll smuggle in some aspirin if we find any." You smile at him "thanks Tommy, how will i ever repay you."

"for now, by not dying on me but im sure somethin'll come up." He jokes and leaves the room to continue getting ready.

...............

It's been at least a month now since the night with Joel, Tommy has done a good job at helping you avoid him but you've heard from Tess that he's been looking around for you. You know its stupid to just keep hiding from him but your fear of what he could say gets the better of you and you keep avoiding him.

That was until one fateful day when you were sorting ammunition for Marlene when suddenly you heard commotion outside, before you could see what was going on Joel barged through the door looking pissed.

"shit y/n I'm sorry he just barged past me." Tommy apologises as he walks in past Joel. "It's fine Tommy." You and Joel stare at eachother before Joel finally speaks "we need to talk." His gruff voice gives you butterflies and you start to feel guilty for avoiding him. "While we're surrounded by guns?" "You gonna shoot me?" It sounds like a joke but his face says otherwise. "No. You gonna shoot me?" "No. So this works."

"i was thinking of having this conversation somewhere nicer.." you say directing your attention back to the work Marlene had set you, Tommy had left and shut the door a little while ago. "You were planning on having this conversation? When y/n? Because it really seems to me you've just been avoidin' this." Joel seems to have calmed down slightly but is clearly still incredibly angry. "I guess I was.."

"why y/n?" You were surprised by his forwardness as you didn't take Joel to be the kind of guy to want to have these kinds of conversations. Sober at least. "I don't know Joel.." "yeah you do, why've you been avoidin' me?" You settle down what you're doing again and face him, his face is relaxed but you know hes really anxious on the inside. "I don't know.. i guess i was scared." You admit looking down and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "Of what ?.." Joel takes a few steps forward but stays a comfortable distance away. "Of you hating me, i was scared you'd wake up and tell me to get out or to never speak to you again. I didn't think it was a mistake but i was worried you would."

You see Joel's shoes enter your vision and you look up to see hes face to face with you with a almost loving look on his face. "I didn't think it was a mistake either." He leans in and places a kiss on your cheek. "Let me take you outside the QZ, I know a nice spot we could go to just the two of us?"

"Like a date?" You smile.

"Yeah.. like a date" He smiles back.

..................

A/n: Joel seems a little outa character in this one for me but also having him in character would make the story more complicated to make and my head can't handle complicated 😔 anyways hope you enjoyed can't wait to get to what i have planned for this series its gonna get a lot better trust.