#i already hate reaching out but god damnit

[lynxgirlpaws]

>Consider reaching out to ask how other trans girls deal with the intense self hating brainworms

>Remember everyone I know looks great and sounds great

So what now? We just sitting here or .

[dinogoofymutated]

Morph/GN!Reader It's a little late, and super short and not that in-depth, but I'll be honest, I've been on the struggle bus lol. I feel that Practical magic might have to hold on until after october, as I really want to post the secret surprise guest fic on halloween day and I'm worried I wont have enough time if not. Don't worry though! It should still be posted eventually.

You’ve always considered the rumors about your family’s witchy and magical past to be fictional, absolute nonsense. Well, you did, until you found yourself accidentally bound to someone who’s more or less your familiar. Neither of you particularly wants this, so you focus on whatever magical skills you managed to inherit on breaking the bond- but is that really what you want?

TWs: Incredibly inaccurate witchcraft and magic, misunderstandings, I'll add more if I think of any.

    “And you’re sure this will work?” You sigh at the sound of the voice, Morph sitting on your counter and kicking their feet back and forth as they watch you draw a chalk symbol on the floor. The lines are crooked and the symbol a little wonky, but it looks close enough to the one you saw on Google- you think.

    “Nope.”

    It’s been almost a week since the universe decided that you needed a new problem on your hands. One day you’re joking about the supposed magical past of your family line, then the next day you’re waking up at midnight to heavy vertigo, bright lights, and something- someone in your house. Not only had you jinxed yourself, you had put yourself through some kind of horror movie by walking through the dark house and faceplanting directly into a pale, lanky creature that you were sure you'd seen on some horror forum in the 2010s. Only, they weren’t just some creature. They were your creature. Your familiar, apparently. Like, witchy familiar- like black cats or owls or other creatures of the night- only you got stuck with a Changling, one who wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation, having enjoyed hundreds of years of freedom since being bound to another magic-user.

    “Really starting to doubt that you're an actual witch, you know.” They hum, hopping down from the counter and stretching their arms. You let out a long groan, running your hands through your hair before you plop down on one side of the circle.

    “That’s because I’m not!” You say, exasperated. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing- and if anything I would expect the Fae-born changling to know more about this!” Morph only shrugs, which only aggravates you further.

    “Don’t hate the player, rookie, hate the game.”

    “Would you please sit down already?” 

    The instructions you follow make you feel stupid. You had everything that the “spell” or whatever it was required, but it was just so… cheesy. Every step you follow feels stereotypical and fake. You’re a hundred percent sure that it probably wasn't exactly common for witches and whatnot to sever the magical bond between themselves and their familiars,  but this wasn't really an average situation. You don’t want to use magic, or be a witch! And Morph doesn’t want to be stuck to you either! You can already see the hopeful glimmer in their eyes as the chalk circle begins to glow,  the writing on the sheet of paper you were using to guide you quickly following suit. The air begins to feel staticky, charged with magical energy. There’s a buzzy feeling underneath your skin, and the tension in the air begins to grow as the tea candles on the counter go out suddenly. There’s a moment of anticipation, and then a flash of blinding light. You close your eyes at the bright shine, feeling the buzzy feeling die down. There’s a silence in the air, and when you finally open your eyes… Morph is still there, tapping their fingers against the wood floor. They look a little disappointed, before giving you a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. 

    “Soooo, should we order takeout tonight?”

    “God damnit.”

    You go grocery shopping instead. While you're in the store, Morph is really helpful. You’ve only known them a day or two, but they are certainly living up to their title. You don’t really have to ask for help very much, sometimes they just do things you need, and other times you do ask them to do something (stupid tall shelves) and it’s almost like compassion for them to fulfill your requests. You don’t like that. Morph is still smiling, but you don’t think they like it either.

    Morph is… strange. Not in a regular way- and the constant changing and taking on new forms isn't exactly news to you, besides the fact you had been so sure changelings usually take on a single shape, but then again you didn’t exactly do a ton of research on that kind of mythology. You’re starting to think you should have, but that's aside from the point. Morph is actually really nice, and funny, and always manages to find a way to make you laugh. There are moments when it just feels so authentic and others that feel… hollow, almost. 

    As nice as it was to have company, the quest for a spell to sever the bond between you continued. Morph helps you find spellbooks at the library you had never known existed, stayed up late with you to find herbs and fungus that only grew at night, helped you make breakfast and drank wine with you on the weekends before laughing with you until morning. Months go by of this, and despite every failed spell or ritual, the air between you only settles, both of you relaxing into a new comfortable energy. They’re less stiff than they used to be, you noticed. they’re less afraid to make mistakes, and more likely to join you for company. 

    Eventually, Morph tells you about their sinister first master- if you can call the bastard that. It’s a serious moment, one you’re not likely to forget, but afterward, you find a new kind of appreciation for how comfortable they were in your home, and with you.

    From then on, things between you… change a bit. Something shifts. Morph is a lot more touchy with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, draping themselves across you on the couch. Their jokes come off more genuine and less stiff- less of a defense than they were before. There’s newfound mutual trust, one that you start to enjoy.

    …But they still had to go home, right?

    You feel like every step closer you get to having the perfect spell mastered, something goes wrong. All these little nitpicky things that you had overlooked time and time again begin to wear on you, and with your growing fondness for Morph, it wears you down a little. You want them to say, but you don’t want to keep them here. Not against their wishes. Additionally, your new spellbooks and supplies-  hell, even the crystals you owned before any of this magic stuff surfaced had gone missing. You go to try another attempt, and time and time again, after not being able to find the key components you knew you had, you gave up and waited for another day. And then when you would find what you needed, something else would be missing instead. You have never felt so forgetful then you did while searching the house and having to get Morph to help you- because it really had to be you misplacing things, right?

    What was stranger was that Morph didn’t really care. They would laugh about it and shrug their arms and lightly make fun of you, but never made you feel too bad about it. You had felt so guilty every single time, knowing that you were keeping them here due to your own thoughtlessness- and the fact that you enjoyed them being here only made the guilt worsen. 

    Eventually, the time finally came when this foolproof spell you had been working on for so long was ready. 

    The room is lit by candles, the chalk on the floor almost glowing against the dark wood. There’s a small fire in the center of the circle, various crystals and things placed around in strategic patterns, and the air is buzzing with magic. You’ve recited these words so many times at this point you had it memorized, so focused on wrapping the twine rope to bind yourself and Morph’s wrists together you hardly see the way their face shifts, looking paler than ever. 

    “Are you sure this is going to work this time?” Morph asks, an unsteady tone to their voice. 

    “Well, we’ll know if the fire-” You don’t even have to finish your reply, as soon as the twine has been fully wound, only a string hanging down in the middle, the fire shifts in color, a wave of magic sweeping the room and every other candle and flame following suit. You look around in surprise, with this being the first time you’ve ever had that kind of reaction. It feels… good. The magic beneath your skin, the power and control you have over the elusive spell at your fingertips. And yet, you still can’t bring yourself to smile. 

    The fire beneath your wrists stretches, the flame flickering up to lick at the twine that hangs between you. This kind of flame won't burn the skin, only the rope, you remind yourself as you anxiously watch the fire grow. You can’t hear anything over your heart pounding in your ears, the twine burning slowly before it begins to pick up in speed. A wind begins to pick up in the room, candles flickering as the magic seems to become sucked into the binding as it burns. You’re too focused to really pay attention to Morph’s growing discomfort, but time is ticking, and you look up at them expectantly when they must speak their half of the spell, taking their power back for themself and rescinding your use of it.

    “Morph?” They don’t respond to their name, eyebrows furrowed as the flame burns more and more of the rope. You finally notice how nervous they look, heaving breaths and shaking shoulders. It’s all moving so fast, and they’re running out of time. The flame completely overtakes the twine when Morph suddenly shifts the size of their wrist, yanking it out of the binding. All of the air is sucked out of the room, the magic following suit as every flame returns to its normal color, and you can’t help but let out a screech as your wrist begins to burn. 

    “Shit! Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry.” Morph is rambling.  You’re desperately trying to get the rope off as they race off to the side, grabbing the bucket of emergency water you kept just in case something went wrong. You call their name in frustration, tears dotting your eyes as they grab your hands and plunge it into the water, quenching the fire.

    “Please, just don’t be mad!” They beg, but it’s a little late for that. Your growing anger is only amplified by the unbearable pain from the burn on your wrist.

    “Of course I’m mad!” You shout. “How can I not be?!” Tears are finally beginning to roll down your cheek, from the pain or the anger, you didn’t know. Morph is becoming frantic, running back over to the side to grab the first-aid kit before sitting down with it. You can’t bring yourself to take your wrist out of the cool water. They can’t seem to decide the best way to help you, either, hands reaching out to wipe your tears but retracting before they can touch your face.

    “I can’t- I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

    “Why didn’t you just tell me?!” The words come out like a shout, and Morph flinches, looking ashamed. 

    “Do you have any Idea how hard this was for me?” You sob. “-To tap into whatever magic bullshit this all is, do all of these rituals and spells and have each one of them fail? Having to prepare myself for you to leave me over and over again?!” There’s a second of silence, Morph looking at you wide-eyed.

    “What?” Morph breathes, in absolute shock, still hovering by your side. You scoff at the question, taking your wrist out of the water to weakly punch at their chest.

    “You’re such an oblivious asshole!” Your arms are around them before they have a second to react, burning your face into their shoulder. Morph is frozen, stiff under you like they still haven't fully processed what was happening. You continue to cry into them, sobs and hiccups slowing while they begin to relax, wrapping their arms around you and burying their face into your hair.

    “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to stay?” The words are whispered and broken, but Morph only holds you tighter.

    “I… I thought you wanted me to go.” Morph mumbles. You shake your head, only curling into them further. They hold you back just as tight, and you know that the relief you’re feeling is mutual. 

    You sit together for a long, teary-eyed moment, breathing each other in.

    “So…” Morph breaks the silence. “Takeout?” You laugh, and it’s possibly the greatest sound they've ever heard.

    “Hell yeah.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The All-Star Game

Batter Up Chapter 5

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: This is not how Joel wanted to spend his All-Star Game, at least you make the best of it for him. Warnings: smut, fluff, family dynamics, nurse/patient roleplay in the shower, oral (m receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex (reader has a previously discussed IUD... be safe), a doctor mistakes reader for Joel's wife. Words: 4,900

A/N: Been fighting writer's block, twelve hour work days, and total brain fry. Thank you for being so patient with my lack of updating folks. Not gonna lie, I read through my first piece Golden Walkway earlier and was like "how TF is my first ever ff/smut piece that good?!" while I'm absolutely banging my head against the keyboard trying to write out four sentences tonight. The biggest shout out to @frannyzooey for filling my Google Doc with notes and simplifying my gobbledegook. I absolutely do not feel worthy of your kindness. *insert Wayne's World not worthy GIF*

Masterlist Series Masterlist Playlist

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 1 Travel Day For All-Stars

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

“God damnit,” Joel growls. “Why do I always forget that that’s your damn alarm?”

“Mmph, it works. Wakes me up.” You sit up and stretch before reaching to pick up your phone.

The same phone you stared at while willing yourself to sleep, attempting to ignore the circling "what ifs" of the dreaded conversation you knew you had to have with your parents, only able to do so after focusing on the soothing sound of Joel's breathing.

You get up, slip on his shirt and crack open the curtains letting the morning sun peek in. 

“Guess I should look at my phone, hm?” Joel slowly sits up and settles his back on the pillows while you readjust, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the tired crinkles that line the sides as he lets out a rumbly yawn.

“Might be a good idea, I’m sure Sarah wants to talk with you.” Running a hand through his sleep tousled hair, you give him a kiss.

“Called her on the way home yesterday, let her know not to worry and that I’d be fine without her.” He sighs. “I think she knows I have somebody.”

“Hm. I didn’t want to get into it this soon, but I’m going to have to talk to my mom at least. She knows I’m here in Philly and I didn’t get on my flight.”

“Well, shit,” he grimaces. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be good. I texted her saying I’m fine and I’d talk to her tomorrow. Just nervous, but at this point, there’s no going back…they were already going to find out today. So instead of doing it in person, I’m just going to have to do it over the phone.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” His hand grabs yours and squeezes it.

“We will, I just want to have a nice morning with you, I'll deal with them after lunch.”

“But first, coffee?”

“But first, coffee.”

——

“Well, here goes,” you dial your mom’s number and hit the green phone circle. She picks up after two rings. Crap.

“Hey mom,” you nervously swallow, trying to sound chipper. Joel’s hand soothingly pets your back, grounding you. 

“Hi sweetie, what’s happening? Your dad and I are very confused.”

“Yeah, um about that, is dad with you?”

“He is… is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is good. Um, could you put me on speaker?” You haven’t had to feel this level of nervousness with your parents in almost twenty years. 

“Hi Duck, what’s going on?” Your dad calls you by your nickname, so he’s not mad… yet. “Was looking forward to seeing you, I don’t know why you’re not here. Mom and I didn’t hear from you, so she checked your location last night and you’re in Philadelphia? Not New York, not the airport, not Texas, but Philadelphia, why is that? We were worried, Duck.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. So, things got… complicated. I was packing for the airport and was watching the Liberties game when, um, Joel got hurt.” You exhale, trying to calm yourself by focusing on the feel of Joel’s hand on your skin. “I, uh, drove down to help take care of him because, um, he and I have been, together since, well, November.” You breathe out the latter word, hoping your quiet breath will hide the shame in keeping Joel a secret for that long, for not respecting your parents and your own relationship. You feel so small, so fragile, so young, confessing to your mom and dad like you’re in trouble. 

“November?” The only word your mom responds with. Your dad stays quiet, and you’re reminded of why you wanted to do this over the phone. So you wouldn’t see their expressions. Although, maybe if they were here, they would be able to see the way Joel looks at you, how happy you are, how perfect he is for you.  

“Yes, um, remember when I flew in for your birthday? We ran into each other, and I don’t know, it just worked out. I know this is a lot.” 

Joel’s hand lands on your shoulder, tugging you back to lay against him, his arm wrapping around your chest as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.  You love him so much, you let a tear slip out as you wait for any sort of validation. 

“So, you and Joel Miller have been together for, what, nine months? And we’re only finding out about it now?” You try to gauge your dad’s voice, sensing disappointment, praying it’s not anger. “Is it because you got caught at his place? When were you going to tell us?” 

Okay, there’s anger. 

“Tonight actually, um, Joel and I were going to tell you tonight at dinner. I’m really sorry and I know this is complicated because there’s a bit of history between him and you, but daddy, I love him.”

“Bit of history?” he replies, incredulous. “He was my star player for twenty years, he was rude to the media, coaches, and reporters and I always had to pick up that mess. He was great on the field and in the clubhouse, but he was a pain in my ass most of the time, and now you’re telling me you’re in love with him… and have been for almost a year?”

You bite your lip as you will the tears away from your eyes. You’re so thankful for Joel’s touch right now. He’s respecting you, but you can tell by his breathing growing louder and quicker that hearing your dad’s raised voice is upsetting him. Maybe it’s better to be not in person, that way Joel doesn’t run the risk of throwing your dad through a wall. 

“Yes,” you croak out. You feel like a child answering him. Eyes downcast, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“And all of a sudden, right after he’s no longer on my team, he’s your boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry dad, it’s not something we planned on, it just… happened and I know you’re mad and I’m sorry that it took this long for you to find out and I’m sor—“

“Sweetie,” your mom’s voice breaks through your anxious words, “are you happy?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, Joel’s arm squeezes you tighter, “incredibly.”

“Well, that’s all we want for you. If it’s with Joel, then we’re good, right?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief at her words, her acceptance, her demand of your dad to recenter himself and his ire. You turn to look at Joel and see tears sitting in the waterline of his eyes that are focused on you. He gives you a small smile. 

How could you not love this man? How could anybody doubt the power of what you two share?

“That is what we want for you, but I am concerned. People will have questions. Joel is a part of this team’s history and now my daughter is dating him.”

“I understand that.”

“I know you do, Duck. You can make your own decisions, you haven’t lived under our rules for a very long time. I trust you. As long as you are happy and you understand that there will be roadblocks up ahead with the public eye, then I can be on board. People talk, the internet talks and you’re signing yourself up for a lot of people talking about you. I know you realize that, but does Miller?”

“I do, sir,” Joel says, the first words spoken from him, with the “sir” sternly emphasized. “Look, I don’t care what anybody has to say, people’s opinions never mattered to me. I know you’re well aware of that. I love your daughter. She has been with me every step of the way since I learned I was no longer a Capital. I apologize that this is all at once ’n that this is how you’re finding out, but I do not apologize for the way I feel about your daughter. I love her.”

You watch Joel’s lips as he speaks his confession to your parents, wondering how you could be so lucky to have found him and to have his heart the way that you do.  

“Listen, I know you two are smart, and Miller, you know at the end of the day I respect the hell out of you. If my daughter is happy, that’s all I can hope for as her father. As much as I worry about her, I know she can make her own decisions.” 

“As a father to a college student now, I understand that sir. You have my word that I will stop at nothing to keep your daughter happy.” 

“We know that Joel,” your mom’s soft voice soothes the conversation. “I just wish we would have known about this sooner. I’m a bit upset that it took you long enough to let us know. We just want you to be aware of what issues might arise for you two.”

“Whatever happens, it’s just white noise to us. It’s my choice—it’s our choice,” you say. “We’ve talked about everything before, we are fully aware.” 

“I can’t tell you what to do Duck, Mom can’t tell you what to do. Miller’s a good man, underneath it all, I know that. If you are happy with him, then we are happy for you.”

“This is the happiest I’ve been.”

“We’re glad sweetheart, so glad,” your mom chokes out. At least they’re happy tears. “We’ll be here for you, always. I guess we won’t see you this week.”

“No, Joel needs me, I don’t want to leave him.” 

“Alright then, feel better Miller, we love you Duck,” your dad’s voice softens. “Take care and keep us updated, okay?”

“Thank you sir,” Joel respectfully responds.

“I will. Love you guys, bye.” You end the call and let out a big sigh of relief. 

One down, two more to go. 

“I’m proud of you baby,” Joel breathes out against your hair.

“Heh, thanks. I think?”

“I know you were nervous.”

“Oh, yeah. Still kinda dumb how I’m intimidated by them but… I think it all worked out in the end.”

“It did baby. Why does your dad call you Duck?”

“It’s short for duck snort.”

“...Like the baseball term?”

“Yep, I used to be a crazy toddler and thought my parents chasing me was funny. One day my dad called me a duck snort because I’d always get away and ‘win’, and it kinda stuck.”

He smiles, stroking your cheek. “That’s so fucking cute. ”

“Speaking of daughters, when are you going to tell Sarah?” 

“Later. I’m all phoned out for the time being, want to rest my back and take a nap. That one was a little tense.”

“A nap sounds amazing,” you stretch and adjust to put your head on Joel’s chest, your favorite pillow.

——

“Joel,” you blink your eyes open, “the sun’s going down. I think we overslept.”

“Mm, I’m up. Been up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You’ve had a long couple of days, wanted to let you sleep.”

“You’re due for your pills,” you yawn, getting up.

“I am.”

He winces as you hand him his medicine and glass of water. 

“You alright?” 

“Been better, just really hurts right now. Plus, I should call Sarah before it gets too late. I just texted Tommy and told him.”

“Oh?” You turn on Joel’s heating pad and hand him the remote.

“Yeah, he texted me and asked me how I was getting along and if my nurse was hot. Told him about everything. He was happy for me and congratulated me on my hot nurse.”

“He’s ridiculous,” you shake your head. “I’m going to go make dinner, I’ll leave you to call Sarah.” You kiss the top of his forehead.

“Thanks baby.” 

——

You quietly step into Joel’s room holding a tray with his plate full of steak, rice and broccoli, Joel’s go to in season meal.

“Hey sweets, my dinner is here. I gotta go.”

“Can I—can I say hi to her?”

You smile at Sarah’s sweet voice as Joel looks past his phone to you. You nod and walk over placing the tray on Joel’s lap.

“Sure, here she is.”

Well, this is new. You’ve never been with anybody who has a child, let alone a college aged kid. You know Sarah, you love her, you used to chase her around the club box years ago. 

You grab the phone, she’s gotten so beautiful. Same brown eyes as her dad, deep dimples as she smiles, long curly hair. She’s a young woman now, just as gorgeous as her dad. 

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again.”

“Oh my god! Hi! It is! Wish it wasn’t through the phone but I, just, I wanted to say that, I-I am very happy that Dad finally found somebody and it’s you!”

“Well, I am too.”

“He told me you’re doing a better job than I ever would at taking care of him, so I don’t need to tell you to take good care of him.”

“I try,” you chuckle. 

“Thanks for saying hi to me, I’ll let you go, I know you have dinner!”

“Of course Sarah, any time. I’ll hand you back to your dad now.”

You keep your smile as you hand the phone back to Joel. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him this happy before, eyes alight with a large grin on his face. You never noticed how his dimple matches Sarah’s. 

Your shoulders feel lighter now that the most important people know, and accept, your love. 

The secret’s out. 

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 2 Home Run Derby

Greeting Doctor Arroyo with a smile, you leave him in the living room to wait. 

"Joel," you peek your head into the bedroom. "He's here."

"Send him in," he replies, sitting up higher.

Showing the doctor the way, he thanks you. 

"Thanks, Mrs. Miller."

You let out a little laugh. "Not the wife, just the girlfriend."

Giving you a small smile, he leaves you in the hallway with thoughts of being Mrs. Miller swirling in your head.

After the doctor leaves, you sit on the edge of the bed.

“So, what’d he say?” 

“Still stuck like this for the next few days. Wants me to do some stretches and move around more, going to check on me in two more days again. Said I’m recovering well, told him it’s because I have a good nurse.” 

“You do have a good nurse… that’s better news than I was expecting at least.”

“Yep, and he took the bandage off from my shot so I can finally take a shower.” 

“Oh?”

“Oh is right,” his eyes darken, “but you’re gonna have to wash me, nurse.”

“I can do that, not only am I your nurse but I’m also your wife according to Dr. Arroyo.”

“Oh?”

“Oh is right,” you wink. “I told him I’m your girlfriend.”

“Should’ve told him you’re not my wife… yet.”

“I’m happy with girlfriend right now Mr. Miller.”

“My sweet independent girl.” 

“Eh, your sweet independent nurse now. Come on, let’s get you washed Mr. Miller.”

“Yes ma’am.”

——

Joel hobbles into the bathroom as you adjust the temperature of the shower. 

“It’s hot, too hot, just like you like it Mr. Miller.”

“God, I love it when you call me that. Now nurse,” he smirks, “come help me with my clothes.”

“Right away Mr. Miller,” you reply, sauntering over to him.

“What a pretty nurse you are, have a feeling you’re going to take REAL good care of me,” he raises his arms over his head as you lift his shirt up.

“I’ll sure try to take good care of you Mr. Miller. Did you want me to remove your shorts?”

“Yes nurse.”

You lean forward, grabbing the waistband of his pants to lower them down, running your gaze appreciatively over his half-hard cock.

You look up and angle your eyebrow at him. “I can see you’re quite excited for your shower Mr. Miller.”

“Mm.” 

“Go ahead and get in, it’s all ready for you.” 

“But you’re not. Take your clothes off.”

“Now, Mr. Miller, I can’t get naked for you, but I can take this off.” You slip the straps of your dress down your arms and shimmy out of it, leaving only your white cotton bra and underwear on. “You know, gotta stay decent while taking care of my patient.”

He hums in appreciation, taking in the sight. Turning, he steps into the shower with a groan of contentment.

“Feel good?” You ask grabbing a wash cloth. 

“Very.”

He leans forward, placing his arms on the wall and stretches his back as the water hits his skin. Water trickles down the deep plains of his spine, the strong muscles of his back gleaming under the sheen of water. You follow the river that falls from his neck, down his back bone, past the two lower back dimples you love, past the slight curve of his behind and down his hairy legs. He is all man… your man. It’s a shame all the water that lands across his body is wasted on the drain. 

“Is the temperature good?”

“S’perfect,” he grunts.

“Want me to scrub you sir?”

“Heh,” he turns his head to look at you, “with a nurse that looks like you? ‘Course I do.”

The drops of water sear your skin as you step into the water.

“Jesus Joel, it’s hot in here.”

“Mm,” he reaches over and turns the water cooler before turning around, his eyes darkening as he notices the fabric of your bra cups has turned see-through. “Better?” His eyes stay on your chest.

“Better. Now, let’s get you washed, sir.”

“I’m all yours.” 

You grab Joel’s bar of soap, lathering your hands up with the eucalyptus scented bar. Your hands run across his chest leaving lines of suds along his skin, and he lets out a small groan as you rub soapy circles over his stomach. 

He reaches a hand up and pinches your nipple underneath the sheer wet fabric. 

“Feel good sir?”

“Very. Such a good nurse.”

You step closer to him, his hard cock jutting against your stomach as you wash his arms. Your fingers press tight along his biceps and his shoulders, releasing the tension.

“Fuck,” Joel breathes out, “you’re driving me crazy like this.” 

“Well, get ready, I need to wash your legs and…” you wrap your hand around his erection, “this… sir.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans and shakes his head. “Go ahead nurse.”

You reach around him and grab the soap before kneeling on the tile floor. 

Your soapy hands glide along Joel’s legs, his calf muscles firm under your touch, his thighs soft as you move closer to Joel’s hard cock dripping water and precum. You move your hands along the back of his thighs, cradling the bottom of his ass cheeks before pushing him forward and sealing your mouth over his cock. 

“CHRIST!” Joel’s shout echoes across the bathroom, his hands splaying against the glass.  

Pulling back, you look up.

“You alright? Is this too much?”

“No, no sweetheart,” his eyes soften as he reaches down and holds your cheek, “it felt really good. Go on baby,” Joel leans against the shower wall, “prove to me I’m your favorite patient.”

A long groan escapes Joel’s mouth as you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth. You take him deeper in, sucking the water off of his length as he grabs a handful of your wet hair, your mouth slurping along his length. You clench your thighs together as you feel your cunt throb with arousal.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he chants. 

Water dripping off of Joel’s skin pelts your face as he fills your mouth, your nose brushing against the coarse hair of him there, his cock repeatedly brushing the back of your throat causing a string of saliva to drool out of your mouth.

“Touch yourself, touch your pussy while you suck me baby.”

Your hand reaches underneath your soaked cotton panties, your fingers ghosting across your swollen clit. You moan as you press down and swirl around the bundle of nerves.

His hips jut forward when you hollow your cheeks around him sucking as you bob your head along his length, your free hand cradling his balls and massaging the soft skin of them, bringing him to the brink of his orgasm.

“So good baby, fucking hell,” his grip on your hair tightens, “going to give you my cum soon if you keep that up.” 

Your eyes look up to him, he tilts his head down and gives you a blissed out half smile, water cascades down his face and falls onto your skin. The way he looks at you, the line on his forearm straining as he holds your hair, his warm cock stretching your mouth open, the feel of water dripping down your throat mixed with the taste of Joel. The sensation is too much, you whimper around Joel’s cock as you orgasm. Your fingers drown with your arousal, your mouth goes slack around him as warmth spreads through your limbs. Your hand collects the hot slick that leaks out of you, spreading it all over Joel’s shaft, pumping him with your fist as you suck the tip of him. 

“Close,” he pants, “lemme cum in that mouth, wanna see your mouth filled with me.” 

You nod and moan as you tighten your grip and suck harder.

He chants your name as he empties his release into your open mouth, the last spurt of him landing on your outstretched tongue.

He untangles his hand from your hair, running it down your face to grab your chin and angle it up.

“Swallow it baby.” 

His blown out brown eyes watch in worshiping awe as you seal your mouth shut and gulp down the salty taste of him before licking your lips. 

“All good Mr. Miller?”

“Quite… best nurse I ever had.” 

—-

“He reminds me of you,” you muse, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl as you and Joel watch the Austin Capitals’ rookie phenom James Neal hit ball after ball over the fence of Capitals Stadium. 

“He better. He’s my replacement.” Joel grumbles. 

“How do you feel about not being there?” 

“Tonight isn’t as bad, I always hated the Derby, having to sit on the field and play nice with the cameras. Tomorrow is going to suck.”

“I know it will, I’m sorry this is happening to you. You deserve everything this season. I know everything hasn’t gone the way you’ve wanted but I couldn’t be prouder of how you’ve handled it.”

“Don’t think I’d be able to do it without you baby,” he kisses the top of your head as James Neal hits his twentieth home run over the fence. 

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Day 3 The All-Star Game

And the first pitch of the sixth inning is a strike. Scott steps back into the box, swings… and a miss. Strike two. Bridges winds up, and Scott hits a ground ball to first and—OH! Reynolds misreads it and it gets past him, two runs score. The American League now leads by two in the sixth! 

“I would’ve caught that,” Joel bitterly says. 

“I know you would’ve All-Star,” you console, leaning against him and wrapping an arm around him. 

“Mmf, you can’t lay on me like that.” 

“Sorry, does it hurt?”

“No, not even close. Just… feels real good having you all naked and pressed up against me like that.”

“Sorry.”

Joel plants his hand against your back, keeping you from moving away. 

“Stay, I like it. If I was on that field right now I couldn’t feel you like this.”

“Oh yeah?” Your hand runs a trail down his shorts and grips the heft of him. “Definitely wouldn’t be able to feel this.”

“Definitely not,” he groans. 

“Definitely couldn’t pull your shorts down and touch you if you were playing right now.”

“No,” he grunts, lifting his hips up allowing you to remove his shorts. 

You wrap your hand around his half hard cock. “And surely, I couldn’t jerk you off if you were on that field.” 

“Fuck, no,” he grits, hardening under your touch.

“Did you want to watch the game in peace or do you want me to take care of you?” 

“Take care baby,” he kisses you, “fuck this game.”

“Yeah, fuck this game.”

Your body overheats as you slide down Joel, straddling his thick thighs, taking his cock in hand, rubbing it along your dripping cunt and slowly settling yourself on his length.

Joel’s lips part, his big brown eyes staring at you as a long moan leaves your mouth savoring the feel of his cock stretching you. 

“You feel so good,” his head thuds against the pillow. “I haven’t felt your pussy like this in forever. Fucking missed it.” 

Your hips rock back and forth still adjusting to the size of him as he grabs your tits and massages the weight of them in his calloused hands. 

“This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You’re too blissed out to answer, too overwhelmed by the size of him. All you can muster is an isolated nod and whine arching your back while he pinches and pulls your nipples into peaks. 

“You gonna fuck me baby? You gonna fuck me like the All-Star I am? Come on baby, prove to me I’m your All-Star.”

You rise and fall on his cock, grinding your hips down each time he stuffs you full. 

“Look so good like this baby,” Joel juts his hips up “you’re the only fucking trophy I need.” 

You lean in as your thighs begin to tremble bringing his hand to your lips. Joel’s blown out pupils focus on your tongue as it traces the circles of his tattoo.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps. 

Your pussy clenches at his praise, Joel’s cock hits the sensitive spot you want to feel him the most. 

“Cum for me, let me feel you strangle my cock, cum for me baby,” Joel’s gravelly voice encourages as he pulls his hand from your mouth, tugging you down against his chest. 

Your cunt flutters around him as your orgasm shatters into you. Your mouth going slack, drool falling out and landing on Joel’s chest as you scream his name and writhe on top of him.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it, fuck, you’re fucking gripping me baby, not going to last long like this.”

You summon as much energy as you can leaning forward to lick the golden skin of his neck as you grind your hips against his, your soaked pussy pumping his cock.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” he pants. “Gonna cum.” 

Joel lets out a long groan as his hips jerk up into you, warmth blooming through your core as his cock empties into you. You both stay frozen collectively catching your breaths as you come down from your shared bliss. His cock slips from you as you lift up to kiss him, both of your spends dribbling down between your thighs.

“Did I make you feel like the All-Star you are?”

“Mm,” he smiles, pulling away, ”I love being a baseball player sometimes.”

You turn towards the TV. “It’s tied now.” 

“Mm, for the first time ever, I really don’t care.”

You stay cuddled in his bed for the remainder of the game, today is definitely your favorite All-Star Game experience.

Well folks, that’ll do it for this year’s All-Star Game here in beautiful Austin, Texas. The National League wins in a 4-3 victory over the American League. We’ll see you next year. 

“Good game, I really enjoyed the sixth inning.”

“Guess it’s good we get home field advantage in the World Series,” Joel shrugs.

“Always thinking ahead.” “Always. Had a plan for a whole thing after the game but life had other plans. I, uh, grabbed this when I was changing earlier,” Joel opens his bedside table and pulls out a small gray suede box.

Your heart skips a beat at the implication of what it could be. There’s no way.

“It’s okay baby, don’t panic, it’s not that. Now that everybody knows, I want you to be able to wear me wherever you go.” 

He opens the box, a delicate gold necklace with a pendant of his number hangs from it.

“Joel,” you breathe out as tears prick your eyes, “it’s so… beautiful.”

“That first night I had the chain was the night I had you in the back of that club. I tried for so long to stay away from you, and yet you were always there, like some forbidden treasure I could never have… now we’re together and this is the happiest I’ve ever been.” Joel swipes the tears from your cheeks as they fall, “I love you so much sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you smile as you take the box and remove the necklace. 

“Put it on baby, lemme see it.”

You clasp the necklace behind your neck and lower your arms. Joel pets the gold pendant against your skin. 

“Beautiful,” Joel whispers.

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Series Masterlist

[a-sleepy-raven]

Hi! And welcome. :3 I have a request for you - can I ask for a fic where reader takes care of Leon when he's sick? Fluffy pls. :3 Thank you!

Hey there! Thank you so much for your request, I love writing stuff like this, though I have to say I'm a bit nervous about sharing my first RE fic. Hope you enjoy! <3

(established relationship, post RE4)

Baby, it'll be alright - Leon Kennedy x gn!reader (fluff)

When you come home, you’re surprised to find Leon curled up on the couch, fast asleep and buried beneath one, no, two blankets. There’s a half empty cup on the coffee table in front of him – chamomile, if you’re not mistaken. And as far as you know, Leon hates chamomile with a burning passion. He can’t even stand the smell of it. That, paired with the fact that he fell asleep in broad daylight, can only mean one thing: His health hasn’t gotten any better since you left the house this morning.

Well. At least, you’re prepared, you think to yourself as you set down the bags in your arms, careful not to make any noise because you don’t want to disturb Leon’s slumber. He has barely gotten any sleep last night, and you’re sure he must be absolutely exhausted.

As quietly as humanly possible, you start to unpack the groceries. Aside from a few essentials like coffee and toast, you have also stocked up on lemons, tissues, cough drops and lemons. (You also bought a tub of ice cream, but that one’s for you – your reward for taking care of your sick boyfriend who can be as stubborn as a mule, especially when it comes to his health. Wouldn’t be the first time that he insisted he was fine when, in fact, he was still feeling like garbage.)

A quiet groan that sounds like it’s coming from beneath that pile of blankets on the couch snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn around, your gaze meeting Leon’s. He looks terrible. The dark circles under his tired, red rimmed eyes are a sharp contrast to the pale, sallow tone of his skin, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and raspy. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” You make your way over to him, crouching down in front of the couch before you place your hand on his forehead. Beneath your palm, his skin feels burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. He’s definitely running a fever. “Damn, Leon.”

“What kind of greeting is that, honey?”

“Shut up. You sound like you’ve been chain-smoking for at least ten years.” 

He suppresses a cough. “You really know how to make someone feel better.”

“Sorry.” You brush your hand through his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible.”

“My poor baby,” you say and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water? I also bought lemons – people say hot lemonade works wonders when you have a cold. I could make you some.”

“As long as it’s not chamomile, I really don’t care.”

“Hot lemonade it is, then.” You get up. “And in the meantime, you should gather your stuff,” you motion to the blankets and the pillows that definitely come from your bedroom, “and go back to bed. I don’t understand why you haven’t stayed there in the first place.”

“Yeah, well-“ Leon interrupts himself when he falls into yet another fit of coughing, forcing him to sit up. “God damnit,” he mumbles, then. His head hurts like hell, like it’s going to explode any second, and with every cough and every sneeze, it just seems to get worse. 

You rub his back. “Go to bed,” you order him, softly. “I’ll bring you some meds. And painkillers. You look like you need them.”

He sniffles. “Yeah. Thanks.”

* * * *

“Ta-da,” you say as you carefully set down the tray that’s loaded with two cups (one filled with hot lemonade you hope you haven’t messed up, the other with water), a bowl of ice cream (you don’t have the heart to not share it with Leon when he’s feeling so bad) and the meds you bought on your way back home from work. 

Leon sits up, relief written all over his face when you hand him the painkillers. A moment later, before you can even reach out for the glass of water, he has already swallowed one of the tiny pills. Then, he lets himself fall back into the pillows. “Thanks.”

“You survived Raccoon City and getting infected with some ancient parasite. Who would’ve guessed that a simple cold is all it takes to knock the famous Leon Kennedy flat out?” you tease as you sit down on the edge of the bed and reach out to caress his face. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle before he sinks back into the pillows because the world around him has started spinning. And he’s pretty sure it is not supposed to do that. Not like this, at least.

This goddamn cold. He can’t even say what annoys him more – the constant coughing, the terrible headache or the fact that all he wants to do is sleep. And although he knows that you don’t mind taking care of him, he can’t help but feel like a burden right now. You probably have a million other things to do, and yet, here you are, keeping him company and trying your best to nurse him back to health. If only he could find the right words to tell you how much he appreciates your efforts.

“Try to get some rest,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Sleep is the best medicine, after all.”

Leon hums in response. Sleep truly sounds like a wonderful idea.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head. “Come here,” he mumbles, “please. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupts him before he can finish his sentence, and he takes a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold, too.”

You let out an indignant huff. “You’ll need more than a few germs to scare me away, Leon. You should know that by now,” you say as you lie down next to him and make yourself comfortable. With a content sigh, Leon snuggles up to you and drapes his arm over your stomach. You kiss the top of his head. “Want me to cuddle you to sleep?”

“Hm… yeah.” 

A smile flashes over your face. That’s exactly the answer you have expected, and so you wrap your arms around him, carefully burying one of your hands in his hair while the other one traces invisible patterns on his back. “Sweet dreams, Leon.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support. 🥰

[aflame4goinghome]

Bad Reputation

s.f.k. x reader

chapter two

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking (marijuana), flirting, a little bit of arguing, lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn so no smut... yet ;)

A/N: Hi guys! Welcome to chapter two! I'm excited to continue this little story for you all. I hope you don't hate me too much for the slow burn ;) Things will really start to heat up once tour starts up, so stay tuned hehe. See ya soon

Listen to the playlist here :)

chapter one

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

You step off the stage after another successful gig and quickly retreat to the dressing room for a moment to freshen up before heading out for a few drinks. Unfortunately for you, tonight’s celebrations, along with every celebration from now on, will be quite different due to the required presence of a certain bassist. Jodie thought it would be a good idea for Sam to attend all your gigs, to make your relationship more believable as you started “launching” it to the public. 

You were reluctant at first, but at the end of the day, it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. You didn’t have to be glued to his side the entire night or anything, or at least you hoped not. Nonetheless, you knew he was waiting out there for you, and you knew that he had come alone, which made it even worse. At least if Danny or someone had come along, you’d have some sort of buffer, but no– it was just the two of you. Lucy wasn’t even on shift tonight either, having taken the weekend off to go home and visit her family. 

It’s only been just over a week since you agreed to this deal with Sam, and it was already exhausting you. You honestly haven’t even spoken to him since that day, since both of you have been swamped with rehearsals, but Jodie reached out and let you know that he’d be there. You were hoping that he had forgotten, but when you saw him in his usual corner booth during your set, you realized you had gotten your hopes up too high. 

“Whatever! I’m strong, and I’m confident, and I don’t care,” you say to yourself in the mirror as you touch up your makeup briefly. The pep talk wasn’t really working though. “What’s there to be afraid of, anyway? He’s just a guy!”

“I’m a man, for the record,” you hear a smug voice say from behind you. God-fucking-damnit. “A damn good-looking one, at that.”

“Samuel, what are you doing back here? I was coming out any second now, you couldn’t wait?” you say, scoffing to yourself as you put your makeup back in your bag and turn to him. 

You’re actually surprised to see that he dressed rather nicely tonight. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up. He had the top two buttons undone, but that was the most of it– not nearly as low-cut as Jake would do. 

“What, your boyfriend isn’t allowed to come see you after a show?” he asks sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sam– not actually. Nobody’s watching us back here,” you scowl, slinging your tote over your shoulder and walking to the door. You walk right past him and b-line it toward the bar. 

“Seeing us come out together will help us look more like a couple, obviously,” he says smugly. “Come on, Y/N, I thought you had some wits about you.” You stop in your tracks and turn over your shoulder to glare at him. You take a deep breath before feeling calm enough to reply.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just go,” you mutter, turning to walk toward the bar again. That was the closest that you could ever get to telling him he was right. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you suppose that it wouldn’t be bad for your image if you walked out together. 

“Seb, double rum and coke, please,” you say, trying to brush off your frustration by faking a smile. Sebastian nods and then his eyes drift behind you for a moment. You nearly forgot, honestly. “Oh, and uh– whatever he wants, I guess,” you add, nodding to the tall “man” behind you. 

“PBR,” Sam says behind you, and Seb turns to grab a can from the fridge and open it for him. He places both of your drinks on the counter with a sympathetic smile and then adds it to your tab. 

Without saying anything else, you just turn to retreat to the corner booth, sliding in first. As you situate yourself, you’re startled by Sam sliding in to sit next to you on the same side of the booth.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask accusingly. Sam rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his beer before turning his body toward you, his long legs stretched out underneath the table. 

“Sweetheart, no one is gonna believe we’re together if we sit as far away from each other as possible,” he answers bluntly. “You have to at least look like you like me and enjoy my presence.”

“It’s harder than you think,” you mumble under your breath, looking down at the drink in your hand atop the table. “But fine.”

“Second time I’m right tonight, y’know. Do I get a prize?” he says with a smirk. You find yourself stifling a laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s funny.

“Is the company of a talented pianist not enough?” you say, your lips turning upward slightly into a smile, subtle but still there. A chuckle leaves his mouth, which surprises you. You never expected him to laugh at your jokes before. 

“I suppose it is, you’re one lucky lady, Y/N,” he says smugly. Damnit. 

“Careful, Samuel. For a moment there, I almost thought you were complimenting me,” you warn with a smirk, taking a sip of your drink. Another laugh erupts from the man sitting next to you.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying for that, aren’t you?” he says, his tone bordering on teasing. 

“For you to compliment me? Please. I don’t need you for that when I can easily find it elsewhere,” you bite back. 

“Well, I don’t see any takers,” he remarks, looking around the room sarcastically. “Seems like you’re stuck with just me. Good luck getting any attention now, with me around.” You don’t even grace him with a reply after that one, just taking a long sip of your drink before putting it down on the table and turning your attention to the next act on stage. 

He lets the silence stay, looking to the stage as well as his arm extends to sit behind you atop the back of the booth. As his arm moves behind you, you’re met with a quick waft of his cologne, smelling strongly of spearmint and pine. You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit that the scent almost sent your eyes rolling in the back of your head, intoxicating you. But you quickly shake it off. 

“So… you guys will be going back on tour soon, yeah?” you ask, trying to fill the silence and save yourself from feeling awkward. He turns toward you, keeping his arm behind you as his fingers graze your bare shoulder. 

“Yeah! We’re heading back out in a few weeks, we’re still trying to get more studio time in so that we can finally start the masters on our next project,” he answers proudly. You knew he was passionate about the music, it was something you respected about him.

“That’s great. From what I heard in the studio the other day, you guys have something really amazing going on there. I really liked the blues roots in some of them, I caught it almost immediately,” you say with a soft smile. Maybe talking to him wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought. 

“See, thank you! Josh hates those bits– says they’re sonically boring. I completely disagree, obviously,” he says, a smile growing across his face. Despite hating to admit it, the two of you had aligning interests when it came to music, that much was clear. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about! My favorite part was your transition from E major to C sharp minor, in that second song you guys played. It was so satisfying, that’s one of the best key changes in my opinion,” you say, starting to rant but catching yourself. You start to apologize for rambling but the smile on his face tells you that you don’t need to. 

“I’m glad you caught that, no one else ever pays attention to stuff like that. I swear sometimes it feels like I’m all alone there, their minds just don’t work the same as mine,” he says, his smile widening as his thumb rubs softly on your shoulder. 

“Well, I understand. It’s not exactly the same, but Lucy never gets it when I ramble on about music theory. As a writer, music is like a whole other language to her. I’ve never had anyone to really talk to about music before,” you admit with a shrug, looking over at him.

“Maybe we’ve found that in each other, then,” he says quietly, running his tongue along his bottom lip as your eyes watch carefully. You nod slowly, not sure what else to say. You’re not sure when you let yourself get so distracted, but you couldn’t help it. The proximity made your mind so foggy that you couldn’t think about much else. 

All of a sudden, your attention is pulled away from your phone buzzing on the table. You pick it up to read the text you just received, which you see is from Jodie. 

Jodie: Fans have already spotted you both out at the club! Some pics are already circling Twitter, look! 

She attached screenshots of some tweets that have already been posted, questioning who you are and what you’re doing with Sam. The pictures show the two of you sitting close together, Sam’s arm wrapped around you as the two of you are smiling and laughing.

OMG, who is that with Sam???

He has his arm around her, look!

God, I’m so jealous.

They’re sitting awfully close to be just friends!

You have to admit that the two of you did look good together. You managed to make it seem casual and natural, which was good. To have the fans already buzzing about it was a good sign. After you finish reading the tweets, you hand your phone to Sam so that he can take a look.

“I swear, our fans know no boundaries. Who just takes a picture of someone who’s out minding their own business? Pisses me off,” he scoffs, handing you your phone back as he shakes his head, looking around to see if he can catch anyone looking. 

“I know. But at least we have their attention, right? The seeds have certainly been planted. Now we just need to figure out some sort of hard launch,” you answer optimistically, hoping that he’s not too angry. He doesn’t seem to be, since his smile still hasn’t completely faded just yet. 

“We look kinda good together there, don’t you think?” you joke, pulling up the picture again. You hear him laugh next to you, shaking his head as he looks down at your phone over your shoulder. 

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he admits softly. You almost didn’t realize how close he had gotten, to the point where you could feel his warm breath against your ear. You try not to think about the it too much, with the fear of blush creeping over your cheeks. 

“Wanna really give them something to post about?” he whispers with a smirk, his voice against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spine. Leave it to Sam to ruin the moment with relentless flirting once again. You turn your head to face him and realize that he’s much closer than you originally thought. Your nose brushes against his as your eyes lock. You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected.

“As much as I’m sure you’d love that, I don’t think we need to rush all of that so soon,” you say softly, a twinge of sarcasm dripping from your voice. You watch as his smirk widens. 

“Fine, you can be boring,” he says smugly, leaning back against the seat. “But I at least want to give them something interesting to talk about. Who cares if we’re just sitting and talking? Everyone does that, we could at least do something a little creative.” It truly was a performance after all. You just hum as a reply, not wanting to perpetuate the argument any further. 

“Here,” he speaks again as his other hand moves to grasp your thigh, pulling your legs to rest slightly on his lap. His hand still lingers on your thigh, grasping firmly on your thigh right below the hem of your leather skirt. 

“What’re you doing?” you say, in almost a whisper. His boldness has taken you aback, and you hesitate to fight back in that moment. The feeling of his large, callused hand on your skin clouded your brain so much that you almost thought you might like it. 

“Giving them a show,” he smirks, turning to make sure people are looking before turning back to look at you. You couldn’t hide the flush of your cheeks now even if you wanted to. It didn’t take long for him to notice. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Is that it?” he asks with a smug grin, his hand moving an inch up your thigh as the other ghosts over your bare shoulder again. 

“Pshh– what? No. No. That’s ridiculous,” you answer, obviously flustered. 

“Just admit that you like it,” he says, leaning down to close more space between you. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Yeah, right. He’d never let you live it down if you even gave an inkling that you were enjoying this. You’d never give him that satisfaction. You clear your throat, inching away from him. 

“Wanna get another round?” you ask, trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Answer my question,” he says assertively, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt teasingly. You breathe out a deep breath, but keep your eyes on his. He’s searching them, waiting for any hint of you giving in, but finds nothing. 

“What would you do if my answer was yes? What then?” you ask, your voice breathy and quiet. His lips quirk slightly as he looks down at you. 

“You don’t have to play these games to get my attention, y’know. You already have it,” he whispers, his nose brushing past yours. That’s it, you can’t do this anymore. 

“Okay, I need a smoke. Let me out?” you ask, still backing away slowly with the hopes that he’d stand up and let you out of the booth. An annoyed sigh leaves his mouth as he complies, getting up from his seat. 

“I’m coming with you,” he says, clearly not asking. You just roll your eyes and nod, walking out to the front of the club. Leaning against the front of the building, you reach into your tote and pull out your lighter and the blunt that you had rolled earlier that day. Given the stress from the evening, you thanked your earlier self for thinking of it. 

Placing it between your lips, you quickly light it, taking a drag before lowering it to your side. You take a moment to look over at Sam, who’s looking down at you as he leans his side against the wall. Feeling like you were being slightly greedy, you decide to offer him a hit, which he gladly accepts. 

“Didn’t take you for the stoner type,” he says casually, taking another hit before passing it back to you. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sam,” you answer, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a long drag. You watch as his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment there. You knew what he was thinking. If you were crossed enough, you thought you honestly might let him. But not just yet.

“I’m starting to see that… I guess if I want to know anything about you, I’ll have to work for it, yeah?” he says with a shrug. That was exactly what you were going to say next– that he had to work for it. You hated that he could read you like that. Maybe you were more predictable than you thought. 

“I suppose so. You should stop while you’re ahead though, I won’t give in that easily,” you tease, taking another hit as you look up at him, trying to read his expression. The weed is already mixing perfectly with the liquor in your system. Your head felt lighter already. 

“I’m not afraid of you, sweetheart. And I don’t go down without a fight,” he says with a smirk, leaning toward you slightly. He towered over you, which felt slightly intimidating. You couldn’t really read him well, either, which made it even more difficult. 

“What do you wanna know?” you ask, taking a hit and blowing it out of the side of your mouth. 

“Where are you from?” he asks, taking the blunt in his fingers as you pass it. 

“Here,” you answer bluntly, watching his lips purse as he takes a drag. It was way hotter than you expected it to be. “Well, not here exactly. I grew up in a town like, thirty minutes away. But I’ve been coming to Nashville all my life.”

“I see,” he says, a small smile on his face. You didn’t ask him where he was from– you already knew the answer, and he knew that. “Did you always know that you wanted to play music?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I started playing piano at 6, joined the jazz band in middle school, and it all just kind of grew from there. My high school band director is the one who set me up with my first ever paid gig, when I was 17. After that, I knew this was what I needed to do.” You can tell that he’s trying to hide his smile, but it’s not working. He was impressed by you, and for some reason, you liked that. 

“I did jazz band too, amongst other things. It was honestly a great start on music theory, learning about chord progressions and improvisation and stuff like that,” he says with a shrug, passing your blunt back to you. 

“Yeah, I agree. You learn a lot of important stuff there,” you reply, taking a hit. It was nice to have someone to talk music with, even if it was Sam. He knew what he was talking about, and it felt like he understood you. That’s not an easy feat. 

“Have you ever been in love?’ he asks, looking down at you. You expected to find a smirk on his face, but there wasn’t one there. 

“That’s a loaded question,” you joke, taking another hit as you try to think of what the hell to even say to that. “I don’t think I have, to be honest. There were times when I thought I was, but looking back…” you trail off. “Have you?”

“No,” he shakes his head, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit. “Nothing ever stuck. Not sure why.” Surely you had a couple of good guesses, but you wouldn’t dare to say any now. The topic was somewhat vulnerable, which you didn’t expect from him. Why did he want to know this about you? You’re gonna take a mental note to ask about it another day when you’re both much more sober.  

Some time passes, as the two of you share the blunt in silence. Near the end of it, you pass him the blunt and let him finish it off, watching him flick the butt onto the sidewalk and stomp it out. He doesn’t make a move to go inside, however, but instead moves closer to you. As you look up at him, your mind starts to spin as his head reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone, the rough callus on it sending shockwaves throughout your body. You’re not sure why you don’t pull away, even when his face starts getting closer and closer to yours.

“Don’t run away this time,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours as your eyes travel to his lips. They looked soft and full, and you started to wonder if they would feel warm against yours. You knew you probably wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. For some reason, you didn’t want to run away. No, you wanted to stay. Something inside you wanted to know if you’d feel something– anything. 

Your eyes lock with his as his other hand finds its place on your waist, tugging you toward him slightly. You search his eyes, seeing if you could read his mind. What was going through it? You knew he’d been persistent with you before, but why did this feel different somehow? You let your nose brush against his again, as you feel his breath hot against your lips.

“Sam!” you hear someone exclaim from behind you, causing you to jump from the brash noise. 

“We’ll finish this later,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You suck in a deep breath then quickly pull away, leaving at least a foot between you two as a girl approaches you– seemingly a fan. Sam puts on a brave face, smiling softly as he talks to her. He was gracious and kind, despite being visibly frustrated. 

“Do you… want me to take your picture?” you ask softly, to which she nods feverishly. After snapping a few photos on her phone, you hand it back to her with a shy smile. 

“So, who’s this?” she asks, turning to Sam. God, she was nosy. All the fans were, clearly. What did she care? Why would she need to know who Sam was spending his time with? Your angry internal rant comes to a full stop as Sam wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Actually, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he says proudly, his grip soft but strong on my side. You offer her a soft smile as her face lights up, and you know this will be plastered all over the internet by tomorrow. You suppose that was the whole point, though. This was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t expect it to be on your first night out. You thought you’d have more time to prepare. 

Luckily for you both, this girl was way too drunk to bother asking too many other questions. Soon enough, she says her goodbyes and swiftly leaves. You breathe out a sigh of relief, laying your back against the wall once more. 

“Fuck, that was exhausting. How do you do that all the time?’ I ask jokingly, rubbing my temples. He lets out a soft laugh, which makes your lips turn upward into a smile almost immediately. 

“It’s not always that bad. Usually, they refrain from personal questions like that… sorry. I know I kinda put you on the spot there,” he offers genuinely, which you accept. 

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know it would happen. I just wish I was more prepared– I mean, we don’t even have our backstory together or anything! We haven’t discussed any of the details at all,” you say, slightly exasperated. Another laugh leaves his lips. You think to yourself that you quite liked being the person who makes him laugh.

“Right, well I guess we’ll just have to figure that out then. We’ll need to be prepared, now that everyone is going to know,” he says. “How about we meet up for coffee on Monday and set all the details straight? That sound good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod with a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Great, I’ll text you the details tomorrow then,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He sees the time and his eyes shoot open, not realizing how late it's gotten. “Shit, it got late on us. Can I call you a cab?” he asks, looking up from his phone to look at you.

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. I only live around the corner, I’ll walk,” you insist, though you’re surprised he cares that much. It was a side of him that you had yet to see.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” he says, not even letting you answer before starting to walk off. How he knew what direction it was in, you weren’t sure. You suppose he’s seen you leave that way before and leave it at that. 

Soon enough, you’re both stopped in front of your apartment building. It seems like you’re both unsure of how to say goodbye, considering the nature of your “relationship” was such a gray area. You knew he was about to kiss you earlier, and you knew that you were going to let him, but you’ve sobered up slightly now. It wasn’t a good idea.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you say softly, just choosing to back away without a proper goodbye in favor of avoiding any more awkwardness between the two of you.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, offering you a soft smile as he shoots you a wink. You watch as he turns to leave and walks back toward the bar to catch his Uber home. As he turns the corner, you quickly turn around and retreat inside, hurrying to your apartment before finally entering your bedroom. You lean your back against the door and sink to the floor, your mind slightly boggled by the entire evening. 

You have to admit that you ended up enjoying his company. The teasing was still excessive and he was arrogant, but there were times when this different guy shone through the cracks. You wanted to know that guy.

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you’re sitting on your balcony on Sunday afternoon, enjoying the sunny weather with an iced coffee and a book in hand, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You slide a bookmark onto the page and shut the book, setting it down on your table next to your coffee before reaching into your back pocket to pull out your phone. 

Sam: We still on for tomorrow?

You hum to yourself, checking your calendar quickly to make sure you don’t have anything else going on. You thought that he might have forgotten about your plans to meet up tomorrow, since it was already well into the afternoon and you hadn’t heard from him. But you suppose he isn’t one to rise early, as Danny told you last week. You typically weren’t either, but today was an exception. 

You: Yeah, whenever works best for you. We could meet at the coffee shop across the street from Seb’s?

That place was your usual haunt, the baristas all knew your name by now. It was helpful for hangovers, so you always came in the morning after a night out and it soon became a habit. You knew Sam didn’t live in Midtown, but maybe he wouldn’t mind coming down. 

Sam: Sounds good, meet at 2 pm? I’ve got a short meeting with the guys in the morning.

You: Yeah, that’s good. See ya then.

He doesn’t respond from there, so you just leave it at that. You never took him for much of a texter, so you didn’t read too much into it. You slide your phone back into your pocket and open your book back up, picking up where you left off. 

Just as you were getting back in the groove of the story, you heard your apartment door close behind you. You turn around to see Lucy coming in from her weekend with her parents. She spots you outside and walks over, sliding the glass door open. 

“Hi, love,” she says, coming outside and sitting on the chair opposite you. 

“Hey, Luce. How was your weekend?” you ask, still keeping your eyes on your book. 

“It was good! Tommy had his graduation ceremony this weekend, so there was a big party,” she answers with a smile. Tommy is her younger brother, who’s just graduated high school. You never knew him well, since their age gap was so big, but he was a sweet kid. 

“That sounds nice!” you say, offering her a soft smile. 

“How was yours? Anything interesting happen?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you. She knows something.

“What did you see?” you ask bluntly, getting right to the point. A chuckle leaves her lips as she smiles at you.

“Oh, nothing. Just saw a few pictures of you and a certain rockstar cuddled up at Seb’s last night, plastered all over their update accounts on Instagram,” she says with a smug smile.

“Why on Earth do you follow their update accounts, you weirdo!” you say, barely getting the sentence out before you both erupt into laughter. 

“When you told me you’d be pretending to date him, I went and followed some of them! I knew you were bound to make it on there eventually and I wanted to see my best friend become famous!” she exclaims, pulling her phone out to show you the posts. There were photos of you both in your booth and standing outside the club. You did look rather close. 

“I am not becoming famous. It’s just a couple of photos,” you say curtly. “And he might have told a fan I was his girlfriend,” you mumble at the end, hoping she didn’t hear.

“He what?” she yells, and your hand shoots to cover her mouth with a giggle.

“Shhh, shut up, the neighbors already think we’re crazy,” you laugh, taking your hand away after a moment. “It’s not a big deal. We knew he’d have to make it official eventually. We’re meeting up tomorrow to get our story together and stuff, so that we know what to tell the fans in case we get asked anything on the spot.”

“Wow, you guys are moving fast,” she teases. She had no idea. You were tempted to tell her about the kiss you almost shared the night before, but inevitably you decide not to. Talking about it will just complicate things even more.

“Whatever. He’s actually not that bad at times– but don’t tell him I said that,” you say with a small smile across your lips. “We just have more in common than I expected.”

“I’ve been telling you that for months, Y/N,” she says sarcastically, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go rot in bed for a while, talk to you later.”

“Okay, have fun,” you say, your smile widening as you wave her off and then open your book back up again. 

You really couldn’t stay concentrated on reading today, it seems. You try your best to refocus, and you eventually do, reading until the sun starts to go down. Soon enough, you retreat to bed, getting an early rest before your coffee “date” with Sam tomorrow. That should be… interesting, to say the least. 

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

As you try and get ready to go the next afternoon, you’re completely stuck on what to wear. What does someone wear to a coffee date with their fake boyfriend to discuss the terms of their fake relationship? God, even phrasing that question made your head spin. You tried asking Lucy for advice but she was no help, just resorting to light teasing and not giving any actual suggestions.

“Why do you care what you wear? It’s not like he’s your actual boyfriend,” she said with a smug smile. You didn’t grace her with a reply, opting just to shut the door in her face and turn back to your closet. 

You sigh to yourself before sifting through your clothes, pulling out a white linen button-up shirt. You decide to just go with a black tank top, with the white shirt on top, left unbuttoned. The weather was quite warm with the summer heat really starting to settle in. You throw on a pair of jean shorts, slip on your low-top white vans, and then throw your things into your tote bag before heading out the door. It was only a few minutes before 2 at this point, but you didn’t want to arrive too early. You assumed he’d be late himself, anyway. 

As you turn the corner and cross the street, you see him sitting at a small table out front. Damn, guess you were wrong. Again.

“Sam,” you greet quietly as he stands up from the table. 

“Nice of you to finally show up, Y/N. Was starting to think you stood me up,” he says with a smirk, opening the door for you. 

“Shut up, I’m two minutes late,” you answer with a scoff, getting in line to order a drink. He stands next to you, leaning against the counter. You decide to stand in silence until after you place your order since your bickering wasn’t really the best idea in public. You order a chai tea latte and Sam just gets an americano, and the two of you find a table in the corner while you wait. 

“So, let’s get started then, shall we?” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. “Where’d we meet?” Your lips quirked upward into a smile.

“Okay, getting right to the point, I see,” I joke, folding my hands and placing them on the table. “Well, that one’s easy. We met at the club. We’ll just say that you came to some of my gigs and just liked me sooo much that you had to say hi,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all. You watch as a chuckle leaves his mouth, and there goes that feeling again. 

“Alright, sure,” he laughs as a barista comes to put our drinks on the table. “Thanks,” he says to them, taking a sip of his drink before turning back to you. “And we can say we started seeing each other… when? Maybe March?”

“Yeah, that sounds fine,” you shrug, taking a sip of your chai. “That won’t explain the girls you’ve had… relations with between then and now, though,” you add, looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. 

“If you’re jealous, just say that,” he smirks. “We can just say that we only became exclusive recently.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, but quickly decide it’s not worth the argument, opting to just scoff and change the subject. 

“What do we say when they ask why I’m not going on the tour with you guys?” you ask, adjusting nervously in your seat as a look washes over his face that you can’t quite interpret. 

“Are you not?” Sam asks, the tone in his voice sounding slightly accusatory. You’re not even quite sure how to reply, this wasn’t something you ever discussed.

“Wait, do you want me to?” you ask, straightening your posture. “I still have to work, you know. This is how I make a living, I can’t just ditch Seb for weeks on end.” He ponders your words for a moment, then leans forward a bit. 

“You don’t need all that. Jodie said she’d help set you up in your career, and she meant that,” he says sincerely. “She can pay you for the entire time we’re gone, if that’s the problem. I’m sure we can find something for you to do on the tour. And then when we come back, we can get you in the studio to record your album.”

It all almost felt too good to be true. Too easy. What was in it for them, truly? Sure, having a likable and successful girlfriend would be good for Sam’s image, but is that really all it is? Why does it feel like you’re getting way more out of this than they are? 

“I don’t know, Sam. I really don’t feel like I’ll belong there. What could I possibly do on tour besides act as your arm candy?” you say bitterly. 

“Y/N, you’re not just my arm candy. It isn’t like that,” he says dejectedly. His eyes scan your face but you don’t seem convinced. 

“You may be strikingly beautiful, but you’re much more than that to me, trust me,” he teases, coaxing a smile out of you. When he sees that his plan is working, he continues. “Maybe you could help me compose some piano fills for the shows or something.”

“You’d really let me do that?” you ask, your eyes lighting up slightly. A soft smile grows across his lips. 

“Sure. You won’t catch me admitting this ever again, so don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart… but you’re a talented musician. I’m sure we could cook something up together,” he says. 

You look over at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is the same Sam that you used to argue with all those weeks ago. Obviously, it is, and he’s still keeping you on your toes, but something’s changed. You’re starting to think that this partnership may work out after all. 

“Okay. Alright, I’ll come,” you answer. “How long is it, anyway?”

“We’ll only be gone a month, and then we’ll have off until the end of the summer,” he assures you. It can’t be that bad, you suppose. 

“Okay, so we have that covered, I guess,” you say, taking another sip of your drink. “I guess that just leaves one more thing. We should set up some rules.”

“Rules? Seriously?” Sam scoffs, leaning back in his seat again. 

“Yes, seriously. We have to be on the same page or else this is gonna end up becoming a big mess,” you say, returning his annoyed look. 

“Fine. What rules are we talking about here?” he concedes.

“Well, first of all, do the rest of the guys know? Do they know it’s fake?” you ask.

“They think it’s real,” he shrugs. “Jodie thought it’d be better that way.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it that way then. But Lucy knows it’s fake,” you admit, and he gives you a disapproving look. “I tell her everything, it’s not my fault! But she’s the only one, even Seb thinks it’s real somehow.”

“Right, well. To the rest of the world, it’s real then. Anything else?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at you. 

“We should agree that this,” you start, pointing your finger between Sam and yourself, “is only in public. When we’re alone, it’s just me and you, none of this happy couple stuff.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he says with a smirk, “...unless that’s something you’ll have trouble with, sweetheart?” he teases. 

“Yeah, right. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you, my bad,” you answer sarcastically. “Whatever, so that’s handled. Have anything you wanna add?” you ask, sipping from your mug.

“Yeah, what happens if one of us forms any sort of…” he trails off, pondering his words carefully. “...feelings.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you look over at him, almost spitting out your drink. You swallow it quickly and clear your throat. 

“Feelings?’ you laugh. “Not that that’s ever gonna be a problem, but… if it is, then I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

“What, you’re not scared that you’ll fall in love with me?” he asks, leaning over the table slightly. You mirror his actions, your faces mere inches away. 

“Not in the slightest, Samuel,” you answer proudly, your eyes piercing into his. You weren’t going to back down, and neither was he. As you watch his eyes drift to your lips, you clear your throat, leaning back again. 

“Anything else?’ you ask, looking down at your mug in your hands as you avoid his gaze. 

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ loudly. You can just hear the smirk in his voice. You’re not giving in that easily, you know that the second you look up at him, your heart will jump into your throat. 

“Great, so that settles it,” you say, taking the last sip and then putting your empty mug down on the table. You watch as his hand extends out to yours, to shake it.

“Girlfriend?” he asks, smirking at you as you finally look up at him. You have to hold in a sigh as you offer your hand to him, shaking it.

“Girlfriend.” 

His eyes dart between your eyes and your lips again before he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. It takes everything in you not to fold right then and there, frankly, but you’re stronger than that.

His lips were just as soft as you thought they’d be. Not that you’ve thought about them before, of course not. Nonetheless, they were soft, and so warm. They lingered far longer than you wanted them to, and your instincts caused you to pull your hand away, placing it back in your lap. At that, you abruptly stand up from your seat, grab your tote bag, and put it on your shoulder. 

“I have to– I’ve gotta go,” you say softly, and he quickly stands up.

“Okay, I’ll walk you home,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he follows you out the door. Again? That’s the second time just this week… You have to admit that it was thoughtful, but you don’t want to think too much of it. It’s just a nice gesture, nothing serious. He might be an arrogant asshole, but you guess he’s still a gentleman.

You walk beside each other on the sidewalk as you make your way down the street to your apartment. Every once in a while, his hand brushes yours as you walk, sending jolts throughout your body that you’re determined to ignore. You wondered why he asked you about the possibility of feelings being involved. Was that something he was worried about? Should you be worried about it? Surely not. Lucy seems to think you should be, if you told her about this she’d freak. But it’s not a big deal, right?

You stop in front of your building, the awkward opportunity of a goodbye leering over you both once more. You go back up toward your building in the same fashion as the other night, but a strong hand stops you before you get the chance to get too far. 

“Josh is having a party on Friday,” he says quickly, as if he was spitting it out. “I told him I'd bring you.” You stop and look up at him, his grip on your upper arm still remaining.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll be there,” you answer with a soft smile. His eyes light up, like he was expecting you to put up a fight.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 8?” he asks. You nod, as his eyes continue to burn into yours. God, what now? Before you have the chance to do something awkward, his other arm lands on your waist and he bends down, placing a kiss on your temple and then backing away toward the sidewalk, leaving you in silent shock. “See you then, sweetheart.”

“Uh– yeah, see you,” you mutter, your eyes trained on him as he turns the corner. What the fuck was that?

As you slam the door of your apartment, you rush off to your room with hopes of avoiding any interrogation from Lucy. It doesn’t work, however. 

“Y/N,” she opens your door with a smug look on her face, leaning against the door frame. “How was your date?” You scoff at her as you throw yourself onto your bed. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” you groan as she enters the room and climbs into bed next to you. 

She stays sitting up as you lay your head on the pillow, and her fingers comb through your curls as you debrief the events of your afternoon. Despite her occasional jokes and teasing, she seems to be really supportive of you going on tour with the band. After all, it will be a good start for the future of your music career. But at what cost? What will it be like to spend a month straight with Sam Kiszka and his band of brothers? You still had two weeks to prepare, but even that didn’t feel like enough. Your world was moving a mile a minute, and it was only just getting started. 

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

chapter three

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[lupinsversion]

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 - 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭

• summary: when billy is too distracted at work and calls reader, only to find out she is at work, leading him to masturbate in the car to her voice.

• contains: billy russo x fem reader, sexual scenes, masturbation, guidance over the phone

• word count: 1.5k

masterlist || requests

Billy couldn’t get their last time out of his head. The way she tasted, her smell… it was all that he could think about.

He’d been in his office that morning, going over some paperwork, and then he’d suddenly think about the way her skin felt under his fingertips. Or the way she looked at him.

He groaned silently and leaned back in his chair, feeling a stirring in his suit pants. He needed to see her.

He glances at his watch before standing up from his desk. His hand reaches down to adjust the already growing bulge in his pants.

He walks out of his office, telling the few guys he passed that he will be taking a break. As he walks to his car, he pulls out his phone and dials her number.

It rang for so long that he might’ve thought it would’ve been sent to voicemail, but on the last ring the call picked up and her soft voice came through the line. “Hello?”

Billy had a sly smile on his face as her voice rings through his ear. Hearing her voice instantly made his pants even tighter. “Hey doll, what are you up to?”

“I’m at work. You know this.” She answered with her soft as butter voice.

“Damn… I was hoping that you would be at home.” He mutters with a low chuckle. He reaches his car and gets in, closing the door behind him before he continued. “When do you get off?”

“Not for a few hours if I’m being honest. Why? Is something the matter?”

A low growl escaped his throat, he was trying to be patient. “Yeah, something’s the matter…” He replies, his voice low and deep. “I’m missing you.”

She knew that tone of voice. Of course she did. “Oh, yeah?” She teased.

“Mmhmm.” He hums into the receiver, his hand slowly rubbing up his thigh as he listens to her voice through the phone. “You gotta get off work soon, yeah?” He asks, his fingers slowly creeping up to the button of his pants.

“Like I said, it’ll be a few hours.”

He groans, his head falling back against the headrest of his car. “God damnit…” He mutters. He hated that he had to wait longer for her.

“What are you wearing?” He asked suddenly, his hands reaching down to gently palm himself through his pants.

“What am I- Billy, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“And what do you think I’m doing?” He replies with a low chuckle. He knew that he was being so blunt, but he was far too gone to care. “You didn’t answer my question by the way…” He adds in a lower, more commanding tone.

A small sigh left her plump lips as she moved to a more private place in her office building. “You know that skirt that you really love with those black stockings?”

He lets out a low, guttural moan as the mental picture of her in his favorite outfit flashed in his mind. “God damn… yes.” He answered, his hands slowly sliding over his pants as he imagines her right there. “What color are the panties that you’re wearing? Tell me.”

“The red ones. Your favorite.” She whispered her answer in a seductive tone.

“Oh baby… mmm you’re killing me…” He groans, his eyes closed as he pictures her. He bites his lip to hold back another moan, his hand palming himself faster through the fabric. “I need you so bad… you think you can get off early?”

“I have a few things to finish up first, I would say in an hour or two if anything.”

“An hour or two? I don’t know if I can wait that long…” He groans, his head falling back once more. “I need you now…”

“I guess you’ll just have to deal with it alone.” She spoke softly, almost in a teasing tone.

A low growl is all he could muster in response. He was irritated and impatient, but also very turned on.

“Mmm, you’re such a tease…” He murmurs. He unbuttons and unzips his pants, his hand slowly slipping down the waistband.

“I’m sorry, baby. Any other day and you know I would be there.” She apologized quietly.

“I know… it’s just been so long.” He sighs, his hand rubbing up and down his length over his boxers. “I can’t get you out of my head… been thinking about you way too much…”

“Can’t get the way you taste out of my mind.” He continued, his voice low and soft. “How soft your skin feels… how you look in that tiny little skirt… I can’t take it.”

“Billy…” She practically whispered over the speaker.

“I need to hear you moan for me again, baby…” He murmurs, his hands slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers. “The noises you make for me… God, I can’t wait to hear them.”

“Please tell me you’re not in your office right now.”

A deep chuckles leaves his mouth, his hand slowly pumping over his length. “No… I’m in the car. And don’t worry, I’m at the far end of the parking lot.”

“You naughty, naughty boy.” She purred.

A low moan comes from his mouth at the tone of her voice. He was getting desperate, he had been waiting too long. “If you were here, I’d have you under my desk doll…”

She hummed for a moment, delighted with the thought. “You love fucking my mouth… feels so good.”

A low growl escaped his mouth at her words. “Yes… god yes… you don’t even know. The things I’d do to you right now if you weren’t at work… I’d have you bent over this car if I could.”

“Always so dirty…” She teased.

“Only with you, doll.” He replied, his hand picking up speed. “You bring it out in me. No one has ever had this much of an effect on me.”

“I don’t know why you make me crazy… but I don’t want you to ever stop…” He continued, his voice low and gravely. He groans loudly, his breathing growing heavier.

She knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how to push him over the edge. “I’ll be all yours tonight… waiting patiently for you in our bed. I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

“That’s what I wanted you to hear…” He lets out a low moan at her words, his hand gripping his length tight. “God yes… I’m gonna go home and rip those pretty lace panties right off you…”

“Tell me Billy… Does it feel good? Does it feel good knowing that it’s your hand instead of my pretty little mouth?”

“It would feel way better if it was your mouth… but it’s gonna have to do.” He groaned. “Keep talking like that to me… you drive me crazy, baby… I can’t wait to see you.”

“I’m going to take you so good later…” She hummed.

“Oh you better…” He moaned, his hand pumping himself faster. “I’m probably gonna be home before you… you better be ready for me, doll. I’m gonna he desperate.”

“I do love when my boy is desperate… fucks me so good.” She whispered.

Another low moan escaped his mouth, his hand gripping tighter as he pictured it. “You’re going to make me cum in my hand if you keep talking like that.” He groaned. “Be prepared for me when you get home… I’m going to be on you in a second.”

“Mmm, I cannot wait. I cannot wait for you to destroy me, leaving me unable to walk…”

“Mmm, I’m going to be leaving you a drooling mess, doll. You’re not even going to remember your own name when I’m done with you.” He spoke in a low, hoarse voice.

“Listen to you… so impatient for me. Are you going to cum, baby?” She taunted in a sultry voice.

“You better bet your ass I am… I’ve been thinking about you all damn day.” He let out another groan, his hand pumping faster over himself. “Where are you right now, in the bathroom? I bet no one knows the things we did in there… they have no idea what a little minx you are when I get you alone…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m always here to help you through.” She answered softly.

“Mmm, you know you’re the only one who helps me through these situations…” He hummed, his hand moving at a faster pace. “You’re the only one who has ever had…”

“That’s it… keep going. I know you’re almost there, baby.” She cooed seductively.

“Mmm, you know just how to talk to me, doll… You know what to say to drive me crazy. I’m getting close…” He grunted into the receiver.

“That’s it. Cover that hand for me… god, I wish I could taste it.”

“Fuuuuck…. just the sound of your voice is getting me there, baby…” He groaned, his hand going unbelievably fast.

“Just let go and I’ll be on my way home to you…” She whispered just the way he likes it.

“Mm… yes, baby… need you so bad.” A loud grunt was heard from his end of the phone.

That specific noise that left his lips told her everything she needed to know. “Good job, baby. I’m on my way home to you.”

“Mmhh… hurry. I can’t wait to get my hands all over you.” He muttered, his voice ragged. “See you soon, doll. Make it fast.”

© lupinsversion 2024

[vivid-dreamscapes]

~♡~ Love’s captive duel ~♡~

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Kai looked at him, placing a hand on the arm holding him to the wall. “Future hero. If even.” The boy said, reaching into his back pocket. Whatever he had grabbed from the game cabinet earlier was in there. He just needed and escape route and he could get Dabi.

“Because pro heroes…” Kai said with a small smirk as he lifted up a gun towards your unconscious body. Bakugou’s eyes widened. Oh gods. He had noticed you, tucked behind the boxes, but not out of shooting range. “Don’t let people die.”

Bang!

Everything froze. Everything became silent. All that his ears seemed to be able to hear was the ringing coming from the sound of the gun.

The ringing and Kai’s arrogant voice.

“What the hell-“ He froze when he felt the guys shirt slip from his hand. “What did you-“ He turned, slowly. Hoping, praying that there wasn’t what he feared.

The bullet had gone through your shoulder, the pain jolting you awake for the first time with a scream. You clutched your shoulder as he felt a glimmer of relief. Nowhere vital.

Bakugou felt an indescribable mix of rage and fear fill him as you let out a scream from the bullet in your shoulder. He quickly rushed over to you and knelt down.

“Damnit…” He muttered as he began carefully peeling the coat off your shoulders and moving the fabric out of the way so he could see the wound.

You let out another shout of pain, resting your head against the box behind you. Opening one eye, you looked at him, still hazy. “Katsuki? Where…?”

Hearing you say his name, especially his first name, made him feel a little better. At least you were still somewhat conscious and could talk.

It’s okay…I’m right here…” He said softly, his tone having shifted from the furious one he’d used back there to something that sounded more concerned. “Hold still for me real quick, okay?”

He very very gently felt around the wound, not pressing too hard but checking to see if there was an exit wound on the back. A feeling of relief washed over him when he confirmed that there was.

“It went right through…but it’s still gonna hurt like hell.” He carefully felt around the wound again, trying to assess how bad it really was.

You gritted your teeth and muttered something along the lines of ‘it already does’.

Bakugou cursed and tried to think fast. You needed medical help. That’s obvious. But how the hell was he supposed to get you out of here?

He looked over his shoulder at Kai, who was on the ground. He was slowly getting up, shaking from a combination of the punches he’d gotten and the adrenaline. The bastard was still conscious.

His eyes flickered between you and Kai, trying to think of what to do. His own brain was going at a million miles per hour.

You looked up at him before you eyes welled up. “Gods, I didn’t mean to drag you into this.” You whispered. You felt like a failure as a hero in training. You couldn’t get yourself out of this and instead you needed someone to save you. Pathetic.

“He drugged me, and when I tried to fight back, he….” You trailed off, holding the bandaged stab wound.

Bakugou looked at you with a mix of anger and sadness. He hated seeing you like this. You were tough, you were strong, yet you’d still get thrown into some sort of trouble and be the one to get hurt in the end?

“That’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He gently grabbed your chin so you would look at him. His voice softened a bit more. “You can’t blame yourself for any of this, got it?”

“Unless they can.” Kai’s voice came from behind you two and your eyes widened as you looked up at him. He had the gun pointed to the back of Bakugou’s head, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth. The blonde’s punches had done a number on him. “You two are coming with me. Dabi’s waiting outside.”

For the hundredth time in that day, Bakugou felt a wave of anger wash over him. Kai had the nerve to come up behind him like that while his guard was down? “Like hell we’re going anywhere with the two of you.”

He said through his teeth. Kai just chuckled, a smirk on his face. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

You watched the two of them with wide eyes. The blonde boy could tell one thing from your current state—with the overwhelming amount of injuries you had, plus the stab wound in your side and the after effects of the drugs? You couldn’t walk.

He could see you were struggling to even sit right at the moment. There was no way you were going to be able to stand up and walk out of the building like Kai wanted. “You’re insane if you think they’re gonna walk outta here like this.”

“I’ll just carry them out then.”

Bakugou clenched his jaw. He didn’t like that at all. The thought of anyone other than himself carrying you just pissed him off. Kai didn’t see you as a person. He saw you as a bargaining chip to get to Dabi for gods knows what reward. “The hell you are.”

Kai chuckled darkly and pressed the gun harder against the back of his head. “Like I said, you don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll fuckin’ carry them then.” God damn it. He knew that he didn’t really have a choice. Kai had all the power here. Any sudden movement, and Bakugou’s head would become a bloody mess. “Move. The. Gun.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands.”

“You’re in no position to threaten me, hero.”

He gritted his teeth. Dammit. He knew Kai was right. There wasn’t much he could really do with a gun at the back of his head. “I swear as soon as I get the chance…”

“You’ll what?” Kai chuckled, clearly amused at the situation. “You’ll do absolutely nothing and you’ll cooperate. Now pick them up.”

He let out a deep breath. Kai just didn’t know when to back off. He knew he had all the power in his situation so he was taking every chance to belittle him.

“Alright, alright. I will. Just…lay off.” He said through clenched teeth as he carefully slid his arms under you, trying not to hit or irritate your wounds as he slowly scooped you up off the ground and into his arms.

“Hurry up or it’s they’re leg next.”

Bakugou slowly stood up, adjusting the way he was holding you so he could get a better grip. He grumbled under his breath as he tried to keep your pain as low as possible. “Don’t you lay a goddamn finger on them.”

“So overprotective. How cute.” Kai said, narrowing his eyes as his finger tightened on the trigger. He nodded his head up the basement stairs. “Walk.”

Bakugou slowly began walking towards the stairs, careful to not jostle you too much in his arms. He wanted to keep you comfortable as best as he could while in this shitty situation.

He tried to keep his eyes forward, not giving Kai the satisfaction of a glare right now. That’s exactly what he wanted.

Gods, he swore, if he got the chance, he was gonna blow these guys up.

“You doin okay?” He asked, looking down at you. Immediately he regretted it. You had a black eye, a cut lip, multiple bruises and cuts, a stab wound, and a bullet wound. Of course you weren’t okay.

You looked up at him, still trying to comprehend what was happening. After all, when he had found you, you had been gagged, bound, and unconscious for who knows how long. The only thing that woke you up had been getting shot.

“I could be better.” You mumbled, clutching onto his shirt. Kai scoffed and spoke.

“Quiet, or I’ll regag ya.”

Bakugou wanted to snap at him but he felt your hand grip his shirt. The last thing you needed right now was to be put through any more stress.

“Dammit, let them talk.“

“Or what?”

“I’ll blow your brains out.”

His grip on you tightened as he walked. You were still shaking a bit, probably just from the shock of it all. The bastard had stabbed you, tied you up, and shot you.

Kai smirked and lifted the gun up a little bit higher. It made a small sound from the bullets moving inside and you shrunk down in Bakugou’s arms. “Funny, I’m the one with the gun.” He said, shifting the gun to point back and forth between you and him.

“I swear to gods, I’ll-“

“If you don’t shut your mouth, your both getting gagged.”

Bakugou wanted to continue to argue and threaten the bastard but he also knew he didn’t have a choice. Kai had all the control, which infuriated him.

The only thing he could really do right now was hold you. Try to give you some sense of comfort in this shitty situation.

“Alright. Fine.” He knew that being quiet was the the best choice at that moment.

Right about then, you three made it out of the basement, and in the middle of the living room was Dabi, waiting.

Dabi looked up when the three of you came into the room, still wearing that goddamn smirk. He pushed himself off the counter where he’d been leaning and shoved his hands into his pockets. His gaze flickered over you for a moment before looking back at Kai.

“Well, look who it is.” He looked towards Bakugou and a smirk crept up onto the patchwork bastard’s face. “And he brought a plus one.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth. Gods, he wanted to say so many things to Dabi right now but he had to keep his temper in check. Kai still had the gun pressed against the back of his head. One wrong move and this would all go south.

“I’m not here by choice, dipshit.”

“I can see that. You’re quite attached to them, huh?” The villain gestured to your current position in his arms.

Bakugou’s eyes darkened when Dabi mentioned him being “attached” to you. He knew it was true, yes, but something about the villain pointing it out rubbed him the wrong way.

He adjusted his grip, holding you a little tighter against himself in a protective manner. He could still felt you shaking a bit. “Shut it, jackass.”

Dabi held up his arms in surrender and snickered lightly. “Hey, hey, let’s be civil. I’m not here to play Cupid after all.”

He muttered something under his breath as Dabi smirked again, a sly glint in his eyes.

The patchwork bastard was really enjoying the situation right now.

“Just say what the hell you want. Bakugou grumbled, still holding you closely in his arms. Gods, seeing you looking this hurt was killing him.

“Straight to the point. That’s good.” Dabi chuckled, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, seemingly unfazed by the aggressive tone in the explosive’s voice.

Bakugou continued to scowl. How could this bastard be so calm about this whole situation? It was infuriating. “You get a kick out of this or something?”

“From pissing you off? Maybe a little bit.”

“Bastard.”

“Now now, play nice. We’re being civil, remember?” The villain smirked again and looked between the three of you.

Bakugou wanted to say something but held himself back. He was trying to keep his anger in check but the more Dabi opened his mouth, the more the urge to explode everything around him grew.

He felt you shift slightly in his arms, wincing from the movement. He subconsciously adjusted the way he was holding you again, his grip on you becoming slightly tighter out of worry.

“Relax, hero. I’m not gonna hurt them anymore. They’re no use to us if they’re a bleeding mess.” Dabi said with a smirk.

Bakugou gritted his teeth for a moment but chose not to say anything. He knew Dabi was right. You were valuable for whatever they needed you for. That’s the only reason he hadn’t completely lost it on the villains. “I swear, if you hurt them-“

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll kill me, I know, I know. Threats aren’t gonna do anything.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“For fucks sake—Kai, do it already.”

The blonde didn’t even have time to react before the host hit smack him right on the back of the head.

All he heard was your scream as he fell to the ground and blacked out.

[cloverlilly91]

WOOOOOO SECOND FICTOBER FIC

I had fun writing this hehehhwhahahaha

Ship is: Transmasc! Revivedbur x Quackity

Trigger warnings for: a/b/o universe, detailed NSFW bc I'm gay like that, PEGGING, body worship

I had fun writing this, so hopefully, you guys have fun reading it!!

ENJOYYYY!!!!

taglist: @lillyspeakz @simpburtheloser

God. Fucking. Damnit.

Wilbur was out of heat suppressant pills. And he had a strong urge to fuck something. Or more specifically... someone.

He made his way out of his cabin, taking quick but measured steps towards Las Nevadas. Was he meant to be there? No. Was he going to go just to mess with Quackity and hopefully get to fuck him? Absolutely.

He snuck into Las Nevadas, quickly making his way to Quackity's office with a smug grin. His pheromones were releasing like crazy, and it made him want to fuck Quackity the second he saw him. But he wouldn't do that. Yeah, he was crazy, but he wasn't a monster. He followed the scent of Quackity's stress, grinning as he entered the office. "Well, if it isn't my favorite duck," he said mockingly. Quackity's head shot up, and he glared at Wilbur. "Hijo de la- What do you want, Wilbur," he snapped, flaring his wings angrily. "Oh calm down ducky, I just wanted to see you," Wilbur replied, his tone one he would often use on Tommy when treating him like a little kid.

Quackity's eyes narrowed, and he sighed angrily. "Whatever you want, forget about it. You're not getting shit from me," he hissed. Wilbur chuckled, his pheromones releasing into the air as he took long, steady strides toward Quackity. Quackity's eyes widened as he finally caught a whiff of Wilbur's scent, realizing why Wilbur was there. "You're in heat," he said. It wasn't a question. "Indeed I am, and I want you to let me fuck you. Just for tonight, and we can pretend it never happened. In return, I'll leave you and your country alone... for a while," Wilbur responded, grinning.

Quackity thought for a bit, eventually sighing and standing up. "Fine. But just this once. If you ever ask me for something like this again I'm killing you." "Understood," was all Wilbur said, walking to Quackity's side. "Por qué estoy haciendo esta chingadera," Quackity muttered under his breath. "What was that?" Wilbur asked, leaning down to plant a kiss on Quackity's neck. "Nothing," he responded, shuddering at the kiss to his neck. "I think you're lying," Wilbur said, almost teasingly as he reached for Quackity's belt.

Quackity's breath caught in his throat as Wilbur's fingers brushed over his length. Involuntarily, his hips bucked up, chasing Wilbur's touch. Wilbur chuckled, a smirk forming on his lips. "You that desperate? Fucking whore," he teased. "Shut up, I don't exactly have a lot of time for shit like this," Quackity huffed, gasping as Will wrapped his hand around Quackity's clothed dick, squeezing him.

"Fuck," Quackity hissed, gritting his teeth. Wilbur chuckled, slowly rubbing him. "Stupid little whore," he teased, pulling Quackity out of his seat and pinning him against the wall. Quackity let out a surprised quack as Wilbur pulled down his pants, biting his lip as he slipped the tip of his middle finger in him. "Ay, mierda," he murmured, arching his back to meet Wilbur's touch, making the ex-president laugh. "That needy already?" he teased. "Shut up!" Quackity snapped.

From somewhere only gods know where Wilbur pulled out a strap-on and lube. "Where in the fuck were you hiding that?" Quackity questioned. "Wouldn't you like to know," Wilbur said as he took off his clothes. He put the toy on, decidedly keeping his chest binder on as he lubed Quackity up. "Ay, that's cold," Quackity hissed. "Oh, calm down. I might hate you, but I don't want to hurt you when we're fucking," Wilbur snapped, his hips suddenly thrusting forward to thrust into Quackity.

"Fuck!" Quackity cried out, clenching around the toy as he struggled to breathe. He hadn't been fucked in so long, and the sudden intrusion caught him off guard. Arching his back, he grinded his hips against the toy, desperate for some form of satisfaction. Wilbur chuckled darkly, grasping Quackity's hips harshly to keep him still, drawing a whine from the man. "You have to say it, use your words," Wilbur teased, smirking.

"Kill yourself," Quackity growled, struggling against Wilbur's hold. "Awww, you're so mean!" Wilbur pouted, pretending to be hurt. He reached around, grabbing Quackity's cock and squeezing. "Use your words," he hissed, glaring at Q. Quackity whined, bucking his hips slightly. "Fine," he spat. "Hurry up and fuck me!"

Wilbur laughed, thrusting agonizingly slowly into Quackity. "That's good, but not good enough." Quackity whined, bucking his hips to get more friction.

"What, you want me to beg?"

"That is exactly what I want."

Quackity groaned, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "You're annoying," he huffed.

"I know."

Quackity gasped as Wilbur bucked his hips forward, shoving the toy even deeper. "Fuck," he whined, leaning against the wall. "Hm? What was that?" Wilbur asked. "Fuck me..." Quackity whimpered, his thoughts hazy already. Wilbur chuckled. "Already being fucked stupid, eh?" He asked, starting to thrust into Quackity, his pace slow and measured. Quackity moaned, arching his back to meet Wilbur's thrusts. "You bitch," he muttered. "How am I the bitch?" Wilbur questioned, harshly thrusting into Quackity. Letting go of Quackity's hips, Wilbur let his hands roam over Quackity's body, gently brushing over every scar, burn, and marks that have yet to fade. Quackity shuddered, his wings fluttering manically.

Leaning down, Wilbur gently nipped at the base of Quackity's wings, making him cry out in pleasure. He began to pepper kisses along Quackity's back, focusing on the area between his wings. "Fucking-" Quackity cut himself off with a moan as Wilbur nipped at the base of his wings. Wilbur sped up the pace of his thrusts, making Quackity cry out in pleasure.

"You bitch!" he whined, leaning heavily against Wilbur, who was palming him and jerking him off in time with his thrusts, his other hand wandering over Quackity's body. "Oh, calm down. I'm just making you feel good," Wilbur said, caressing one of Quackity's wings. "Fuck, so close," Quackity whined, thrusting into Wilbur's hand desperately.

Without warning, Wilbur squeezed Quackity's length, giving him the final push he needed. He spilled onto Wilbur's hand, whining. Wilbur chuckled and pulled out of him, kissing his neck. "Good boy," he teased, Quackity leaning against the wall and trying to catch his breath. "Go fuck yourself," Quackity panted as Wilbur got dressed. Wilbur glanced back at Quackity, pulling his coat on. "I gladly will," he teased, walking out and leaving Quackity to clean himself up.

[marco-newgate]

Marco X CisFem Reader

3

Ace almost always entered your room without permission.

Drawing your name out into a long irritating whine he threw himself on top of you. Your eyes snapped open in annoyance while you flailed under the comforter and your idiot best friend.

"God damnit Ace if it's earlier than 10AM I'm fucking kicking your ass." You grumbled.

"It's 9:32 yoi." Marco's voice called muffled by the door.

"Get uuuuup." Ace whimpered completely ignoring your threat and going limp so it'd be harder to fight his dead weight.

"Why are you awake right now? It's Saturday." You twisted yourself around to your back spreading your arms out.

Quickly you wrapped your arms (with the blanket) around the freckled idiot flipping him onto the mattress sitting on his chest victorious.

"What the hell F/N?!" He wiggled beneath you.

"You were warned. Now you must face - "

"N-no don't! I'm sorry!" He shouted.

"- the tickle monster!" You finished digging your fingers into his ribs and arm pits through the blanket.

"I- ah- h-hate yah-you!" He giggled and kicked eventually finding the strength to push you over.

"We're too old for you to just come in here whenever you want. I need privacy sometimes ya know?" You flopped down next to him taking your blanket back.

"Gross." He muttered, "I just wanted you to come out with us. You've been moping around for almost a month."

"So, let me mope. I just had my whole future turned upside down." You pulled the blankets over your face.

It had been three weeks since you beat Sanji up and you'd had zero contact. He still hadn't returned any of the belongings you had left at his apartment, some of which you really wanted but there was no way you were going back there anytime soon. Facing people was annoying; people who knew what happened gave you pitiful glances and clichéd advice while those who didn't know asked how he was sending your heart into a depressing spiral.

Now you were living out of boxes in the room you'd grown up in. Barely sleeping and having your obnoxious best friend invade your space without permission... just like high school. But you loved it here. It was home. And though you'd never admit to them you loved living with these loud idiots.

There was a light tap on the door.

"Hey F/N...you should probably come out front." Sabo said softly.

Ace had quickly passed out next to you.

So much for waking me up ass.

"Will no one in this house let me sleep?" You groaned.

"Uh.. Well Sanji is here." He added. 

A gut clenching wave of nausea rolled over you as you sat up.

"Ace wake up dumbass." You swatted at his freckled cheeks.

"Wha - when did-"

"Shut up... Sanji is here." You choked on his name.

Ace shot to his feet while you rushed to make yourself look presentable. Dabbing concealer under your dark puffy eyes, you couldn't let him see how sleep deprived you were. Somehow it felt like he'd win if he saw what a mess he made you.

After braiding your hair and changing clothes you made your way to the front of the house. Ace taking confident purposeful strides at your side as you reached the screen door that lead to the porch. Marco and Thatch had already stationed themselves on the deck arms crossed and stone faced. Sabo stood nearby not quite as protective as the others. Ace pushed through the screen his balmy hand engulfing your wrist.

Your stomach fell again catching sight of the blue sedan. Marco glanced down at you offering a crooked smile.

" Seems he's too scared to get out yoi."

"I wonder why." You breathed palming his elbow.

The car's engine cut off drawing your attention back as Sanji stepped out cigarette hanging from his lips. That was a sight you hadn't witnessed since you'd become official. You didn't even have to nag him about it. He gave up smoking almost immediately. It was a rough couple of months and he substituted with constantly gnawing on a toothpick but you gladly accepted the trade.

Before you could will yourself to go down the porch steps Luffy came barreling out the door throwing himself over the rail that framed the deck.

"Saaaannnnjjjjiiiiiii!" He launched himself onto the blond causing the two eldest brothers to facepalm.

Seriously Luffy? He's the enemy.

You couldn't really stay mad at the youngest, though watching him cling to Sanji made you cringe. He is one of his best friends and Luffy is capable of existing passed the limbo of your differences and loving both of you.

"Oi Luffy - you disrespectful little -"

"It's fine." You hushed Thatch.

You took a deep breath before descending the small stair case.

"Finally bringing my things?" You asked breaking up the reunion.

Luffy stepped back grinning, "I'll help you carry your stuff F/N."

"Thanks honey, but I think I got it." You managed to smile at the raven.

"Uh yeah... Hey." Sanji muttered rubbing his neck, "I wasn't really looking forward to facing a firing squad."

"Yeah well you brought that on yourself." You shrugged, "Let's get this over with."

"Sure." He sighed opening the back door and pulling out a medium sized box.

You took it placing it on the hood of the car to rummage through and make sure he got everything. Some scarves, your favorite hoodie, flat iron, DVDs and books. Tucked into the very bottom corner were a pair of red lacy panties. Not only were they not your style they weren't even your size.

"These aren't mine." You stuffed them into the breast pocket of his pinstriped vest earning a chuckle from Ace, "There's a box in my room marked for this guy can someone get it for me?"

Without a word Marco dipped back into the house returning with a moving box labeled "Liar". He approached slowly, expression unreadable as he just dropped the box at Sanji's feet and turned to you.

"We've got to leave soon and you need to eat." He smiled picking up your box and heading back toward his brothers.

You stood awkwardly for a few moments trying to keep calm.

"Well if that's it." You turned away from the chef.

He caught your wrist, Marco and Ace bristled.

"I just really want to apologize. You didn't deserve that." He said softly smashing the cigarette with his boot.

"Well, I'm not much for forgiving right now so you'll just have to feel guilty for a bit longer if at all." You jerked out of his grasp, "You should go...these guys are pretty over it."

He sighed and slid back into the front seat as you climbed the steps trying to keep the tears at bay. Why did you still have to cry over this guy? You just wanted to be over it already. Ace held his arms out only to have them filled with your box of junk. Marco wrapped his arm around your shoulders and lead you back into the house. Ace shot Thatch an inquisitive look only to have the eldest shake his head and follow you inside.

"You really need to eat yoi. You're wasting away." Marco sat you down at the table with a plate of eggs and bacon.

"When did you worry so much over me?" You rubbed the mist from your eyes.

"Just eat."

"Can I promise to do it later?" You whined.

He slouched down in the chair beside you and leaned over just inches away from your face unamused.

"Ugh. Fine." You nibbled at the food suddenly feeling nervous under his lazy gaze, "Where are you guys going today anyway?"

"The beach!" Luffy cheered.

"Not really beach weather. Taking pops fishing?" You guessed.

"No he's over at Linlin's place on the lake this week." Thatch replied, "We just thought it'd be a good day trip, Luffy has been begging to go for a while."

You watched the youngest bounce around with bacon hanging from his lips.

"I think I'm gonna take a raincheck."

Ace let out a deflated sigh, "We want you to have some fun though."

"I know, and thank you, but I'm no fun right now. I don't even wanna hang out with me." You let out a dark chuckle.

"She can stay home if she wants." Marco defended making you shift beside him, "I'll just stay here with her. Koala is going so there's plenty of people to make sure the babies don't drown."

He was referring to Ace and Luffy who had never learned to swim but were drawn to water. It never made sense to you. You'd even offered to teach them – both just sank like rocks.

"You're one to talk." Ace scoffed.

"Yeah hypocrite pineapple." You chuckled, "You just wanted me there to lifeguard."

"Shut up yoi." He nudged you, "Don't fucking call me that."

You offered your best pouty face.

"Well whoever is coming get your shit together." Thatch called, "I'm leaving in 10 minutes with or without you."

After everyone left you sat on the sofa wrapped in your blanket channel surfing before landing on a movie you'd seen a few times. As you let yourself get lost in your thoughts Marco plopped down next to you.

"Are ya gonna stick to me all day?" You yawned.

"There's nothing else to do." He chuckled.

"Then make yourself useful." You nestled into his shoulder closing your eyes.

Marco crossed his arms settling into the sofa. A few moments later you were snoring lightly against him. You really hadn't gotten sleep it took almost no time for you to be completely unresponsive. Shifting a little he pulled you into his chest so that both of you were more comfortable.

"Sweet dreams." He murmured giving your scalp a soft kiss before drifting off himself.

A/N : Happy Birthday Pineapple! <3 

[thecluelessdoctor]

*sigh*

I'm going to be talking about a game today.

For now, we won't be talking about the things happening with the creator. Only the game. I've been wanting to talk about this game for a while, but haven't had the guts to due to the creator and the horrible things she and her husband have done.

Today I'm going to be talking about the game Your Boyfriend. Yup. T h a t o n e

Like I said, for this post we will only talk about the game. Nothing on the creators because I don't believe it is my place. If you want to know about it, I suggest this video

the video link is unavailable, so you'll need to find it manually.

Again, we will ONLY be talking about the game.

So, trigger warnings: obsessive love disorder, ranting, you boyfriend game, murder, etc.

So without further adue, let us proceed.

So if you don't know what YBG is, YBG is a visual novel horror game about a man who is obsessed romantically and sexually with you the player.

The man will be referred to as Peter seeing how that's his name- anyway.

First, let me say I've only seen up to day 2- or whatever day He kidnaps you. Yeah he does that. So my summary might not be accurate

So the game begins with you being at the park, your favorite spot. Here you meet Peter who claims to be your boyfriend. You can either go with it, or not. Your choice.

I haven't seen a playthrough in a while, so this is rusty. You later go to a flower store and meet him again, reaching for the same rose you are. He's like 'oh sorry' and you can react negatively or positively. Reacting negatively will make him hold the rose super right he bleeds.

Anyway the day ends with him at your window. Spooky/sarc.

Already right off the this sucks. But we ain't done we have day two.

In day two you go to your job, and you meet TK, your fellow employee, and someone who has romantic feeling for you.

During your job you see Peter again. Again being able to react negatively or positively, each ending in a different reaction. If you act positively, he'll walk you home, in which Dom..? I think, your landlord says your roommate hasn't been paying their share and might need to be kicked out. Peter offers to live with you with sexual intentions. If you agree your roommate will appear and be pissy.

Now if you react negatively, go finish your shift and go home, your roommate, Lucy is her name, noticing you look distraught. You two get high or drink, I don't remember, and I think y'all end up fucking.

Now here is where the next part comes into play, where you have a horrible headache or smt and leave your room to find pills. You see a figure in front of you, and you think it's Lucy and they are offering pills. Before you can react, they are shoved into your mouth and your mouth is covered and you hear Peter say something so forgettable that I don't care.

Nice. This game STINKS.

Not only does it romanticize a person with obsessive love disorder, it's just not scary!!! Yes the concept is truly horrifying, seeing how it's something that has, and does happen!! But this game treats it like us haha silly. And it's like. FUCK NO.

This game HAD potential.

Let's also talk about the style of the game- the visual novel style.

This style is only good for horror Under VERY specific circumstances. It needs to be done right, and holy hell does this game not do it right. It's terrible. The game just tells you the thing to fear outright or shows you completely. There isn't any FEAR here. It's not SCARY. Orginally when I first learned of the game, I was pretty young, but I still had my obsession with psychology, so I thought this game was going to be a psychological horror, and show the fear behind this concept.

BUT NO.

IT JUST THROWS JT AWAY GOD DAMNIT!!! INTO THE BIN!!!

And I HATE how this game claims to be mature for more than the sex themes!! Fuck, bendy and the ink machine, a mascot horror game for 13 plus is scarier than this shit.

Anyway I hate this game <3

[joels6string]

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x OFC

Chapter 15 - Bring it Home

Summary: The walls of Jackson finally welcome you home after months away.

Rating: E

Word Count: 6.4k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

Your fingers drifted over the icy metal of the doorknob, it had been weeks since you’d slept alone, and suddenly the thought of doing so again made you uneasy.

Chapter 14 || Series Masterlist

When Joel emerged from the darkened back rooms, the blood of two clickers splattered along his coat and his machete dripping, the archive room was empty. His chest was heaving, the fight slightly harder than he was anticipating, and his lungs burning as he took off in a sprint, searching through the endless corridors for any sight of you. He’d asked you to stay put, but he should have known you’d do the exact opposite. 

“Millie!” he called out, “Millie! God damnit…” he added on as a hushed curse. 

“Over here.” He hated the tone of your voice already. 

Amid a sea of pages and strewn magazines, he found you on your knees, chin to your chest, your eyes fixated on something in your lap. He approached slowly, coming up behind you and crouching down to peer over your shoulder, finding you staring down at photos from a ballet show published in one of the magazines. Scanning the page for whatever was triggering your damn near catatonic state, he found nothing of note until he reached the tips of your fingers covering a picture in the bottom right corner. 

There was no resistance when he pushed your hand to the side, a young woman with eyes in his favorite shade of green coming into view. 

He’d recognize that smile anywhere, even on a much younger face. What the article was about he didn’t care, and he suspected you didn’t either, but the blatant reminder of what life had once been was never something easy to swallow. Whatever makeup you were wearing did well to mask the freckles he knew we were being suffocated, but your shoulders were still decorated with each and every mark he intended to press his lips to at the first chance he got. Your lips were rosy pink, as were your cheeks, smoky makeup making the entrancing color of your eyes even more magnetic, the skin of your nose and cheeks smooth and unmarked by scars and time.

But it wasn’t you. Not his version anyway.

Pulling the book from your fingers, he rolled it and tucked it into his back pocket. He debated what to do with it as he pulled your hands into his; would you be ready one day? Or would this always haunt you? Taking it home was best, just in case, and if he had to keep it tucked in the attic until the pages molded then so be it. 

“Forgot what my face looked like,” you mumbled, tugging your hands from his, “At least now you get to see…”

“I don’t give a shit,” he’d barely let you get your words out, and when your eyebrows knit together he knew that was a little too harsh.

Thick fingers tipped your chin up, followed by three reverent pecks to the pink line across your face, your eyes pinching closed as you resisted the wave of emotion cresting in your stomach. Before he could pull away, you grabbed his lips with your own. It had been over a week since you’d done more than a soft kiss to his throat at night, someone had always been around, tasks needed to be done, and bodies were too tired to do anything more than collapse in a heap on whatever surface was the makeshift bed of the night. Now, you took advantage, unable to ignore the way your heart sped up and your skin heated despite the cool air surrounding you. 

His jacket was too thick, your fingers craved something thinner to feel him through, the thought of it being nothing at all sending another jolt to your stomach. You’d turned to face him, knees slotted between his bent ones as he continued to perch on his feet, your hands fisted in his worn flannel shirt. It was your tongue that begged for entrance this time, his lips parting at the gentlest brush and meeting your fervor in kind. 

A cloud of dust puffed up from the ground when he toppled backward, finally losing his balance, his hands bracing his unsteady body on the floor as your knees slid around his waist. He opted to settle down on his elbows, your chest following his down as you refused to lose contact with him for even a second. There was no fight for dominance, he was happy to follow your lead, allowing you to take his air and find comfort in the way your mouths pressed and pulled. It was natural the way he led you down further, laying flat on his back to give his hands the freedom to grip your hips and explore your thighs, your hands moving to either side of his head to hover over him.

The world disappeared in the fiery shroud of your hair, the dirty tresses that had fallen out of your top knot hours ago caging you into a world all your own. Soft grunts and whimpers echoed off the cavernous walls, the speed picking up as it all grew messier. The desire, the need, the euphoric feeling of his hands and his mouth, it was overpowering. Moving with little control, your core pressed down on the buckle of his belt, his mouth greedily swallowing down the pathetic little gasp that stung your throat as your spine straightened, the aftershocks twitching your fingers and pausing your ability to breathe; he enjoyed the sight so much his fingers dug into your waist as he repeated the motion, your whimpering cry so sweet on his tongue. 

“You need your tape,” you mewled, resisting the urge to heighten what had begun to build.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, dazed, his face tense and eyes snapped shut.

“Tommy’s probably worried.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

Thick arms wrapped around your middle as he sat up and brought you with him, your fingers immediately threading through his hair as he picked up right where you’d left off. There was no stopping your girlish giggle that bounced off his lips, his own smile stretching lopsided on his face. The weight of the world vanished for a moment, the steady heaviness of dread, guilt, and misery had lifted and you were left practically floating after twenty years of being bogged down. 

“Tape,” you laughed as he moved down to your neck, his breath warming the chill that had set in, “I wanna go home.”

“Home, huh?” he teased against your throat, his beard scratching over you enough to have your hips pressing against him again.

“Mmm.”

“I like the way you say that.”

Home. 

When you looked at him, that’s exactly what it felt like. Honeyed hazel stared warmly back at you, his dirt-smudged face and swollen lips welcoming you back as you kissed him once again, your hands cradling his face as he reciprocated your gentle affection. He was the four walls that the shutters slammed against when the storm raged, the levees that held back the floods, and the warm heat of a fire in a blizzard. 

“Anchors are supposed to sink.”

His words had haunted you, following you around with nagging regret. You shouldn’t have left. It had been weeks of wondering if you’d ever seen him again with the knowledge that his final request had been to come back to him. It was such a simple thing to ask of you, and somehow you’d failed. Yet here you were now, perched in his lap in a dusty old library kissing him like it was something you’d done a hundred times before. He was comfortable. He was warm. He was gentle. He was home. It had only taken you months to realize it. 

“Promise me everything is gonna be okay,” you whimpered against his mouth, your eyes pinched shut as you toyed with his collar at the nape of his neck.

“I swear.” As much as you wanted to believe it, the promise was empty. 

“Means no dying.” 

“Mm. Suppose it does.”

“You can promise me you’re not gonna die?”

“I think…scientifically speakin’ and all, I damn well might—“

A playful slap to his chest had a short, gruff laugh cutting off his sarcastic response, “I’m serious.” 

“Goes for you, too,” he grunted as he gripped the backs of your thighs and stood, your arms and legs wrapping around him as he steadied, “You gonna promise me you ain’t dyin’?”

“Joel…”

“Honey,” he sighed, placing you down to sit on the checkout counter, the affectionate moniker enough to have your breath hitching, “Don’t make me have to lie to you.”

It was a promise no one could keep.

“Then promise me you’ll try,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as your fingers found his hair once again.

“I swear,” he assured softly, sighing before pulling away and offering you a hand.

Once your feet hit the floor, he didn’t let go, his grip gentle but strong as he led you back to the archive tapes. Warm, calloused fingers threaded with yours, and you couldn’t help the way you gravitated into him, pressing your body against him as your free arm wrapped around to clutch his bicep. The canvas of his jacket was coarse against your cheek, but the immediate peace you felt as his warmth seeped into your skin had your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Okay…” he drawled as the archive room once again came into view, “Make this quick.”

Dusty old VHS tapes danced between fingers, murmurs of titles and frustration barely audible as you both searched for the only one that mattered. The ink had faded after decades abandoned, some close to being entirely illegible, his eyes squinting as he tried to make out which each aged strip of tape had etched on it. His grunts of frustration had you holding your breath to prevent the giggle bubbling in your throat, the battle finally lost when he rubbed the side of the box on his jacket like polishing it would help his case.

“Somethin’ funny?” he grunted, his slivered gaze shooting over to you.

“You need glasses,” you quipped, snatching the video from his hand and easily reading that this one held some former President’s inauguration speech, “This one isn’t it, either.”

“God damnit, there’s one more shelf.”

With only three to go, you found the coveted prize: the moon landing. Joel’s eyes lit up as he smiled, sighing in relief as he pulled it from your fingers, “Guess we’ll just pray it still works, then.”

The cold battered against you like a brick wall when you opened the doors to the library, Tommy having started a small fire for himself and the couple who sat cooking over the flickering flames. Days moved slower the closer to Jackson your convey got, sleep was more restless, tempers flared, a few brotherly physical altercations were broken up, and too many clickers for comfort were taken down as the gates drew nearer. 

“We’re gonna have to send clean-up crews out,” Tommy muttered, chest heaving, blood dripping off his fingers.

“Yeah,” Joel sighed, collapsing down against a tree, “Everyone else okay?”

“Looks like it, your girl is over that way and seems to be all in one piece.”

In one piece, but hanging by a thread. The road home had made you all weary, you spent most days asleep between Joel’s shoulder blades on the back of the horse, your nights restless and panicked no matter how tightly he swaddled you against him. He’d found you staring out the window one night, watching for any threats that may come by, and no amount of gentle or stern urging had convinced you to return to the makeshift bed on the floor. 

“Two more days,” he’d assured just moments before the infected that now lay dead at his feet had appeared, and as he looked at you staring off into the graying skies, he contemplated trying to convince the party to make it a straight shot back to Jackson.

“We should find somewhere to hole up for the night,” Tommy suggested, “I think that river runs somewhere around here, we can get some water to clean up with.”

“What if we just pressed on through,” Joel replied, his eyes still locked on you.

A heavy sigh clouded around both brothers, and Joel knew Tommy had been thinking the same exact thing. Snow crunched under the younger of the two’s boots as he approached the older couple emerging from their hiding spot and Joel took off in the opposite direction, cautiously slipping his hand onto your lower back. 

“Ready?” he asked tentatively, “We’re thinkin’ maybe we just go straight on through. No stoppin’. Might need you to take the reins for a minute–”

“Sure,” you confirmed, turning to catch his hazel gaze with a soft smile, “You’re a mess.”

“Huh?”

Your hands worked a ball of snow until the white powder had turned to frigid water, your fingers gently wiping the blood spattering on his face clean with focus and precision. It felt oddly good, his cheeks hot and hairline damp with sweat despite the temperature. He was still getting accustomed to these gentle touches, you both were, but as the days wore on they’d become more frequent and less tentative. It had been too long for it all to be natural–giving and receiving–but through shaking breaths and trembling hands, it was slowly becoming easier. Hearts no longer pounded anxiously and the fear of rejection had almost entirely subsided, but there was still so much missing and it was a void you could both feel.

“Here,” you cooed, pulling a small tin out of your pocket and dipping your middle finger in the thick balm that it housed, “This might help you a little.”

The way his eyebrows knit together as you dabbed the salve onto his wind-chapped lips had a smile lifting your cheeks and he breathed in this moment and the way it made your eyes sparkle in the haze of twilight.

“Whatchu got there, Joel?” Tommy called as he approached, “That’s some nice lip gloss.”

“Shut up,” Joel replied as Tommy laughed to himself, not turning his head away before you’d finished your task, “That ain’t half bad,” he commented as he tapped his lips together, testing the new sensation.

“You’re somethin’ else,” Tommy chuckled with an affectionate lilt, “We’re good to ride through if that’s still the plan. One of us might have to man their horse overnight long as you’re up for it, Millie.”

“Should be fine,” you answered quickly, eager to get back into the safe gates of Jackson.

When the sun came up and your shift atop Lee and Corbin’s horse ended, Joel nestled you into the saddle in front of him where you passed out within seconds swaddled in his warmth and subjected to the steady sway of the trot. It was too comfortable here with your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, his other arm wrapped securely around your middle as the paths grew more and more familiar. Tommy had begun giving the tour of the patrol paths to the two newcomers as the sun began to set on the final day, and when the tall wooden barricades of home came into view, he finally slumped down in relief.

“We’re home,” Joel whispered into your hair, somehow you’d slept the entire day away and he knew it was the longest stretch you’d had in months, “Wake up.”

Jackson’s stables welcomed you, Joel’s hands guiding you down to the ground as you breathed in the familiar scent of home. Tommy had quickly taken to tending to Lee and Corbin, Joel stopping you from approaching with a stern look on his face.

“He can take care of them,” he said, the sun a ring of fire around his head and shoulders, “Let’s get you home.”

Arguing would be futile and a shower was far too tempting, as was a couch and a mattress and a pair of sweatpants. It was a short walk from the stables, you just had to make it through the center of town first. Joel had already prefaced that word of your supposed death was sure to have traveled to every ear by now.

“Ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned! That ain’t a corpse as far as I can tell.” You couldn’t even remember the man’s name as he came and pulled you into a hug. 

Before Joel could get you out through the doors, more people began filing in. It grew louder and louder, more hands and embraces than you could count, your heart hammering against your chest; Joel had been separated from you in the crowd as the words being said to you became indiscernible in the crowd and the air grew thick as space closed in. 

“That’s enough!” a woman’s voice called out, “Move out! Joel, get her.”

Maria Miller. You’d never been happier to hear her voice. She was standing atop of pile of boxes, towering over everyone else despite her small stature, her blond hair pulled back in a short ponytail as the townspeople obeyed her every word.

A warm, rough hand circled around your wrist and tugged, Joel’s familiar brown canvas jacket stretching across his broad shoulders as he led you out into the open streets. He didn’t stop, continuing on towards the residential area past his own white house and around the corner towards yours.

“Wait!” a small voice yelled frantically from behind you, “Wait!!!!”

No sound could have had you moving faster. You wrenched your wrist free of Joel’s grip, turning to intercept the 15-year-old girl barrelling into your arms. Her hair was soaking wet, just a thin hoodie and jeans covering a body you knew was still too thin, and it took only seconds for tears to soak the front of your jacket. She was shaking from the cold and the emotions raging in her, the way she was holding you almost keeping air from your lungs.

“They said you were dead,” she was muttering over and over, not even a hand cradling her head to your shoulder or your shushing sobs were enough to calm her down, “You were gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” you choked, and somehow saying those words made it all worse. 

This is what it felt like to let someone down, to break someone’s heart. It was painful and it was horrifying, it made your joints ache and your chest seize up; was this what love really was? As you held that crying girl in an iron grip, the weight of the consequences of your actions fell onto your shoulders. This was your doing. No one else’s. You were the one who left at the slightest hint of adversity, ran away like a petulant child, and avoided feelings you’d known were there for so long they’d boiled over and burned everyone in the surrounding area. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried out again, your cheeks soaked.

Arms long enough to contain you both pulled you in, Joel’s chin resting on your head as you leaned into him, and you stayed in that shelter until Ellie finally lifted her head. Swollen, reddened green eyes stared up at you, her expression telling you she still thought this might be a dream, and your palms cradled her face to say the words you couldn’t. 

“I missed you,” she croaked out, fighting the urge to let her head fall back down to the drenched patch of your coat, “You missed Christmas.”

“I know,” your voice quavered, “I missed you, too.”

“Let’s get you home,” Joel, who’d been silent and steady up until now, urged, dropping his arms as you slung yours around Ellie’s shoulders.

With every step, it felt like a small piece of the gaping hole in your chest filled in. Ellie had calmed enough to rattle off a few new puns she’d learned in your absence, Joel’s horrified groans at a few making smiles involuntary. When your house came into view, Ellie began to bob with excitement, confessing she’d visited every day and watered the plants and that her time on farming which she’d always dreaded had actually come in handy in keeping your green collection alive and well. 

It was just like you’d left it, not a thing out of place. It was warm, Ellie having kept the heat going for the sake of the inhabitants, tension from months in the mountain winter’s air beginning to melt away. While Ellie retold her adventures in horticulture, bringing one back from the brink of death while separating two different stems from one pot that seemed to be competing, you and Joel stood by and listened, just glad to hear the sound of her voice again. 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel piped up when she’d finished revealing she had watched a few of your movies, “Why don’t you wait for her to get cleaned up and then bring her on over to our place for dinner. There’s no food here and store’s closed.”

You audibly moaned when the warm water of the shower hit your skin. Time was limited as you rinsed weeks of dirt from your body and hair, needing to shampoo three times to get it all clean. Ellie had snuck in and warmed another pot of water, announcing it was done as she closed the door behind her. And you needed it. There were still razors in your drawer and clean towels in the cabinet, although they were a little dusty. Clean, comfortable clothes waited and after carefully combing the knots from your hair, you put the hood of your sweatshirt up and took off with Ellie down to the house on Rancher Street. 

Joel had already started dinner by the time you arrived, his beard trimmed and face weighed down by exhaustion. He hadn’t slept in what was close to three days and here he was prepping food Maria had definitely delivered for him, his fridge was just as empty as your own.

“So…” Ellie began as dinner was being finished, “We can do Christmas tomorrow.”

“It’s February,” Joel replied in a flat tone.

“But she missed Christmas! And we have gifts for her!”

“S’fine by me, but I ain’t decoratin’ again.”

“C’mon! Don’t be such a Scrooge!”

“Scrooge? How do you even know who that is?”

“I watched the movie with Cat and Dina.”

“Yeah, Joel,” you hummed over the mug of tea still hot in your hands, “Don’t be such a Scrooge.”

“Don’t take her side,” he cautioned softly as he sat back with a grunt that signaled defeat, “Fine, but no damn tree.”

“A small one?” Ellie pleaded, “Just enough to put gifts under!”

“What? Like a bush?” he asked sarcastically, that crooked grin lifting the left side of his mouth, “Yeah, go on and chop down a Christmas bush. You know where the hatchet is. Just make sure it ain’t one of Eugene’s.”

With a promise to return tomorrow for the planned festivities, you bid her goodbye with another tight hug, Joel opening up the door and leading you home like he had so many times before. Small talk about the relief of being home filled the short walk, how nice it was to shower and have a homecooked dinner, and before you knew it you’d both walked up the three steps to your front door.

“Alright then, I’m sure you, uh, want your space,” he sighed, “Just come on by tomorrow when you’re ready. I’m sure she’ll be up makin’ the whole damn house a mess.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, butterflies erupting in your stomach, “Okay.”

Your fingers drifted over the icy metal of the doorknob, it had been weeks since you’d slept alone, and suddenly the thought of doing so again made you uneasy. It was safe now, and warm, you didn’t need to share a cramped space where danger lurked in every breath, but you were afraid you’d become too used to it. You’d had a few nightmares along the way, but notably less, though at the time you’d attributed it to the lack of time asleep. Maybe it had been him, though.

“G’nite,” he decided for you, batting your hand away and opening your door himself.

“Night,” you responded as you contemplated the risk of grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him inside with you. 

Would he kiss you goodnight? Could you kiss him goodnight? He was so tired, you were surprised he was still standing, the purple bags under his eyes hadn’t been this dark since well before Jackson. You both just needed a solid night’s rest, this clearly wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having right now. He likely wasn’t even capable of it. 

Closing the door and entering your home didn’t bring the reprieve you’d hoped it would. It felt too empty, too quiet; when had you begun to detest solitude? Someone had dropped off groceries, multiple people it looked like, your counter full of items that hadn’t been there before. A note was pinned to your fridge by a magnet Indy had gifted you, the simple, messy penmanship scribbled reading ‘I thought I told you to stop pulling this shit. And you couldn’t even say hi?! These were all sitting on the porch, figured I’d drop them off. You better be with Ellie. Sophia and I are a thing…by the way…and I do still live at the same house, in case you were wondering. Same address. Same place… See you tomorrow (don’t make me go to Joel’s.) -Indy’

While you were placing all the donated items into the pantry, a soft knock echoed through the house. You debated leaving it unanswered, it was probably just another bag of food or something of the sort, or maybe it was Indy, but either way, it was 10 PM and you should be asleep, whoever it was should understand.

“Millie?” 

You could have ripped the door off its hinges with how much force you tugged it open with, Joel standing on the other side with frost-blushed cheeks and a nervous expression. 

“I…uh…” he stammered, averting his eyes to the icicles hanging from your awning’s roof, crossing his arms over his chest as his tongue knotted.

Whatever he had to say didn’t matter. Flinging your arms around his neck you pulled his lips to yours, tangling your fingers into his silky gray hair as he kicked the door shut and locked it behind him. His fingers dug into the skin of your waist when your tongue brushed against his, a groan of relief vibrating from his throat into yours. With no prying eyes to find you, weeks of pent-up energy flooded out. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt this throbbing at your core. Sex had been nothing but a tool, fodder for barters, or something taken by force, not something you’d ever wanted or craved, but when you pushed his jacket from his shoulders as your back thudded against the wall you couldn’t help but feel as frightened by it as you were thrilled.

The nerves didn’t stop you, however, your lips continuing in their dance and noses pressed to cheeks. His hands stayed on your hips, and you knew he was feeling all the same things you were. 

“Upstairs,” you huffed out against him, his eyes wide as he looked for signs of hesitation on your face. It took all your effort to maintain a steady stare under the weight of his.

“Lead the way,” he whispered in a husky tone, goosebumps rising on your skin and leaving a fire in their wake. 

The staircase stretched for miles as you led him by the hand to your bedroom, a fresh set of sheets and blankets put on by Ellie or Indy at some point in the hours since you’d gotten back. One less thing to worry about, but the list was still a mile long.

“Did they bring my bag back?” you asked as the door clicked closed, the empty hook jogging your memory.

“Uh…” he murmured, that hadn’t been what he was expecting, “Yeah. I think so.”

“Okay. There’s just..stuff in there that I need.”

“Uh-huh.”

You were stalling now, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up enough speed to churn, your fingers nervously wringing on your stomach. It didn’t help he was watching so intently, either, looking for the first sign of discomfort to talk him out of what he wanted just as much as you did. This was just one step you didn’t want to take first, you just didn’t know how to tell him. But it was act now or watch him leave, again.

“Can you…” you sputtered, closing your eyes and tipping your chin.

“Can I what?” he asked, the mischievous lilt to his voice was reassuring, his boots slowly creaking against your floor as he closed the distance between you.

Heat burned your cheeks so hot you knew they had to be glowing even in the dim light of the moon, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip that still tasted like him. His knuckle tilted your face up, your eyes shooting open to find him towering over you with his extra eight inches, and you did all you could with the expression on your face to beg him to continue. You tried to stay relaxed, mouth hanging open slightly, gaze fixed in what you hoped was curious and thankful. If you held his head, he couldn’t deny anything, so you threaded your fingers in his hair again, scratching affectionately before giving him a small nod. Can he … this?

A crooked smirk decorated his face before he kissed you, this time it was your turn to hum appreciatively into his mouth, and he swallowed it down as he pushed you against the door just as he had on the wall downstairs. He was slower this time, giving you time to relax or stop him if you wanted to, but you found yourself only easing into his arms that were wound around your waist, and in that comfort you braved undoing the lowest button of his flannel, pausing and giving him time to put a halt on everything. He didn’t.

There was no stopping the way you shook as you slid his shirt over his shoulders, his grip around you releasing until the fabric sat in a heap on your floor. You felt him tense, reassuring you that you weren’t the only one mortified at the thought of someone seeing what was under your hoodie and pants, but he had no reason to shy away. Dark hair covered his toned chest and stomach, a gnarled scar puckering the skin just right of his navel. 

“What happened?” you asked, concerned despite whatever it was being fully healed. You knew that this one had almost claimed him.

“Rebar,” he answered, “Fell a few stories off a balcony. Went all the way through.”

“When?”

“Bringin’ Ellie to the Fireflies.”

So, recently, no more than a year and a half ago give or take. It wasn’t hard to find the matching roughened patch on his back, and when you kissed him again it was hard enough to convey the turmoil raging in your thoughts. There’d been a chance he could have died before ever finding you. And how much different your life would be, if you still had it. Your sweatshirt was too thick, it created too much distance between your skin and his, so when you stopped to take a breath you pulled away just enough to pull it off over your head, your hair in its loose bun falling down around your shoulders. It was still warm even in just the thin, worn tank top you had underneath, and you flattened your palms on his chest to push him back towards the bed, your nails grazing through the soft hair until he was sitting down in front of you, your body notched between his knees. 

With a surge of bravery thanks to the way he was gratuitously drinking the sight of you in, you shucked your pants off as well, climbing into his denim-clad lap in just panties and the top. He needed no other invitations, the tips of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass as he gripped you tightly, his kiss growing sloppy as his focus was pulled to new areas and sensations. The ache between your legs was growing unbearable, and you could feel his own similar issue stiffly beneath you that was doing you no favors in containing the pathetic little mewls escaping into the dark. Your throat was currently being explored, the scratching of his beard heightening every brush of his lips and tongue, making it all the more impossible to keep yourself quiet. 

“Can I take this off?” he panted, toying with the hem of your shirt, and when you nodded he did exactly that, pushing the fabric up to your neck as he ran his hands all the way up your body before finishing the job.

Before he even drifted his gaze to what he’d just uncovered, he grabbed you by the hips and laid you down, head on your pillow, his eyes drinking you in splayed beneath him. It was nervewracking, he was taking his time, a calloused thumb circling your pebbled nipple slowly. It felt so good your whole body jerked as it searched for more, and when his lips replaced his thumb that moved to give your untouched side the same attention, your spine arched off the bed as you cried out, holding his head against you as he suckled and swirled his tongue over your neglected skin. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as you were, grunting softly as he lavished you, exploring every inch of your breasts with his lips, grazing his teeth and sucking with just the right amount of pressure to have you dizzy. 

“Oh, shit…” he whimpered, dropping his forehead to your chest as he sighed, hot hair huffing out against you as you realized he’d just come from nothing but pleasing you.

You could finish yourself off quickly at just the thought of that, your fingers would make quick work of the spell he’d put you under, but after a moment to regain his breath he was back at your lips kissing you softly, the gentleness of it a cruel tease in your current state.

“Just, gimme a few minutes,” he breathed, yours pecking at his moving lips desperately, “Am I free to do as I please?”

The gravelly way he spoke and the things he said sent another burst of pressure to your core, and you wanted to scream he could do anything if it would stop the ache, but you held your frustration at bay and nodded. His mouth tasting its way down your torso distracted you from his hands pulling your panties down and throwing your knees over his shoulders, your bare cunt centimeters from his face when you realized your current position. One hand pinned you to the bed by the stomach as the other kept one leg firmly down, his tongue slipping through your soaked slit and tasting the fruits of his labor, a wanton cry ripping free from your chest. 

“You know, I was never a big fan of sweets,” he commented as you wriggled in his hold seeking more, “But god damn.”

Tears stung at your eyes when he pushed up into your waiting hole, his thumb rubbing on your clit as he slid in and out, circling over your walls to collect all you had to offer. A thin sheen of sweat had you practically iridescent in the moonlight, hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks as you finally succumbed to the burning pressure in your belly. It was a perfect eruption of bliss and relief, his name falling from your tongue like a prayer. He seemed to enjoy that, his mouth working harder over your swollen, sensitive clit, fingers slipping into your channel and working to scissor you open while curling to press against a spot deep inside no one had reached before.

He gave you no time to come down, your body immediately responding and building up once again, needing more than just the two thick digits currently pumping in and out. The way you writhed beneath him and scratched across his back told him all he needed to know, the head of his cock pressing against your opening. You gave him consent with another sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue while knotting your fingers into his hair, the stretch as he pushed in giving you pause and making him freeze.

“You okay?” he asked, clearly trying to keep control.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, trying to relax the wince set on your face and the tension in your thighs.

“I’ll go slow.”

Gently, he pushed in a little more and waited, pulling out just enough to slip back in with more of his impressive girth and length. With every testing pulse, you eased more, your grunts of discomfort evolving to heavy breaths of bliss. You’d adjusted enough to take the second half of him in one thrust, his hips meeting yours as you sheathed him entirely, and you relished in the closeness this brought. His chest was pressed to yours, lips locked together, hands in hair, and you’d never felt better or safer. 

“You feel so damn good,” he sighed, pulling out and slipping back into your now-drenched hole, you could feel the thick thatch of curls at his base growing damp from what was leaking free.

“Yeah,” you agreed, trying to find simple words for you knotted tongue, “You too.”

Every roll of his hips grew sloppier, his desire to be swaddled by you battling his need for friction as he climbed into the clouds, you wanted him to meet you there. You were so close to release, but you wanted to topple over the edge together with him, so you pathetically whimpered 'please' against his panting lips, flicking your hips and clenching your cunt until he tugged on your hair enough to hurt, moaning quietly into your ear. At the first sensation of him spurting hot and thick inside of you, you locked your ankles at the small of his back, letting this wave of euphoria slowly wash over you like the tide. It was gentle and warm, leaving every muscle lax and pliable as you cradled his head where he’d collapsed down onto you. It lingered, the buzzing sensation, his damp hair still soft as you combed through it.

“I’m,” he started, he’s half asleep already, “I got…snipped–”

“Ssshhh,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head while laughing to yourself. Of course he would be thinking about that even in his current state, “Just go to sleep.”

It didn’t take long for him to obey, his breathing slowing and deepening beneath your gentle touch. You fought sleep for as long as you could, enjoying the way he was relaxed and knowing it was you who had given that to him. He needed you, or at least that’s what it felt like here as you held him in your arms while he slept. 

You wanted him to need you, to be his solace though you’d been nothing but his nightmare for so long already. The smell of his shampoo was still evident in his hair when you buried your face in the gray strands, two tears slipping free from your eyes and resting like dewdrops on the grass. 

Love could also be this. But was that worth everything else?

Chapter 16

[yellowsugarwords]

I would die for some Luke, Pete, and Nick x reader (separate, romantic) of them getting separated in a dire situation, and readers "last words" being some variation of "find me in the next life in case I don't make it" or "please allow me to become your wife in the next life" but the MAKE IT n meet again later on and they're like "Soo..." :3 idk!!! Lol

omg omg omg omg you’re killing me here I LOVE THIS.

these are gonna be longer so check them out under the cut :) these took me so long to craft omg

Luke: “Damnit,” Luke drilled his fist into the dirt. The burning in his lungs didn’t seem to matter anymore. “Luke, you couldn't have--” “I know.” Luke snapped, refusing to lift his head. It had all happened too fast for any of them to see it. A wall crumbled, splitting their group in two. The groups scrambled, attempting to move mounds of cement, sharp wood, and dangerous debris. The moment they spotted each other through the wall, Luke and Y/N sighed. “Thank God,” they said in sync. But, like a curse, the wall groaned on Luke’s side. The growls of approaching walkers loomed. Their eyes snapped back together. “We can work fast.” “Y/N,” Luke said, trying to stop them. “It took us this long to get this far. We don’t have enough time.” “No.” Y/N attempted to claw at the rubble, wanting to break down the wall, but Luke’s desperate pleading made them stop. “Y/N, please.” He said, eyes wide. He was terrified. Y/N was too. They both knew. “Just,” he groaned, feeling as though his heart was falling apart inside him. “Just, please,” he took a deep breath. “Just be my wife. In our next lives. Alright?” Y/N eyes widened, tears swelling. Before they could speak, the wall crumbled, entrapping Luke and his group within the infested area. Y/N collapsed and creamed, hearing the muffled ground and wails from the other side. The world was so silent and loud at the same time. Y/N was broken.

It has been months, but it feels like years. Every day dragged on, and the unknown was eating Y/N alive. Knowing that they left Luke back there? That they left those monsters to eat him alive while they just stood there? On the other side of a wall listening? They hated themselves for letting it happen. But then, out of nowhere one day, wandering in the woods for firewood, their group heard something. Just as quickly as Y/N’s group aimed, a voice called out through the brush. “Y/N?” They turned, and locked eyes with Luke, only a few feet away, standing in the rocky forest path. “Luke?” They took a step forward - or tried to - but collapsed to their knees, eyes welling up. Luke darted for them, abandoning every weapon he was holding. He crashed to his knees, enveloping his arms around Y/N, eyes teary and chest tight. Y/N clamored at his back, clutching his shirt. “Am I dreaming?” Y/N asked, throat tightening. “No,” Luke hushed, stroking at their back and hair. “It’s real.” After a beat of weepy sobs and tight clutches, Luke spoke. “Do you remember what I asked?” He whispered into the side of their hair, fingers brushing through it. Y/N laughed and nodded, tears already rolling. “Of course I do.” Was all they could whisper back, pulling away to hold his face in their hands. They had barely finished what they were saying before Luke crashed his lips onto theirs.

Nick: Nick knew they were in a pinch, but this time? This time it was really bad. The shack they were staying in was starting to crumble from the weight of walkers outside, and the two were backed into a - literal - corner. They had members of their group reaching from the other side of the cabin, both branching off in entirely different directions. Neither of them had any idea where each of them were going, but they knew it wasn’t going to be together. “Y/N,” he said, calling them the nickname he had always called them - a way he tried to build rapport when they were new to the group - when he felt Y/N’s panicked and knowing gaze settle on him. Nick gulped. “Wait for me in the next life, okay?” Y/N felt a wail swell in their throat. Before they knew it, Nick felt a tug on his arm, ripping him out of the shack, just as a desperate “Please!” ripped from his lips. They didn’t offer him a chance to slow down or stop. Suddenly, Y/N was gone, and Nick, once again, felt like his heart had been abandoned in the snow.

Nick had turned into a ghost of himself in the years that passed. He wandered meaninglessly - like a ghost - wherever what remained of their group wanted to go. It wasn’t until they caught wind of a survivors camp based a few miles off that Nick would eventually feel some sense of joy again. The moment they were allowed in, they were scoured for bites or infections. The moment they passed through, they were to be given rooming assignments. That process was run by Y/N. The two turned around, as if fate had placed them there, and locked eyes. The two stared in silence as the shocked murmurs fluttered around them. “It’s you?” Nick asked, dumbfounded. Y/N slowly smiled, shaking their head in disbelief. “Only if that’s you,” Y/N said softly. It felt as though they didn’t hesitate any time before wrapping each other up in their arms. Nick even swung them off the ground, burying his face into their neck. His wish had come true. It was a new life - for the both of them - and they had waited for each other. ‘Do you remember--” “Yes,” was all Nick said, before leaning in for a kiss.

Pete: Their last moments were brief, fleeting, but devastating. Y/N reached out, attempting to grab his hand and pull him up onto the landing. A swarm of walkers lurched on below, but the rest of the group was pleading for Y/N to hurry. More were on their floor, closing in, and they didn’t have much time. “Hun,” Pete said, voice low. Despite the noise, it felt like it was just the two of them. “Just let me be with you, still, in your next life. Okay? Wait for me.” Y/N’s eyes slowly widened, putting the pieces together. “Pete--” Suddenly, the balcony gave way, and Y/N’s was yanked back before they could crumble with it. Pete, luckily, managed to snag onto a loose pole, clinging to a nearby loft, and managed to avoid the warm below. Somehow, he had managed to get away, to escape death one time. Possibly, one last time. But now, fleeing from the crumbling building, he glanced around and saw no one. Once again, he was alone.

It had been almost a year since the incident, and Pete became a changed man. A hardened man. Prior to losing Y/N, he was good at rolling with the punches. After losing them, it was as though Pete couldn’t bear to fight anymore. The light had long left his eyes, until one rainy day in the fall. They were taking cover in an abandoned gas station and hears rustling in the back. Weapons armed, their small group started forward. “We don’t want any trouble,” “Please,” a weak voice wavered from the back. Pete’s head snapped up. “Neither do I.” Wait. The gears were turning for Pete. Wait. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Pete abandoned his gun and stormed into the back. “Pete!” The group called, astounded as to his reckless behavior. He threw the door to the back room open and there, on the floor, was Y/N. They were drenched in water, shaking from head to toe, and meekly glanced up at - what they thought - was to be a stranger. Their eyes widened the instant they met Pete’s. “Y/N?” He asked, voice breathy. Reality was coming to him slowly, bit by bit, then crashing into him one by one. He threw himself to his knees, wrapping the freezing human in his arms. “Oh my God,” he breathed, clutching their back and hair. “I can’t believe I found you.” “I thought you were dead,” Y/N managed out between shaky breaths. Pete pulled away, holding their arms, studying them. “You’re freezing,” he said under his breath, ripping his coat off and wrapping it tightly around them. “Pete,” Y/N said softly, calling to him as loudly as they could. “I waited. Pete smiled, misty eyed. The rest of his group were bustling around them, but Pete didn’t care. Right then, it was just the two of them, as he pulled them in closer.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

[pastel-omegas-blog]

Chapter One

Chapter Two

WARNING!!! THIS BOOK WILL CONTAIN MATURE THEMES AND VIOLENCE PLEASE LEAVE IF IT WILL MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. I DO NOT NEED THIS BOOK TO BE REPORTED . YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.( Mentions of suicide,bullying, blood/torture ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️( This book is going to have more matured themes  compared to my others, from smut scenes to non-con, lactation, drugging, hypnosis, abuse of power and over obsessiveness. 

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" Arguh! Do we really have to come to this frozen waste land? " A man said as he hugged the thick jacket he wore around his frame even tighter his pale cheeks already getting a red hue to them as he continued to swear under his breath, peaking out of the carriage window to see the knights sticking close to their side and small snow falling. His purple eyes narrowed at the sight of more snow.

" It won't take long until we reach the manor your grace " an elderly voice replied and the blue haired male clicked his tongue in irritation.

He hated this. 

He hated having to leave the comfort of his home in the capital.

He hated having to leave the warm and cool weather for this frozen deadland.

He huffed removing his glasses, wiping away the steam that fogged the lens for the umpteenth since he had crossed the border, before wearing them growling loudly as they started fogging up again.

The gods he hated this forsaken land!

He wished he hadn't accepted his older brothers proposal to come here. Had he known he would be stuck in this condition he would have refused to step foot into this land.

And he had sent him to where they throw that devil incarnate to. 

He was so mean doing such a cruel thing to him.

" I can't take this anymore! I want to go back home " the man says with a scowl on his thin peach lips  folding his arms and puffing out his cheeks his eyes narrowing into a glare as he stared at the elderly man who seemed to be acting as a chaperone 

Ren felt a headache beginning to form as he stared at the fuming recessive omega noticing how his scent of oranges started becoming acidic.

The aging recessive alpha didn't have the strength to deal with any bratty attitude. He was already stressed as it is. The imperial family were playing with fire with this stupid plan they were doing. Trying to one up on the Duke and the northern nobles would not be good for them in the long run, yet they still went ahead to do. And they made matters worse by adding an inexperienced child to the team as a representative.

" I'm sorry your grace but it's too late to turn back now. Please bare with the conditions for a few more minutes " the grey haired man said trying to soothe the younger man but he wasn't having any of it.

" No! I said I want to go back home now damnit! What are you deaf ? Has your age started affecting your hearing as well ? I want to go back home now. I don't care how you do. Open a teleportation portal for me or something damnit. How an old fool like you could ever be given the title of a ' war hero ' is beyond me. I'm tired and cold and I've had enough ! " The blue haired recessive omega whined out stomping his feet inside the carriage as he glared at the older man.

Ren bit back a growl as he let him s hands fall on his thighs his grip tightening on his own flesh causing a dull ache of pain to start forming.

How dare this brat.

How dare he say such words to him.

He was the son of an ordinary count while he was a Marquis. He didn't even have a noble title himself and was just lucky to be born in a well off noble family.

Apart from the difference in social class, he was a heavily decorated knight he had helped bring the empire to glory countless times during his youth and he had even been recognized as a war hero for all his efforts.

Yet here he was letting this inexperienced child yell at him and he couldn't complain about it, unless he wanted the ungrateful brat to tell on him and he would have his head removed from his shoulders. He was related to the holy saint and future emperor of his Empire. The holy man had made it very clear that he cherished his younger brother and no harm should happen to him

That was the only reason he hadn't thrown him out of the carriage yet.

How such a spoilt brat like this could be related to the kind and holy saint of their empire was beyond him.

Even though they shared similarities traits in appearance their personalities were vastly different.

Stoping himself from yelling at the younger man Ren spoke up again trying to calm him down. " Again your grace I am truly sorry for any discomfort your facing now, but it's too late for us to turn back. We will soon arrive at the Duke's manor so please hold on until then " the older man tried to reason and omega puffed his cheeks tears of frustration beginning to bring at the corner of his eyes.

" No. No. NO! "

The younger man spoke up stomping his foot and the older alpha swore he saw red for a moment, the only things keeping him from lashing out at the omega was his sense of pride and fear for his life.

Alfred glared at the older man through his foggy glasses, his long hair tied up in a ponytail swished around everytime he stomped his feet.

How could he just ignore him.

He was so cruel.

What kind of alpha was he? Had he lost his heart from butchering people in the battlefield that he didn't know how to treat an omega right?!

" You old - " the omega started only to be cut off

" Now now I know your having a hard time adjusting your grace but please stay calm. We'll be going back to the capital soon so don't worry. I'm sure you can handle this for a few more hours. "

A smooth voice spoke up  easing the tension inside the carriage in an instant. What  ever rage Alfred felt bubbling in his chest died down immediately he heard the man sitting beside him speak up and his ears heat up.

" I.. I'm sorry for d.. disturbing you Archmage Adonis " the blue haired man mumbled out fiddling with his fingers as he lowered his gaze to his laps. A soft chuckle made his blush worse, the soft scent of burning oak coming from said man calmed him down immensely.

" I know your exhausted. Poor omega the cold weather must be getting to you " the mage  purred out softly and Alfred could only nod his head at his words, not being able to look at the duel haired colour man.

" And I knew your stressed out as well lord Ren, but still try to be easy on lord Alfred. It's his first time doing something this important so the stress must have gotten to him and made him anxious. Please be more considerate to his situation " the man said and Ren felt his grip on his laps get tighter as he listened to the man's words.

How dare this high and night bastard blame him for something when he wasn't at fault. How is it his fault this that he was stuck with a bratty child who didn't have any single respect for his elders.

If the boy knew he would be whining through out this journey and would start demanding to go back home then he shouldn't have agreed to come in the first place!!

But like earlier he swallowed down his thoughts and lowered his head to the younger recessive alpha  mumbling out apologies instead.

No matter how wronged he felt he would be a fool to argue with the man.

Who was he, a mere marquis and an ordinary war hero to argue with the son of one of the four eastern dukes and Archmage of the magic tower.

He rather his pride be destroyed than he lose his life.

The man simply smiled at the older man's submissiveness before turning to look at the blue haired omega who had buried his face into the fur coat he was wearing as a sorry attempt to hide his flushed cheeks and the tower mage chuckled. " You see lord Alfred ? He sorry so don't get to worked up alright ? It's just a few more hours and I'm sure they'll soon move by in a flash so please hang in there " the man reassured once more and the recessive omega nodded.

 Silver eyes watched the whole thing go down, their owner not speaking up once as he watched the whole nonsense go down.

Sure the omega's constant whining was giving him a headache, but he dare not speak up. He might be the prince, but recently certain members of the saints family had moved into the imperial palace and now had more favor than him. 

Alfred was one of them.

So the red haired alpha had no choice but to sit still admist the chaos and try his best to ignore it, as much as he would like to help Ren the man was on his own in this.

An image of a h/c man flashed in his thoughts and Calix felt his heart squeeze in joy and fear. Joy that he finally see his older brother figure after such a long time and fear that he would have to leave him again so soon as he would be dragged back to that hell hole he called home.

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The entail shock of the arrival of the heavily guarded knights and the imperial carriage had died down a bit, but it sent the servants into a panic as they rushed to make the majestic huge mansion even more presentable, word of the unexpected arrival flew quickly which led to the current situation.

Walking through the busy halls with a scary scowl on his pale pink lips. The frown etched on his normally stoic face and the thick smell of his phermones was enough for the servants to scurry away in fear.

" Do they really lack manners to just show up uninvited without dropping word of their arrival before hand " the silver  haired duke grumbled under his breath not bothering hide the growl that followed after.

He had just come back from a patrol along the Inovre Forest and had battled some monsters they had unexpectedly come across. He just wanted to change his blood stained clothes and get some rest. Probably see a certain h/c omega , before he had to deal with his busy schedule for the day. Now he had to wrap that all up and let the work pile up because some dicks didn't in understand common courtesy.

​​​

" Well your cousin's family always have their heads up their asses. They feel that since their the one ruling the empire they can do whatever they want. " a smug voice replied to the man and he rolled his eyes.

  " Thank you very much for telling me something I already know Daniel. It was really helpful "

The silver haired man said sarcastically.

" Glad I could be of help sir~ "

The dark haired recessive alpha said with an optimistic beat, not minding how the other alpha pumped out more phermones at his words, if he was affected by the assault he didn't let it show. He wouldn't be a captain of the North wyvern knights if he let the phermones of an alpha trying not to throw a temper tantrum.

He actually found it funny that the feared Duke of the Northern territory was a few wrong buttons away from ripping someone's head off.

Oh what fun today was going to be ~

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" What could be so important that those 'Pure bloods ' decided they would come and pay someone as impure as me a visit. And without a word in advance as well. It's like they were hoping to catch me off guard and look for how to disgrace me. " A deep voice mused as his silver eyes paid close attention to the knights. The calm expression he wore was a great contrast to how he felt inside.

Duke Nicolas Devon Vermillion was livid.

The blonde dominant alpha's pheromones would have been all over the place if he wasn't trained to control them.

He already had enough on his plate with trying to find a solution to the sudden drought the land was facing and the sudden spike in månå beasts been so active.

He didn't need the imperial family to add to that headache.

' Has that little brat finally lost all form of respect ? He dare try to make a fool of me?! Has he let all that power finally take over his senses !! '

That ill mannered pup was really beginning to get on his nerves. He was nothing but a child who was given to much power and was in a position he didn't earn.

A small hand placed it's self on the man's chest as a hand hooked around his arm, a soft warm body pressed itself against his side. The strong scent of fresh grapes filled his nostrils and instantly calmed his senses a bit as he pulled the figure closer to him causing the person to giggle.

" There there Honey, it's alright. Don't let them get under your skin. That's what they want so let's not give it to them. So take a deep breath and let it out " A smooth voice spoke up their velvety voice calming down the blonde man even more as he listened to their instructions.

Letting out a deep breath Nicolas sighed a genuine smile tugging on his lips as he looked at his side, staring into white milky eyes that held nothing but love towards him, love that he returned back in his own gaze and subtle gestures.

His pretty wife  really knew how to make him feel better.

Long flowing silky snow like hair, with cool earth skin tone, pure white milky eyes. A very beautiful dominant omega with such unique features.

Unique features that only belonged to one family in their entire empire.

 Lady Marina giggled softly at her husband's antics as his grip on her waist tightened and loosened in a teasing manner.

Her cloudy white eyes looked over to the empty spots by her side and her husband's her plump lips turning into a small frown at the absence of her children. She could excuse her two eldest, because she knew they had places to be, yet her youngest was no where in sight.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the unexpected blaring of trumpets and the former duchess turned her attention back to the carriage.

The knights stood by either of the carriage door their hands on their weapons, ready to draw them if  needed   as the manor servants laid out a lavish fur red carpet from the mansion entrance.

The door opened and our stepped their visitors.

An older man with grey hair was the first to come out. For a noble he was extremely dressed down wearing darker colours instead of flashy ones and he had no jewelry or gems on to show off his wealth. The only thing that screamed to be of value was the pure gold pin that took the shape of a small dragon that was pinned to his chest, a sign that the man was a former war hero.

The next person that followed was a man with long flowy white hair that reached his mid back, his pure white locks turned into a pitch black colour at the tips, his light blue eyes held a calm look to them, his thin lips stretched into a gentle smile as he stepped down with grace that belonged to that of a swan, his silver and sapphire coloured robes flowed gently around his form.

Recognition flashed in Nicholas silver hues as he watched the tower mage of the eastern empire extended his hand out to the inside. A petite hand stretched out to hold the mage's and out stepped a blushing young man who had the lower bottom of his face hidden in his fur coat.

' blue hair and purple eyes '

The thought passed through the couples head and they were shocked for a split second, it died down when they noticed how young the man looked and he wasn't dressed in any holy garmet. 

That and they knew their nephew would never allow the holy man to come on his own to the north.

" He must be a relative " Marina said quietly and her husband made a sound of acknowledgement as they watched the blue haired man glue himself to the mage's side.

Following after the blue haired man was a head of deep crimson hair, his silver eyes rolled in slight annoyance as he stared at the blue haired recessive omega, before he started looking everywhere as if he was searching for someone, a small frown tugging his lips downwards when he didn't see the person he was looking for.

Ren cleared his throat at the three young men he was acting as an escort for, getting their attention as he subtly gestured towards the former Duke and Duchess who were watching them with hawk like eyes.

Sure all three young men might be highly respected, but that was in the east. This wasn't their territory anymore. They weren't on top of the food chain and the aging alpha prayed to the gods that they could hold down their pride and ego as they as they talked to the real top dogs.

With everyone focused on their new visitors no one seemed to notice the fluttering of butterflies as they made their way back to their master.

Hi. So we meet our unexpected visitors. It might seem like much but the next chapter is gonna be hot. And sorry if this is all over the place.                                         

 Now let me explain how the Northern Grand duchy is related to the imperial family.

Nicolas Vermillion mostly known to others as the former Grand duke of the north, but before he got this tile he was referred to as the bastard child of Emperor Carinvan.

He was born from a lowly prostitute and was taken in by the Emperor's when his mother died from an unknown illness.

He was mocked and despised by the nobles and other royalty who cursed at him, especially his brother (the late Emperor ) who made sure to constantly remind him that he had dirty blood.

Despite this his father favoured him more because he was better versed in the ways of politics and he seemed like a fit ruler than his son.

Something happened though, but that will be explained in a later chapter.

He might not let it show, but it irks him that he couldn't sit on the throne and become the Emperor, but it doesn't matter now.

Now that he has a certain h/c omega in his grasp he was going to make sure his son was going to be  Emperor.

No matter the cost.

I've been feeling under the weather for a while that's why this chapter is so late.

[legendary-defender-of-fandoms]

Pros of seeing Beetlejuice by myself either before or after seeing it with my family:

My sister in particular hates seeing stuff live with me because I get too invested. Idk if I clap & cheer too loud, or whisper too much about the stuff I like as the show is going on, or if it’s just a Me Being Her Annoying Little Sister thing, but it always feels like her agreeing to be seen in public with me is a huge sacrifice on her part. If I see the show by myself, I can have one Core Memory of enjoying the production without worrying about embarrassing her.

My brother’s being a bit of a sad sack right now, and God knows how long his moping will last (long, stupid story not worth recounting). Hopefully he’ll be better by June, but I’m not holding my breath. Again, seeing the show by myself means I’ll have one memory of it being just me & the Bug Man (and a few hundred strangers).

My relationship with my dad is . . . complicated. He said yes to seeing the show, but I think it’s because he had nothing else going on that night. He doesn’t have the ambition to reach out & ask others if they want to hang out, and I got tired of always initiating. And it might be kind of awkward watching Charles & Lydia go through THEIR complicated relationship while my dad is right there.

Our seats for the show aren’t the best in the house. We’re way in the back next to the sound booth. Good shot of center stage, I’m sure we’ll see everything that happens. But I wish I’d bought the tickets sooner so I could be in one of the Audience Interaction Zones. If I’m gonna be the only weirdo saying “AWWWWWW” while the rest of the audience is laughing at Beetlejuice’s abandonment issues, I want to be HEARD, God damnit!

Stinky lonely pansexual bug man make brain go brrrrr.

Cons of seeing Beetlejuice by myself either before or after seeing it with my family:

Money. I think tickets are a little over $100 a pop. I make enough money to make it fine to spend almost $500 on tickets to see a show with 3 others, and I can definitely swing an extra ticket to see it by myself. It’s more the principle of the thing. Is it WORTH spending an extra $100 to see the same show twice? (The part of my brain that’s hyperfixating on Beetlejuice is screaming “HELL FUCKING YEAH!!!”, but the practical side of my brain is annoying & whispering “you have bills to pay, your cats need to go to the vet, what if you lose your job even though you have crazy stupid job security”)

Availability. If I decide to see the show by myself, I have to decide NOW because tickets went crazy fast (or maybe they went super slow but were available for ages & I didn’t know because I just got bit by the BeetleBug last month). I was lucky to find four seats together for the show I’m already booked for. Finding one seat by myself won’t be quite as hard, but they might be gone by June.

My family will judge me. Not really a con, more of a fact of life. They already judge me for the rest of my “personality quirks” (aka my problems that they’re already aware of). Does it really matter if they have yet another reason to give me the side-eye at holiday gatherings or complain about me to friends, coworkers, and the rest of the family? I can think of at least one company of performers who would say life is WAY too short to deny myself simple pleasures.

Pathetic as it is, I DO have a life. Sort of. I don’t want to be dead on my feet at work or when I’m supposed to be taking care of my niece, and I don’t have the time to spare for the matinee. Or maybe I do - I probably won’t know until it’s too late to get my ticket.

I have no idea how long this brain rot is going to last. It’s burning hot & bright right now, but it could burn itself out before I see the show in person. It seems unlikely, but there’s still a risk.

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 27 - Matches/Scars/“Let me see”

Scogan Bingo challenge Pick-Up Line

Logan's head was spinning when he came around, and he was still sore all over from that damn car crash, including a hated painful tensing of only just recovering muscles in his neck from where he'd broken the latter two times within a minimum of time. Couldn’t have been long since he'd passed then, his still dazed mind tried to conclude …

Or had it? Logan couldn’t scent or hear anyone nearby – at least he didn’t think, with his senses still slightly off –, so the stinking fur guy who had caused the crash had apparently left him behind for some reason, maybe getting bored with trying to gut someone with an off-the-chart healing factor. Asshole could be anywhere in these damn woods right now … Damnit, Logan had to get the fuck up and see where that stupid kid was he'd picked up on the road for some reason, as soon as he could muster up enough energy in his cells. But the more awake he got, the more he suddenly doubted, Rogue was still anywhere nearby. Especially not if psycho fur dude had really taken her for some reason that Logan decided he'd rather not think about too hard right now, not with all he knew from painful personal experience about some ferals in this fucked-up world. Because fact was, it was pitch-black like in a damn monkey's ass and bitterly cold around him, meaning he'd been unconscious for far longer than a few comparatively minor injuries should actually allow and his enemy surely had one hell of a headstart by now … How damn off he was about pretty much everything, he only realized when he finally scrambled to sit up, tried to stand up, and promptly banged his dumb head on the roof of some car. Not his truck; a lack of orientation or not, he'd immediately have been able to tell his own distinctive scent and a week's worth of laundry to be done plus two bags full of trash to be thrown out. Whoever's ride this was whatever reason, fur guy had seemingly dropped Logan's stupid ass in here for, they couldn’t be outside in any case. The echo was all off. No smell of a garage, or of the spicy, crystal-clear air of Canada either. And when Logan instinctively tried to reach around him, to use the handle that his fingertips soon brushed, the door didn’t budge an inch.

"Please don't do that. Unless you want to get us both killed, that is."

God fucking damnit … Logan shook himself with an annoyed hiss, trying to push the last of dizziness from his system and get his perception back to full work while his claws were already springing forward, a menacing snikt in the absolute darkness around him that should hopefully be a warning to whoever was in this damn car with him. On the back seat by the sound of an also quite exhausted-sounding voice, while Logan's hectic movements could now make out that he had to be on the passenger side in the front. Restricted space, shitty for a fight unless he wanted to rip the interior right to pieces, it flashed in his mind. He gritted his teeth, preaching himself patience, something not exactly easy when you'd been forced off the road unprovoked by some Neanderthal. "Who is this?"

The stranger didn’t seem too impressed by either his threat or the growl in his voice. Still not moving an inch at where he was laying, breathing so almost inaudibly shallow that Logan hadn’t picked up on the guy's presence immediately, the stranger only turned the slightest bit toward Logan, followed by a pained hiss. "Name's Scott Summers. My team partner and I came to help you after our employer had heard about a planned attack on you."

Logan gave the stuck door another annoyed hit, ignoring the stranger's weird warning, his teeth quickly starting to chatter from the unholy temperatures. "Well, great job."

"We almost got you and the girl out of there in time," that Scott guy continued as if he hadn’t even heard him, still in that strained voice. "But a second enemy showed up that we weren’t expecting. Shapeshifter, excellent hand-to-hand combatant. Took my partner right out before she even knew what was coming. When I tried to help her, the man who was after you attacked me from behind. They took the girl for some reason. Still trying to make any sense of that. Us, they apparently had no use for."

"No shit." Logan rubbed his ears repeatedly and felt the car's doors and windows down a little more carefully this time because his instincts let him know more clearly by the moment that something was alarmingly wrong about this precarious situation that the two of them were in. Which Logan had no doubt in by now. He didn’t even necessarily have to rely on his instincts to know the guy wasn’t lying. For that, that fight earlier which Logan had mostly missed, had taken audibly a far too big physical toll on him. And yet they were both alive – not that in Logan's case, that was much of a surprise, of course. With how ruthlessly the fur bastard had ripped Logan's car basically apart earlier though, that was more than weird. His throat immediately tightened just thinking what such a primitive bastard might want with an innocent homeless minor who wasn’t anywhere as used as Logan to people trying to use her for some shit. Since that was obviously not the case this time, he tried in vain to wrap his head around why these people hadn’t at least tried to get rid of him and his involuntary car neighbor. Why they'd only been left them behind in this piece of junk that of course didn’t react to Logan tentatively slipping one of his claws into the ignition slot either, in whatever place this was, with obviously entirely isolated walls and no lightning … About high time to find out. "I need to go after the girl, bub. Stay where you are. I'll cut us out of here."

"Don't. We are …" This time it sounded like an order, and from someone who was used to giving them, no less. An uncompromising sharp tone ruined only by a cough following that elicited a series of agonized moans and more labored breathing. Rib or lung damage.

Usually not Logan's problem but if for some reason, they were really stuck in here, he could maybe use the guy's help still. Not to mention that the dude had allegedly tried to help him earlier. Wasn’t asked too much to try and return the courtesy, hurry or not. "We're what? And what's with the wheezing? Fur guy got you bad?"

"Could be worse," Scott answered when he could talk again, but the faint smell of copper in the air revealed, that cough had brought up some body fluid. "He didn’t need to ghost me anyway. It was enough to fling me against some tree so I was too concussed to use my powers. And they were too pressed on time for torture just for the sake of it for once, unlike in some of our last fights. They rather decided they wanted to bury us in my partner's and my jeep and let exposure do the job for them."

When it finally, finally clicked, Logan felt even more ice-cold. "You telling me we're underground, bub?"

"Avalanche," Scott answered tensely which wasn’t exactly better news. "The guy who attacked you caused it. I was only half conscious at that point, so I can't say how deep we are exactly. As long as you stop trying to open the car, we should have a couple of hours of air, though, and the snow masses shouldn’t crush it either. The jeep's body is quite stable. Just don't open the damn window, unless you want gravity to do the job for those assholes. My people will track me down and get us out of here. Just stay put."

"When some assholes have kidnapped an innocent teenager? I think not." But hard as he tried, Logan couldn’t come up with a solution to end this unfortunate situation either. Sure, he could have easily cut through the car's body and probably dug his way out of the snow bit by bit too. But depending on how deep under they really were, chances were he would pass out from hypothermia again and again which would in the end take just as much time as waiting here for some obscure rescue. Not to mention, he'd have military voice dude here on his conscience. "You sure your people are on their way?"

"Absolutely. We have … ways of communicating, even without a radio signal. My boss knows that something's wrong. Another one of my teammates will be here soon." It sounded like the guy was faintly smiling for some reason but he didn’t seem ready to elaborate further. "The woman I came here with will soon be waking up again as well, I hope. Her injuries didn’t look that bad. She's atmokinetic, so it's possible she can melt the snow even before the others come."

"A couple of maybes too many for my taste, kid." Logan rubbed his eyes with a bone-deep sigh, resigning for now to the fact that they had no choice but to wait. At least for a couple of hours, he guessed, he could do that. After that … It was not impossible he'd no longer have to worry about leaving someone to die in here either way. At least that unhappy possibility, he probably should be trying to counteract, given that this guy and his people, whoever they were, might save his ass again soon. Good thing, Logan had found unexpectedly something very useful, absently patting down his jacket for a cigar and a flask out of habit alone. "First, let's make sure you'll still be drawing air with that fucked up lung of yours by the time we're rescued." Pulling out said package of matches, he turned around on the seat, getting up on his knees left and right of the center dashboard, and then lit a first flame to finally get a look at his fellow captive and especially the guy's injuries.

Logan drew in a sharp breath when he saw the man's black uniform hanging in shreds from his upper body. In spite of the meager lighting, he was pretty sure these razor-sharp claws hadn’t stopped at scratching that layer of clothing open, too. A couple of cuts couldn’t be why that remarkably tall and lean-looking shape was curled up so tightly on his side on the back seat though. Neither did they explain the distorted grimace on a face that Logan had to actively tear his gaze away from because holy shit, military guy was hot. Which wouldn’t matter soon given Scott obviously didn’t come with a healing factor. Logan would at least have to try and help with his jacket in a second, but first, he needed to know what he was dealing with here. "Let me see." With a curse, he threw the match away when it burned out on his fingertips and clipped off a new one, feeling with increasing annoyance that not even half of the package was left. He should be smoking less. Or buy a couple of damn Zippos more. "I'm not gonna have a lot of time to give you a hand, bub, so be quick and don't make a fuss. Uniform off. Not much of a loss, frankly. Did you get here right after some fetish club visit or what?"

"Combat gear, asshole," Scott grumbled, but it didn’t sound entirely pissed, more worn out as Logan noticed with increasing worry. The smell of blood was impossible to ignore at this point. At least the guy obeyed, judging by the rustling of what was left of the stiff black material on his chest.

When the noise stopped, Logan lit another match and swallowed a curse, staring at the gaping gash at the guy's side through which a hint of white showed, with wide eyes, before pulling off his jacket, to get to his shirt for a necessary bandage. "Anyone ever tell you, you got the self-preservation sense of a lemming, kid? We don't wrap that up, you'll bleed out in less than half an hour."

"Been through worse." The sad thing was, that sounded sincere. "I'll be alright as soon as the others come. We got some pretty useful technological and medical toys at our home."

"Yeah, well, you're not home right now." Logan threw the second burned-out match away and got out of his shirt, leaning to the back again to try and find Scott's hand at where it was clumsily pressed to that frightening bleeding. "Put that down on it. Tightly. Gonna see if I find something better in the glove box."

"You won't." Right, car belonged to this guy; he would know. At least there was a hint of energy back in that warm, deep voice now, instead of that exhaustion bordering almost on resignation from a moment ago. "First aid kit should be in the back though, along with a couple of blankets. Supplies, too. If you can cut through the seats with those knives of yours …"

"Not exactly knives, kid." With a bit of maneuvering, Logan made it to the back seat, now kneeling right beside Scott's cramped shape, hissing when he realized even through both their clothes, the young man's body was already alarmingly cold. About high time to move. Since he had no interest in accidentally kebabing the dude even more than he already was, he found Scott's free, trembling hand where it was tightly clutching down on his other arm and handed the matches to him. "Hold one right to the backrest." Because of his trembling, it took Scott a moment to light one of the remaining sticks but once that was done, Logan made short work of the upper part of those seats. He expected the usual shock on Scott's face that Logan was being used to from people seeing his claws for the first time and shrugged his surprise away when it never came, maybe because the young man still had his eyes firmly closed. If the guy really came from a place where there were more of their kind, he'd probably witnessed weird shit before either way. Logan needed to bend and twist a little to get to the medical supplies and by that time, the match was already out again, but Logan had already spotted all he needed to see. He put not only the kit but also a six-pack of water and a couple of prepacked sandwiches down in front of the backseat before turning on the two strong headlights also part of the car's equipment, hanging them from the front seat's headrests with a relieved sigh. "You guys always leave the house prepared for a whole field trip?"

Scott gave him a still weak but honest-looking grin and damn Logan if he didn’t catch himself staring at that chiseled, youthful face yet again instead of fumbling with medical supplies. "Our mansion doubles at a school. Always prepared comes with the job description."

"Yeah, I don't think I even want to know, bub." That was a blatant lie, but for now, there were more important things to do than talking about trivialities. Logan already rummaged for bandages in the kit when Scott reached for his arm in an uncoordinated movement, grunting when that obviously caused new pain in his side. "There should be a small metal box on the left side by the spare wheel. Black circular device, red glass." At a loss yet again about what the guy was going on about, Logan leaned down to the trunk once more, not least because the makeshift bandage of his shirt seemed to slow the bleeding enough for now, and the urgency in Scott's voice let him know, it was important to the young man.

He only understood when the guy slipped said device, looking like something taken from some old Star Trek series, over his eyes and let out a careful hiss before turning his head Logan's way. "Thanks. Sabretooth took my other VISOR. Oh shit, you really took your shirt off for me, huh?" An askew little smirk curled on these beautiful full lips that would have probably sent Logan's hormones into overdrive for good if it hadn’t been that damn cold.

He decided he could think about that, and about what the deal with the guy's eyes was later, finally getting to work, provisionally disinfecting and taping up the ugly wound by Scott's side. The hint of interest took a backseat when he leaned in closer to the guy's half-naked body and had to swallow thickly at spotting a whole map of scars covering the smooth, enticingly soft skin, some quite old looking, some clearly fresh. "For someone who looks like they've only just graduated, you sure got a lot of miles covered, Shades."

"I'm 29 but thanks, I guess. And I was orphaned at twelve if you need to know. Ran into a few very unpleasant people on the way." Scott circled an especially dangerously looking trace right over his left hipbone absently, sounding like he was miles away with his thoughts for a moment, his shoulders tight in visible agitation. "When my boss took me in at the age of fifteen, he had me taught me how to fight back. It seemed only logical then, to help others do the same and try to change some of the shit going on in this world for mutants for the better."

"Not a choice anyone should make at fifteen, bub." Only Logan knew very well that especially being a member of their race, that kind of choice often didn’t ask for age of maturity. Again, he couldn’t help but think of the girl. Burying a nervous hand in his hair once he was finished with that bandage, he gritted his teeth as he was trying in vain not to imagine what these assholes of whom he still didn’t exactly know who they even were, might be doing to Rogue right this fucking moment.

"I guess not. So far I didn’t regret it though." A trembling, shy hand came to rest on Logan's elbow, and he could swear he could see Scott shudder not only from coldness at the feeling of Logan's thick muscles tensing instantly. "Care to tell me your story? Not like we got much else to do for now."

"I'm afraid I lost the memory of anything interesting to tell fifteen years ago. Been cage fighting my way through ever since, trying to find them again." Logan turned away with tight lips when Scott gasped in sympathy, leaning down to the trunk for a last time to get said blankets. Then he carefully wormed his way onto one of the seats, resting Scott's legs on his, telling himself bravely it was only so that the guy's system wouldn’t crash for good at some point. Once they were both comfortable and warming up under all of the blankets available and once Logan had thrust a bottle and one of these disgusting-looking sandwiches into Scott's hand, his thoughts wandered back to today's events. "Seriously, in this world of freaks, I'm the least interesting guy you could find out there. Why did you people ever think, these assholes were after me? They obviously wanted the girl."

Scott showed a just as clueless-seeming shrug. "We'll have to ask the Professor when he gets home. He's got a mental gift, you see. It's not always entirely reliable. Which is also why we couldn’t pinpoint your exact location in time. Or the girl wouldn’t be in these bastards' hands right now. We failed big time today, Logan. This cannot be happening. Too much is depending on my team for that." For a moment, he clenched his fists, an expression almost of self-loathing flitting over that handsome face.

"Hey, Shades." Logan instinctively reached out for that scrunched-up face without even thinking about it, his own half-eaten sandwich forgotten on his lap, and shook his head at the stranger disapprovingly. "From my point of view, without you guys? I'd be stuck alone down here right now. I got a power set that won't let me die but let me tell you, freezing into an ice cube over and over again is not something I got a fetish for. You guys helped without even knowing me, so that whole doing some good for this world thing doesn’t seem to go that bad. And these primitive motherfuckers, we'll find as soon as we're out of here. Next time I'll be prepared, don't worry." He demonstratively extended his claws on his free hand again, shuddering a little when he saw the definitely more than just a little interested look, Scott was regarding his main weapons with, the clean-shaven skin under his soothing touch maybe now heating up not just from the returning healthier body temperature. Maybe, when all this was over … Taking a closer look at that weird school, wherever it was, wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t like chasing ghosts had gotten Logan anywhere so far. Only when Scott belatedly seemed to realize for how long Logan's touch had been lingering there on his cheek and he startled, looking away, his expression one of a bad conscience, Logan let go of him as if he'd burned himself. "Sorry, bub, was just trying to make sure you're warming up. No need to worry that your girl at home's gonna be jealous or something." It was only a stab in the dark, but judging by this even darker blush on Scott's cheeks and the way he was biting his lower lip, Logan was pretty sure he wasn’t that far off with the assumption of a committed partner. Just his luck.

"Jean hasn’t been jealous of anyone for a long time, to be honest," Scott murmured in an unexpected new wave of sadness, staring into nothing another time for long seconds. "Her and me … That hasn’t been anything but show and convenience for two years or so. I guess I just didn’t have a reason to admit that even to myself so far."

Logan was pretty sure the guy was only just talking so much, and to a stranger no less, because of a beginning fever. Not to mention, he was still busy dealing with his own increasing attraction to someone he'd literally only just met. So he decided rather to not say anything to that. But he crossed his arms lightly enough on Scott's muscular thighs under those blankets, to keep an eye on the guy's body temperature, stared at the dull grey and glistening of the snow frozen heavily against the windows, and lost himself to his thoughts.

*****

It was less than two hours, in the end, it turned out, before they could hear the telltale scraping and crunching of the snow around them being worked on from the outside. When Scott woke up from a few hopefully healing minutes of sleep, he listened with that absent look on his face again, his head tilted, to something only seemed to be hearing. With growing relief in his voice, he confirmed that it was indeed his people trying to get to them, not the enemy for some reason. "Ororo's alright, too. We'll fly to Westchester to regroup. The Professor is already looking for Rogue with his powers. We'll find her, Logan, I promise." He firmly grabbed Logan's hand, his jaw thrust forward in determination.

"You bet your cute little ass on it, Slim." As long as the snow cover was still intact and no one could see them, Logan thought it couldn’t hurt to hold on to that encouraging touch for a moment. Maybe, once Shades guy had taken care of certain interpersonal issues in his house, they could even go back to that at some point. "And once this all is over … Seeing as we've already almost died side by side … Wanna give trying to live together a shot next?"

Scott snorted but made no move to pull away. "That's the worst possible pick-up line you could have come up with, you know."

Logan shrugged and reached for a cigar in his pocket with his free hand. "Not much of a romantic."

"Good," Scott simply said, an enchanting small smile on his lips, and that was all that needed to be said for the moment.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

[thessalian]

Thess vs Horizon: Forbidden West Prologue

So a few notes from various bits of prologue. I'm not in the eponymous Forbidden West yet, mostly because one of the things I'm finding is that the low-level anxiety of jumping puzzle hits a little different with the fibro. I get tense, and lemme tell you, I feel it these days. So this is going to be a long, long game. But here are the notes from the Horizon: Forbidden West prologue ... more or less spoiler-free.

Ah, stealth kills, I have missed you. And I've very, very nearly hit the first achievement for those already. Not to mention the "knocking components off" achievement. Not there yet, but ... getting there.

In checking whether I'd actually reached any achivements yet, I note that various friends have got a lot farther than me in this game. Fucking fibro.

See ... this whole deal where it guides you on what actions you need to take to climb or grapple or whatever could be seen as annoying? But I honest-to-gods need a reminder if I'm taking it this slow. So it is annoying but it's also really helpful, so thanks for that.

Some of the new designs on these beasties are lit. Still hate being forced into armed confrontation with these things. Just let me hide and shoot them from the next post code over, damnit!

What's this thing? Can I scavenge it? ...Oh. I was supposed to kill Big Beastie with this. Sorry; I prefer precision. kthxbai.

...Well, if that isn't commentary on tech 'geniuses' and their bullshit, and on corporate greed. Also, it's actually a real shame that so many of the effective antagonists of both games have been dead for so very, very long, because they are all so very, very punchable and apparently they haven't worked out hard light hologram technology so I can't literally punch that smirking shithead in the face.

Aloy, you were raised agnostic and found proof of atheism. Varl has not. Chill the fuck out. You're equipped to see things as they are; your people view everything through a religious filter. So long as they're not exiling people or some shit, why do you care if they worship an AI construct?

Aaaaaaaaaaand we're back to Meridian. Cool. Wait, what the fuck now?

So ... why didn't we double-check the Spire before we went heading off on wild goose chases?

SYLENS YOU DICKWAFFLE. (Sorry, Lance Reddick; you gave really, really good dickwaffle.)

Not sure what to make of this "workbench" mechanic. It'll probably be better when I can fast travel to places.

Please, please tell me I can dump some of the vendor trash while I'm in what passes for civilisation in Horizon-world. Please? I have been so good.

Somebody want to please explain to me why those neckbeard arseholes think Aloy's ugly? Okay, sometimes they do not get her best angle in cutscenes, but mostly she's, like ... a realistically beautiful woman. Ah, right - it's the realistically part they object to. They want doe-eyed skinny waifu. Well, they can get stuffed, because I'm already struggling with how she manages to get the less dreadlocked bits of her hair moving like a shampoo commercial when she has no shampoo. Plus, those neckbeards are not exactly looking at the cover of GQ themselves, y'know?

I'm kind of interested in how they've set up this prologue. Both HZD and HFW start us with where Aloy has been and what she's done, but I guess you can't really turn "killed an invasion of war machines" into an easy prologue the way you can "finding a focus and training for Big Event". Plus, the whole thing makes me wonder exactly how many friendly faces from home we're going to have as companions. I mean, I know two - hell, even if I hadn't seen both in trailers, one I've already had as a companion, and when you get that many Oseram scattered around the place, you know who's going to show up in Horizon-world eventually.

No, seriously, let me offload vendor trash I HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

So I stopped in and around Meridian before having to tell everybody, "Hey, I'm going to the place named in the title of this game because that guy you told me to look for is a dickwaffle but he could conceivably be a helpful dickwaffle if I help him with the problem he willingly dove into head-first by ... well, being a dickwaffle". I am at least supposed to be finding a workbench and hopefully someone I can throw vendor trash at, but I more or less stopped there because I do have some shit to do today. Not much shit right away - I mean, I do have D&D later this evening and we're still running a little earlier than usual because of Daylight Savings being weird this year, but that's still way later - but some shit. Specifically I need to go out for ground cardamom. Look, I need it to make apple pie spice, and all of my cardamom is in pods. Kind of wish that the recipes for apple pie spice I have looked up specified what colour cardamom needs grinding. I guess I'll just hope I get it right. I need this because I'm baking apple bread. I got buttermilk and everything! Also I want to make more apple turnovers and the homemade filling with only cinnamon ... well, it needs something. Maybe apple pie spice instead of just cinnamon is that something. Anyway, also means I need apples. So that means a shopping trip. So I guess I'd best prep for that.

And then home and more video games. Not sure if I'm going to do my shopping / crafting in HFW or if I'm going to go back to the Shadow-Cursed Lands in BG3 so that I can earn a whole lot of easy approval with Astarion and Lae'zel by making big lumpy bag of poison explode. I'll think about it as I do errands, I guess.