#excuse me while i go sob to death

[hannigramislife]

"I wonder if I was able to protect the kids in another universe."

The other universe: ...

[winds-of-zephyr416]

*Looks at clock* ooh! it’s time to cry about Beleg Cúthalion again!

[onceuponapuffin]

How my relationship with My Heart Will Go On has changed in the last year:

August 2023 (having seen Titanic)

"This is a pretty song."

September 2023 (you know why)

"Lol I'm going to hell"

December 2023 (released as part of the Season 3 playlist)

"THE ONLY ACCEPTABLE WAY TO SING ALONG IS SCREAM-CRY-SINGING"

[somniiator]

As she stands in the Orchard of Pairidaeza, Rukkhadevata has to wonder how Deshret had the strength to create a place like this. The Greater Lord would never have been able to-- it's hard enough for her to come here, with the grief that sits on her chest and makes it so hard to breathe. But she has to, because she wasn't even able to be there for her lover in her final moments. Because it feels like this is the only trace of the Goddess of Flowers she can find preserved, what with the way her padisarahs have withered and disappeared with her death.

Clutched in her hand are a small bouquet of the archon's attempt to recreate them, that which Malikata once called unique-- but with the original gone, it feels only like a cheap imitation once more. The purple of Rukkhadevata's attempt, though beautiful, does not match the eyes of the original's creator, and it only serves to make her all the more... bitter. Angry. And she isn't even sure who or what it's directed at. Deshret's quest for the forbidden, Malikata herself for trying to open the path to it, or maybe just Celestia above for its cruelty. Either way, she HATES it. The taste of anger is foreign and disgusting, and it fuels the tears that seem to be unable to stop pouring from her reddened eyes.

"You are the most stubborn woman I have ever known." Spoken softly as she kneels before the flower goddess' chair, fingertips of her free hand tracing over the engravings of her name. "I thought... you'd have seen reason by now. That you knew the futility of standing against those above us, and the price that comes with knowledge. Or did you know, but go anyway? Is this part of your design? Did you think about the people left behind?" What about the Jinn? What about Deshret? What about ME?

Selfishness, too, tastes bitter in her mouth.

"...I suppose the Jinn won't know, though. They seem to be under the impression that you are slumbering here, due to wake at some unknown time." A wry smile pulls at her lips. What she wouldn't give to be able to believe in such a lie. But she won't shatter the illusion for them-- and that is why she tries to disguise the flowers she's brought. By planting them around Malikata's chair, perhaps it won't seem like a sign or mourning and goodbye, but rather one of hope and respect.

Once they're planted, Rukkhadevata sits on her heels, still smiling, still crying. Her voice cracks, too, when she finally speaks again after several long moments.

"Rest in peace, at least. And someday, when the heavens permit... We will meet again, ya hayati."

My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it.

[infinity-on-hype]

Woo

[imsilay]

I need to get this out my system or else I'mma lose my shit... What about in Mania pt 3( don't know if you'll have one) but what about König hair pulling y/n? Him just cooing as she's babbling shit and overstimulated. (+Slide some belt there if you wanna) huehuehuehue. You get the rest! Imma go to Mars and come back after you post it! Love youn babyeee!! Ajsbsjamajshjssh

people are so wei- jk we’re equally horny i love you anon.

MANIA pt.3

obsessive love; very possessive and often jealous.

word count: 1.3k

read first chapter here

summary: König doesn’t wants you to leave him, even for a second. he finds excuses and makes it your problem so he could fuck you until you’re too sore to leave again. (he could destroy me and i would thank him fr.)

mdni NSFW! +18, cw: hurt/comfort, possessiveness, size k!nk, fem!reader, obsessive König, dom!König, manhandling, hair pulling, overstimulation.

art cr: @kinky-thirsty-reader

His hips slammed to yours as he grabbed your thighs and gave them a squeeze, his big palms causing your sore muscles to ache. But he made it up to you by kissing your g-spot repeatedly. It made your eyes roll back and pussy clench around him. He groaned and pushed your thighs to your chest, still thrusting into you without mercy. “You take me so well, Hase.” his eyes were focused on how your greedy cunt sucked him in. “Ich schwöre bei Gott, you love my cock more than you love me, Hase” with a light chuckle continued to watch it, it amused him that how your tight cunt get used to his shape. He used you at his heart content, your little body was like a putty in his hands. He would mold you into the perfect toy for him. Needy and dependent. Maybe then you wouldn’t have a thought about leaving him.

“Kö-König!” was all you could push out from your lips when he didn’t even consider slowing down. Your legs aching and causing so much pain but the pleasure he fucked into you was all you could think and feel. His hips slamming to yours and making the bed shake with the force. “Ja, Hase?” The way you slurred his name was turning him on even more. You were a moaning mess, mind too foggy to remember what you wanted to say. “Faster.” you gripped the bed sheets for dear life, squirming and sobbing while he pounded into you hard. “Du wirst mein Tod sein.” (You will be the death of me.) he mumbled before pounding into you harder and making you gasp. When you said his name, he thought you would beg him to slow down but it was his mistake to forget how needy you already are. Your walls clenched around him and your hips desperately rolling to meet his, that’s when he knew you’re close.

He didn’t stop or slow down. Continued to thrust into you as he tilted his head back and let out a low groan. Your moans and sobs was mixed with his low curses and groans. “I know you’re close Hase. Cum for me.” he looked back to your face. His heart dropped at the sight. Your addicting lips parted and face twisted with pure bliss as you cum on his cock without needing any further stimulation. “Scheiße.” he dug his fingers into your thighs as he couldn’t contain himself and cum deep inside you. “Oh my-“ you whimpered when you felt him unexpectedly fill you up with his hot semen. He pulled his cock out and released your thighs. His hands immediately find your face and pulled you up to meet his lips halfway. The kiss was rough like he was mad at you for making him cum. “You should be punished for the expression you made when you cum.” he whispered after the kiss and bit down your lower lip. You whined and shook your head in protest when he let go of your swollen lip, unable to form a proper sentence as you felt the arousal dripping from your cunt to your thighs.

His hands found your clit and rubbed with enough pressure to make you squirm again. “Wrong answer, Hase. Try again.” he whispered, his eyes filled with nothing but pure lust and want to possess you. Your hips twitched and rolled foward to his fingers, chasing the any friction you could get. “So verdammt süß.” he gritted his teeth to stop himself from devouring you whole. He teased your folds with his fingers, fingering you with the both of yours cum still inside you. You shuddered and grabbed his forearm when he hit that sweet spot. “Fuck.” you cried and threw your head back, another orgasm building within you.

He felt your walls tightened around his fingers. He smirked and tilted his head to the side. “Again? Already, Hase?” he purred then curled his fingers so he hit that spot he already knows by heart, his other hand on your waist to keep you still. He knew all your weak spots and the places that made you squirm. You were already overwhelmed with the all pleasure he was giving to you. “gonna… please-“ you moaned as your eyes rolled back to your skull and legs trembled. “Braves Mädchen.” he cooed when you cum again, harder than before. You collapsed back to bed, legs still trembling and aching. He watched the mess he made out of you with a satisfied smile. His hungry gaze locked with your pleading one, his fingers leaving your cunt and finding his mouth to lick his fingers clean. The sight of him tasting your arousal made your stomach do a flip, earning a needy whine. “I’m not done, Hase.” he whispered to your ear, his voice stained with want. The want to take you over and over, the want to make you his, the want to make you stay with him. He took of his mask. As much as he wanted to fuck you with his mask on, he couldn’t resist your trembling lips. His lips found yours in a passionate make out session. His fingers traced back to your breasts kneading and making you squirm again.

He didn’t even let you recover or take a break. After leaving you breathless with his lips he flipped you over and grabbed your hips to hold you up. Your breath hitched when he pressed his rock hard cock against your ass. You tried to escape his grasp but it just earned a low growl from him. “Where do you think you’re going?” He hissed and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it back and looking into your eyes. Your blood ran cold when you saw his icy-blue eyes, and you realised that you had managed to anger him. “Du wirst mich nicht verlassen.” (You’re not leaving me.) he murmured as he pressed your face to the mattress and lifted your ass up. Positioning you into however he wanted to take you. Ass up, back arched perfectly and chest pressed against the mattress. He continued to murmur the same thing repeatedly as he stretched you open with his thick cock and pounded into you rapidly. You were already a blabbering mess, begging and sobbing as he fucked the breath out of your lungs. Your legs trembled and gave up eventually, the only thing holding you up was his hand on your lower belly. He adjusted you again with his hand on your belly and carried you without effort. With his hand pressing on your belly he could feel himself moving inside you. With each thrust of his pushed you closer to edge, milking him as you cum again. He suck in a sharp breath and grabbed your hair firmer, yet he didn’t cum until you begged him and promised to not leave. Your cries increased by the time he cum inside you filling you up with his hot seeds all again. He gave you last a few slow thrusts overstimulating further both of you with his each thrust.

He pulled out and then flipped you over onto your back again. “Aww mein kleiner Hase… Don’t cry. You did so good f’me.” he kissed your cheeks and wiped the tears. “You know i love you so much.” he soothed you with pulling you onto his firm chest and massaging your sore legs. As your sobs came to a stop. He then prepared a warm tub for the both of you, filling it with your favourite essences. Carefully placing you into the water then pulled you into his lap in the tub, his body taking up the majority of the space. He began to massage your thighs as your head dropped onto his shoulder. "I'm not going to leave you." you whispered by the end of the day. He pulled you even tighter into his embrace and planted kisses on your neck. “I know.” he mumbled softly.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked it <3

a/n: also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

AND HUGE THANKS TO @lunanilla FOR HELPING ME WITH GERMAN <3

[themultifanshipper]

hiiii! i absolutely love your writing- could you maybe write something with oscar and logan x reader with reader and logan in subspace while oscar talks them through getting each other off? thanks so much!

also, could i be the ♥️ anon for your page?

It had been a tough week for all of you. You’d gotten a lot of hate in the media for seemingly dating two drivers, Logan was trying to piece together what was left of his career, and Oscar had a McLaren civil war of sorts to deal with.

But Oscar knew just how to give you all the perfect distraction.

Of course you can be ♥️ anon!

Warnings: smut, PinV, Sub Logan and Sub reader, Dom Oscar, slight subspace, facials and cum stuff (for a change lmao), edging

It had been hours (it had realistically only been about 30 minutes, but it felt like hours).

Your mind was starting to get fuzzy around the edges, and your body burned with the need for release.

Logan wasn't much better off.

He was writhing in your arms as he humped you relentlessly, the friction on your barely clothed core was driving you both insane.

You had long since soaked through your pathetic excuse for underwear and Logan's never ending river of precum definitely contributed to the wet slide of your bodies.

The two of you were completely lost in each other, chasing your pleasure as your minds floated serenely.

You were so close you could taste it. Just a bit more, just a couple more strokes and...

“Stop”

The order came loud and clear and the two of you wailed as you were forced to separate once again, the cool air against you making you shiver.

Logan heaved in a breath against your neck as Oscar held his hips firmly in place so that he couldn't rut his hips into you like he so badly wanted.

Fresh tears followed the tracks on your cheeks as you sobbed, clinging onto each other for dear life.

“please, Oscar” Logan cried out.

“S'too much!” you gasped.

Oscar just stroked your faces as you both calmed down enough to be able to hear his next instructions.

“You've both been so good for me, you deserve to come now.”

He helped you take your underwear off and lined Logan's cock with your sopping wet entrance.

“Go on Logan, you can fuck her, but she needs to come first, yeah?”

Logan panted like a dog as he entered you swiftly and immediately started slamming his hips against your like a man possessed. Oscar took mercy on you both and slipped a hand between your bodies to help get you off, by rubbing harsh circles into your clit.

You yelped and Oscar laughed at your fucked out state.

“Go on then baby, you were so desperate to come, now come on Logan's cock like a good girl.”

It didn't take more than a couple more thrusts for you to tumble over the edge, taking Logan with you as you panted and whimpered into each other’s mouths.

Once you were both properly sated after a few orgasms, Oscar sat at the edge of the bed and ordered the two of you to kneel in front of him.

He pulled his cock out and hissed, the tip angry and red at being neglected for so long.

“I'm not going to last long, my loves.” He started fisting his cock hard and fast “who wants my cum?”

You and Logan both whined and leaned in closer, cheeks touching and tongues out for Oscar.

The older man groaned and sped up his hand, so close to the edge already.

“You both want it?”

You and Logan nodded, eyes shining up at Oscar.

“So pretty for me on your knees, so good, fuck- shit!”

He came in spurts all over your joined faces, some of it landing on your tongue and you hummed at the taste.

Once Oscar was properly finished, Logan twisted his head and kissed you, sloppily making out with you and spreading Oscar's cum all over your faces.

“God... you two are gonna be the death of me” he groaned as he watched you hungrily.

Once you'd all cleaned up in the shower and crawled into bed together, you all felt at peace for the first time a while.

Their bodies were warm against yours, and you all fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each others arms.

It was all going to be okay.

[bohbee]

Dateables reacting to MC getting hit!

Warnings: Strangulation, Hitting, Death, Implied Torture?, Bruising, Blood, Stitching

Notes: This is iffy but yeah, this won't be getting proofread.

Part 1

Masterlist

Diavolo

Clicking of silverware, sipping of drinks, and soft chatter could be heard in the Palaces dining room. It was a feast to celebrate the engagement of The Lord Diavolo. Many nobles came to share their congrats, there was at least 30 figures at the elongated dining table. The night was coming to an end, and people started going back to their residences, leaving only a few others in the Palace.

"Excuse me," a voice behind you said, you turn your head softly to see an elegant looking male. He slightly bowed down "If you don't mind, could I talk to you in private? I wish to share my congrats." He asked, seeing nothing wrong with it you excused yourself and lead the male to an empty hallway.

His blue eyes peered into yours, his demeanor completely changing. "Y'know, Lord Dia and I were very close in the past." He said, you irked a little at the nickname, but let it slide. His face was painted with a scowl, "Very close, might I add." You furrowed your eyebrows in a confused manor, Diavolo never mentioned dating anyone before. The male walked closely to your body, "That was until a little human showed up. Stealing my spotlight, taking the gift of eternity. Which was supposed to be MY gift."

You stood your ground, heavily irritated by the male who was claiming that he was born to be in your place. "You don't get to choose what he wants." You said, trying to keep back your snarky remarks. His palm met with your face, causing you to stumble backward. "HES MINE!" He yelled before pouncing on you, his hands on your throat constricting your airway. He didn't get far before being tossed aside by the now smiling butler.

"It would be in your best interest to not lay your hands on the Lords significant other." Barbatos said as he slowly walked over to you, carefully assessing your injuries. The male got up to dash out of the palace only to slam into your Fiancés chest. Diavolos' golden eyes were filled with rage when he saw your body on the ground. He quickly grabbed the pleading male, "You will suffer the consequences of your actions." He muttered darkly. He motioned Barbatos to take him away.

Once Barb pulled him to the basement, Diavolo rushed to your side. His eyebrows furrowed as his irises held pain and sorrow. "I am deeply sorry, my love." You shook your head with a small smile, his hands slid under your body, lifting you up bridal style. "No need to apologize for the actions of someone else." You kissed his cheek softly and moved your head to the crook of his neck.

The two of you sat in his room for the rest of the night, talking and laughing away. You invited Barb to join the two of you while playing some games, leading you guys to have a very fun game night.

(Bonus: Lucifer answered the call from the royal butler, excusing himself from the dining table with his brothers. His eyes widened, "Excuse me?" His tone was cold. "I will be there immediately." After hanging up the DDD, he brought himself to the dining table, "I will be going to the Palace. There was an assassination attempt on MC. Please stay here for their safety." The brothers stared in awe but nodded. The poor dude was obliterated to say the least.)

Barbatos

You ran to the palace, tears streaming down your stinging face as the rain drenched your body. Soft sobs emitted from your throat. You knocked on the palace doors in urgency. No one was chasing you anymore, but it was still frightening. The door opened, and your boyfriend stood at the door, his usual calm eyes now filled with worry. He ushered you in, pulling you to the infirmary.

He sat you down on the chair and grabbed some medical supplies, "What happened." He said calmly, though his voice held true rage. "Some lowerclass demons..." You choked out a sob, your boyfriend walked over and started to softly clean the gash on your eyebrow. "Go on, dear. It's okay. I am here. There's no need to be frightened anymore." His voice was sincere as he deeply gazed in your eyes, waiting for you to tell him what caused your injuries. "I don't know what caused it, I got a high score on the exams, they got pissed?" You winced softly at the small stitch on your face, a sorry emitted from his lips.

"I understand. This will not happen again. I will have to report this to the Lord. Would you be comfortable joining me, my love?" You softly shook your head against the idea. "That is perfectly fine. Go ahead to my room and change, I'll be there soon."

After a while, your favorite butler came back with a tray of your favorite foods, "You didn't have to do all of this, Barb." You muttered with a soft smile. He only shook his head. "I would do anything to ensure that my doll is happy."

You spent the night in his arms, both of you sleeping peacefully. He finally has found his time stopper.

(Bonus: Diavolo nodded at the words that his butler said. "Go ahead and be with them. They need you more than me. I will be holding a halt on the school until we find the suspects." Barbatos nodded at the Lords words, thanking him before leaving. The next week, school was out for an unexpected break, and when it came back, four students were never to be found again.)

Simeon

You stood shocked at the pain on your left cheek, Simeon stood in front of you, his angelic form out in a protective manor. Scaring off the offensive demon, Simeon quickly went to his normal form and turned to you. "MC?" He said softly, not trying to startle you. His soft gloved hand grabbed yours, you looked into his beautiful eyes with admiration. "How are you fee-" his attempt to ask you how you were doing was interrupted. "You're beautiful." You blurted out at him, his eyes widened at the compliment. "My sun, thank you for the compliment, but that is by no means what we should be focusing on."

He softly dragged you to Purgatory Hall. Luckily, everyone was out and about. Letting the two of you have some alone time, it was silent, the rooms air was thick. "Simeon, what's going on?" You whined out, trying to grasp him from his thoughts. He let out a sigh before looking back at your face, frowning at the small bruise. "Dear, I couldn't protect you from being hit. I am supposed to be your guardian angel, yet I couldn't save you...." His fingers slightly traced your bruise before he pressed his lips on the injury. The dark mark on your face immediately started to heal at his delicate lips.

"Sim look at me." You said softly, his blue irises looked into your eyes. "You just healed me with a kiss. You didn't know that was going to happen. You're still my guardian angel, but most importantly, you're my boyfriend." You smiled softly, hugging his chest. "Plus.... your wings literally lit up half the fucking area." You giggled softly, his lips went into an endearing smile. "You truly find it that beautiful?" He asked you, and you quickly nodded your head. "Well, it's all yours."

(Bonus: the rest of the Purgatory Hall made it back, shocked to see Simeons wings. All of them other than Raphael gasped. "What's the occasion?!" Solomon asked, Luke nodded quickly, doing cute jumps. "Ah, there was an incident. They saw my form and loved it." Simeon said softly, laughing at Luke's reactions. "What incident?! A pesky demon, I bet!" The kid said, causing you to nod. "Yeah, he hit m-" your mouth was covered by your boyfriends hands. You peered up to the other three, Luke had an out of character dark aura, Solomon had a torture book floating around him, and Raphaels spears were out. Shit.)

Solomon

His eyes locked onto your unconscious body, he looked up only to find one of the demons he has a pact with. "Uh,- Sir it was just-" the demon was thrown to the ground immediately "silence." Solomon's voice said, deep and scarily, using the pact to his advantage, people gathered around. "So I assume you don't know who they are, hm?" He said with an amusing tune, his brown eyes piercing into the demon's eyes. The demon shook his head vigorously "Well. Too bad."

The air around the sorcerer got thick, his eyes glowing with magic. "Let this be a message to everyone, Never. Ever. Lay your grotesque hands on, my spouse."

The demon was quickly eliminated, Solomon lifted your limp body and ran to Purgatory Hall, once he made it inside he quickly placed some healing spells on your body. The large bruise on your face shrunk, and he furrowed his eyebrows softly, kissing the now small bruise. "I will never let anyone lay their hands on you again.... sleep well, my beloved."

When you woke up his eyes shot towards yours, "Hey hey, how are you feeling?" His hand grabbed yours, "I'm alright, uh.. what happened?" You asked with a groan, causing him to have a small smile, "Don't worry about it okay? It's all taken care of now." His thumb ran across your knuckles, "Come on Luke was worried sick."

(Bonus: when you walked out of Solomons's room, the sweet smell of the living room filled your nostrils. Hundreds of baked goods filled the space. "MC!" The blonde angel yelled, before launching himself into your arms, "You're alive... grr I swear I'll.... I'll get those demons to pay!" He said, he let out a soft sigh before grabbing a plate. "I uh.... stressed bake I made you your favorite......*)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

:) what's your favorite dessert? I like plain cheesecake

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 2)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: R tells alexia about her parents but makes alexia promise not to tell the team. alexia agrees of r agrees to speak to the team psychologist/ try and improve her eating and general health. either the team find out through social media or listening to r in an interview getting mad/ upset about a question about her parents. r blames alexia for telling people bc she hasn’t told anyone else. alexia comforts her + happy ending

word count: 2,123k

summary: you tell the team about your mami and papa, alexia helps you through it, an interviewer asks a tough question, and you're paid a visit from someone who is less than friendly.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: disordered eating, mentions of vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, struggling alone, eating while recovering from an ed, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here

a/n: hey! ive had a lot of requests for chapter two of this story, its taken me a while because i didn't really get any requests and i was struggling for ideas, so it has taken a month, but the long awaited second chapter is here! i didn't really follow the request too closely, but I think it turned out alright, hope you do too. requests are always open. <3 :D

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

“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

You froze. You assumed there were still tear tracks down your cheeks, your eyes still bloodshot, and clearly, Alexia knew something was wrong. But she didn’t seem to know what.

“I- uh- what? There’s nothing wrong. Just… tired is all.” You try to explain, stuttering out an awful and clearly fake excuse. “You look tired too, maybe you should go to bed and we can talk later?”

“No,” Alexia states firmly, sitting down on your bed next to you. “Chica it smells like sick in here, have you thrown up?” she asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well not really, I think I just ate something bad earlier, it was only a little bit-” You attempt to lie again, but she cuts you off. 

“Stop bullshitting me amor, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” she says. That’s the thing, Alexia’s a problem solver, a bit like a man, just wanting to fix everything for everyone so we can all be happy with no problems, but she couldn't fix this. Mami is dead. Papi is dead. They are gone. You can’t undo death, no matter how hard you try.

After nearly 20 minutes of back and forth, “There’s something wrong.” “No, there’s not, I’m fine,” Alexia pulls out the big guns, completely oblivious and unaware of how big they are now.

“Superestrella, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to call your parents and you’ll have to talk to them. Please, just tell me, I only want to help. I hate seeing you so introverted and quiet all the time, I miss your laugh, guapa.”

And with that, the guns are fired, and the dam is broken. You burst into another round of tears, burying yourself into Alexia’s side, head on her chest. Between sobs, you manage to get out the words,

“You can’t help! No one can help! It’s all ruined!”

before falling asleep from the effort of crying and earlier, denial. Now, Alexia is seriously worried.

Alexia lets you sleep on her for a moment before carefully manoeuvring you to lie down and slipping out of your room. Once in the lounge area, she sits down on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. Her thinking position, because she was thinking pretty fucking hard right now. What on Earth had happened? What had gone wrong to make her happy, giggly, pestering Superestrella, so- so…. Broken?

Finally, she decides to call Mapi, she knows that Mapi was out late celebrating last night too, and is probably also dealing with a killer hangover, similar to Alexia’s currently, but she deems this important enough to warrant a call.

The phone rings three times before a very croaky-voiced, tired, and generally-recovering-from-being-completely-plastered sounding, María León is heard;

“What Alexia?” 

“Mapi, sorry, I know now probably isn’t the best time, but… it’s Y/N, she-”

Before Alexia can even get a word of an explanation in, a now far more awake and alert sounding defender is cutting her off, clearly very worried, “Chica? What about her? Is she- is she okay? What’s wrong?”

That morning, it was organised that at training in a few days, Lucy, Keira, Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid would sit you down after training, and you would talk.

It’s been a couple of days since the Champions League final, most members of the team are still on the winning high, while others are starting to settle a bit, but today is the first training back since the big game. You go about training as normal, struggling your way through it with next to no will to live and an empty stomach, but when you’re in the locker room, Alexia taps you on the shoulder. You two haven't spoken much since the other morning after her night of celebrations.

“Hey, a few of us just want to have a quick meeting with you before we go today, sí?” she says, her tone softer, more gentle, than usual. 

You nod awkwardly and finish changing before heading to the meeting room Alexia had told you to meet at, only to find 5 of your teammates sat there, watching you like you’re a Porcelain doll that could shatter at any second, and that was slightly true. 

“Um, hola Todas?” (Hello everyone.) you say with slight suspicion, eyeing them one by one as you slowly sit down in a chair at the long glass table. There’s a collective murmur of “Hello”s in various languages before it goes quiet again. Alexia speaks up first;

“Superestrella, we’ve all noticed something is wrong, and we just want to help. Truly, that’s all we want. You are usually all sunshine and rainbows, but recently you have been walking around like you have rocks in your pockets and a storm cloud over your head. Por favor niña, déjanos entrar. (Please girl, let us in.)” she says in a slightly pleading tone, the other women are all looking at you sympathetically. 

“I- nothing is wrong. I’m just… uh… tired! I am tired. We have been training a lot recently so I haven’t been feeling the best recently! That’s it. Si. Estoy cansada. (I’m tired.)” you reply quickly, desperate to get out of here and back into bed so you can continue wallowing your sadness and grief, alone. 

They all give you soft, yet slightly unimpressed, looks of ‘Come on. We all know that’s not it.’

“Chica-” Mapi starts, but she’s cut off by Lucy’s thick accent,

“Y/N please, let us in. You know we would never judge you or anything like that, we just want to help, as Alexia said. Teammates are here to support you off the pitch just as much as on it.”

“Yeah, what Lucy said. We love you like a little sister, Y/N, and we’re worried about you.” Keira adds. 

A collective nod and hum of agreement spread through the room. You sigh. It was getting harder and harder to pretend. 

“I- ugh. Okay. Fine. There is something wrong.” You finally relent, the lump already forming in your throat, the familiar glass returning to your eyes. The 5 women around you perk up a bit, glad you’re starting to open up, even if it’s only a little.

“What is Cari? (Cariño- sweetheart.)” Ingrid speaks up for the first time, her accent thick as always. 

“It’s… it’s my parents.” They frown. They knew how close you were with your parents, especially your papa, so what could be wrong that has to do with them? You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tears falling silently down your cheeks, you’d gotten good at crying quietly, preparing to voice the words aloud for the first time. To make it all real.

“They- they’re- they- died. Dead. Gone.” you open your eyes to find 5 women staring at you in horror, eyes wide, mouths open, and sympathetic looks from them all. But it was Alexia’s face that made the tears fall, she was the only one who knew how you really felt, who truly understood. It was her arms that you felt around you first, she didn’t say anything, she just held you for a while.

After a few moments, you spoke up again, your voice a little more steady this time.

“It was 2 weeks before the Champions League final. I got the call from the police back in (your hometown), they- they were driving home from our match, there- there was a drunk driver. The driver hit them at nearly full speed, they- they didn’t survive the impact.” 

The horror on the women’s faces only grows, Alexia’s grip on you only tightens. 

It’s a good few minutes before anyone says anything else, and the one to speak up this time is Lucy.

“Oh god Y/N, that- that’s awful. Why on Earth didn’t you tell us? We would’ve helped you, supported you-” her tone, growing slightly frustrated and upset, is cut off by a firm pat on the thigh by Keira, telling her to cool it a bit, the defender going quiet.

“I- I didn’t tell you because…. Because I didn’t want you to pity me, to treat me differently, and you guys already worry about me enough, so I didn’t want to add to it right before the final. And also… I just- I just couldn’t say it out loud. Not then. It was too soon…”

That conversation or “meeting” as it’s now referred to, went on for a long time, feelings were discussed, tears fell, hands trembled, and eventually, you and Alexia were left to go home, and you felt a whole lot lighter… possibly because it had been 3 days since your last meal, or possibly because you had finally confessed your secret. 

When you arrived back at the apartment, Olga was anxiously waiting there for the two of you. During the meeting, the subject of your eating had come up, you had confessed to skipping meals and intentionally not eating, and agreed to try harder to fuel your body the way an athlete should. Clearly, Alexia had shot Olga a text or something before we arrived, as there was a bowl of your favourite sitting, waiting on the table. Eli’s (Alexia’s Mami.) homemade paella and blue Powerade. Gently, Alexia sat you down at the seat in front of it and sat next to you, she put the spoon in your hand and made you eat a few bites, and then she just slipped into conversation with you, a random conversation, about school and friends and the new set pieces, etc. And before you knew it, you had been so distracted that you had eaten the whole bowl without even thinking about it. It felt��� good, being full that is. Alexia smiled softly when she saw your small smile and took your plate up to the sink, before sending you off for a bath and a nap with a kiss on the forehead. 

A couple of days after the whole ordeal, you were asked to do an interview. Where you would be talking about the Champions League final, what it was like to score both the goals for Barca, one in the last few minutes too, how you celebrated afterwards as you were not allowed in the changing rooms, but worst of all, a question you weren’t expecting, weren’t ready for, 

“So Y/N, everyone is very familiar with your papa, your biggest fan, often seen wearing your jersey and waving his flag, but he was not spotted at the final, we were just wondering, is he okay, or just sitting somewhere else?” The interviewer asks with an unknowing and innocent smile. 

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before you can respond, you manage to keep the smile on your face, and voice steady (barely). 

“Oh, yeah, no. He, um- Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make it.” You say with a curt nod and ever so slightly pursed lips, the interviewer getting the hint not to pry any further on the question.

That night, you were curled up on the couch, laying across is, your head in Alexia’s lap, crying… again. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. It had scared you, Alexia understood, she knew how hard it was to talk about it (from personal experience), especially if you aren’t aware the subject will be brought up. Alexia whispers soothing Spanish words, her nails scratching your scalp calmingly, when there’s a knock at the door. 

Alexia frowned and looked at the clock, it was 7pm, not usual visitor time, no one was meant to be coming around, Olga was out of town with friends… who was it? She carefully moves your head from her lap and kisses your forehead before going to answer the door, as she walks over, you prop yourself up on your elbows a bit to see who it is.

The midfielder opened the door to find a woman standing there, she was young-ish, probably younger than Alexia, mid-twenties maybe, but rather… uptight looking. At first, you couldn’t see who it was, the woman and Ale exchanged a few words before Alexia stepped aside, you and the woman now having a clear view of each other… 

Your expression changed quickly, features hardening, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. You practically jumped off the couch in anger, stomping up to the woman, and standing very close to her. With a cold look and tone, you spoke to her;

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía (aunt)?” you spat the last word like it tastes fowl in your mouth… 

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a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you are wanting a third chapter, please don't just say "chapter 3 pls" or something like that, please give me actual ideas or requests in my inbox. kind critisms is always welcome too. thank you for reading! 😊💖

tag list: @multifandomlesbianic

[notjoelmiller]

the protector

MDNI

joel miller x tess's sister!reader (not blood related) summary: Joel promised Tess he would take care of you. It's fine until he finds himself infatuated with you and Ellie accuses him of replacing Tess. wordcount: 5.0k warnings: smut (unprotected p-in-v), unspecified age gap, canon character death, spoilers up to episode 3, background character death, violence, joel is not a good person in this

Tess asks him one night as he stitches her up. Negotiations went wrong, and Joel tends to her carefully. He always does. It was his way of setting things right.

Joel had to carry her back to their apartment. Her skin lost its rosy hue in the process, and she shivered in his arms the whole way back. Joel thought he lost her. He almost did.

With the apartment illuminated by the streams of moonlight peeking through the window, he puts her back together. Needle and threat prod and pull at her skin. The makeshift infirmary that their apartment has become reeks of iron and alcohol.

He killed earlier, with his bare hands. He’s only done that a few times before. He liked using guns or knives, but he beat that man who hurt Tess. Crushed his eye socket just to watch him bleed. It was irresponsible and reckless. His hands tremble with the lingering adrenaline mixed with newfound anxiety. Tess is alive, he tries telling himself. It doesn’t quell the shakes.

He has only two stitches left when Tess speaks for the first and only time that night. Her words come out slowly, either from the blood loss or careful consideration. 

“If anything happens to me, take care of my sister, okay?” She asks.

Joel pauses, needle hanging just above her skin. His fingers are caked in Tess’s blood, maybe some of a stranger. He’s sure it’s gonna be there in the morning, no matter how much he scrubs his skin raw. 

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

They don’t mention it. Years pass before she asks him to make another promise– to take care of an infected girl. He swears to her again, and when he does he remembers: the farm in western Massachusetts circled on a map, the mysterious kid sister Tess always talks about, the promise he made with blood caked under his nails.

As smoke from the capitol building pollutes the blue sky, Joel wonders if Tess remembers it. Perhaps, while grappling with her last lucid moments before the infection takes over, it brought her peace– the thought of her sister’s safety.

Save who you can save.

Once things calm down, and distance muffles the screeches of the infected, Ellie asks where they’re going.

***

Joel doesn’t see the resemblance. Ellie says she does. It’s in the eyes, she tells him. That determination. Scary shit. Joel can’t deny it, you do have that intense Tess-stare. But the expression is about where the resemblance ends.

In fact, the moment he lays eyes on you, he realizes that when Tess said “sister”, it was an expression– a bond beyond blood. Even if you weren’t related, you were important to her.

“Tess is dead,” he says minutes after you welcome him and Ellie into your home. “Asked me to look after you.”

You excuse yourself after Joel tells you. Ellie elbows him in the ribs when you disappear into the upstairs section of the house. It was a disturbing delivery, evident by your quiet gasps and sobs in the other room, but it was fact. Tess is gone, and Joel has a promise to fulfill. Sugarcoating it won’t change anything.

You fail to emerge from your room before sundown. Ellie tells him that they should clear out and let you grieve, but something keeps him planted in your living room. 

It’s cozy, not just by post-infection standards. You somehow keep the place neat, but it still looks lived in. Polaroids sit in frames on top of the fireplace. Most of them are you and Tess. In some of them, she’s younger, before Joel met her in the quarantine zone. Though, others were more recent. If Joel had to guess, the newest photo was taken in the last two years. He never knew how much Tess came out to see you. How much you really meant to her.

You don’t reemerge until the stars come out. Even then, with puffy, but dry, eyes and a monotonous voice you tell the strangers where they can sleep. Hospitable, despite the waves of grief that radiate from your frame.

As you set up the guest rooms, Joel explains that they’re leaving in the morning. He offers you the choice of staying, but tells you that you have a better chance out there than here alone, with nobody watching over you. He doesn’t know if that’s true, but he knows that Tess would have wanted you under his protection.

Ellie tries comforting you in the only way her emotionally-stunted self can. She cracks jokes, tries her best to break the tension. It doesn’t make you laugh. Hell, you don’t even smile. Ellie’s curls into herself, embarrassed, but only because she misses the way your shoulders droop and eyes soften. Joel does see it.

After the pair are settled into the spare rooms, you disappear again. When they wake the next morning, you’re back to normal. Somewhat. You flutter around the house with a backpack and a duffle, shoving personal items and essentials in. You don’t greet your guests, instead you start by ordering Ellie to bring non-perishables from the kitchen to the truck. She nods dumbly and gets straight to work. Joel frowns at her obedience until your eyes land on him.

You lower your voice, “The photos.” Your voice is hoarse at that volume, no doubt exacerbated by your night of grief. “I can’t take them all. If you want one you can– I mean, you don’t need to. Tess didn’t talk much about you, but she sent you after me, didn’t she?” You chuckle. It’s humorless. “I guess you two trusted each other.” You nod to the mantle. Only a few photos remain. 

He frowns. Had Tess not told you about them? He had assumed that in thirteen years, you would have said something. His hands clench. “Photos ain’t gonna change a thing,” he states.

Your face crumples like he’s just spitten on your sister’s grave. “Maybe.” You turn away. “I’ll help Ellie with the food. Then we can go.”

You work with Ellie to clear out the rest of the food supply. She talks your ear off the entire time you pack. Apparently, she’s thrilled to have you joining her and Joel, though you fear she isn’t actually interested in your company. You think she only talks to you so enthusiastically because you're more responsive than Joel. 

Despite your hesitance, you find yourself anticipating joining the pair. It’s not like you have much of a choice in the matter, though. Tess kept you stocked. She kept you safe. With her gone, and her partner heading west, you were alone. In a few months time, you would be out of bullets and meds, and with the winter approaching, the odds would be against you.

Ellie knocks on the side of Joel’s truck. “Do you know how to drive?” She asks, flipping a knife in her hands with a bit too much ease for your liking. You wonder how long she’s had that thing. Thankfully, it looks relatively unused. “Joel doesn’t wanna teach me�� but maybe you could give me lessons. It’ll be really fuckin’ cool– plus I could help you guys out and take some driving shifts.”

You shrug, tucking the last pile of cans in the truck bed. Ellie’s standing on the wheel, looking at you with wide, expectant eyes. “So?” She asks, leaning forward so much, you think she’ll fall into the bed.

Joel comes out before you can make that promise. He stomps down the porch steps, telling you and Ellie to get in the car. There’s no urgency to his orders. For that you’re grateful. Driving off in that car means the end of the last twenty years of your life. No more of the farm, no more New England, no more Tess. 

You wait for anxiety to come, but it doesn’t. Somehow, you’ve made peace with it all. With Ellie and Joel, your new companions.

Ellie seems attached to you. She’s been chatting your ear off for the better part of the hour. It’s nice. She keeps your mind off grief.

You wonder if this is how Tess felt, when she first found you and took you under her wing. Sure, you were less chatty than Ellie, but you find yourself feeling a strange possessiveness over the girl. You’ve never had to be a role model, someone for a young girl to look up to. You think about Tess, all she did to make sure you were well-adjusted in this world. Ellie seems like a good kid. You just hope that you’ll be able to guide her like Tess did you.

Joel seems less excited to have you, more like he’s carrying out a duty. You suppose that is the case, that Tess sent him to you in her absence. You don’t understand why she kept him around for so many years. He doesn’t appear to be the best company. He’s quiet, though when he chooses to speak it’s curt, leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

He’s not bad on the eyes, though. Maybe that’s why she kept him around.

Ellie nudges your shin with her foot. She stares at you with wide, expectant eyes. “You can sit shotgun,” she says.

You smile, “Thanks, kid.”

***

Joel dreams about Tess. He dreams she’s still with him. Everything’s the same– he's left Boston, Bill and Frank are gone –except you’re absent. Back on the farm, perhaps, doing whatever the hell it was you did there.

Ellie’s still in his dreams, at least most of the time. Sometimes she’s not. Some nights, she’s taller, with a head of curly hair. She’s got the same snark, but less of a tendency to use profanities.

The dreams keep him up. When he eventually falls asleep, it isn’t for long. The dreams come, and Tess says something too close to that day in the capitol or he catches a head of curly hair. Then he’s up, breathing heavily and sweating hard. You notice, of course you do. Tess was like that. She always had an inkling whenever something was eating at Joel. You ask if he wants to talk about it.

Of course I do.

But Joel just shrugs. He wants that companionship, that person to lean on in his struggles, but not in you. You’re not the person he wants to burden.

***

You grieve differently than Joel. You actually take time to talk about Tess, tell stories about her– good and bad. Ellie loves it, grateful to learn more about the woman she could only be with for a short time. The woman who saved her life.

It helps Joel learn about your relationship. He gathers that you came together at the start of the infection. You grew together, learning from each other. You were younger than her, he guesses by at least a decade, and had grown into your own under her guidance.

You and Tess parted ways months before she met Joel. You wanted autonomy, a place to call your own. You wanted the openness of the country and the ability to live off the land, not on FEDRA rations. Tess needed security. She needed to know that she wouldn’t be ripped apart by clickers in her sleep. She wanted a quarantine zone. So, you split up.

But there was– is –no bitterness in that disagreement, Joel finds. When you recall that parting of ways and your desires for different lives, you seem content. It irks him that you have such a strange peace with that, after knowing the fate of your sister, while you stand with him now, alive and well.

There are glimpses of Tess in you. He admits that to Ellie one night after you’ve gone to sleep, hardly a week after you joined the duo. What he doesn’t admit to Ellie is how much of Tess he really sees in you, and that sometimes, he has to stop himself from calling you by her name.

But of course, he slips up. It happens only once. You’re walking behind him, telling some story about a poor sucker who gave you trouble back on the farm. It’s a good story, but coming from your lips? Joel is captivated.

He goes to respond to some gruesome detail of the story, but her name comes out of his mouth. Not yours. Tess. Ellie whips her head around unbelievably fast, eyes so wide he can practically hear her thoughts screaming at him, what the hell Joel?

He’s quick to cover it up. “Tess… she said something like that happened to her once, too.”

Joel’s glad you’re behind him. You can’t see the way his face crumples in shame. Though, he can’t see whether or not you caught it.

When you’re out of earshot, Ellie calls it a Freudian slip. Joel tells her to watch her mouth.

***

You’re softer than Tess from all that time on the farm. Sure, you have your fair share of trouble with raiders and stray infected, and you know your way around a fight. But you’ve never stepped foot in a quarantine zone. You’ve never had to deal with the Fireflies, the grifters, or even FEDRA.

Tess had gone through all of that. She internalized it– let it change her. It roughened her edges enough that even the thought of submitting to Joel made her hackles raise. Not you, though.

You don’t just accept his touch. You practically melt at it. She let him touch her, being intimate physically in ways he could never verbalize, but she never reveled in it. She would never sigh and lean into his hand on her cheek. She couldn’t let her muscles relax in his embrace, but she’d always accept it. After all, she was his.

You’re not, but you take and cherish all that Joel has to give you. You live for it. You could forget about all of your troubles with him. He sees it in the way your hands linger on his when he helps you up after a fight, and he often feels the back of his neck burning with your stares. He likes the attention you give him.

You don’t have to kill much, but Joel’s tendency to protect Ellie from death has rubbed off on you. You kill when needed, and each time, once the body lays still, Joel notices you pause. You take time to observe the life you took, and a profound sadness overtakes you. Not remorse, though. Joel has found that you don’t regret what you had to do. He thinks you got that from Tess.

Unfortunately, that habit of yours teaches him how thoroughly fucked he is.

Joel gets knocked to the ground by a hunter. His head snaps back against the ground. Not hard enough to concuss, but it rattles him to the point that he can’t get the damn guy off of him. In the haze, he doesn’t feel the knife resting on the skin of his neck.

You see it, though, and in moments, you're on the hunter. 

Joel is too dazed to realize what had occurred until you’re leaning over him, cupping his jaw gently as you examine his face. 

His eyes dance between you and the hunter just inches away. He’s a pile of bloodied flesh. You don’t care. There’s blood on you. It’s thick and coats your arms and torso. All you do is ask Joel questions. Are you alright? Do you think you’re concussed? Do you need help getting up? Your eyes are on him– him alone.

He tries keeping up with your questions. Not just because they’re important, but because he wants to please you. You– who put aside your morals just to dote on him. You– the woman he vowed to protect. You– the new object of Joel’s infatuation.

***

The first time he really touches you, you’re speechless.

You’ve felt his touch before. It’s unavoidable– a graze of calloused fingertips over a wound you can’t reach, a helping hand lifting you over a high ledge, fingers lingering just a moment after handing rations. But this time, it’s different. It’s not accidental, nor the result of your forced proximity.

Ellie’s asleep, snoring softly just a few feet away.

You and Joel had an argument. A minor disagreement, really. He refuses to let you take the night watch and let him sleep. So, you sit in silence.

He’s tearing himself apart with his martyrdom. He sacrifices his sleep so he can take watch instead of you. He takes all the heat in fights, leaving you and Ellie unscathed, but him with unsavory injuries. He gives you and Ellie larger shares of food. You swear he’s lost weight since you’ve joined them. You pointed this all out to him earlier in the night. And he didn’t take it well.

You two don’t argue frequently. For that, you’re grateful. Joel’s not the best company, even by today’s standards, but you’ve come to enjoy having him by your side. He’s courteous, helpful, and has an unexpectedly good sense of humor. But when you get into a disagreement, you wonder why you joined him in the first place. He becomes something else, cold and detached. He’s so venomous and vile that you find your chest hurting with frustration.

You’re both still recovering from earlier. It was a tame disagreement by your standards. Both of you managed to get over it just enough to sit next to each other by the fire. For warmth, you both agreed.

Hours after the sun disappears, the moon and stars being the only light in the sky, Joel shifts. You almost ask what’s the matter, then he takes his hand in yours, resting it on his thigh.

You don’t tense. You don’t look at him. You don’t signal in any way that he’s actually touching you. His fingers brush over your knuckles, calluses scratching against taught skin over joints, and strangely, your heart flutters. He falls asleep like that, your hand in his.

A week later, under the blanket of night, Joel fucks you against a tree.

There’s no tenderness in it, but it’s not like you expected anything different. 

He tells you to keep it down. It's an obscene request that he makes as though his hands aren’t up your shirt, grabbing at you like you’re the only person in the world. He makes it seem like the drilling of his hips into you doesn’t make it near-impossible to keep it down.

He makes quick work of you. His fingers deftly rub at your clit until you're swallowing the noises of your orgasm. Joel doesn’t last much longer, pulling out and spilling himself on your thighs. 

You don’t talk about it the next morning. You keep the appearance of “normalcy”, for Ellie’s sake. You just hope she doesn’t notice the smiles you share behind her back.

***

His dreams change. Now most nights, he’s back in Boston in his shitty bed that cost way too many ration cards. That doesn’t matter though, because it’s peaceful. 

Sunlight peeks through the curtain and warms the skin of his face. The streets outside are quiet. He’s warm, satisfied, and safe.

He’s alone in bed, but someone flitters around the apartment out of view. He hears it: footsteps all around the space, the quiet clang of dishes being stacked on top of each other, a feminine humming.

He can’t move in those dreams, forced to keep his eyes on the bright window– the one with the butterfly.

He wants to call her name. Tess, Tess, Tess. The syllable sits on the tip of his tongue, yet he can’t manage to say it. The word refuses to leave his lips. It’s like his body knows something he doesn’t.

It knows that something is wrong.

***

With every brush of Joel’s fingers against yours, Ellie is watching. 

She’s waiting to pounce. Joel knows it. One wrong move and Ellie’s going to say it, accuse him of what he knows she’s thinking.

So, you two like a…

Pass.

Ellie wasn’t stupid. She knew what that meant. Ellie saw it in his eyes when they left Tess at the state house. As he watched it burn with Tess inside. 

Not to feel the way I felt…

She read that letter from Bill.

The girl is a quintessential post-outbreak kid. She’s anxious for a fight, angry, and emotionally repressed. But the girl was also raised in a military school, and it made her observant. So every touch your way, every smile at you, and every thought he makes, Ellie knows.

Joel avoids Ellie for a long time, but she manages to get through. 

You’re somewhere in West Virginia. You’ve been with Joel and Ellie for about a month, just enough time for fall to settle in. 

It isn’t as bad as in Boston where, by the time the leaves turned, the days were too cold to even enjoy the beauty of it. West Virginia, though, sure the nights were chilly, but the days were pleasing.

It reminds him of Austin. Austin never really had a true autumn. The season came with the bloom of red, orange, and yellow leaves, but there was no chill of the impending winter. In Austin, it looked different, but felt just the same– or close enough. He loved it. He misses it.

Joel holds a photo in his hand. The one he took from your mantle the morning you abandoned the farm. It’s you and Tess, beaming at the camera. He keeps it folded in his pocket at all times in case he needs it to bring comfort. Currently he does.

The photo has rubbed away at the seam of the fold. If Joel ever decided to unfold it, to look at you two as one, there would be a white crease in the middle. A divide. He doesn’t, though. Joel never unfolds it and resorts to looking at either of you one at a time.

Now, it’s you staring back at him. A moment ago, it was Tess.

Ellie sits on the opposite side of the fire. You’re sleeping off the last of a fever you managed to catch. 

He wants to reach out to you, pull you in his arms until the fever breaks. The urge gnaws at him, makes something twist and burn deep in his gut. He should think. He needs to think. Not with Ellie watching him, though. He needs her off his back.

Here goes nothing.

He says her name, once, curtly. Her eyes widen slightly, just for a moment, but composes herself. She sits up tall. Joel lets her speak first. It takes her a moment, but she speaks like she’s been considering her words for a long time.

“Tess said you didn’t feel the way she felt.”

“I cared for her. For Tess.” Ellie frowns, eyes squinted as she bores into his very being. “A lot,” Joel adds.

“Does her sister know that?”

Joel says Ellie’s name, quietly. It’s meant to be a warning, but as it passes through his lips he can’t help but think it sounds pathetic. Pathetic, like you fucking Tess’s kid sister. His jaw ticks as something putrid curdles in his stomach.

No. No. He refuses to let a child judge him. What does she know about relationships? What does she know about love?

Love? No, not love. Not love. Physical relationships, that’s what this is about. Not love. No, Joel doesn’t love. Not Tess. And certainly not you, not that you matter in this case, because Tess has nothing to do with you.

He looks back at the photo in his hand. Tess stares back at him.

“You’re replacing her, Joel.”

***

Joel isn’t a man to cherish. He loves nothing– nobody. You’ve seen him kill more times than you can count, and not all of those deaths were deserving. 

He reveals himself in pieces and only on rare occasions. You learn of his past slowly. He was a hunter. He has a brother, one who left him years ago. He may have had a child at one point. He wanted to be a singer when he was a boy.

You’ve known one thing from the start, and it’s that he tends to you like you’re the only thing that matters.

You found a settlement. Just for the night, they let you stay in a house– a real one, with showers, working locks, nice furniture, and all. You almost cry when you rub the homemade soap bar against your skin. You feel like a new person when you step out of the shower, your skin soft and glowing in a way you haven’t experienced in years.

If you had to be honest, the separate bedrooms are your favorite part.

You’re not even out of the shower for a minute before Joel has you beneath him on the bed. 

He fists a hand into your still dripping hair and tugs. His tongue pushes its way into your mouth, and you welcome the taste of him– it’s fresh, like the toothpaste you had traded for once you came to town. You chase his lips as he pulls back. 

“Couldn’t wait for you to come out, baby.” He adds, “Need you.” You believe it. You believe it wholeheartedly and it makes heat wash through your body. Joel has a way of making you feel like that.

His jean-clad hips rut into your plush thigh. The buckle digs into your skin, nearly camouflaging the sensation of his cock. 

The towel you wrapped yourself in has unfolded, leaving you exposed to the cold air of the bedroom. Your nipples stiffen. Joel takes one between his fingers, twisting and pulling as he groans into your mouth. His spare hand works on removing his pants. You explore the expanse of his back.

Deft fingers move from your breasts to your core. Joel’s thumb rubs at your clit, while two fingers trace the seam of your entrance. His fingers are cold, you clench around nothing as they tease you. Joel doesn’t get many opportunities to drag things out, to tease you until tears are running down your face. You love that side of him. It helps you imagine what it would be like to be with him before the infection. But tonight isn’t the time. 

You swat his hand away, murmuring, “Don’t need that,” you swat his hands. “Just want you.”

Joel hesitates. You do need that, and he knows you know that fact. It’s been a few weeks since you last fucked. It was sure to be a stretch. His eyes wash over your face, searching for any uncertainty before he nods and notches himself at your entrance.

It’s not a smooth coupling by any means. You rushed into things too fast. His length rubs unpleasantly against your walls as he pushes in. Though, you pull him closer with your legs. You just needed to feel him.

He holds your hips up as he pistons into you. He moves slowly tonight. There’s no urgency, no threat that Ellie might come around the corner and catch you in the act. You indulge in the rare intimacy.

You dig your face into the crook of his neck. Every inhale you take is purely him. “Driving me crazy, Miller,” you whisper.

“Good,” Joel laughs. He’s never laughed during sex before. You figured he wasn’t the type, that letting loose like that in the act wasn’t his style. Apparently not.

You reach your peak quicker than expected. It washes over you in lazy waves, softening your muscles and melting you into the bed beneath you. It drains you. Or maybe the luxury of the bed beneath you is causing your exhaustion.

Luckily, Joel’s not far behind, pulling out and working himself to his peak. He cums on your stomach, your newly cleaned skin now dirtied with your sweat and his seed. You’re too tired and too blissed out to care though. You can always shower again in the morning.

Joel takes your discarded towel to clean your stomach. He throws it to the ground before settling himself at your side. You roll over, letting him adhere to your back.

Your eyes are drawn to the towel. Next to it are Joel’s discarded jeans. Something sticks out of his pocket. You squint.

It’s Tess– one of the pictures of her you had on your mantle. You were in that photo too, but it was folded in half, and now you had to stare at your deceased sister. The photo was one you had offered to Joel. Photos ain’t gonna change a thing, he had said back then on the farm. It irked you. It irked you for so long that you had been hesitant at the start of your relationship– if that's what you could call this. Back then, you had been afraid of getting attached to him. You were scared he wouldn’t ever call you his.

But he had the photo, and it’s… somewhat disturbing. He had been so cold then when you asked him. You only offered it because you thought he and Tess were closer. After all, she asked him to take care of you, and he listened. Then he turned it down, and you realized– assumed –you misinterpreted them. You accepted it as the truth.

He has it now, though. However many months later he has that photo.

Joel’s arm tightens around your waist, pulling your back closer to his chest. “What are you thinkin’ about?” He sounds tired. 

You thought he was asleep, assuming the relative safety of the settlement and your nightly activities would be enough to knock him out. You’re tired too. Part of you wants to forget it, lean back into Joel’s arms and fall asleep. Then you see her staring back at you, her smile frozen in time. 

You wonder if Joel buried her. You wonder if Joel shot her. He didn’t tell you much about her passing, only that she had been infected, and chose to end it before turning. He never said how it ended.

“Were you and Tess together?”

It’s a simple question. So simple, and yet Joel hesitates. You count the seconds it takes him to answer you. One, two, three, four, five, six–

“No.”

Six seconds.

“Okay.”

Tess smiles back at you.

[xxsabitoxx]

How the Pillars react to your death

Important note: all of these deaths occur during the infinity castle arc, heavy and implied spoilers. Rengoku’s reaction to your death takes place before Mugen Train! Reader’s gender is unspecified.

Warnings: this post contains spoilers for the final arc of the manga. This includes implied spoilers for various characters. Please do not read this if you don’t want to be spoiled and don’t blame me if you go ahead and read it anyways lol

A/N: I wrote this whole post in my head while showering last night and I’m honestly offended it took me 3x as long to actually write it.

Giyu 

“CAWWW! DEAD! KOCHO SHINOBU AND L/N Y/N ARE DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER A CONFRONTATION WITH UPPER MOON TWO!” Giyu’s body comes to a screeching halt, Tanjiro shooting past him before falling to his knees as violent sobs wracked his body. Giyu, on the other hand, is frozen in place, a sob stuck in his throat. Shinobu’s death was a punch to the gut, but you? For the first time since Sabito had died, Giyu felt tears burning at the back of his eyes. Yet, nothing would come out, those tears wouldn’t break the barrier and slip down his cheeks. His tight throat would not let the sob escape. There was no possible way you were gone, you promised him you’d be okay. Though, childish beliefs like that reminded him of his own faults. Once again, he couldn’t protect the people he cared about. Rather than wallowing in sudden grief, he began moving again, past Tanjiro who was struggling to get back up. He needed to keep moving, if he didn’t stop, he was certain he would collapse entirely and never get up again. He couldn’t let your sacrifice go to waste. 

Shinobu 

Her feet barely hit the ground, body manoeuvring through the endless castle with one destination in mind. “CAWWW! DEAD! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER ENCOUNTERING UPPER MOON TWO!” She stumbles, shock hitting her like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head. Her mind is racing, not willing to believe what the crow had just said to be true. You had steered away from the plan. In a desperate attempt to save Shinobu’s life you tried to defeat Upper Two yourself. Hot, angry tears are spilling down her cheeks, hand clutching her heart as she tries to understand. “Why would you do this? Why wouldn’t you take my word for it and go with Tomioka? Look what you did… you went and got yourself killed,” Yet again, Upper Two had taken something precious to her. One word flashed through her mind, alongside your beautiful face. Revenge. She would get her revenge, not only for Kanae, but for you. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be with you soon.” 

Rengoku 

It’s quiet, too quiet even. You should be back by now, the sun has fully risen. Kyojuro’s heart is hammering in his chest, doom creeping up his spine. He has an unshakable bad feeling about your late arrival. His worst fears are confirmed when your crow arrives without you. “No…” breathless, as if all the air is being ripped from his lungs. “Don’t say it…” his knees are giving out as your crow lands on the wooden porch. “T-they’re gone…aren’t they?” he chokes it out, the words are as bitter and burning as bile. Your crow only caws, soft and full of sorrow, unable to share the proper message as Kyojuro begins to sob. He’s curling in on himself, crying so loudly but unable to hear it due to the intensity of the ringing in his ears. It’s a panic attack manifesting in the most intense form. He can’t fathom a world without you, nevermind having to live in one. Senjuro is rushing to his brother's aid, seeing your crow gives him more than enough information to know as tears well in his eyes. 

Tengen

He’s kneeling dutifully outside of Nezuko’s room, Shinjuro by his side. His wives are inside, too stubborn to sit out and not help at all. Their excuse being that Nezuko saved his life, they owe her the same kind of protection now. You on the other hand, were too determined, leaving your retirement to fight the battle against the demon lord himself. Nothing Tengen nor his wives said could convince you to stay on the sidelines. His heart is sinking the moment your crow appears in the distance, he’d recognize it anywhere. “N-no… don’t you dare…” Tengen’s voice is cracking as it lands, Shinjuro is turning his head the other way, knowing what is to come. “Don’t you dare say they are dead…” his voice is rising in his panic, he knows the answer. The commotion has Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru running outside. The moment Hina’s eyes land on your crow, a violent sob escapes her chest, falling to her knees as Makio and Suma come to the same conclusion. “T-they’re dead…aren’t they?!” Makio sobs, Tengen can’t raise his head as your crow delivers your final message. 

Mitsuri 

She’s frozen in place as a crow comes directly for her, fear is ebbing through her body, a cold sweat forming on her brow. She knows the message before the crow can even utter it. “No! Go back! I don’t want to hear it!” Obanai is frozen beside her, grabbing her arm so she doesn’t collapse. The crow circles around her, cawing woefully as she begins to cry. “I-I don’t want to know! Don’t tell me!” she’s hiccupping as Obanai tries to pull her forward, they need to keep moving. “Mitsuri…” his voice is surprisingly soft, the crow is still circling overhead. “We need to hear the message…” she shakes her head, hands coming up to cover her ears as tears slip down her cheeks. The crow caws again, Obanai signals for it to deliver the message. “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER AN ALTERCATION WITH UPPER MOON ONE!” The crow continued on about who lived and who died, what was important is that upper moon one was dead. That didn’t matter to her though, no she couldn’t even hear the rest of the message over the ringing in her years. Mitsuri let Obanai tug her along, they needed to keep moving at whatever the cost. 

Muichiro 

“CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD!” He keeps running, uncertain as to why he feels a tightness in his chest at the crow’s message. “THEY DIED DURING A CONFLICT WITH UPPER TWO!” He’s still moving, more so concerned over his unexpected and overwhelming sadness. Why am I sad? I don’t even remember that name… but then your kind smile is flashing before his eyes and the world is crashing down around him. He comes to a screeching halt, eyes wide as he finally pieces together the message. “y/n…” how could he ever forget? Before he realizes it, he’s sniffling. Tears blur his vision for a moment before he blinks them away. He begins to move again, the sadness gripping his chest is slowly fading, fading until he can’t even remember why he got teary eyed in the first place. He needs to remember the task at hand… where was he heading again? 

Obanai

The flapping of wings catches him off guard, head craning upwards as the crow begins to caw. The noise is full of sorrow, which can only mean it bears bad news. “Obanai…” Mitsuri is watching the animal circle above them, her heart pounding erratically at the endless possibilities of the message it may share. “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED IN BATTLE AGAINST UPPER MOON ONE!” Obanai’s feet are slowing, hitting the floor beneath him with a little too much force as the message rings through his head over and over. “N-no… oh… Iguro I…” Mitsuri is crying, staring at the man beside her as the world seems to cave in on him. It’s as if everything is in slow motion for a few beats in time. The words the crow uttered felt foreign, your name paired with ‘dead’ didn’t make any sense in his mind. It was impossible really, there was no way you were dead. You had gone to face Upper One with Gyomei, Sanemi, Muichiro… four hashira against upper One and you didn’t make it? You were so strong… no the message can’t be correct. “Kanroji… let’s keep moving.” he’s turning it off, every swelling emotion is being suppressed as he takes off again. Mitsuri is left with no choice but to wipe her tears and follow. 

Sanemi

Upper Moon One is standing before him, Gyomei at his side. This battle needed to be won, if not, everything would be lost. The demon before him needed to be put down, there was no other option. He’s talking, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. Rather, Sanemi is gauging every vital point he can strike and how to go about doing it. “CAWW! I BRING A MESSAGE!” he doesn’t glace up, nothing that crow could say would be able to break his focus. “L/N Y/N IS DEAD!” except for that. Sanemi inhales deeply, eyes widening significantly as he debates on if he heard the message correctly. “THEY DIED DURING AN ALTERCATION WITH UPPER MOON TWO! UPPER MOON TWO IS NOW DEAD!” it feels as if all the air in the room had been sucked away with the crow’s flapping wings. Upper One no longer seemed smug about the message after the addition of Upper Two being defeated. Beside him, Gyomei is crying. Sanemi doesn’t realize it, but so is he. He’s oblivious to the hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. Still, his patience remains intact, waiting for Gyomei’s signal to attack the high ranked demon. Now, he has absolutely nothing to lose. Kagaya is gone, now you are gone, it is likely the rest of the Hashira wouldn’t make it out of this… he has nothing left to fight for. 

Gyomei “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER ENCOUNTERING MUZAN!” Tears flow freely as he fights, part of him wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the message in the first place. You had met the unfortunate fate of encountering Muzan himself. It was likely that you were alone, if you weren’t, you were likely the strongest in your group. It pained him, knowing you likely died a brutal death. That pain fueled his attacks, taking every ounce of heartbreak and despair out on the demon before him. You didn’t deserve that, nobody deserved a fate that cruel. He keeps moving, mind reeling yet completely focused. It’s as if he is fighting in a bubble, the world muffled around him yet perfectly clear all at once. Too many emotions are raging through his soul to really pinpoint just one of them. He can only hope you’ll wait for him on the other side, he can only pray you’re watching over him at this very moment. Guiding him, giving him strength. “I’ll meet you again soon, don’t worry. I promise I won’t keep you waiting much longer. Wait for me, please? You will, won’t you?”

[goodbuckcharlie]

The lake’s embrace | Luke Hughes

Summary: Jack’s neighbor and first friend in New Jersey outside of the team, has finally ran out of excuses to avoid going to the lake house. She has avoided going in the past for two reasons. 1) after a traumatic experience she has been afraid of deep water 2) she doesn’t get along with the youngest Hughes. But when shit hits the fan it’s Luke who saves her life.

Warning: near death experience, fear of water, childhood trauma/abuse, mentions of death.

Notes: This story means a lot to me as it hits close to home, also it’s the first story that made me actually sob while writing it, for that reason I have decided to do minimal editing.

The young florist is coming home from her normal 9 to 5 shift from her mother’s flower shop. She wouldn’t trade this job for the world. She loves listening to the stories her customers always carry in. From young men asking out their crush to the old woman buying flowers for her lover’s grave. Sometimes she grows green with envy as she struggles from a lack of romance in her life. She sighs to herself as she reaches for her keys in her purse.

“Max!” The girl knew what her neighbor wanted before he even made it to her door. She quickly remembers the excuse she had came up with in her room the other day in anticipation of this conversation. She regathers herself before turning in the direction of her neighbor. While she was just expecting to see Jack, she is surprised to see Luke there as well.

“Jack shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” Completely ignoring Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“No surgery can hold me down.” Jack flexes causing Max stare at him in disbelief. “Anyways you know what I’m here for, I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

“I’m not sure I can go, I can’t just leave my mom empty handed at the shop.” She knows her mom can handle to shop with the help of her husband but as far as she knows, Jack doesn’t know that, or does he.

“Funny you say that,” Jack replied holding a smile that would rival a Cheshire Cat. This causes Max to quirk her head in confusion, “I went to the shop after you went home yesterday and asked your mom and she said that she will be fine and that you need time to relax.”

“I don’t know why you went through all of that when you know she’s just going to find another excuse not to go.” Luke pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at Max, “Look if you don’t want to go just say that so he shuts up.”

“Glad to see you’re still as pleasant as a melted popsicle Luke.”Max doesn’t know what came over her but as Luke rolls his eyes again she felt something snapped, “You know what, I’ll go. My mom is right I deserve to rest.”

Jack nearly leaps with joy. He quickly tells her all the details she needs to get ready for the trip before the brothers leave to their place.Max quickly lets herself into her place .

The time flies and the next thing Max knows, she on the pier of the Hughes Family lake house. She’s met a few….. characters as she would describe them. From Jack’s flirty friend Trevor to one of Luke’s old college team mates that for the record are way nicer than Luke. So far she has avoided going into the water either by staying inside with Ellen or claiming to be sunbathing. But much like her excuses to avoid coming to the lake house in the first place, her excuses on avoiding the water would run out sooner or later.

“Come on Maxie as much as we love looking at your pretty face from over here it would be better in the water,” Jack calls out from the water. Now Max was use to Jack’s flirtatious remarks so she simply ignores him and continues to read her book.

“Leave her alone Jack if she doesn’t want to get into the water then she doesn’t have to.” Both Jack and Max are surprise to hear Luke stand up for her.

“Awe Lukey finally got a soft spot for Maxie?” The eldest Hughes who met Max a few times before, teases Luke who is standing next to him by the grill.

“Fuck no she’s still annoying, I’m just tired of hearing Jack bitch and moan.” And just as fast as he arrived ,nice Luke was gone and was replaced with the normal hater Luke.

“Oh fight me you White crayon ass bitch,” Max flips Luke off while going back to her book. But she doesn’t miss the roar of laughter the plague the area in response to her comeback.

“I promise Maxie by the end of this week I will get you in the water.” Max ignores Jack’s seemingly harmless threat in order to keep her mind at peace but in reality her heart is racing at the thought of going in the water.

Max avoids the water for the next few days but of course fate wasn’t on her side.

It was the second to last day at the lake house before Max had to go back to Newark. She is back on the pier this time she is just talking to Jack who is telling her some childhood stories. Max had no suspicions of Jack’s plan until she feels herself being picked up from behind.

She looks at the culprit and sees a smiling Trevor who was looped into Jack’s plan.

“Trevor for the love of God I’m begging you, don’t throw me in that lake,” Panic fills Max as she tries pleading with Trevor. But the stupid boy doesn’t see the panic and laughs off her pleads.

“Sorry Maxie no can do.” Trevor runs to the end of the pier and before she knew it she was in the air falling down to her watery grave.

As Max hit the water, she was quickly thrown back into the memory of one of the worst days of her life.

Max loved water as a kid, growing up in Southern California, she was a classic mermaid loving girl. She actually dreamed of being a marine biologist. But one faithful day changed all of that.

Her father was rarely around in her childhood and for good reasons. He was an alcoholic with anger issues. So imagine her mother’s surprise to hear that Max and her little brother had been picked up early from school by their father.

The then 8 year old Max had no clue what was going on, but she was just happy to see her dad. What she didn’t know was the evil plan her father had. Now a lot of the small details are a blur to her , but she vividly remembers her father driving his car into the lake with her and her brother in the back seat.

Now she tried her best to pull her brother out of the water, but she was fighting against the raging current that kept pulling her back down into the water. The raging water and the strength she needed to save her brother was too much for her frail body and she ended up passing out from exhaustion before she could get out of the water.

When she woke up, she found out she was the only one to survive the crash.

Everyone head turns when they hear Max’s scream. It wasn’t a normal scream, it was one of pure fear. Everyone looks at the situation with confusion. Well everyone but Luke who run into action and runs to the end of the pier and dives in after Max.

Without thinking he grabs Max and pulls her to land.

“CPR she needs CPR.” Luke shouts panicking. Jack’s girlfriend, Sam, runs over to where Luke lays Max down at. Luckily Sam use to be a lifeguard and she has kept up to date on her cpr certification.

Luke leaves Max in Sam’s care before going over to his panicked brother. Luke shoves Jack.

“You should have fucking listened to her when she said fucking no Jack.” Luke shoves Jack even harder. “She can’t swim dumbass.”

“Hey it’s not his fault, she should have told him she couldn’t swim.” Trevor stands in between the brothers.

“No mean fucking no Trevor, she doesn’t have to tell us shit beyond no.” Luke now pushes Trevor, “You nearly killed her for what? Shits and giggles?”

Before anyone could say anything else, they hear violent coughing. Luke glares at Jack and Trevor once more before rushing to Max’s side.

“Luke? You saved me?” Max asks with a raspy voice. Luke simply gestures to Quinn who is holding a water bottle. Quinn understands and hands Luke the water. He helps Max drink. “How did you know?”

“About a month ago, I found you drunk in the hall,” Luke recalls.

Like had just came home from his late night gym session, when he sees a female figure sitting outside of his and Jack’s apartment door. He assumes it’s one of Jack’s weird stalker fans. But as he got closer he realized it was Max.

Now Luke has a crush on Max but the poor boy is a hopeless romantic. His failed attempts of flirting through teasing had came out ruder than he intended creating a bad impression towards Max. So when he sees the girl he likes, drunk at his door step he can’t help but be concerned.

“Max?” Luke puts down his gym bag when he hears the sobs coming from Max, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lukey’s birthday.” This statement confuses Luke since his birthday wasn’t til September and it was currently April.

“No my birthday is in September.” He sits next to Max and she automatically puts her head on his shoulder.

“Noooo my brother Lukas.” She slurs her words, “I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save my little brother.”

She tells Luke the story. Luke feels a mix of anger towards Max’s father as well as sympathy towards Max and her loss.

“I am such a bad person,” Max cries even louder, “If only I was stronger, my brother would have lived to turn 16.”

“Maxie it wasn’t your fault, you were 8,” Luke does his best to comfort the drunk girl, but he knows she probably can’t even hear him in her drunken state.

So he just holds her as she cries in the hallways until she passes out. He grabs her keys that were fortunately in her hands, and he carefully tucked her into her bed.

“God I thought that was a dream,” in that moment, Max think she would have preferred going back into the water than dealing with the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Awe you dream about me?” Max turns red and she quickly turns away from Luke, “Don’t worry I dream about you too, quite often actually.”

She snaps her head back at Luke in shock, “You do? But I thought you hated me.”

“I never hated you,” He says while running his hand in her wet hair, “I am just horrible at flirting.”

“Flirting? Why would you flirt with me,” She looks at Luke for a second before putting one and one together. “OHHHH, really?”

“Yeah unfortunately,” she shoves Luke with the little strength she has, “but we can talk about this later, let’s get you inside and warm.”

Luke picks Max up as the two ignore everyone else.

“Wait what the fuck you mean unfortunately? You fucking uncooked spaghetti noodle.”

[dadbodbuck]

does the swallow dream of flying?

Rating: G | WC: 1.6k | Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Summary:

Tommy calls Eddie after he breaks up with Buck. Eddie has some choice words for him. Coda for 8x06.

{ Read it here on Ao3! }

OR read below!

“Eddie,” Tommy says, voice hoarse on the other end of the line. He sounds—if not drunk, then so heartbroken it sounds like inebriation. “I wanted to—I’m calling to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s not quite sure if he means it the way he thinks he does, but his stomach almost falls out through the soles of his feet anyway. He sits bolt upright in bed, carefully extricating himself away from Buck, who’s doing his best impression of a endoparasite (“A parasite that lives on the skin of its host, Eddie, it’s really fascinating stuff—”) and somehow latched onto Eddie’s waist with an iron grip while also being dead asleep.

What little vestiges of sleep had been clinging to him fall completely away as he steps into his own hallway, quietly hissing, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I mean—at home?” Tommy says, confused, and okay, yeah, he’s definitely slurring his words a little, “Where else would I be?”

Eddie sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Are you going to be safe? Do I need to call someone?”

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Tommy assures him, “Sorry, I should have clarified. I’ll be okay. This is just… this is it. For us. Since Ev—since Buck and I broke up.”

“From what I heard, you’re the one who broke up with him,” Eddie huffs, “Or did I just spend the last three hours getting snot on my nice white shirt for a mutual thing?”

“This is what I mean!” Tommy insists, “He’s your best friend. I’m—I know I don’t rank that high. I just… fuck, I really enjoyed spending time with you these past six months. It’ll—it’ll always be,” a rough, shaky breath, “I’ll remember it fondly.”

Eddie feels a shocking flare of irritation, and it leads him out onto his back patio, so he knows he won’t wake Buck up. “What the fuck happened, man?”

“I had—I had to end it,” Tommy says, with a shake in his voice like a motorcycle’s death wobble, “It wasn’t going to last. If I didn’t pull the plug it would have broken me. I didn’t want to—I didn’t want it to get to the point where either one of us would get our hearts broken.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, neither one of you sound especially put together right now,” Eddie positively seethes, “He’s fucking gutted, Kinard. He told me—” (“I didn’t know if I loved him this morning, and then he called me Buck and I felt sick. What—what else could it be?”) “—well, he told me a lot that, frankly, I don’t think you should hear from anyone but him. And you don’t even know what you did to him because you ran! You didn’t even try—”

“Please stop,” Tommy says, sounding smaller than Eddie has ever heard him, “It’s… it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?” Eddie snaps.

“For him!” Tommy insists, “For both of us, but especially for him. I’m not the forever guy. I’m not his forever guy, and I’m not yours, either. I just want… I want a clean break. I—I want—”

There’s a sniffle, a choked-off sob, and Tommy says, “I just want to be left alone. It would hurt less if people would just leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s a shitty excuse, and you know it,” Eddie accuses, “Tommy, listen. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, I’m saying this because—despite the fact that you’re apparently the biggest idiot I’ve ever met—I care about you. I care about you outside of your relationship to Buck. Or did you forget the fact that you were my friend before you were his boyfriend?”

“So, what,” Tommy says, irritation seeping into his voice, “You want to keep talking to me? I know how that goes. You’ll text me every once in a while, we won’t hang out if Buck’s going to be there, so you’ll lose interest and our fun trips and sparring sessions will be fewer and further between, and it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt worse than this. Why do you think I’m doing this, Eddie? I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can keep myself sane.

“You want to know why? You want to know why I broke up with him? Because I woke up the morning of our anniversary and realized I was falling in love with him. I haven’t been able to eat. I haven’t been able to sleep. I—I realized I would let him do anything to me, and that’s not something I ever want to feel again. So I couldn’t. There—there’s your fucking answer. I broke up with him because a little heartbreak is better than ever letting myself get hurt like that ever again.”

The words kind of prickle at some sense in the back of Eddie’s brain. The anger fades a little, and into something a lot more like concern. “Hurt like what, Tommy?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to tell someone no once they’re in my life like that,” Tommy confesses through gritted teeth, “Maybe it’s my dad’s fault, maybe Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’s fault, maybe it’s just me. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended in me making the same mistake. I stayed too long, I let them—I let them believe I wanted to marry them, or I let them take out their anger on me, or I—I—other stuff. Evan—Buck doesn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” Eddie acquiesces, “He doesn’t. He deserves a partner who can communicate openly with him. Which you had been doing. You’re capable of being open, Tommy. You did it before.”

Tommy pauses on the other end of the line. “I—I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Did you want to break up with him?” Eddie presses.

“No,” Tommy says, easy as breathing, “Of course not. I want him around for the rest of my life. But that’s… selfish.”

“And breaking up with him because you don’t want to talk through something difficult and scary is so altruistic,” Eddie counters, “You know, there’s this thing Buck says about love—you don’t find it, you make it. I think he heard it on a scene we were at years ago. From this old gay couple, been together for decades and decades.”

Tommy’s quiet on the other end, and then Eddie hears the hitch of his breath. Tommy is sobbing, silent and restrained, but so hard the exhalation of breath sounds nearly painful.

(“I’m starting to think the curse wasn’t just Billy Boils. Maybe it’s me—I mean, I move into Abby’s place, and she leaves me. I pick out an apartment with Ali, and she leaves me. Taylor moves in, and she leaves me. And now this? I can’t… Eddie, I can’t keep doing this. I’m—maybe I’m just the guy who’s good for a fun time, not a long time. I—what am I doing wrong?”

“Buck, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think—do you think you could ever fall in love with me?”

“I think if I wasn’t this way, I already would have.”)

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Tommy,” Eddie says, “But I really think you should talk to him. Tell him where your head’s at. Buck’s really good at—at understanding why you hurt him, and he’s even better at forgiving.”

“I—I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Eddie insists, “So pull yourself together, do some box breathing, get some sleep, and come over to my house tomorrow. I’ll make my hangover cure. I’ll lock the doors if I have to.”

Tommy’s quiet, which Eddie interprets as a fully-blown panic attack.

“If you don’t, I will call Athena Grant,” Eddie threatens, “You don’t want to know the things she’s willing to do for Buck. I’ve seen her break at least three laws with my own eyes.”

This, at least, gets a laugh out of Tommy. “Okay—Jesus, yeah. What time?”

“If you’re not over here by nine I’m sending the cavalry,” Eddie says primly, “And bring flowers. Nobody’s ever gotten Buck flowers before.”

Tommy takes a slow, shaky breath out. “Thanks, Eddie. You didn’t—you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“Everyone always says Buck has a habit of worming his way into your heart, but nobody ever talks about me,” Eddie grins, “You’re stuck with me now, Kinard. Rain or shine. Even when you’re the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m on my way,” Tommy says, “I’ll—I should go eat some carbs and drink water now.”

“Take care of yourself, man,” Eddie says, “And don’t you ever call me to say goodbye again. Or break up with Buck like that. Also—call him Evan. It’s fucking weird to hear you call him Buck.”

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces, quiet. “Damn. I was so worried about falling in love with Evan that I didn’t even realize I already loved you.”

“I’m sneaky like that,” Eddie says, “I’ll see you tomorrow—or else.”

(The next day, Tommy knocks on the door at nine sharp. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, his hair is a mess, he looks too gaunt and the bags under his eyes could fit a small country. But he’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

“I got this one because they’re the same color as your eyes,” Tommy says to Buck, who stands in the living room with his mouth ajar.

“What’s going on right now?” Buck says, eyes darting over to Eddie suspiciously.

“I’m going on a walk,” Eddie says, putting his sunglasses on his forehead and twisting at the hips to pop his back, “Don’t fuck on any of my furniture.”)

[carlsangel]

EMBARRASSMENT

carl grimes x fem!reader

(negan embarrasses you and carl during the lineup.)

tags: i have no idear but negans in this one and he’s a BITCH

masterlist here!

The Lineup was the worst day of your life. Not only were you practically sobbing for half of it but you were also angry. You were angry, scared, and frustrated.

Before the lineup, you were helping pack up the RV, you were in charge of packing all the medicine and food that Maggie would need for the ride. You’d had a large bag of anything she’d need and you approached the RV and walked up the steps, heading to the bed in the back. You put it on the shelf and turn to leave to be met with Carl.

“Hey.” He puts a jug of water on the floor by the door. “Nervous?” You ask, knowing he’d not gone to Hilltop before and with the risk of the Saviors after the death of Denise, losing tons of people, he was worried. But he refused to show that. “No. Why would I be?” He mumbles, making his way back out of the RV and his tone sort of throws you off.

Before you can think of an answer, Rick instructs Carl to collect guns from the armory, and you decide to follow. You catch up to him and look at his expression, he seems different which is explanatory but you wanted details. “I was just thinking…you’d be worried since…the Saviors? Everything that happened.” You explain. He walks with a blank expression.

“I’m not nervous, I’m not letting it happen again. That’s why you’re not going.” You stop in your tracks and he slows down, looking back at you as if your reaction was unreasonable. “Excuse me?” He turns back around and continues walking. “Don’t just walk away, you can’t just tell me I can’t go.” You try and reason with himself, but he simply doesn’t wanna hear it. He continues walking to the armory.

In spite of that, you went home and started packing. Anything you’d need or anything important for the trip, you didn’t know how long you’d be staying at Hilltop.

When you left the house, you hopped down the stairs, noticing Sasha grabbing from the house’s cabinets. She stops you before you continue out the house. “What was all that about?” She questioned, you assume she and some others had seen what’d gone on with Carl earlier. It sort of threw everyone off, he was never that closed off with you.

You pause before thinking, trying to figure out what’d happened yourself. “I…that’s a good question.” You sort of chuckle embarrassingly, you were thrown off by his demeanor. “I’m sure it’s nothing, I think he’s just…upset about everything.” You continue. Sasha nods. “You’re still going?” She zips up her bag and throws it over her shoulder.

“He’s not stopping me.”

Which he didn’t, he tried his hardest to persuade you but you wouldn’t budge. You wanted to be there in case anything happened, most importantly you wanted to be there for Maggie. It took an entire argument for you to be able to get on the damn RV. “You know they’re out there. I can’t let anything happen to you.” While you understood where he was coming from, it seemed relatively hypocritical.

“You’re being ridiculous, when have we not been able to handle something? If anything happens, we’re getting out alive. I don’t care. I’m going.”

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

Unfortunately, you were in for a rude awakening. Maybe he was right, but you still wanted to be there. Be beside him during everything. You had to be, you had to see it all happen. He believed that as well. Maybe not for you, but he knew he had to see it.

This man, Negan seemed to be a total asshole, the way he had you all lined up for him, his cruel jokes. You had to admit he was a little funny, but now was definitely not the time. He’d been taunting you and the people you called your family for what felt like hours. He threatened you to no end, explaining how your life basically revolved around him now.

Negan paced back and forth, looking between you all. You were angry, you hadn’t cried yet but you were pissed, reasonably so. He was at the other end of the line when he looked in your direction. His sharp gaze made your stomach drop, you knew it was your turn. You look down for a moment as he walked over to you, swallowing hard before looking up at him like his presence was irritating, not terrifying.

He smiles as he approaches, immediately noticing the look in your eye. “Someone’s mad.” He chuckles, looking to the others while gesturing to you with Lucille. Despite your nerves, you were fairly irritated. Your knees felt like they were nailed to the ground, they hurt terribly and it only rubbed off on your attitude towards Negan. “How does a girl like you, get wrapped up with these kinds of people?” You tilt your head at him with a disgusted look. “You’re one to talk. This is my family.” You retort. He jokingly acts shocked at your rebuttal. “Well excuse me! The last time I checked, your people,” he puts Lucille in your face, “…killed a whole lot of my people, completely unwarranted.”

You knew it was bullshit. You knew about their agreement with Hilltop, the sixteen year old boy they killed. But you couldn’t say anything, not now. While Negan spewed bullshit, you looked to Carl for the first time since Negan had noticed you.

He was glaring at him. Something told you this wouldn’t go well, especially for Carl. He was going to say something but you didn’t know what. Negan noticed your attention strayed away from him, god knows he had to be the center of attention all of the time. This prompted him to put Lucille under your chin, directing you to look back at himself. Doing so, the barbed wire sliced the bottom of your chin open, causing you to wince slightly.

“What the hell are you getting out of this?” Carl exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention. You wipe the blood off your chin with your sleeve, staining the shirt you were wearing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you all hot n bothered.” Negan sympathized sarcastically. “Just leave her alone. Harassing her won’t do you any good.” Carl grimaces at Negan and he can’t help but laugh.

“Wow…” Negan smiles at Carl’s efforts to stick up for you, realizing that he could use it to break him. “So, I’m assumin you two are..well you know.” He suggests. You both look up at him with peevish looks. “I see why. You both got somethin in common.”

You look to Carl and he looks to you. You both avert your eyes back to Negan. “You’re both very, very easy to piss off. I imagine you’ve got a healthy relationship.” He taunts.

“I guess I’m just shocked you got a girl with that eye of yours, I bet you haven’t shown her what’s underneath that bandage huh?” Your eyes go wide at his comment. Carl doesn’t seem to react to it in any way, he was too angry. “The game you’re playing, it’s not gonna work.” Carl remarks. “You’re not gonna win.”

Negan kneels to Carl’s level, boring his eyes into his intently. The rage Carl felt gave him the urge to just kill Negan right there. That’d only get everyone else killed. “I guess we’ll find out.” Negan smirks before returning back to towering over the lot of you.

God, the embarrassment.

a/n: hey guys currently writing this very hungry. anyway i have a final tmr for english and im praying it goes well muehehe IVE BEEN STRUGGLING TO FIND THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE but tomorrow is my last day of school so you guys will get me for about two months HAHAH you’re gonna be so sick of me. also, don’t be worried to send requests even if you think they’re bad, half the time they’re really good so keep sendin them!

taglist: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ugh I love your content, yandere marvel just gets met going like for real.

Okay so I would want to request platonic yandere hank maccoy x reader, this man is so under rated and I love him so much

SAVIOR COMPLEX

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Hank Maccoy x Fem!reader

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

warnings ⸺ mdni! Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, Fluff, invasion of privacy, scars, delusion, Angst, ¿OOC Hank? Idk, fights, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

sinopsis ⸺Hank McCoy, the charismatic and brilliant mutant known for his intelligence and imposing appearance, hides a dark and possessive side that emerges after falling in love. His devotion to his beloved is unwavering, leading him to obsess over her well-being and safety. While his love seems genuine and protective, his need for control becomes evident in every decision he makes: restricting her freedom, driving away anyone who might threaten their relationship, and marking her with traces that demonstrate his dominance. Every smile you give him is a reminder of his fervent desire to keep you by his side, but behind his sweet facade lies a palpable fear of losing you that consumes him and transforms him into an unyielding lover.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish — Well, it took me a while to upload this, but not out of laziness or anything concerning; I just went on vacation for a week to explore a bit, and since I was going to many places, I couldn't write due to exhaustion. But here is the request. Once again, I apologize for the delay.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... remembers the first moment he saw you as if it were yesterday. You arrived at the mansion, trembling and wrapped in a thin white blanket that barely covered your battered body. Outside, it was raining, and the drops tapped against the windows in the silence. Your sobs mingled with the echo of thunder. Your eyes, swollen from crying, searched for some trace of comfort in that strange and gloomy place. He felt a pang in his chest but kept a prudent distance. He knew that his appearance could be intimidating. But one of the mutants who had brought you asked him to take care of you while he went to find help.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... sat down next to you with a mix of shyness and concern. He watched you in silence, searching for the right words to comfort you. However, every time he tried to say something, your only response was sobs. Until, unexpectedly, you cuddled against his chest. He felt your body tremble against his, and his heart began to race. In that instant, he decided he would do everything in his power to protect you. No one would hurt you again.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... grew fond of you as he helped you in your recovery. He spent nights in the lab, mixing ointments and designing specific treatments for your wounds. Every time he placed the bandage on your skin, he noticed how his fingers trembled slightly, feeling a mix of tenderness and a fervent desire to be your only protector. The night you tearfully told him about your kidnapping and the trials that had turned you into a mutant, his heart hardened. A dark spark was born within him. "No one should go through that," he whispered, taking your hand. No one would touch you without his permission.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... enjoyed showing you every corner of the garden. "This place is our little refuge," he said, and you noticed how his eyes grew increasingly intense when he fixed them on you. He showed you the most hidden nooks, the secret places only he knew. "Here, we are alone," he murmured softly, while you only thought it was a kind gesture. For him, however, it was a statement: his promise that no one else would know you like he did.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... organized private dinners with you every night, a perfect excuse to have you all to himself. He lit the table with candles, and his smile seemed kind and warm. "It's perfect, isn't it?" he would ask as he served you. His eyes locked onto you every time you laughed, and in those moments, a dark satisfaction washed over him. No one else could make you smile like that. No one else could make you feel safe like he did.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... became your confidant. He never let a night pass without inviting you to talk, encouraging you to share your fears and dreams. "I will always be here for you," he whispered, and you simply nodded, grateful for his company. But every time you mentioned someone else, whether in a trivial story or in simple conversation, you noticed how his gaze darkened slightly. Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel an overprotective presence in his words, but you always attributed those thoughts to your imagination.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... felt a burn in his chest the day he saw you talking to another mutant, laughing, as if you could trust someone other than him. He approached and forced a smile. "Who is he?" he asked, keeping a casual tone, but feeling his insides boil with jealousy. When you told him he was "just a friend," he couldn't help but tense up. No one was "just a friend" to you.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... decided he had to act. He couldn't risk losing you. So, when that "friend" of yours got involved in an unfortunate accident during a training session, no one suspected Hank. He watched as they took him to the medical wing, with a dark sense of triumph pulsing in his chest. Now no one would come between you.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... always found an excuse to be near you. Every time you entered the lab, he was there, offering you help or even preparing new "experimental" treatments that ensured he saw you often. "I don't want you to feel lonely," he said, and in his voice, you could perceive something between sweetness and a strange pressure that you couldn't quite define.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... finally, one night under the stars, mustered the courage to confess his feelings to you. "You are everything to me," he whispered in an almost reverent tone, taking your hand and squeezing it. "No one else can take that place. No one else would understand the love I feel for you." His eyes, shining under the moonlight, looked at you with an intensity that seemed to possess you.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... gradually moved you into his room, first arguing that it would be easier for him to supervise your recovery. "So you can rest and not have to wander the halls at night," he explained softly, holding your hand with a mix of affection and a barely perceptible pressure. At first, he placed an extra bed next to his, assuring you it was just temporary. But night after night, he began to inch closer, until it became a routine to share his bed. You slept together as if you were a married couple already, and although you never spoke of it directly, Hank acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In the mornings, he would wrap his protective arm around you, holding you close while whispering, "You know? Here, in my arms, I feel like nothing could harm you." It was in those moments of silent intimacy that Hank allowed himself to imagine a future where you were his wife, his companion forever, someone whom the other X-Men would recognize as his.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... adored seeing how the other X-Men began to treat you with the same respect and deference they had for him, but now with a nuance indicating that you were someone special to Hank. He noticed the respectful glances from his teammates when you appeared by his side, and that filled his heart with a dark and possessive pride. You are mine, he thought, feeling a strange satisfaction in seeing how others accepted you in that role without questioning it. With every gesture, every smile, every knowing glance from the others, Hank felt that his dream of marrying you was ever closer to becoming a reality.

Yandere Hank McCoy who...ensured that you were comfortable and protected in his bed every time you cried from nightmares. Some nights, you would wake trembling, reliving the traumas of the past or the dangerous missions you had experienced. He would hold you tightly, cradling you against his chest, his claws gently stroking your back in an attempt to calm you. "I'm here, love. No one will hurt you," he would whisper in a hoarse voice, allowing the weight of his own body and presence to soothe your fears. In those moments, his thoughts intertwined with an intense concern and a need to protect you from everyone, even from life itself outside those walls.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... felt a deep desire to be with you in every way, but at the same time feared his own mutation. He knew that within him existed a bestial ferocity that he always tried to control. He didn't want that side of him to scare you or hurt you in a moment of intimacy. So, as much as he longed to consummate his love for you, he held back, caught between his yearning and the fear of losing control. Every night, his thoughts revolved around this internal struggle, and he often woke up in a cold sweat, desperately wishing he could love you without reservations.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... suffered deeply the day you returned injured from a Sentinel attack. It wasn't your first mission, but when he saw you stagger through the door of the mansion, supported by Ororo and covered in wounds, something within him broke. He rushed to you, his gaze tinged with desperation, holding you tightly as he took you to the infirmary. His voice trembled as he said, "You shouldn't have gone out, I shouldn't have let you go... Oh God, what would have happened if you hadn't come back?" For days, he stayed by your side, caring for each of your wounds, tormented by the idea of losing you. That experience convinced him that you would never be in danger again as long as he could prevent it.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... forbade you from going on missions after that incident. "I don't want you to suffer again," he told you, with an intensity that made it clear there was no room for negotiation. In his mind, this was the only way to protect you. He offered you an alternative, one he considered much safer and more satisfying: to become a teacher for the young mutants. Teaching them basic skills, stories of famous mutants, and values, always within the safety of the mansion. "This way you can use your abilities without risking yourself," he explained, making sure the idea seemed an act of care and not control.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... began to fantasize about the idea of having a family with you. Watching you interact with the children, hearing you laugh and care for them with such tenderness awakened a deep desire in him, a vision of a future where you and he shared something more. His relentless and obsessive mind began to draw images of children who would inherit both your sweetness and his intellect. He didn't want a large family, but a small one he could call his. In his vision, you would always be under his care, in the safety of the home he would build for you. Thus, night after night, Hank dedicated himself to his dreams and the obsession of protecting you, as his love grew darker and more possessive. Every time he held you while sleeping, his barely audible whisper sealed his intentions: "Nothing and no one will separate us, love. This is our destiny."

Yandere Hank McCoy who... finally gathered the courage to propose to you one special night. He had organized a dinner where several young X-Men, like Jubilee, Kitty, and Bobby, were present to celebrate with you. Everything had to be perfect, or at least that was his hope. But, as was customary among the young, the evening was somewhat chaotic. There were laughs, jokes, and some accidents with the food, details that could have irritated him on any other occasion. However, that night he was so focused on you, on your laughter and your smile, that nothing else mattered. At the end of dinner, with trembling hands and a gaze filled with an almost unsettling devotion, Hank knelt before you. He still remembered the pressure in his chest as, with a voice laden with emotion, he said, "Will you marry me?" Time seemed to stand still as everyone present watched, holding their breath. When you whispered a tearful "yes," Hank felt as if the entire universe was finally in harmony. He wrapped you in his arms, and that night he felt that his life finally made sense: you were his forever.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... couldn't wait another moment and soon begged Nightcrawler to marry them, eager to formalize what he considered the most sacred bond of his life. “Kurt... please, make it official,” Hank implored, his voice trembling but resolute. Kurt, holding a special license to officiate, observed the intensity in Hank's gaze. Although he had certain reservations, he agreed, touched by Hank's insistence and the depth of his feelings—or what appeared to be love— The ceremony was simple, with their mutant friends and colleagues gathered around. As you exchanged vows, Hank looked at you as if you were the light he had been seeking all his life. When the final "yes" escaped your lips, his heart surged with a potent blend of euphoria and obsession. At last, he knew, no one else could claim you, no one could approach you without his permission. You were his in both body and soul, bound to him for eternity, and he would do anything necessary to keep it that way.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... after the wedding, let his possessive and dark side flourish without restrictions. He no longer tried to hide it; every time someone approached you, he would step in with a cold glare and a low growl in his throat. At first, he only intervened subtly, but over time, he began to visibly push everyone away from you, ensuring that no other man or woman dared to even look at you with interest. The confidence with which he distanced you from any conversation or group began to unsettle you, and when you tried to discuss it with him, he would only hold you tightly, whispering reassuring words but filled with an unbreakable authority: "You are mine... I don't need to share you with anyone."

Yandere Hank McCoy who... every night, when you were with him in intimacy, let that wild side he worked so hard to hide from the rest of the world out. His need to possess you became physical, and he didn't hide the pleasure of seeing you marked with his imprints: light bruises and scratches that he saw as proof that you were his and no one else's. In those moments, his voice turned deep and dominant, his words a mix of promises and warnings: "Never forget that you belong to me, and you are mine." Although you said yes to calm him, in your mind doubts and a silent fear accumulated, fearing that this side of him would grow more than you could bear. It no longer mattered that he took you in his beastly body; he knew you loved him, so he made love to you fiercely while your nails scratched his blue back.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... began to control every aspect of your life, limiting your outings and ensuring that if you had to interact with anyone else, it was under conditions he could supervise. He only allowed you to go out on special occasions and under his watchful eye. He came to fantasize about the idea of taking you to a secluded place, away from everyone, where you could live together, where he could make love to you without fear of you crying out in pleasure, away from prying eyes. Often, he spent sleepless nights considering the possibility, imagining a life where you only existed for him, where no one else could come between his love.

In his moments of deepest obsession, he would hold you tightly while whispering, "One day, my love, we will have everything we've always desired. You will be only mine, and together, nothing and no one will be able to separate us."

A/N ─── I made it very short, but I wanted to try new things. I’m not sure if you like it when I add a bit of light NSFW to the headcanons; if so, please let me know in the comments. I’m trying to experiment a bit with different styles and themes, so your opinion would be very valuable to me.

Hank needs love ♡ I really like his personality and appearance; he's my guilty pleasure u.u Sometimes I feel a little bad about how much I admire him, but at the end of the day, we all have our secrets, right? His mix of intelligence, loyalty, and that dark side that occasionally peeks through fascinates me. I'm excited to explore more of him in my writing. Don’t forget to leave your comments because I want to know what you think and what you would like to read more of in the future.

Thank you for your constant support; it means the world to me. Love you all!

Feel free to ask me anything if you want. Just go to my profile and message me; I always read your ideas and requests.

Take a Bath!

[barrackspredator]

Run for Your Life

Bowers Gang x Reader

Summary: fem!reader is being hunted down after discovering who’s been making the kids in town go missing

TW: Murder, blood, implied rape, violence, weapons, death, some small gore I suck at writing. Don't expect this to be amazing. note: as I finish writing this I realize how much I despise dark themes. oh well, I already wrote it. Also, yeah the title is stupid. It's okay.

“: ̗̀➛did you really think we would just let you off the hook so easily?‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ”

Seeing them shove that body into the quarry was the beginning of the end.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been if you had simply made a break for it as soon as you saw it, but how could you? Seeing the mutilated body of Chase Foreman was quite the sight to see, a sight so mesmerizing that your feet had cemented themselves to the ground. Any will to run or scream was paralyzed as your mind screamed at you to escape.

It was only after Belch Huggins had thrown Chase’s body off the edge of the cliff that you found the strength to turn around. But when you did, you were immediately slammed to the ground by Patrick Hockstetter’s hard chest.

"Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to spy?"

Patrick's sarcastic, shrill laughter of joy rang through your ears as he kneeled down beside your body, his knee pressing between your thighs. A large rotting Cheshire grin was on display before your very eyes, the smell of cigarettes assaulting your senses.

Your mouth opened pathetically, ready to sputter out any excuse to spare your life as tears threatened to spill out. Patrick, however, wordlessly put his fingers to your lips, softly shushing you in an oddly soothing way—as soothing as someone like him could sound.

"Don't fret, little bitch. I'll make sure to finish you off quickly. But what's the harm in a little fun?"

His dimly lit face turned up, looking behind her. The moonlight revealed the dirt and blood smeared across his face, casting a sinister glow on the deranged psychopath. Panicked footsteps crunched against dirt and gravel. A shadow came over Patrick and his grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Just make this quick, Hockstetter." It was Belch Huggins' worried voice coming from behind her. The crunching of dirt and gravel signaled a third presence.

"What's the fun in making this one quick?" Victor Criss mused as he knelt down behind you. He leaned over your shoulder before abruptly gripping your neck, pulling you back into his chest as he observed your face. A choked sob escaped your lips as you gasped for air, while his fingers tightened around you. "She's a looker. Got a pretty mouth too..." Victor trailed off, his tone filled with dark intent. Another shrill giggle came from Patrick as he climbed on top of your body, watching your eyes roll back into your skull.

"I like the way you're thinking, Vic." Patrick suddenly tore Victor's hand off of you, making the blonde grunt in irritation "But if I'm gonna fuck her, I want her to be awake." He looked down at you with that same grin, grabbing your jaw as you pathetically gasped for air. "Isn't that right, little bitch? You better look me in my eyes when I'm inside you."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Henry stood over the boys, watching with disinterest as Patrick eye-fucked the witness to their crime.

"Yeah, yeah." Patrick brushed off Henry's comment. "You're one to talk, Bowers. All high mighty 'cause you never stick it into our girls, huh?"

Henry's eyes trained on Patrick as his nostrils flared. His hands jutted out, lifting Patrick off of you by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to me that way, you goddamn pervert. One more word and I'm making you the next kid on a poster."

Patrick only grinned at Henry's empty threats. "You wouldn't dare get your pretty little hands dirty. That's my job." He had made it a point to get in Henry's face, enjoying how Henry's eyebrow would twitch in irritation. If there was one thing Patrick was good at, it was getting under Henry's skin. His comments had challenged Henry's masculinity, and for this crime, Patrick would pay the price.

It had all happened in mere seconds. Patrick’s body was slammed down, his head violently bouncing off the ground before hitting cold earth. Gasping sharply, he tried to recover the breath Henry had knocked out of him. Henry loomed over Patrick, straddling him with clenched fists. Patrick’s defiant laughter rang in the tense silence, his breath ragged as he laughed at Henry’s pathetic attempt.

Without hesitation, Belch lunged forward, ripping Henry off, while Victor rushed to Patrick’s side. Despite their lack of genuine concern for each other, the gang all understood their unspoken rule: no turning on each other.

Henry kicked and flailed like an enraged toddler as Belch manhandled him. "Get off of me! I ain't gonna hurt 'em!" He shouted, shoving Belch away and kicking dirt in Patrick's direction. The dirt hit Victor in the face, causing the blonde to sputter, spitting out any dirt that got into his mouth.

"What the fuck?" Victor complained, wiping his mouth repeatedly. The blood on his long-sleeve had now smeared across his lips, a stark contrast between his pale skin and the crimson streaks. Henry's rage had moved from Patrick to Victor, sneering at the smaller blonde.

On that cold earth, you laid there motionless, watching the boys through your peripherals. You felt a strange sense of joy when Patrick was thrown to the floor, and an even greater relief washed over you when the boys left you behind to break up the cat-fight. Your body was flooded with fear and adrenaline, and your mind went into overdrive, thrust into a survival mode you had never felt before.

Without a second thought, you pushed yourself off the ground, sprinting into the woods surrounding the quarry. Your absence hadn't gone unnoticed, and as soon as you made it into the woods, shouting ensued. Twigs and leaves crunched under your feet, drowning out the sounds of the boys chasing after you.

The boys you had known since childhood—whom you watched grow up as you went from playing with toys together to wanting to play together—were now hounding you like rabid wolves.

As you ran, a gunshot went off. You flinched violently, causing the bullet to only graze your flesh. Instinctively, your hand shot up to grasp your barely bleeding cheek in shock. "What the fuck!?" you screamed, your legs pumping faster.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the distance in between you and the boys widened, giving you the advantage momentarily. Ducking under thick foliage, you followed a mini trail that would lead you to the barrens. With limited light, you ran blindly through dense woods. Branches and logs snapped against your face, pulling at your clothes, and threatening to trip you as you raced forward.

The shouting continued to follow you, except now it had split. Wicked voices bellowed at you from the surrounding trees, and with the dim light you could hardly tell what was coming from where. Your head tilted up, trying to gauge the sky from the trees, but it was entirely pitch black aside from the twinkling of stars and a melancholy moon.

"I'm coming to get you, little bitch!"

This time the voice was right beside you. Whipping your head to the right, you saw Patrick Hockstetter running, a wild grin on his face as he tried to swoop in closer, weaving through trees to get on your path. You swerved to the left, only to be greeted once more.

"You can't run forever, slut!"

It was Victor Criss this time, his baggy clothing whipping through the wind as he grasped a knife tightly in his right hand. He was weaving in towards you, both boys working together to trap you in between them. Your legs were aching and sweat drenched every inch of your body, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Victor swiped his knife at you, nicking you in the stomach. A gut-wrenching scream followed as you felt the blade run across your tender flesh. Your hand immediately pressed itself against the bleeding wound, trying to stem the flow. Patrick's laughter drowned out your screams, his voice filled with eagerness as he closed in on you. His arms reached out, desperately trying to latch on.

“Fucking grab her already!” Henry’s voice roared from behind Patrick, filled with a frenzied intensity. His eyes locked onto you like a mad bull. He drew the pistol from his belt, aiming it in your direction. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, your cramping legs pushed harder, desperately propelling you forward.

The bullet darted out, intent on killing. You instinctively shut your eyes but it never came. Victor's body collapsed on your left, abandoned as the group continued the chase.

"Fuck!" Belch wailed, maneuvering past Victor's corpse.

"Nice aim, moron!" Patrick taunted Henry with another shrill giggle. Henry only roared out in frustration. Your eyes were wide, body racked with fear and oddly enough, guilt. But you kept on going anyway, better Victor than you.

With ringing ears, you weaved through dense foliage and never-ending trees, feeling as though you were in a relentless loop. The constant barrage of Patrick’s taunts and Henry’s angry roars only added to your despair. You wanted to give up. To just collapse like Victor had on the cold earth and rest. God, death just seemed so tempting.

Something you feared for years suddenly seemed so desirable. And wrapped up in these thoughts of sweet death, you had hardly taken notice that Belch Huggins had swung his axe at you, lodging itself into your shoulder blade.

"Fuck!" You bellowed as the blade was pulled back. Your left arm dangled pathetically, blood oozing out as tendons strung your arm to your body. Immense pain took over and you collapsed, screaming as you cradled your arm.

The three boys stalked towards you, watching you intensely. Your sobs echoed through the trees, birds scattering out of trees hearing your screams of agony.

"Fuck, just kill me already!" You pleaded, tears streaming down your face. Belch solemnly crouched down beside you, a look of guilt on his face.

"Don’t take this personally…" he mumbled, glancing down at your bloody arm. Your eyes locked onto his, and you whimpered softly. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but remember Belch’s kindness from long ago—how he had always been a big sweetheart, even back in kindergarten when you’d share a nap blanket. What happened to that kind soul?

Your eyes lowered to your arm, bile creeping up your throat until you couldn't help but pathetically keel over and vomit. Henry scowled, letting out an annoyed scoff while he panted heavily.

"Good going, tubby." Patrick sneered at Belch. "I can't enjoy her rockin' body when her arm is all fucked up. That's why we wait to cut them up after I've already dumped my load." The psychopath scoffed at this inconvenience, disregarding your dying body as just another dumpsite.

"Shut the fuck up," Belch mumbled, shooting a glare at Patrick. His attention moved back towards you, noticing how you were starting to fade away. He removed his flannel, gingerly put it over your body. He especially was trying to cover your arm. "I really didn't mean for this to happen," he whispered as he covered you.

Henry scoffed, "Don't tell me you're sweet on a dying girl."

Patrick snickered, nudging Belch. "The guilt getting you again, big guy?" His taunting laughter filled your ears.

Your eyes slowly rolled up to stare at the burly axe-wielding bully. With a small scoff, you groaned softly again. "Just fucking kill me..."

"If it's what you want," Henry grumbled, beyond annoyed that he had to run for so long. "Fuck, that's what we've been trying to do this entire time. Dumb bitch." He cocked his gun, aiming it at your head.

"Any last words?" Patrick cooed, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. His gaze darted back and forth between you and the gun, a dark smile stretching across his face. The anticipation in his voice was almost palpable.

You forced a sneer, even as your vision blurred to white.

"Yeah, fuck you," you rasped, your voice trembling.

The gunshot rang out, its echo a brutal punctuation to the silence that followed.