#i am so very tired so i am trying work quickly before i run out of steam lol

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> you do too much

word count: 3.7k TW: body image, overworking, swearing, angst italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

Cyana never meant for it to get this far.

It had started off pretty mild, she'd wake up earlier than usual, take a morning run to the company and get a head start on practice. She'd stay later than the others too, insisting they go home without her and that she'd join them a bit later. Just one more time, she'd say, as she cued up the song once again. Just one more time, she'd say again after that, and by then it would already be close to midnight.

She stared at herself in the mirror, shaking with frustration and fatigue. Her chest heaved harshly as she tried desperately to calm her breath.

Hoshi shot her a worried glance. "Nana, take a break."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Practice is done anyways. The car's ready, pack up." He grabbed her hand to drag her towards their things.

Cyana shook her hand out from his grasp, shooting him a tired smile. "You can go first, Soonie. I'll stay a little bit longer. I want to try Getting Closer again."

Hoshi frowned at her words. "We've already stayed late, nana-yah. Everyone's already left. And you've been staying late for the past two weeks. Let's take a break, okay?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "It's fine, really."

He looked at her apprehensively, not quite believing her. Sighing, he reluctantly agreed, knowing there was no stopping her. "Please be home by at least two am."

She nodded absentmindedly, already turning back around to cue up the track. She made sure Hoshi really had left before continuing, concentrating on perfecting her angles and facial expression. She had failed the company test - when the higher-ups came and decided she wasn't good enough - her ego burned from the hit and she vowed to work even harder. The members had told her she was already amazing, but she couldn't believe them if the company officials didn't think so.

She hadn't told any of the boys she hadn't been returning home. Most of her essentials were stored safely in one of the drawers in their practice room - saving her both the time and energy it took to return home. This way she could wash up and change before immediately getting back to practice.

"Oh, Jeonghan oppa." She answered when he called her phone.

"Nana, where are you?" His voice sounded muffled and tired. "Hoshi texted and said you're still at the company."

She checked the time. 3:26 AM. "Oh. I decided to crash at Mingyu's place." She lied, wincing. She hated lying to him whenever he called to check in. It was pure luck that no one really ever confirmed with Mingyu that she had actually been staying over. "I'm about to go to sleep. You should too, oppa."

She heard Jeonghan sigh in relief. "Okay, good. Goodnight, Nana." He hung up, probably way too tired.

Placing her phone back down on the floor, she glanced once again at the time. It was late. Her body was sore and she was starting to feel a little dizzy. Dragging her feet towards the connected washroom, she was glad they'd installed showers. Cleaning herself up and changing, she returned back to the practice room and crashed on the couch. Just a couple hours, she thought to herself.

"Cyana."

She opened her eyes, squinting at the brightness and letting out a groan. "What time is it?"

A very confused Dino stared back at her. "7 AM." He helped her to sit up, frowning when he saw her wince. "Why are you sleeping here?"

Her eyes widened when she remembered where she was. She inwardly kicked herself for oversleeping. Usually she was able to wake up, get ready and change before everyone else began arriving. They always just assumed she had been the first to arrive. "I-" Feeling rather caught, Cyana could only stare up at Dino wordlessly.

He seemed to catch on rather quickly. "Cyana." He looked at her, disappointment written plainly across his face. "Have you been living here?"

"No!" She protested, knowing he'd 100% tell Jeonghan if she admitted to it and Jeonghan would 100% kill her. "I was just practicing last night and fell asleep, that's all."

He gave her a weird look. "Alright, just-" He sighed. "You really don't need to be pushing yourself so hard. You're already ready."

Cyana gave him a hard stare. Perhaps it was the pain or the lack of sleep, but her nerves were wearing thin. She pushed herself off the couch, walking to the washroom. Splashing water on her face, she attempted to wake herself up.

"Please don't tell the others." She begged Dino once she returned. "Please please please." He looked unconvinced. "Please." She said again. "They'll kill me and you know it."

He sighed. "Fine." He pointed a finger at her, his poor attempt at being stern. "But you've got to promise me it's the last time."

"Got it." She promised, although she knew she'd probably end up breaking it. "Thanks, Chan."

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms gently around her waist, frowning when he felt how skinny she had gotten. He was about to comment on it when the practice doors opened and a hoard of members rushed in, all still slightly half-asleep.

"Aigoo~" Seungkwan cooed at the position they'd caught them in. "Our maknaes are so cute."

Dino flushed, trying to pull away but pausing when he realized Cyana was leaning on him, her eyes closed.

"Is she okay?" Jun mumbled, sipping on his ice coffee and glancing at the girl.

"Hm?" Cyana opened an eye, jumping a bit at the sudden appearance of so many people. "Oh! You're all here."

"Yup." Vernon walked over, ruffling her hair. "You ready?"

She sighed, reluctantly detaching herself from Dino, shivering at the loss of his body heat. "I guess."

Jeonghan had thought something was off from the way Cyana sounded over the phone. She sounded sick and incredibly out of it, her words slurring slightly as she spoke to him. He would've pressed the girl for more answers, but Hoshi's text had woken him up mid-sleep and he was aching to the state of passing out.

Even as they started practice, Jeonghan's mind drifted from the choreo over to Cyana. His mental list of things wrong with her had been gradually growing over the week and he was getting concerned.

Jeonghan's mental list with things that are wrong about Cyana:

She's been saying over at Mingyu's a suspicious amount. Sure, he could understand, the Minwon residence was easily the quietest out of the bunch, and Mingyu was Cyana's closest friend. He figured Wonwoo was in his room most times anyways.

The amount of canceled plans the boys have been complaining about to him was increasing. It felt like every couple days, at least one member would approach him requesting a therapy session, where they just complained about how Cyana was ditching them for their usual hangouts.

He rarely ever saw the girl anywhere but the company. Under any other circumstance it would've been normal, but Cyana had expressed before she hated the feeling of captivity the company gave her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her eat something.

He could've continued listing reasons in his head, had it not been for the loud thud and a piercing screech that followed it. He froze mid dance move and spun towards the noise.

Cyana was on the floor, Woozi a mere step away from her as he crouched down to examine her. DK was apologizing for the loud scream, although he continued to panic loudly.

"I think she fainted." Woozi concluded, voice calm. His furrowed eyebrows were the only sign he was worried.

"Fainted?" DK gasped out loud.

Mingyu reached down and scooped the girl into his arms, depositing her on the couch. "Yeah, she's out."

"Is she injured?" Seungcheol asked, hovering over her as Mingyu checked. He sighed with relief when Mingyu shook his head. "It was a loud thud."

Jeonghan let out a groan of both realization and disappointment.

"What." Seungcheol whipped his head around at the sound of Jeonghan's groan. "Do you know something?" He pointed at Cyana, who was still laying limply on the couch, head supported by Mingyu's large hand. "Why is she like this?"

Jeonghan raised his hands in defence. "I only suspected. I mean- I thought it was weird she was sleeping over at Mingyu and Wonwoo's so often recently but-"

"What?" Wonwoo cut him off. "She hasn't been over since-" He flushed at the memory. "Since she hurt her ankle."

And all at once, the pieces seemed to fall into place in Jeonghan's mind.

"She's been living here, hasn't she." Dino beat him to the punch, stating what he had just realized. "I found her here asleep when I came in this morning."

They all turned to Seungcheol, who seemed to be at a loss for words, staring at Cyana.

Cyana awoke just in time to see Seungcheol leave, the practice room door swinging shut behind him. She struggled to get up, as strong hands grabbed her and situated her to lean back. A bottle of water was shoved wordlessly into her hands by Vernon, already opened.

"You scared us." Mingyu muttered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She was vaguely aware of the other boys standing around her. Her ears still rang but she could faintly hear Woozi talking to Jun.

"I swear I tried to catch her. I didn't let her drop on purpose." He was defending himself to a wary Jun. "I'm not that mean."

She would have smiled at how defensive he sounded had it not been for the glowering face of Jeonghan, who was staring holes into her skull.

"Everyone out, please." Jeonghan signalled the others to give them the room. He sat down next to Cyana, letting out a loud sigh once everyone had left.

She knew she was in for it now.

"You wanna tell me what's been going on?" He said quietly, rubbing the seam of her sleeve between his thumb and index finger. "No lies this time."

She felt a lump form in her throat. "Jeonghan-"

"I'm not mad, Cyana." He looked at her sadly. "I just want to know why you haven't been taking care of yourself."

On any other occasion, she would have argued that he was mad. He hadn't used 'Nana' when saying her name.

"You haven't been staying at Mingyu's, I know that for a fact. And you've been canceling plans with the members. You also haven't been eating well. Jun says you rarely take the breakfast he sets aside for you." He continued, frowning when he saw her eyes well up with tears.

"I'm sorry." It was all she could muster.

"I don't care that you lied, Cyana." Jeonghan wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Just tell me why. Are we doing something wrong?"

She shook her head frantically. "No." God no.

"Then why?"

She finally looked up from her lap to see him, feeling an ache in her chest when she saw how desperate his expression was.

"The company officials-" She paused, and Jeonghan nodded for her to go on. "they said I wasn't good enough. Not quite good enough to debut with seventeen. They said they had a lot bet on me but I was disappointing them."

She got worried when he stayed silent. "Oppa?" She whispered, reaching out tentatively to shake him.

He laced his hand in hers before she could reach him. "I'm sorry they said all that." He turned to look at her, a serious expression taking over his face. "But you know they're wrong, and even if you think they're right, you shouldn't have risked your own health like that."

Cyana nodded. "I know. I just-" She tried to find the words to explain. "I just wanted to debut so badly. I wanted to look good onstage next to all of you." It was a lame explanation but it was the best she could give.

"I know." Jeonghan nodded. "And you will." He pointed at the large mirrors on the wall in front of where they sat. "I watch you dance with us everyday through those mirrors. And you look beautiful. Full of talent and raw power."

She let out a shaky breath.

"Is that why you haven't been eating your meals?" He asked, looking back at her. "Did they say something about that too?"

She nodded. It was perhaps the comment that had hurt her the most. "They said I looked too heavy. That I was supposed to be a girl member. Not a boy."

Jeonghan let out a huff. "Who the fuck-" He muttered, almost to himself. "Give me the names of the people, I'll talk to them."

Cyana smiled despite the heavy setting. "They're higher-ups, Hannie. You can't do anything."

"Psh." Jeonghan waved away her concern. "Still. I'll write their names down and get rid of them once we're big enough."

She supposed she admired his optimism. "Okay." She relented. "I'll find their names and text them to you."

Jeonghan leaned his head on the crook of her shoulder, slouching a bit to reach it. "You know we love you, right?"

She didn't say anything.

"You don't have to believe it now." He said softly. "I know you're a bit weird about stuff like that." He squeezed her hand firmly. "Just need you to hear it."

She nodded. "Okay."

They sat in silence for awhile, and Cyana's ears stopped ringing. "Where did Seungcheol-oppa go?" She whispered, curious but not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment.

Jeonghan cracked an eye open from his spot on her shoulder. "He's dealing with it his own way."

"Dealing with what?"

He sat up straight to look at her. "You fainting. He's our leader, he's going to feel the responsibility."

She frowned. "It's not his fault though."

Jeonghan shrugged. "It's just how he works. He's going to blame himself for not noticing it all sooner either way. Even if it's not his fault."

She stood up, swaying a bit before steadying herself. "I'm gonna go look for him, is that okay?"

She could swear Jeonghan was smirking a little. "I think he'd like that."

She found him in one of the empty studios. Seungcheol was sitting on one of the chairs when she walked in, head in his hands. He got up quickly once he heard the sound of her footsteps.

"Cyana." He breathed out, thankful she was okay. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." She whispered, sitting down and motioning gently for him to join her. She watched him hesitate before he sat down next to her.

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard." Seungcheol scolded her.

"I know."

"And you should've told someone you weren't going back to the dorm. You should've let me know how much you were struggling."

"I know."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Tell me what happened. Everything leading up to today. I assume this has been going on for awhile."

She could tell from his face he meant business, so she told him without a fight. She recited everything - the skipped meals, the ditching hangouts, the sleeping in the practice room, the toothbrush and skincare hidden in the drawers - all of it. She saw his face twist in pain when she got to the part about the company officials.

"You should've told me." He whispered, once she was all done.

"I thought perhaps you didn't want to know." She admitted.

He looked astonished she would even say such a thing. His mouth opened and closed again as he reconsidered his choice of words. "I'm your leader, Cyana. I care about this team."

"And I'm doing my job." She said, not getting what he meant. Wasn't SEVENTEEN doing quite well? And the team would do even better if she was perfect for the comeback.

Seungcheol didn't know if he wanted to strangle her and cry. "Let me reiterate." He looked at her. "I care about you, Cyana. Not the comeback."

She blinked. "Oh."

He felt more like crying, Seungcheol decided. She looked so fragile and confused at the mere thought of him even caring about her. A burning sense of rage fuelled through him. Who on earth had taught her to be so skeptical of care and love?

Cyana panicked when she saw the tears in Seungcheol's eyes. "Please don't cry." She whispered frantically, not knowing what would happen to her if she saw the dependable and strong Seungcheol break down.

"Our maknae~" Seungcheol whispered back, reaching over to brush his hand against her cheek. "Maybe I didn't do well enough, to show you you belong here. I tried being a strong leader, guiding everyone through the comeback, letting you adjust to how busy life in SEVENTEEN can be. But maybe you needed more of a gentle touch? Something more personal?" At this point he seemed to be talking to himself. "I know I didn't really take the time to connect with you on a deeper level like the others did. I was so focused on guiding you through work. I must've done something wrong, if you felt like you needed to hide this much from me. Push yourself this far."

Cyana's lips trembled as she desperately held back tears. "It's not your fault."

"It is." Seungcheol corrected her quietly. "I always strived to be a leader you could tell anything to." He paused, looking at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry you felt the need to break yourself so much to make this comeback happen. I'm sorry the company said such harsh things. I should've noticed."

Cyana felt the sudden strong urge to give him a hug. It confused her. She only ever felt comfortable enough to initiate any sort of contact with Jeonghan, Dino, Joshua or Mingyu. Yet, when Seungcheol finished his speech and looked at Cyana with those sad, wide eyes, she decided perhaps she could make an exception. She leaned slightly in his side, stiffing slightly when his arms wrapped around her frame.

"It's not your fault." She managed to say again, telling herself to relax into his hold.

"I know it's not logical."

Cyana let out a breathy laugh. "I am sorry I lied to Jeonghan."

"I know." Seungcheol pulled her a little closer. "Please don't ever do this again. All of it. You're much more important than a silly comeback."

She nodded. "I won't."

"I'll talk with the company about the whole test thing. They shouldn't have done that, or said those things. And you need to start eating." Now that he was hugging her, he could feel just how malnourished she was. He felt as if he could accidentally snap her just by moving the wrong way. "I'll talk to the stylists too. Everyone needs a good reminder that you're part of SEVENTEEN forever."

Cyana's face flushed. "I'm sorry." She mumbled again, feeling bad for making him so worried. "I didn't know it'd hurt you so much."

Seungcheol let her go, giving her a sad look. "I hated seeing you like that. You were so pale and fragile."

She didn't know what to do with the amount of loving words she was receiving today. She looked away awkwardly. "I'll be more careful now, I promise."

She could hear the smile that overtook his face despite not looking at him. "Good." He said. "Start getting it into your head that you're important."

Both Jeonghan and Seungcheol monitored her as she cleared out her drawer and any other sign that she had been living in the practice room. She promised them both that she'd return everything back home and that she'd keep them there.

"You scared me." DK whined. "I thought you'd died."

Cyana was grateful at how lighthearted the atmosphere was once her and Seungcheol had returned to the practice room. Everyone was still obviously worried, but they seemed to have all decided not to sour the mood further. Everyone had noticed the watery eyes from both Cyana and Seungcheol as they returned but pretended not to.

"I'm sorry~" Cyana smiled at DK's dramatics.

"Ah, hyung- it was your scream that scared me the most." Dino butted in, cackling at the memory. "I was mid move and I heard a blood-curdling cry. I thought I was in a horror movie."

The others laughed along, each of them relating to the younger boy.

Joshua sidled up to Cyana amidst the chaos Dino's remark had brought, holding her waist to support her as his eyes roamed her face for any sign of lingering fatigue. "You sure you're alright?"

Cyana nodded, grateful for the warmth radiating from his body. "Yeah. Sorry."

He shook his head. "No more apologizing. Just join Hoshi, Seungkwan, Myungho and I for dinner later today, okay? We're going to check out this new restaurant Hoshi found online."

"Okay."

From the other side of the room, Seungcheol clapped for everyone's attention. "Okay! We're resuming practice!" He looked at Cyana. "You're going home." He pointed at her. "Don't argue with me."

"What?" She protested. She was feeling fine. "I'm fine!" She insisted.

Her remark was met by a roomful of protests, even Woozi and Wonwoo joined in as everyone told her to get the fuck home.

"No really!" She protested again once the noise died down. "Please, Coups-oppa. I won't push myself too hard, promise."

She watched him think it over. She could practically see it as he fought himself. "Fine." He finally relented. "But-"

She paused her celebration.

"You're sitting out for practice. You can watch and take notes, but no dancing."

She sighed, but she knew it was the best she was getting out of him. "Fine."

As she sat on the couch, notebook in hand as she took notes on the performance, she couldn't help but glance towards their leader. He was working hard, giving 120% like he did with everything he put his mind to. She felt a glow of gratitude towards him. For a second, she allowed herself to believe that perhaps she did belong here, with these people. And perhaps him and Jeonghan were right - those people had just been mean and she was already good the way she was.

author's note: wahhhh thank you so much for reading! this one was quite a ride - writing about scoups as the leader always sends tears to my eyes, we truly don't deserve him. next fic is cyana's debut fic (finally!)

[i-fondued]

im just popping in here to say i am alive, im working on sinners and eating christmas cookies one of my pharmacists got us

it will be posted tonight, probably late like normal LOL

[bookshelf-dust]

baby love, my baby love

gif by @corrodedcherry

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1,880

warnings: swearing, reader had a not so good day, some hair washing, reader is nude in a non-sexual way, casual intimacy, lots of lovey-dovey things

a/n: hello! i am still very tentatively getting back into writing, but i wanted to write something sweet and comforting and soft and all those things. and eddie is the best provider of all that. this is so cute i almost made myself nauseous. lemme know what you think!! happy reading!!! <333 lots of love

————

“Where’s my girl at?”

Eddie’s voice rings throughout your small apartment, echoing slightly due to it not being fully furnished. His tone is almost giddy, words taking on a little twang after having spent the day working with Wayne. 

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, fighting a smile at the way he speaks to you. From your place on the bed, you hear his keys smack the wall as he hangs them up, hear his boots thudding across the kitchen tiles as he makes his way to you. 

When Eddie appears in the doorway to your shared bedroom, his arms are raised, fingers working to quickly tie his hair up in a knot. His biceps flex with the movement, drawing your eye to his pale skin. A brilliant smile spreads across his face upon seeing you. 

“Hey, bug,” he says.

You flush. You never thought you’d allow someone to call you love bug, let alone any variation of it. You certainly didn’t think you’d like it. It’s who’s saying it that’s converted you.

You’re laying on your stomach, hands crushed under your cheek. You try to smile back at him, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than normal. It’s a very tired gesture. 

Eddie notices, kicking off his shoes and crouching before you. “What’s the matter sweet girl? You’re wearing your outside clothes still, and you look pretty pitiful.”

At least he’s honest.

You blink and let your eyes flutter shut. “Long day. Headache. Upset.”

He brings his hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your temples. “Oh, I’m sorry, bug. I know you just wanna feel all better. Is that it?”

You nod, eyes still closed. He starts to laugh playfully just because of how pitiful you really do look, at how small and scrunched up you’ve made yourself. When he kisses your cheek, you feel his smile against your skin. It makes you beam, despite how you feel. The tingle Eddie’s lips leave behind makes it seem like the first time no matter how long it's been. You’re all soft for him, and there’s no denying it. But hell, he’s the same way. 

“How about…” he trails off, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, tickling your lower back where your sweater has ridden up. “How about I take care of you? Run you a bath, for starters? I know you like that.”

Your eyes open, happy to think about how nice it would feel to sink your tired body into a hot basin full of bubbles. “Okay, Teddy.”

“Yeah? C’mere then,” Eddie says gently, holding his hands out to encourage you to sit up. You slowly push yourself away from the mattress, and he easily pulls you to stand. “I’ll get the water warmed up for you.” 

You give him a poor little salute, making him laugh, and then stick your fingers through his belt loop so you don’t have to do as much on the short walk to the bathroom. When you get there, Eddie bends to cut the water on and push the drain plug down. You wrap your arms around his waist and fold yourself against his warm back. You close your eyes once again, hearing him squirt a hefty amount of bubble bath into the tub. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flood the bathroom.

The plastic top clicks shut and Eddie rises, grabbing hold of your hands and spinning around in your grip. 

“Don’t like seein’ you all drained, baby,” he says. Eddie’s hands cradle your face, long and pale fingers beginning to rub at your temples. It feels so nice to have that pressure be pushed away, to feel his body so close to yours. At this rate, you’ll forget you even had a headache. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” Eddie asks. “Or do you just want to have a chill night?”

You open your eyes and push up on your toes to kiss his nose. “The latter,” you say. 

He chuckles, knowing you never used that term until you started reading Jane Austen. 

“M’kay, bug. That works for me.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “You want a kiss? I think you deserve a good one.”

That gets you to practically melt. I fucking love this woman, Eddie thinks. He feels breathless each time you look at him that way. You look at him like he hung the stars, like he is your knight in shining armor. He kisses you in that way that thanks you for making him feel so loved. So cherished.

You thread your hands in Eddie’s hair, fingers pulling at the chunk at the nape of his neck where it’s most sensitive. His mouth is warm against yours. He smiles at your playfulness, breaking away to kiss both cheeks. 

He bends and drags a finger through the water. “It’ll be plenty warm enough in a second, bug.”

You give him a tired thank you squeeze as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“Need help undressing?” he inquires, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. 

You gently backhand his stomach, watching as he feigns severe injury. “Perv,” you joke. 

Eddie sits down on the toilet seat lid so that he can be prepared to turn the water off when he deems the tub full enough for you. Really he’d just like to see you surrounded by a huge pile of bubbles for his own amusement, but also because he knows it’ll be the thing to coax that pure, joyous laugh out of you. The sound he’d bottle and keep on his nightstand if he could.

You remove the little bit of makeup you’d been wearing with a cotton pad, sighing in relief to have it all off. You take out your earrings and slip off your rings, setting them in an ashtray on the counter you’ve been repurposing ever since Eddie decided to cut back on his smoking.

You take off each of your socks, one hand gripping the countertop for balance. As you slip your belt off, Eddie finishes preparing your bath and turns to face you. He holds his arms out, ready to collect your dirty clothes and accessories so that he can put them in their rightful places. 

He takes your belt from you only to be cheeky, snapping the thick leather as loud as he can manage. He makes himself laugh. 

You turn to the side when you unbutton your jeans, flushing and shy at his attention even after all this time. Even knowing how beautiful he finds your body. How much he loves how soft you are. After all, your body allows you to live. It allows you to spend time with him, and that is all he’ll ever ask for. It doesn’t matter to him what state your body is in because it is yours. And you are his. 

Eddie smiles watching you shimmy out of your snug jeans. You hand him your pants and t-shirt, now only in your bra and underwear. You don’t give yourself the time to be self-conscious, longing for the hot bath water. You turn and quickly unclasp your bra. Eddie playfully flicks your bum. It always deserves appreciation in his eyes. 

When you hand him the last of your items, he presses the sweetest kiss to your tummy, thumbs rubbing at the indentations left on your chest from your bras underwire, as if he can make them go away just by sheer will. 

“I love you, bug,” Eddie says, looking up at you with those watery doe eyes. His kisses your stomach again.

“I love you same, Teddy. Now let me take my bath. It’s rather chilly in this house, don’t you think? I refuse to freeze.”

Eddie laughs to himself as he walks off, taking your clothes to the hamper and storing your bra and belt elsewhere. He never could’ve imagined a world where preparing a bath for his partner would make him as happy as it does. 

————

Eddie is kneeling on the bathroom floor. Your back is pressed against the side of the tub, and he’s washing your hair. Well, really he’s already given it the scrub and cleanse that it needed, now he’s just trying to make weird shapes out of it. 

After you’d sat in the warm water until your toes pruned without actually bathing, he jokingly offered to do your hair while you washed your body. 

You hadn’t even thought about it. You were enjoying the way the bubbles came up to your chin, the way you were completely encapsulated in the safety of them. The way Eddie sat there on the rug, telling you about his day. About the different things he’d fixed on which cars—nothing you understood in any fashion, but something you always wanted to hear about.

“You could make good money doing this, you know. You’re very talented,” you quip, scrubbing your calf with a washcloth. 

Eddie snorts, kissing your wet shoulder blade. “What? Give head massages?”

You ring out your rag, having completed your washing ritual and made sure everything got the attention it deserves. 

“Mhm. That felt so good.” 

You pull the drain plug up, letting the water out. Eddie stands and acts as though his back is going to give out on him. You quickly turn the shower on, just so you can make sure you got all the conditioner out of your hair and feel completely clean. Eddie has never done this rinsing routine after a bath, but loves to see you do your little happy dance when you’re all clean and wrapped up in a towel.

He holds out a hand as you step over the rim of the tub, bowing for added effect. “How was your bath, m’lady?”

You lead the way out of the bathroom, on a search for pajamas. “I’d say it was the best bath I’ve ever had the pleasure of taking, good sir.”

You hug your fuzzy towel to your chest, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s full lips. He blushes at the eye contact you’re giving him. He knows how it makes you nervous, but getting to have all of your attention like that makes him tingly.

“Thank you for helping me, Teddy.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” 

You turn to the side, gripping a round, wooden handle and pulling open your top dresser drawer. Eddie kisses your cheek. Sometimes you think Eddie’s kisses are lifesaving. They’ve surely contributed to your stability. They’re healing. And so is the way he cares for the people he loves. The way he so effortlessly does things just because he only wants to see you happy.

Eddie ends up picking out your pajamas while you pick out his. You’re in your own bottoms, but one of his Iron Maiden t-shirts. You told him you should match, so he pointed you in the direction of another, and you made sure to choose pants for him that had red in them, just like yours. 

Before you can sit down on your shared bed, Eddie takes your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear. His chin brushes your jaw, lips parting in a bright grin before the words ever leave his mouth. 

“Now, what do you think about going to get milkshakes?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[backinmyphase]

Not your letter

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru wouldn't call himself a very anxious man. But now as he hears cries every night, he can't help but worry- about his darling wife.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3300 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups

I'm sooo tired, but I hope you enjoy! I'm really happy you all seem so sincerely to enjoy it. Like always your comments make my day <333

Gojo Satoru liked spending money far too much.

After the last few days, this became clear very quickly. Yes, he was rich. But the way things were going this week, probably not for long.

He probably wouldn't even read every book that was on the bedside table.

Every morning he was awake before you and explored the town the two of you visited. When you were awake he took you out of the little charming hotel and showed you what he discovered.

You wouldn't see any problem in it if he didn't always had his credit card ready, the moment you looked at something.

And the two of you didn't need that many souvenirs either. But at the same time, it was hard for you to tell him not to use his money.

And now, too. As you walked through the small village. You knew what was coming when you passed a small café.

His eyes grew wide behind his sunglasses and a smile stole itself onto his face.

"Would you fancy something sweet?"

Not really. But he smiled in a way that made you feel sorry for taking the wind out of his sails.

So naturally, you left with three bags of sweet pastries.

Your mother would wring your neck. You could hear her lessons. 'You should bake something for your husband instead of letting him buy it!

"Don't you want something?"

Satoru looked at you with a bitten cupcake in his hand and some icing on his cheek. At the same time, he held out a new cupcake to you.

Of course, you didn't just take it because of his smile.

"Thank you." carefully you took a bite, trying to not look messy while you eat.

As you looked over to Satoru, you saw how he swallowed the rest of the cupcake in one go. You couldn't help but smile as you saw him chew way too much at the same time.

"Satoru, you have no manners." It was refreshing.

He gasped. "Am I now not even allowed to eat normally in front of my wife? What has the world come to?" Dramatically he held onto his chest.

His eyes shut and head tilted a bit back, he expressed his 'hurt' so playfully you couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh Satoru, if that's how you eat normally, I'm really concerned for your stomach."

As you saw how shooked he looked at you, you regretted saying anything. But then he grinned at you and leaned a bit forward.

"Did I just see my darling wife laugh?"

"It's not like I never laugh." you muttered as you started to eat again, hiding your embarrassment behind the pink, sprinkled, icing of the cupcake.

"Well, never before in front of me."

"Nonsense." you shook your head, while making sure your face was clean.

"It's true." he took another cupcake. "You should do it more."

The warmth that shot into your face was now a regular visitor. Something had changed. His presence made you jumpy, your heart was suddenly working overtime.

And your head. Oh, your head.

The thoughts that crept into it became more and more jumbled. Every time your looks crossed paths you couldn't help but spiral in a trail of thoughts, that made you feel dizzy.

You were truly sick. But it didn't feel bad.

A scream shattered the relaxed atmosphere. Your stomach turned when you saw a woman with a baby behind Satoru.

The baby was thrashing around, his voice continuing to tear the air and his cheeks red from the water running down.

The baby clutched the woman's hand, crying desperately.

"Are you okay?"

You quickly turned your head away to hide the rising panic. "Yes, I'm just tired."

His look spoke volumes. Always being tired was probably not the best sign.

"Then let's go back." He stood up, the food tucked away carefully.

"It's alright. It's not too bad."

He shook his head. "You look like I'm forcing you to go out everytime. I don't want that."

Defeated, you also stood up slowly and trotted behind him. You really wanted to enjoy your trip away, and get to know Satoru. But the words of the higher-ups were like a pest, constantly reminding you that your duty wasn't getting to know him.

It was having a heir.

"I'm sorry." your voice was hoarse, embarrassingly quiet. "I'm always in the way."

He laughed, while slowing down, to adjust to your speed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm always breaking of our time." you shook your head. "We barely get to do something."

"Oh please." he chuckled. "We have still plenty of time. We are just three days away. And it's not a problem, I still get to know you."

He looked at you again, his sunglasses barely covering his skylike eyes. "And I know." He smiled at you. "That you are not sleeping very well. Or that you are very exhausted. Maybe both."

"Am I right?"

He was. You were sleeping terrible. Even though the reading helped with sleeping in, the nightmares didn't disappear.

The constant thoughts about your 'duties' were kept alive through them. You wished you could just forget all of these things. Satoru seemed like he could.

You just shrugged.

"Just try to sleep when we are back." Slowly, very hesitant, did his hand engulf yours. His hand was warm. So, so warm.

"I have planned something for later. And I want you to be able to enjoy it."

You were wrong. Gojo Satoru didn't like spending money too much. He just enjoyed spoiling you far too much.

~~

"So how do you like your little 'rebellion'?"

The dark surrounding you, engulfed your mother almost whole as she sat there in her chair. Her arms crossed like chains, heavy, ready to arrest you.

"It's not like that-"

"Yeah, yeah." she waved her hand, wiping your words away. "That's what they always say."

Her leg twitched, but her face remained a mask. She sat unimpressed on her throne, looking at you like you stole candy. "How did you imagine all of this?"

She crossed her legs, it's twitching being held down like a child. "What did you think will happen after all of this?"

You looked at her, your mouth thin as a line. Your tongue felt like it was chained down. Heavy, like a boulder.

"Perhaps…" She tilted her head. "Running away together?"

'Stop.' you wanted to say, no scream. 'Stop speaking.'

"Maybe a romance where he takes you in his arms? Just leaving jujutsu society together behind?"

Your body felt light and so so heavy at the same time. Dizziness overtook you mind, making your vision blurry.

"No Clans and no responsibilities. Like Paris and Helen." she laughed loudly, her voice made you shiver.

"That would never happen. You know that. You are no Helen. Helen was a beautiful, desired and foolish woman. She didn't consider her people."

She stood up, while you lost your balance, she was suddenly towering above you, looking down with this well-known expression.

"And Gojo is no Paris. As if he would start a war for you. This boy has no courage. That's just selfish to wish." she shook her head again.

"Stop mother." your throat was burning. "This is pointless. Satoru is not like that. Satoru-"

Her eyes narrowing like a predator ready to pierce her prey. "I'm just reminding you to not do something foolish. And after your recent behavior that seems rather needed."

Your hands were shaking, sweating. Your breath was heavy and your body seemed paralyzed. You felt like a kid again. Crawling to your mother crying.

'I don't want to marry someone I don't know!' you hiccuped, chocking on your own tears a bit. 'I don't want-'

You still felt the burning sting on your cheek. Still felt her unforgiving stare as she looked at you.

'You don't have to want. You have to fulfill your duty. And that's bringing connections to your clan.' she didn't scream. No she was in control of herself what made it so much worse.

"So stop whining."

You only saw darkness. Your body jolted uncontrollably, it felt like being pushed down into the darkness.

Like you were dying.

"Enjoy your time. And use it." She waved and-

Your consciousness came crawling back, while you were being shaken awake. You felt cold, unbearable so. The sweat on you rather sticky.

It was a nightmare.

"Everything is alright."

You felt heavy, eyes fighting to open. But in the end they lost. You were so tired. Every ounce of sleep was a fight with your conscience. It was almost… Unnatural.

Warm arms embraced you, pulling your limp, cold, and heavy feeling body towards their warmth.

"I'm here now."

You knew it was him. It was the only logical explanation. But it felt so surreal. Feeling his strength and reassurance so close.

His grip on you was not forceful. No, it was so soft you couldn't help but start slipping into unconsciousness again.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. It just felt right.

~~

"How late is it?" you paced through the room, while Satoru layed lazily in the bed, yawning.

"Don't know. It's not that important." as he sat up his silver white, no snow white hair was sticking up in all directions. It was so messy, it was endearing. Which is obviously just a fact-

"I thought you had something planned? Why didn't you wake me up?" you gathered new things to wear, since you obviously had to take a shower.

"You were sleeping so peaceful." he shook his head like it was obvious. "That was the first time I saw you smile in your sleep."

You stop for a second, cheeks feeling like they were on fire. "You watch me sleep?" you joked, while you pretended to look for something in your suitcase.

"No! I-, that's not what I-, I don't…" he stopped and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. It felt so crazy to have him stutter. You looked at him over your shoulder, hoping to have cooled down your face.

As he saw you holding in a laughter, his panicked look fell.

"Oh, ha ha." he raised an eyebrow.

"What did you plan? Can we still do it?" You didn't want to cancel his plans. Not Again. Not because of you.

He scratched his the back of his neck while thinking a bit. "Do you know the time?"

"It's…" you search for the clock in the bath. "8:46 PM? How long was I out??"

He chuckled while murmuring something to himself. You wanted to ask but also didn't.

"Well it is a bit late. Don't know if you even want to-"

A long, loud growl from your stomach interrupted him. Silence set in while he was just looking at you. The warmth in your face returning.

And then he laughed. "Well I guess that answers my question. Can't let my sweet wife starve."

"Sure, Satoru." you muttered as you chuckled a bit too. "Because you are of course not hungry at all after being here the whole day."

He grinned crookedly, while pulling the blanket away and also standing up. "Let's just make ourselves ready and then go."

You nodded and gathered what you found for yourself. Standing up from the ground and gripping the door of the bath, you stopped as he spoke again.

"But if it's too much please say so right away. I don't want you to suffer through anything."

Hands sweating again, you smiled at him. "I will." Then you got ready.

~

Satoru was nervous as fuck.

It still felt so unreal. Having you in his arms, you holding so desperately onto him, but slowly over time relaxing.

You cried. During your sleep.

It wasn't a one time thing. You cried almost every night. It was very silent, almost not audible, but he could hear it.

And see it.

He wanted to help you, but didn't know if he overstepped a silent boundary. A boundary so carefully layed out the last days.

But today was different. You spoke. Saying something like 'Stop mother'.

And you whispered his name.

He didn't know why. Didn't know if you had a nightmare where he was a part of, but he felt like he had to help you. Like you called for him.

He didn't watch you sleep. He listened to you sleep. To your cries.

~

"Where are we going?" you looked around. This was not a street you two had explored before and it was dark enough that you couldn't recognize even if you did know it.

"It's a surprise. Guess you have to wait." he grinned as he went sternly, while still making sure you two were going next to each other.

"You are so unfair sometimes." you shook your head. "Can't believe I married you."

"Oh please." he grinned back at you, playing into your dramatics. "As if you don't love surprises."

"Oh, Satoru." you deadpanned at him. "I hate them."

For two seconds you just stopped and looked at each other. But then you started laughing at his nervous expression.

"I'm joking, sorry. But you should have seen your face!"

He chuckled lightly, while looking around. Then he grinned back at you. "Well I hope you were joking, because here it is!"

You looked around but only saw a fancy restaurant. After looking for any small places you usually had take out, it dawned on you that the restaurant was the place he wanted to go.

"Oh Satoru…" you looked at the old, but very preserved, Restaurant in front of you. The letters on top of it almost shy, not being big and very eye catching, but very elegant. It spelled Sato's Kitchen.

"If you don't like it, we can always go back-"

"It's not like I don't like it!" you interrupted him, before he could make false conclusions. "It's just… This was very expensive, was it not?"

"Why talk about money? Let's just have a nice evening." he smiled and you knew it was expensive. Defeated you sighed.

"Okay. But you have to stop spending so much money-"

"Alright, let's go!"

He just took your hand and pulled you softly behind him.

~

It was very late. So it wasn't so surprising that your reservation was already long gone. But as you stood there behind Saturo while he tried to get a table for you, you felt bad.

It was almost laughable how naiv you were.

Dragging him out at these hours just to be told that they didn't have any tables left and we should come back tomorrow.

"Is there really no way-"

"I'm sorry good sir, but we are out. We can rearrange your reservation for tomorrow."

They were very kind for that. But you still felt bad.

"That wouldn't be so bad, would it Satoru?"

He nodded, obviously a bit frustrated as he gave his information to make the reservation or furthermore rearrange it.

"Yeah, that's alright." he muttered to the waiter. After making sure everything was alright, yoi two left shortly.

It was a bit embarrassing. Showing up almost an hour and half late at such a desired restaurant. Another reason you felt bad.

"I'm so so-"

"Well we can still do it tomorrow." Satoru smiled. Smiled so softly at you that you felt like crying. It made you feel so stupid, so unstable.

"Yeah." you almost chocked at the word.

He started going again, silently trying to get you to walk ahain. Silently walking beside him, you tried to find the light words you just had said so easily. But there were none.

"Well we can still have take out." he walked closer than before. Not too close, just a bit closer. "If that's alright for you?"

You chuckle a bit, trying to relax. "Of course. That sounds lovely."

The night was beautiful. The moon was already high up and you could see countless of stars here. In Tokyo you could only rarely see the stars. It was comforting.

The silence between you wasn't awkward anymore. Maybe you two did start to get to know each other in a way. Even though Satoru was still a mystery to you most of the time.

It just was comfortable as a whole.

Going together to your favorite ramen shop. Eating in silence and slowly walking back.

It must be really late. But Satoru did bring the bag of the sweet pastries. And as you were walking back to your hotel, he did eat from them.

You couldn't help but watch him. It was cute really. How he enjoyed it so much. And a small smile made it's way onto your face.

"Did you Always like sweets this much?"

Satoru looks at you and thinks. A cupcake still in his mouth, he tries chewing faster to give you your answer.

"Well, I think I did." he coughs as his mouth was empty. "When I was a kid I wasn't allowed to eat anything sweet or unhealthy because of those obsessive higher ups. Said it would make my powers weaker, to keep me away from them."

He took another big bite after saying that and smiled at you as he chewed.

"Well," he was grinning like an idiot after he swallowed. "After I started eating sweets I didn't get weaker. In fact quite the opposite!" He laughed.

You admired him, as he took another bite. That he could just call them obsessive and wipe it away. You wished you could not care.

And as he took his last bite, you looked at the remaining cupcakes and wondered. Could you try making them for him? Would he like them?

It was too late to think anymore, after you got home you just got ready for bed and layed down while Satoru was in the bathroom.

But as you wanted to close your eyes, this uneasiness from before seemed like it was back again. You began to feel cold and wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket.

Satoru came out of the bathroom looking at you, like he was fighting with himself.

And in a moment of weakness and exhaustion you let yourself say the words you normally would only think.

"Do you want to sleep in the bed?"

He just looked at you, the darkness around you made it hard to see his expression. Also your vision started to get blurry because of your tiredness.

"If you don't mind.".

You yawned as your eyes fell close. "You helped…" you mumbled and didn't fight your exhaustion anymore.

And as you felt his warm arms around you, again you couldn't help but smile.

~

Satoru didn't want to wake you up, but he also wanted to do his daily routine round to get you and himself breakfast. Tough decision.

Before all of this he would have never gotten up earlier than he had too. But here with you it was different. So so different.

And he didn't want to let you go. But in the end he did get up and got ready to leave for his round.

As he went down the stairs, Hina's Grandma smiled at him like every morning.

"Good morning, Mr. Gojo. On your way again?"

He laughed a bit and nodded. It was part of the routine to talk to her a bit, as she was a lovely person and knew the place well.

"Well a two letters arrived today. Both adressed at Mrs. Gojo. So I thought I could give them to you for later."

She handed him the two envelopes with a smile.

He didn't mean to sneak into your business or anything like that. But he couldn't help but feel uneasy almost angry when he saw the names of the senders.

One was from the higher ups. And one from your mother.

And he felt cold as he wondered why they would only write you.

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[sorapricots]

Breaking Point

Summary: In the way where you start to lose your shit after teaching the children in Xavier Institute for so long, your partner Logan decided it's time to take a break.

Pair: Husband!Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Curse words, reader have regenerative healing factor like Logan so she is actually as older as as Charles but look young, reader is married to logan, blood mention, 

A/N: it might seems crazy that I only come back here to write about Logan but damn I just cannot take my mind off from Logan. I might make one for Wade Wilson too tho. Also in all honesty I am not 100% proud with this one, but I just need to write this man so bad. So maybe I’m gonna make another one. 

Wc:  1,8k 

Beep... beep... beep...

You quickly turn off your alarm with a groan as you push yourself to sit on your bed. Another groan escaped your lips when you realized you broke another alarm for the third time this week and your husband is not beside you. You wipe your face harshly as you walk to the bathroom.

You take a cold quick shower in hope it can help you freshen up. A tired sigh was heard as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Eye bags can be seen even though it's not very noticeable. You quickly grab a concealer to hide your eye bags. Once you are satisfied with your concealer you quickly put on your daily-go-to make up and decide to put on a more neutral color outfit instead of your usual colorful one.

A black turtleneck paired with your favorite jeans, as you put on a worn-out brown leather jacket, and you decide to wear your boots for the last touch. You quickly put your wedding band on your finger before you forget it. And you decided to put the necklace your husband, Logan, bought for you almost 10+ years ago. You smile a little bit as your fingers carefully caress the vintage looking necklace.

As you grab your bedroom handle, you stop to kiss your wedding band, a habit you do before you start your day. Deep down in your heart, you hope today will be a more bearable day than the previous day. But of course your wish is only a mere wish when the moment you open the door you see students running past you with full speed almost hitting you. 

"Kids! No running in the hall!" You warned them before you carefully stepped out of your bedroom. 

"Good morning!" Ororo quipped when she saw you step into the kitchen. A mug of coffee in her hand and a muffin in the other. You give her a sweet smile before you grab yourself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, ro. Have you seen Logan?" You softly asked as you sat yourself in one of the stools. Ororo looks at you for a second before blinking, trying to remember where the last time she saw the rugged guy. 

"Oh I saw him walk to the classroom, looks like he has History class to teach today." You hummed a bit as you took a sip from your mug. Eyes slowly darting to the clock beside the fridge.

"Ah shoot, I have class too. See you later, Ro." You quickly downed your coffee and put your mug in the sink before you walked to your class. You can hear Ororo wish you good luck as you walk away.

As you approach the classroom you can hear some of the students chattering. You take a deep breath before you open the door. Revealing a bit of chaos the students cause. You can feel the corner of your eyebrow twitch but you just let it slide as the students quickly take a seat when they see you.

"Good morning, everyone. I hope you had a nice rest last night. And I hope the assignment I gave last week is finished and ready to be submitted. Please put your work on my desk so I can grade it later." You speak as you grab some of the old literature books that you have. Students start piling up in front of your desk to put their assignments. All of them except one, John. He's known for not being punctual when it's about submitting assignments.

"John, where is your assignment?" You softly asked him as you try to calm down yourself as you can feel your patience running thin. He scratched his head before he let out an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Professor. I kind of forgot about it." He answered with full honesty. You close your eyes for a second before you give him a smile.

"It's okay, but as an exchange I want you to write a resume about this Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and I want you to submit it tonight." John almost let out a protest but decided not to when he saw you giving a look. His body slumped down on his desk before he nodded. You then continue your teaching session.

Suddenly there's a knock on your classroom door. You let out a quick come in as you write down something about old literature on the board. 

"Professor, Professor Hank asked you to meet him in his class." You turn around to see Rogue standing on the entry door. 

"Okay, thank you, Rogue. The class ends for today then. Make sure you do the assignment that I give you for today and I want it to be submitted next week. John, please do your assignment. I will wait for your resume tonight." Students start to pack up their belongings as you tidying up your desk. Then you walk to Hank's classroom to meet him.

A very chaotic sound can be heard in his class. You also hear Logan screaming. Your brows furrowed as you opened the classroom door. Suddenly you see a beaker with some weird color liquid in it flying and hitting your face. 

The classroom went quiet as sizzle can be heard. You stare at the people in the classroom blankly as your hand slowly touches your face. You can feel your skin sticky with both the weird liquid and blood. Eyes darted to Logan, Hank, and the students making sure no one else hurt as you feel pain on your face start to numb out due to your healing factor. 

"Shit." Logan quickly went to you as he held your face to make sure you heal properly. Ignoring the residue of the weird liquid that is still on your skin. You stare at him before your eyes start to become glossy. You rapidly blink your eyes while Logan pulls you into a hug. Trying to calm you down by swaying both of your body softly. Muffled sobs can be heard as he strokes your back.

"Hey, it's okay Bub. I got you. I'm here." Logan tries to pull you impossibly closer than he already did. He quickly looks behind him, telling Hank that he will be right back. Hank just gives him a quick nod before he starts to instruct the students to tidy up the mess they created. 

Logan quickly picks you up with bridal style and starts walking back to your shared room with you still crying in his arms. Your hands held to his neck as you shoved your face to his neck. Try to find comfort in his musky, pine, and mixed with tobacco scent.

Logan then proceeds to put you on your shared bed softly as soon as you both are inside the bedroom. He quickly picks his shirt and your shorts for you to change as he knows you always find comfort in his shirt. He went into the bathroom to grab your makeup wipes before he came back to you who was still sobbing with hands covering your face.

"Look up, pretty girl." He carefully pulls your hands and holds your chin. Frowning a bit when he saw your mascara ran down on your cheeks and red nose. He carefully wiped your makeup away and his frown deepened as he saw your eyebags. He leans down to kiss your forehead and your sobs get harder.

“Take a deep breath darling. I’m not going anywhere.” Logan starts to cup your face as he starts to lead you on taking deep breaths with him. You follow him soon after and a thin smile creeps up his face.

“Atta girl.” his calloused hand softly stroking your head as your sobs start to calm down. Your husband then continues to clean your face from makeup. You slowly lift one of your hands to hold his wrist that is still busy cleaning up your face. Logan then leans in to give you a quick peck on each of your eyes, nose, and lastly your lips before he pulls away. His hands carefully took off the necklace that he gave for you before carefully storing it back in the box. You slowly peel off your jacket and jeans as he walks back to you.

“Hands up, baby.” He instructed you as he took a seat beside you and he pulled your turtleneck up. You obeyed him by putting your hands up in the air. Allowing him to pull your turtleneck. He then starts to stroke your almost naked back, making you feel his warm palms to let you know that he is with you. 

“I’m gonna take your bra off okay?” he softly asked while his palms were still rubbing your back. You give an affirmative nod and his fingers skillfully take off your bra as he has already done so many times. You let your bra fall to the floor. Logan then pulls you to sit on his lap. Your hands immediately circling around his neck. He then pulls you into another hug while giving your shoulders a lot of soft kisses. It's a different kind of kisses. Nothing sensual, just comfort and love. And you hug him tighter. Letting his stubble tickle your skin.

Logan then pulls away and gives you his shirt and your shorts. You carefully take it from his hands. He stares at you full of love and adoration before he softly pushes you from his lap and walks to the bathroom to clean himself. You quickly put the clothes on and lay down on bed. Pull your blanket to cover your body and wait for your lover. Eyes blankly staring at the wedding band on your finger while your thumb carefully rotates it.

Suddenly a warmth starts engulfing you from the back. For the first time on that day you genuinely let out a soft smile. You quickly rotate your body so you can face your husband. 

"What's on your mind darling?" His voice is rough but there's softness and care behind it. His hand pushes your hair away from your face. You smile again and pull him into a kiss. 

"It's nothing. Just been tired from all of the work I have to do these past few days…" you answered in a low voice. Logan let out a low growl as he looked at you with sympathy.

"Let's take a few days off then. Let's go somewhere quiet. Just the two of us." Logan suggested while rubbing your sides before letting his hand stay on your hips. You stare at his face. Remembering every detail you can catch with your eyes. 

"Okay. Thank you, Lo." Logan smiles as he rolls to lay on his back. Pulling you with him to sleep.

"Anything for you princess." His words and his touch is the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep

[cowboykento]

Hey not sure if you’re still writing about CowboyNanami but I just read all of it and every single one just melts my heart!! Anyways I was wondering if you could write a little drabble of them starting a family could be sfw at first about having a conversation about wanting to finally start and then a nsfw version with a little breeding kink awakening in Nanami, obviously if you’re comfortable with it absolutely fine if not just thought I’d share my thoughts <3 Just wanted to say love your works on CowboyNanami and they are to die for!!

😭thank you very much baby i appreciate you more than words can say!! i think i am stuck (by my own brain) writing him for the rest of my life so i hope u enjoy this :3

warnings: baby making!! kind of breeding kink, discussions of having a kid, "momma" is used but not really in a kink way, lmk if i missed any warnings <3

you’ve been married almost a year now, and you can’t help but imagine adding a kid—a baby—to the mix. kento brings in enough income from the farm that you could take enough leave from your job; the baby could spend the days inside with you while kento works and then you could all spend the evening on the porch.

for a while it just felt like a distant daydream, but the longer you spent married to kento, the longer you start to truly yearn for it.

you fought with yourself, thinking constantly about how you could bring it up to your husband. it wasn’t necessarily that you were worried he’d shut you down—he’d mentioned his enthusiasm to have a family one day more times than you—but you were worried he wouldn’t be ready now. and you felt so ready and so hopeful, you prayed kento would feel the same way.

you’d tried to bring it up a couple evenings, but the words just wouldn’t come out. you wrack your brain for subtle ways to bring it up, so that maybe you wouldn’t have to say it so directly.

you'd been trying your best to just come out with it for weeks, but the final blow to you came at kento's niece's birthday party. you knew it would be somewhat challenging for yourself, going to this party. kento's niece was just turning 2, and it didn't help that you were already so eager to have your own little one running around the farm.

of course the girl is adorable, you knew that already, but what you couldn't have expected is the way you would feel seeing kento hold his niece in his arms.

he bounces her up and down on his lap, pulling the cutest giggles out of her. he smiles fondly at her, and you swear you've never been more attracted to him than you are now.

his niece is practically glued to him the entire day, so excited to see her uncle kento after so long. you long to raise a baby with kento—you can only imagine how great of a dad he'll be.

you're quiet on the ride home. you told him you were just tired from the party, which was believable enough, but you knew that he didn't fully believe you, he knew you far too well.

still, it was up to you to break the ice. kento wouldn't force you to say anything if you didn't want to, which you always appreciated, but knew that now, it left you no choice but to finally tell him.

"can i talk to you about something?" you ask softly, lacing your fingers with his free hand.

he glances over at you quickly before turning back to the road, "of course, darlin'. everything alright?"

you take a deep breath and look at kento, even if he can't meet your eyes. maybe that's for the best, you're not sure you could manage to get it out if his gaze was pouring into you. you're barely sure you can get it out now.

"well i... i really enjoyed the party today. and it just made me think about... well, about us having a baby," you speak slowly, probing for a reaction from your husband.

his jaw tightens and his eyes widen, and you can tell he wants to turn and face you and see your expression.

"oh yeah? what about us having a baby?" he asks patiently.

your heart is still racing as he lets you fidget with his fingers in your lap.

"i think i want to start trying for a baby... if you want to, too," your voice quivers a bit.

kento stretches his hand out to envelope yours, squeezing your hand in his.

"sweetheart," he breathes, "are ya sure?"

"mhm. been thinking about it for a while," you admit, "but you really sold it at the party. you're so good with your niece."

he brings the back of your hand to his lips, "i'd love to start tryin', darlin'. 've wanted to start a family with ya for forever. you're really sure?"

"i am, kento. i really want this. i really want this with you."

he pulls up to a stop sign and pulls you in to kiss your lips quickly, but enthusiastically.

"i want this too, baby. ya wanna start tryin' when we get home?" his hand falls back down to your thigh, creeping close to the hem of your pretty sundress.

you lean across the console to press a kiss to his cheek, "yeah, let's start trying, handsome."

you barely get through the door, your lips crashing into each other's as kento tosses his keys into the bowl, not losing his focus—you—for even a second.

his hands hold you tightly around your middle, pulling you as close to him as possible as his tongue licks into your mouth hungrily.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers tangled in his hair as he pushes you against the wall, hands lowering to pull your dress up.

"you want me to put a baby in ya?" he pants against your jaw, immediately reattaching his lips to your skin after the words leave his mouth. "been waitin' for ya to finally let me get ya pregnant. fuck, you'll be the best mama, won'tcha?"

he pulls your panties aside, swiping his fingers through your cunt to gather up your arousal, licking it up greedily before thumbing over your clit.

"fuck, please, ken," you squeak as he slips a finger into your pussy, gently but thoroughly preparing you for him. "please gimme a baby, want it so bad."

his lips are back on yours, tongue sucking up your pretty moans as his fingers piston in and out of you.

"i'll give ya what ya want, just like i always do," he breathes against your lips. "anything my pretty wife wants, ain't that right?"

"pleeease, ken, need you now," you moan, feeling your walls start to clench around his fingers.

he pulls them out with a pop, once again sucking the juices off of them before he lifts you off your feet without once taking his lips away from yours, and carrying you off into the bedroom.

kento lays you down on the bed lovingly, despite the passion and adrenaline passing between both of you. his hands and his lips, however, move erratically, entirely driven by kento's desire—his need—to give you a baby.

he's quick to pull your dress off, leaving you in just your panties, his shirt following quickly after. every second your lips separate from kento's you're both letting out breathless gasps of "fuck," and "love you so much."

his hands are roaming eagerly from your jaw, pulling you into loving and indulgent kisses before sliding down to squeeze your tits.

"these are gonna get all full of milk pretty soon, sweetheart," he says between sucking and kissing your neck and chest. "y're gonna be the prettiest momma, baby. fuck, my pretty, perfect wife. love ya so much, darlin'."

you reach your hands up to cup either side of his face, "i love you too, kento. so much. i want this so bad—want this with you."

kento closes the space between his lips and yours once more before kissing down your front until he gets to the waistband of your panties. he kisses your clit through the fabric, tongue poking out to prod at your damp slit.

your fingers tie into his hair once again, "kenn, i need your cock now, need you to get me pregnant now," you whine.

a grin breaks out on kento's face, and he kisses your cunt one more time before pulling away to shove his jeans and boxers down. his cock springs out, hard and leaking and you nearly whimper at the sight. you've taken him how many times? yet every time it amazes you.

kento crawls his way back over you, tongue finding yours immediately as his fingers slide your panties down your legs. you can't help clenching your thighs together, the anticipation of finally getting to try for a baby, of taking kento raw, thrilling and intimidating at the same time.

he slides himself through your dripping cunt, coating himself in your arousal. you're just about to start crying for him to fuck you when he spits on your pussy and slides his dick through it, making both of you sloppy messes.

"please ken, fuck me," you breathe against his cheek between kisses, "make me a momma."

kento lines himself up, his tip barely prodding at your entrance before kissing you with every bit of love and adoration in his heart and soul and thrusting all the way into your warm, soaking pussy.

the moan you let out come straight from your stomach as you feel your husband finally fuck you. your fingernails dig into his back when he finds his pace—slow, but deep. so deep—and plows you into the mattress.

your legs kick up hopelessly as he pounds into you, the sound of skin on skin mixing with the moans that sneak out in between kissing him.

kento keeps one hand on the side of your face so he can admire you, the other rubbing your throbbing clit.

"shit," he groans, "need to fill this little pussy, need to get you pregnant, oh my god."

you don't think you've ever heard your husband this fucked out, and it makes you just as drunk off his pleasure as well as your own. you can't even muster up any words, too lost in the overwhelming sensation kento always brings you. even so, he's on another level of aroused and sexy tonight.

"please," you hiccup out, "please, please kento, please fill me-"

he cuts you off, licking fire into your mouth as his hips start to move faster, his cock nearly punching against your cervix.

you're so close you have to fight not to squeeze your eyelids shut, too intent on seeing your handsome husband as he finally fucks a baby into you.

"c'mon, momma, cum f'r me, c'mon sweetheart, just cum 'n i'll fill you right up, fill you to the brim," he says, picking up his pace on your clit and continuing his relentless pace.

it doesn't take much more than his words to send you over the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body shakes with the tremors of pleasure.

just as you're starting to come down from your high, kento makes a few final thrusts before finishing right behind you, pushing every ounce of his cum as deep as he can.

you watch his abs clench as he continues rolling his hips against yours, slowly, leisurely keeping you full, just like he promised.

you pull him down for another kiss, this one more worn out, but somehow more in love than you've ever felt.

"did so good for me, darlin'," he smiles at you, finally pulling out and laying down next to you. "always do so good for me. love ya so much, angel."

you smile back at him, "i love you too, kento. more than anything. i'm so happy we're gonna start a family."

he pulls you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "me too, darlin'."

you snake your arms around him, looking up at him with fucked out, gorgeous eyes, "you know, we might as well get a few more tries in tonight. just so we know for sure."

he pulls you all the way up so you're straddling him, leaning just above his lips, "i think y're right, darlin'. can't be too sure."

you giggle, heart fuller than ever, as you kiss your husband.

hai hope you enjoyed if you read this far :3 pls consider sending more cowboy!nanami asks either here or on @chuuyasboots !! okay thanks so much for reading

[taylormarieee]

~Were supposed to hate each other right?~ Carl Grimes

Request: Would you do a Carl x Reader, where Carl and Reader dislike each other a lot and then gets lost together on a scavenging trip, so they finally have to spend the night in an abandoned hotel or something similar and to unwillingly share a bed and it ends up with them having sex? can you add that the mood of the two of them the next morning is very strange and embarrassed and they don't know how to deal with each other now?

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: PiV sex, Shy Carl, Shy Reader, Awkwardness, Teasing, lots of cuss words, reader and Carl don't like each other, dry humping, needy Carl, needy reader.

You and Carl didn't like each other at all! It was not a new thing to the group.

Ever since they stepped foot in Alexandria, you just found him so stuck up because he knew all about killing walkers and surviving.

Well let's not forget how you were out in the wild too, trying to survive and not get bit just like them.

The only difference is you had no group. So you hated when he acted like he knew better and was so much smarter then you in survival skills.

You two were both out on a run instructed by Rick and Carol for you too to get along.

You rolled your eyes but didn't complain, Carl on the other hand...

"This is such bullshit! Why do I have to drive in a god damn car with this annoying ass brat?!" He complains.

"Watch your mouth!" Rick yells at his son.

"Seriously dad?" He asks.

"I am very serious. I don't know what it is with you two but lemme get this straigh through your stubborn teenage heads. You two will go on this run, find supplies, and get along. I don't give a damn if you guys fake to like each other." Rick yells.

"People can't stand to work with you two because all you guys constantly do is bicker. Carol's tired of it, i'm tired of it, hell Daryl's tired of it! So shut your mouths and go!" Rick continues irritated before walking off.

"Damn, I've never seen him that angry." You say. You look at Carl and he speaks.

"Well at least we both agree on something." he says before walking off to go find a car.

You follow behind him and you both get in the car. Rosita opens the gate and Carl speeds off.

You each brought a bag off supplies and food just incase you get stranded.

You both silently sit in the car not speaking to one another. You constantly glance at Carl.

"What?" He asks rolling his eyes. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to respond.

"What do you mean? I'm not doing anything." You respond already annoyed.

"You keep looking at me, do you think I'm pretty or something? Stop staring." He says keeping his eyes on the road.

Your face gets hot as you look down at your fingers. You quickly shut down the smile slowly starting to appear on your face.

"Ew! What!? No, I hate you remember. You're ugly anyways." You respond staring out the window.

You feel the car shaking. You think it's just the gravel until the car completely stops moving. It slowly comes to a stop in front of a hotel.

"Damn it! The car ran out of gas. I guess this is where will be staying for a little while. A herd is coming up anyways. Quick let's get inside. Maybe we can find something." Carl says.

You both grab your stuff and quickly but quietly sneak into the hotel before the herd sees you.

You guys find a room on the first floor and get settled. You notice that the room only has one bed.

"Carl, this room only has one bed." You state. He looks around and groans.

"Well you take this and i'll take the room next door then." He responds.

"All the keys are gone except this one. This key was left in the door. You can't open the rest." You respond, "Plus we have to stick together incase anything bad happens. We are sharing a bed wether you like it or not." You say.

"Quit whining like a baby." You add with a smug smile on your face.

Carl rolls his eyes and mutters a curse word under his breath. You both get comfortable and turn your body's far away from each other as possible.

During your slumber to feel Carl moving in his sleep. You were about to kick Carl when you hear him whimper.

'Maybe he was having a nightmare', you thought. But then he whimpered your name and you froze.

He turned his body and grabbed you waist pulling you closer to him. That's when you fell it.

The stiff feeling of his cock inside his jeans begging to be released.

He was having a wet dream about you! This is not real, it can't be, you thought.

You tried your hardest not to move but he kept rubbing himself against you.

"C-Carl." You whimper out. He moans again and grinds himself harder against you.

"Carl!" You whisper shout. He stirs awake, realizing how close he is to you. He quickly scoots away just staring at you in the dimly lit room.

You turn to face him with your hand down you pants desperately looking at him.

Carl is breathing heavily waiting for consent to touch you again, to feel you again.

"I need you Carl." Those 4 words were all he needed before his lips crashed on yours.

You moan into him and quickly go to take of his pants. He lifts your shirt up exposing you belly.

You successfully pull his pants down to his feet before lifting of your shirt.

You fondle with the button on your pants as Carl takes off his shirt and drops his pants and boxers on the floor.

You finally manage to take of your pants and discard them with the rest of the clothes on the floor.

Carl and You are both so needy that he doesn't even have time to prepare you for his length. You don't care anyway.

He slowly slides into you, the stinging feeling of your walls being stretched felt painful but good at the same time.

You moan out as he enters you and he groans at the feeling of your walls trapping him inside you.

You leave marks on his back from gripping him so hard. He slightly tugs on your hair unknowingly but you are to fazed out in bliss and ecstasy to notice.

He continues his slow pace until he feels himself about to cum.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna cum, c-cum with me please." He whines out. You moan as you feel your orgasm approaching.

"Cum inside me Carl, please!" You cry out. He follows your desperate order and releases his seed inside of you.'

Your orgasm rips through you like a wave. Your whole body shakes and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You ride out your high and you fall limp. Carl's head falls on your shoulder, his body too weak to support his body weight but he tries anyway for the sake of not crushing you.

You both end up falling asleep snuggled up next to each other.

When the morning comes out through the windows. You quickly notice how you and Carl's clothes are on the floor. You quickly get dressed before he wakes up, memories of last night flashing in you mind as you look at the messed up bed.

You hear Carl finally stir awake and you can't even look him in the eye.

You mutter a good morning before walking out of the room with your bag to try and find a new Car.

You finally found a Car after 10 minutes of looking. You drive it back to the hotel to see Carl standing next to the old Car you guys used.

He gets in and it's the quietest car ride back home. You guys don't speak to each other or even look at each other. 'What an awkward moment you', thought.

Taglist: @carlgrimesenthusiast @loveforcarl @carlsdarling

A/N: Thank you @carlsdarling For requesting this and I'm sorry it didn't get posted when I said it would.

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "comfort person" ⎯୧ (cyj)

+*:🤎:*﹤descrip. : comforting yeonjun!!

+*:🍓:*﹤content : smut, sub!yeonjun, domtendencies!reader

+*:🥞:*﹤warnings : 18+ mdni!!, cockwarming, there is absolutely no mention of a condom in this story i am so sorry please practice safe sex, dubious consent maybe but idk, yeonjun does slip into subspace here, intercrural sex, handjob for like 2 seconds, reader calls yj yeonnie, jjunie, and sweetie ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ

+*:❤️:*﹤word count : 2.1K

+*:🤎:*﹤masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

Yeonjun’s having a hard week. You’ve been making sure he’s getting full nights of rest, but he still looks physically drained constantly. He just shrugs and shakes his head noncommittally when you ask him what’s wrong, so you stop asking and figure that he’ll tell you when he’s ready.

You still want to do whatever you can to help him, making him warm meals and washing his hair when he’s too tired to do it himself. Tonight, you’ve decided to keep him warm and cozy on the couch, bundled up in blankets while you guys watch his comfort movies. You check on him every so often, glancing at him. Sometimes he smiles, and very rarely he lets out a small chuckle, but it’s obvious he’s barely focused on the TV. The next time you look at him, his eyes are on the ground and he’s lost in thought.

“Yeonjunie?” You call out, and his eyes flick over to you like he forgot you were in the room. He looks so tired, it breaks your heart, so you slide a little closer to him and rub his back gently. “Would you like to do something else?” But you’re not really sure what you would do instead—you’ve fed him and ran him a warm bath already. 

Yeonjun shakes his head and mumbles, “This is fine, I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head as well, running your fingers through his hair and smiling when he melts into the touch. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We can do whatever you’d like.”

“Just wanna be close to you.” His voice is so soft and sweet, eyelids low and blinks slow, and his lips are fixed in a pout.

“Okay, we can do that.” You snuggle up closer to him. His skin is soft and scented from the bath, and you place a kiss against his neck appreciatively. His breath hitches, so you do it again and again until he’s breathing quickly. You stop and look at him when his hand comes up to grab your arm gently.

“I’m sorry, Yeonnie. Did I go too far?”

He shakes his head again. “It’s not that. I wanna be with you, I just don’t know if I can…” He trails off. It seems like he has more to say, but he doesn’t open his mouth again, so you work with what he gave you. 

“D’you want me to touch you?” 

He shakes his head, buries his face in your neck, and wraps his arms around your torso. “No, wanna hold you.” You hum and think in silence while rubbing his back again.

“We can try cockwarming, if you’d like,” you suggest. It’s come up in conversation before, something you two could do if you want to be intimate but aren’t physically up for sex, but you’ve never actually done it before. “Would you like that, sweetie?” Yeonjun’s hair tickles your skin when he nods. You smile, happy to be able to offer him some help. 

Per your request, he pulls his member through the fly of his loose boxers. The couch-side table has a drawer with emergency lube in it, so you pull that out while Yeonjun is getting himself settled. You lay in front of him, and he hides his face in your neck again as you slowly stroke his dick, getting it nice and wet. He makes little sounds, and his hips twitch, but he doesn’t move other than that. 

You don’t wanna leave the warm blankets to take off your clothes, so you lift your t-shirt up and pull your panties to the side. It’s a little bit of a struggle, but eventually, Yeonjun’s head pokes against your opening. You keep your leg draped over his hip, your knee pressing against the back cushion, and Yeonjun lets out a small whimper as you guide him in.

“This okay?” You ask once your hips are flush against his, and he nods again. You settle into all of the feelings—the soft scent of Yeonjun’s hair (he used your blueberry shampoo), the dim lighting from the movie still playing on the TV, the rise and fall of Yeonjun’s chest against your body—and everything is so tender and safe.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The two of you stay like that for a while. The movie you had on has gone off, and another one auto-played. The volume’s low, lulling you into a dreamy state, and you almost fall asleep, but the sound of your own involuntary moan clears the fog from your mind. 

Yeonjun’s arms are wrapped around your body in what you previously thought of as a warm embrace, but soon realize is him holding you in place as his hips jerk into your own. His thrusts are uncoordinated and shallow, but they pull another moan from you as you feel his cock sliding against your walls.

“Jjunie,” you call out, but he doesn’t answer. His breath is quick and harsh when it hits your skin, and you realize he’s asleep. You run your hand through his hair again, and his head falls back weightlessly. His eyes are squeezed shut and his cheeks are puffy, proving your point. You mean to make a noise of endearment, but it comes out as a whimper as your walls flutter around him. You’re so wet you can hear it, and you figure you must’ve leaked a lot to accommodate the weight of Yeonjun in your cunt. 

His lips are still fixed in a pout, and you’re overcome with the need to kiss them, but he’s still a bit too far down. You settle for running your thumb across them and debate whether to wake him up or not. Part of you wants to let him sleep because you know how tired he is. Another part of you feels bad for him, wants to fuck him (and be fucked) properly, so he can actually get some rest. 

Yeonjun’s lips part from your touch, breaking the barrier that’s holding back his noises. His grip on your torso gets tighter, pulling you closer to him as small gasps and whines tumble from his mouth. His thrusts are harsher, shaking your body, but still shallow and awkward, and you can tell he’s getting frustrated by the way his eyebrows are furrowed. 

You decide enough is enough – the poor baby obviously needs your help. You reach your hand down to halt the movement of his hips. He’s flush against you, and still weakly trying to thrust, but you hold his hip in place and pepper kisses along his forehead. He seemingly gives up, hips settling for grinding against you. 

“Yeonnie,” you call out, swallowing down another moan and shaking him delicately. He stirs. “Wake up, sweetie.” Eventually his eyelids lift and his pretty eyes peek out, and you smile warmly at him. “Need help?”

He follows your eyes down to where your cores are connected, and even in the dim lighting you can see his face redden. His hips stop grinding into yours.

“Shit, ‘m so sorry.” His voice is thick with sleep and hushed from embarrassment. You giggle.

“That’s alright,” you say. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Uh– I’m not sure,” he says, but his hips are twitching again. Your walls squeeze around him, and his eyes shut tightly. “I’m not…can’t hold myself up.”

“That’s okay. I can do all the work for you, Jjunie.” You hold his hips as you slide him out of you, and he lets out a breathy moan. 

“Oh, my,” you breathe out, because there’s so much liquid. Yeonjun’s cock is coated in the sticky, white fluid, a mix of your wetness and Yeonjun’s precum.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun breathes out. You look at him, and he looks up at you, but his eyes fall back down to the vulgar sight. The sight of his dick twitching, leaking more precum out of the tip, springs you into action. You lift up from the couch to hover above Yeonjun’s hips, giving him a few seconds to lay on his back. In the meantime, you slide your wet panties off. When he’s all settled, you straddle his hips and grind your wetness against his length.

“Mmh~ Y/N,” he moans breathily over the sticky, wet sounds, and his hands come to rest on your hips.

“Does this feel good?” You ask around your own breathless noises. 

“Y-yea, but I’m g-gonna cum.”

“Don’t wanna cum, Jjunie?” 

He shakes his head against the couch, roughing up his hair. “Wanna feel you again, w-wanna be inside you.”

On a different day, you might’ve made him cum like this then fucked him, but he’s in such a tender headspace, and you don’t wanna push him too far. You stop the movements of your hips and instead lean down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. He’s kissing you back immediately, and his hold on your hips tightens as he grinds into you.

You pull away from the kiss and say with a smile, “Thought you wanted to stop that.”

“Feels good, ‘m so hard,” he says. You move a little lower, straddling his thighs instead, and take his member into your hand. You stroke it a few times, slowly. His hips try to thrust into the touch, but your weight is holding him down. He whines in discontent.

“Y/N– please don’t t-tease me, I c-can’t take it.” 

You hum at that and kiss his cheeks in apology. You lift your hips and align his tip with your opening. You both groan when you bottom out, and Yeonjun nearly sinks into the couch cushions.

Yeonjun’s going to slip into subspace. You can tell from the way his eyes are already glazing over and his hands are laying uselessly by his sides. You lift them up to lay them by his head instead, and hold yourself up by pushing them into the cushion. His finger twitches, and you lean down to kiss it gently. 

“Gonna move now, okay, sweetie?” 

He nods, staring at you in wonder. You give him another smile and slowly lift your hips, sliding until his head is hooked on your entrance. You whimper at the feeling, but it goes unheard under Yeonjun’s breathy whine. You slide down again and build a pace.

“Fuck, you’re so warm and s-soft and–” His words fall off as your pace quickens. He’s so pretty, body rocking up and down against the couch as you bounce on his cock, and his hips buck up to meet you halfway. His eyes stay on you even though it looks like he’s struggling to keep them open, and his hands repeatedly ball into fists just to unravel. “So good, it’s so g-good, not gonna last long.”

You’re angling him to hit your sweet spot dead-on, and you’re not gonna last long yourself watching Yeonjun fall apart below you. He’s usually more composed to this, but he babbles the most when he’s in subspace, feeling so many emotions and needing to tell you, needing to let you know that–

“I’m gonna– cum, fuck, N/N, don’t stop, please, don’t–” Only then do his eyes squeeze shut, mouth hanging open and hips meeting you halfway as you send him over the edge. He’s still fucking up into you, even as his noises raise in pitch and his hips jerk from overstimulation, until you’re reaching your own high, moaning out praises just for his sweet ears. 

It takes every ounce of strength left in your body to not collapse on top of him. His hips are still twitching, and he whines as you slide him out of your heat.

“Are you with me, Yeonnie? Can you look at me?” You ask when his eyes don’t open. They flutter open prettily as soon as you ask, though. They’re still spacey, his mind still a bit far away, so you pepper kisses along his torso while he comes to. His fingers come down to tap on your thigh, grabbing your attention, and when you look up at him, he puckers his lips.

“Aw, you want a kiss?” You ask joyfully, so endeared by him, and you give him another gentle one since he’s still fragile. “Was that all okay?” You ask after pulling away, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. He nods. “Think you’re gonna need another bath?” You ask, ‘cause his boxers are soaked, and his skin is glistening with sweat, and you figure you’re in a similar state. He nods again.

“Okay, sweetie. Let’s go get you cleaned up, then you can rest, okay?” You help him out of his shorts and lead him to the bathroom. 

In the warm, soapy water, you scrub him off and give him a listening ear as he finally tells you how shitty his week has been, and how you helped him through it even if he was too drained to give you a proper thank you. He gives you one now, and you guys rinse and dry off before snuggling in bed, exchanging more sweet kisses, and drifting into sleep.

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : my very first yj work yay!!! this fanfiction being released from the dungeon after being in my google drive for weeks :

this story on ao3 :))

[anonymooseforever007]

Wanna Buy You A Drink

(Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: It's been five months since Bob's seen his wife, and aside from Natasha he had yet to mention her to his team. He calls it privacy, she jokes it's internalised possessiveness. But tonight, with Penny's help at the Hard Deck, more than one person is in for a surprise. After all, who doesn't love a good innuendo?

A/N- Hi y'all! No TWs I think, a good few innuendos and one joke about making babies but nothing actually happens. I've been trying to finish this one for a while and am very happy with how it turned out! P.S incase y'all didn't know the Thunderbirds are the US Air Force's professional flight team that does really amazing tricks and skills and the Blue Angels are the ones for the US Navy! Both groups are so amazing to see in person and I just wanted to make a little Navy Vs. Air Force rivalry joke about them!😊 Enjoy❤️

WC- 3.8k

Main Masterlist

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He didn't know you were coming.... or so soon at least.

The last time you had spoken to your husband was a few days ago while trying to find a flight to San Diego for next month. The two of you had texted of course, and you had even gotten a few awkwardly taken selfies of the man with the sunset behind him. Neither you nor your husband enjoyed having your photo taken, so seeing him take time to step out of his usual comfort zone was always touching. Besides, you would never tell him (nor would he tell you), but there was a growing album in your phone of sneakily taken photos, though blanket holes or around house walls when the other wasn't looking. These little albums you each had "hidden" helped the burden of the distance seem less harsh, especially in the times when Bob's job kept him farther way than usual.

Despite the top secret mission he had been sent on being completed, your husband was still assigned to say in the city for an undetermined amount of time. Evidently the higher ups decided they liked how well the crew had flown and wanted to keep them together. Tired of being alone and wanting to have a little fun in the Sunny City, you decided to make an early appearance. Luckily, you had already managed to find a job in the city that was just a different branch of where you worked before. They were also kind enough to give you a two weeks leave of your own to make the move and see your husband. Your husband knew you would to join at some point, only he thought you wouldn't be getting in until late next month. So he would be very surprised in a few hours when he found you at one of the navy's top aviator hangouts that night.

It was a bar called the Hard Deck. You remembered your husband mentioning it a few times through your communications, as where him and his fellow officers liked to go after a long day. A quick google search rendered a fruitful find, and ten minutes after getting your rental car, you were on your way. It barely 5:30 by the time your reached the bar, Aviators and Civilians alike had just begun to pour through the bar doors. But by 6:00 you were sure the place would be packed. So you quickly searched for a seat, always rubbing your right thumb over your left wrist to calm your nerves. 

In the centre of the building, a beautiful older beautiful woman moved around the main bar serving drinks with ease. 'Penny' you though to yourself, remembering Bob mentioning her a few times when the bar came up. Apparently in addition to running the bar she also had close connections to the the Top Gun program herself, namely with a certain Captain who helped lead the last Mission. You smiled to yourself as you saw the sign by the bar serving a warning to those who would disrespect women or the navy. Maybe this woman could help you with your fun. When it became your turn to order you smiled at Penny...

"Hi! I was actually hoping I could send a drink to someone else if that would be alright?"

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

Bob was tired. There was no particular reason why he was tired today, he just was. Training had gone smoothly and Hangman hadn't been too much of an pain either. All and All, today had actually been one of the least stressful days since he first arrived nearly five months ago. But for some reason Bob just felt off today, he chalked it up to having not spoken to you in a few days. Speaking to you always made him feel better, even when it was only for a few minutes. And having not seen you in person for five months made him long for something from you even more.

But these last few days had been busy, and then earlier today he had tried calling, but it hadn't gone through. This didn't worry him too much as he knew you occasionally turned your phone off during days when you really needed to focus on work. Though it was unusual for you to be working so late, seeing as your time zone was a few hours ahead of his and he called at 4:30 his time. Since the call didn't go though he decide that the "secret" photo album he had of you would have to suffice for now. Neither of you liked having your photo taken, but quick images taken half under the counter and while one slept always made the other smile.

He had been so busy looking at photos he almost didn't notice the group's nightly arrival to the Hard Deck until Phoenix nudged him. Giving him that half secret smile showing she knew what he was looking at. While the rest of the group (and even Maverick to a degree) thought Bob was incapable of talking to a woman without stuttering, Tasha knew otherwise. Bob hadn't even tried to hide it when she had asked why he seemed so fond of rubbing his right thumb over his sleeved left wrist night the group met. She had done it in private, of course, and only wondered if it was a nervous habit of her new WSO. And it was a habit....only not Bob's.

It was something you had always done even before you got married, a comforting repetitive habit that both you and your husband shared. But it also held a deeper meaning as it held the symbol your love. 

When the two of you first decided to get married a few years ago you hadn't gotten rings, or at least ones you'd wear on a daily basis. Both your jobs often required plenty of hands on work, and you had both been worried about losing the rings during the day. So instead, a cheaper pair of matching rings was bought and a new tradition was made. Each of you carried the other's ring in your wallet. That way, even when far apart you could have a piece of the other with you. And when the two of you met up face to face again you'd once more exchange rings. 

But even that wasn't all.

 The pair of you had wanted something more so you had decided to get matching tattoos. They were small and identical and despite almost breaking Bob's hand holding it while getting yours (from fear of needles) the small design was now one of your greatest comforts. On the inside of each of y'all's left wrist were two small stick figures holding hands on a paper airplane. At first glance it may have seems silly to any stranger passing by. But to you and Bob it was everything. 

Bob had been the one to draw stick "You" and you had drawn stick "Bob" with his little glasses. You had also drawn the paper airplane as stickmen were the extent of Bob's artistic skills. Besides, the paper plane you believed would be funny at the time. A memorial of how you two had first met in high school, when your paper plane had accidentally collided with his face instead of your friend's desk during class one day. You hadn't even known he wanted to be a pilot until months later, but when you did learn he was quick to comment how one day he'd be more than happy to take you up in a plane, as long as your weren't the one flying it again (he didn't think his face could take it). Years later you still found it funny and Bob would sometimes catch you laughing to yourself tracing the black lines on his wrist while lying in bed. A moment of peace before you two would have been parted again. Bob didn't regret what he did for a job, and neither did you, but that didn't stop you two from wishing to be together more. 

Again Tasha nudged him, breaking Bob out of his reverie before the pair headed into the crowded bar. It was just after 6:15 and already packed. Bob knew he'd rather head home and try calling you again, but he had also promised Fanboy one more pool rematch, since Hangman had busted into their last one. Luckily, even though the bar itself was crowded, the pool tables were open.

A few minutes into the game, Hangman and Coyote went to order a round of drinks and came back talking. Apparently there was some "Gorgeous Doll" (Jake's words) sitting at the bar and the pair of aviators were arguing over who'd get the chance to "woo" her first. 

Bob wasn't paying too much attention to their conversation or very interested in finding out more about this mystery woman. As far was he was concerned not even Dolly Parton could top your beauty and Bob would openly admit that he'd had a minor(ish) crush on the country singer since he was a kid. It had even become a running joke between your families, the battle for Bob's heart between you and Dolly. 

When he'd gotten his wisdom teeth out at 17, his mother told him someone had come to see him. Poor Bob about cried upon realising it was you instead of Mrs. Parton, his "Angel Voiced Beloved". Oh how you wish his brother still had that video tape, but unfortunately it had "mysteriously vanished" after Bob had overheard his sisters mention trying to get it for the wedding video. But more fortunately, the drugs wore off and soo enough he'd come back to his senses, and since that one night you'd been the only one for him. And luckily for him, he'd been the only one for you. 

So even if he was slightly curious to see which of his friends would attempt their flirtations, or which ones would fail, for now he didn't put too much thought into it. The quicker he won the game the quicker he could try calling you again. 

Soon enough Hangman was called back over to the bar to retrieve the group's drinks and they once again settled in to continue the game. Bob was once again winning, and Javy sat aside beginning to wish he hadn't placed such a bet tonight while Tasha and Callie were already making plans in their heads for what to do with their prize money. The only ball Bob had left to hit was the eight ball, and thanks to a lucky slip on Fanboy's part, it was a shot as perfect as it was easy. 

Javy cursed under his breath while Tasha and Callie high-fived, and Rooster cheered raising his glass up almost dumping his drink on Jake's head. Fanboy hung his head in defeat while Bob just grinned. Bob wasn't a bragging man but he still did like to win...a lot. The Squad may have thought of Bob as the quiet and passive WSO, but they had yet to see how competitive he could be when challenged. They had seen plenty of dog fights in the sky, but nothing compared to the vicious chaos between the Floyd family when it came to the annual gingerbread house competition. Under that sweet smile and those large glasses hid an overly excited man-child basking in his victory. Ok... so maybe it had been a good idea to come tonight. Bob couldn't wait to call his wife and tell her about his achievement. After all she was the one who taught him to play.

A few minutes later the group of aviators had settled down again and a new game started. This time Rooster was up against Maverick himself, which always proved to be a good show, full of sneaky cheating and playful jibes. Bob was sitting by Callie and Tasha taking his share of the winnings. It was only 6:30 now and he knew his night owl of a wife wouldn't be asleep for a few more hours so he decided to watch a few more games between his friends before calling a cab home. 

Hangman and Coyote were still debating over whose turn it was to talk to the new woman at the bar. Evidently, they'd noticed her reoccurring glances towards the squad during the first game and were sure she was interested in one of them two. And to drive their beliefs further, the glances had been accompanied by a playful smirk "directed" to the two men who'd placed themselves behind an oblivious Bob as them game went on. 

It was a few minutes later Penny walk up to the Aviators carrying a drink in her hand and smirk on her face. 

"Someone sent over a drink for one you lot," she said, at once turning the entire groups' attention towards her. After all who didn't like a free drink? Usually the drinks in question were for sent for Tasha or Callie, the only two women in the whole squad, but occasionally one of the other aviators would be the recipient. No one would forget the time Ruben got a drink from a 60 something year old women in a sparkly dress. And it appeared this would be one of those times. 

With a smirk on her face she turned, setting the colorful drink down saying,

"Lieutenant Bob Floyd someone wants you to have sex on the beach."

Aside from quite humming of ice machine and the clatter of Maverick's pool stick it seemed as if all the sound has been sucked out of the Hard Deck. As if Penny's words has been some wicked spell freezing, all the group's inhabitants where stood still. A little ways away from the group, a woman sat with a growing grin on her face as she watched everything unfold. Just as Bob opened his mouth, his face now a red as his wife's lipstick, Penny delivered the final 'blow'. 

"It's double strong too, so I'd say someone really wants you to have it."

Bob looked like a fish. A really cute six foot tall fish with military issued glasses but still a fish. His eyes were wide and his mouth kept opening slightly before closing as if the words in his head were fully composed of silent letters. If one were to look into Bob's head and read his mind they'd be able read the flurry of responses and polite refusals streaming through his brain. It wasn't the first time he'd been sent a drink, but that never stopped him from going speechless when it happened. Now Bob was a married man. A very happily married man, but he still had an awful habit of getting flustered anytime showed interest in him. It was something that Y/N took special pleasure in, and there were times they went out with friends when she'd pretend she didn't know him just so she could relentlessly flirt and turn him red. To be fair he'd also done it to her a few times, but she had a habit of taking any flirting he did as a challenge. And then, while their friends fake gagged and smirked behind their backs, the night would be filled with flirty winks and innuendos until someone gave in and "agreed" to take the other to "their place".....wait a mi....

"I hope you don't mind I took the liberty of getting you a refreshment. Thought you might have deserved it after that wonderful win." 

Bob was grinning like an idiot before he even finished turning his head to the approaching voice. He didn't get out of his seat though as his head fell back to the ceiling with a hand over his face as the last of the embarrassment left him. Turning his head back to the women he smiled again as he began to laugh. He turned his body more towards her and noticed the dress she was wearing. Damn he loved that dress. It was the one she wore when they had gotten engaged. Looking at her lips she appeared to have the same lipstick on too.

"I hate you."

Words said without malice, quite the oppose actually, brought another laugh to Y/N's lips as after months apart she finally got to stand in-front of her husband. Eyes never leaving her husband's, she places a hand over her heart and gave a dramatic gasp.

"Well that is the most heartbreaking news I've ever heard darling. You see I was so impressed with your skills earlier, I was ALL set to propose. See I even got you a ring," and with that Y/N pulled her left hand back from her chest and revealed Bob's ring which had been sitting in her wallet for months now. Well, aside from almost every day when she'd fidget with it in her hands while on the phone with him or just because she missed him. And a little farther up from her palm was a small tattoo of two tiny stick people holding hands on a paper plane. In the back ground, Phoenix let out a small sound of joy of her own as she finally understood what was happening. Quickly she leaned over and explained to Callie, who also started to laugh. The rest of the aviators still stood in shock, not sure what was going on. They only knew that for some reason Bob "Blushes at the word boobies" Floyd was getting the attention of one very pretty women, apparently because he could play pool. 

Bob only stared at her hand for a moment longer before he finally stood from his chair and wrapped the woman in front of him in his arms. Spinning her around once before kissing her cheek he pulled back.

"Well, I guess I'll have to rethink my words then ma'am. In fact, I think I got a ring right here that may fit your style," he replied grinning as he pulled Y/N's ring out of his own pocket and wallet with a practiced ease done many times before. "You'll have to forgive me for not kneeling to do it now, I'll get my ass chewed out if I dirty this uniform," he joked looking down to the woman in his arms smiling back.

"It may not be typical or proper, but I certainly wouldn't want anything to happen to that lovely ass of yours....so I guess I'll accept," Y/N joked back, drawing out a few words for added affect, not really caring about the propriety of it just ecstatic to be with her other half again.

"PROPER?! I haven't seen you in five months and the first think you do is send someone to tell me you really want me to have sex on the beach. How's that's proper for ya! Not even a hello first," Bob laughed. As surprised as he was initially, he really did miss this little game of y'all's. It brought out a cheekier side of him his friends usually didn't see.

"Alrighty then," stepping back and picking up the drink in question with a smirk, Y/N raised it to her husband's eyesight, "Hello, Lieutenant Bob Floyd would you like to have sex on the beach?"

"Well I just don't know if that's something I can answer in public Mrs Floyd," he replied cheekily, still starting at his wife.

"MRS.FLOYD"

That was the collective statement from the remaining aviators as the couple was finally brought out of their own little world. Turing to face the company Bob stood with his arm around Y/N's waist proudly like a child at Christmas.

"Yeah, Mrs. Floyd. Been that way since I became the luckiest man on earth."

"And since I became the luckiest women. But all ah y'all are welcome to call me Y/N. Or you know... Mrs. Baby on Board. Though I guess we haven't gotten to that part yet, but, it has been five months after all."

Tasha followed, closely by Callie, was the first to approach as Rooster's pool stick fell to the table and Maverick started wacking a sputtering Jake on the back, after the latter choked on his drink with the final sentence. 

"Hi, I'm Natasha and this is Callie, callsigns Phoenix and Halo. I'm your husband's ..."

Before Natasha could even finish she was wrapped in a hug by Y/N.

"Ohh I know you!! Bobbie talks about you all the time! You're Black Widow! It's so nice to meet you!!"

"Black Widow," someone asked from the side, while Bob began to chuckle under his breath.

"Ohh right, sorry. I have a hard time with remembering names, so I like to make up helpful nicknames with Bob to remind me of who is who. Like Natasha is Black Widow because of Natasha Romanoff; and Callie is Catwoman because of Callico Cats; and there's also a Rocket Raccoon for whoever's Bradley; and I have a Peter Pan beca...."

"Yep I think they get it darling. No need to divulge all our secrets." Bob interrupted nervously, not quite wanting his team to know all his secrets yet. He'd also NEVER tell them that when you first learned about his job you'd compared him to the Thunderbirds. I mean the audacity of it all! Everyone knew the Blue Angles were superior! Those were some fighting words Bob assured you at the time. Callie and Tasha burst into grins, liking this more and more, while Y/N looked back a her husband with a fake look of innocence in her eyes. Meanwhile Penny, still with the group, wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes as Maverick gaped and Rooster got into a debate with Mickey if he was hotter than Bradley Cooper. Soon the laughter died down and Maverick stepped forward sticking out his hand.

"Well it sounds like you seem very good at giving callsigns of your own. Maybe we'll have to put you in charge of naming the new recruits Y/N. My callsign's Maverick but I'm guessing you know me as Peter Pan."

"Pleasure to meet you Maverick. I might just have to take you up in that offer. Heard a lot about you too. All of you in fact. I'm sorry for interrupting your game earlier, I've been waiting to do that for a long time. Your friend Penny was a brilliant help too." Y/N smiled and shook his hand. He had a welcoming smile that reminded her of her own father. She also sent a smile towards Penny who returned it with her own and took a step closer to Maverick. 

"No problem at all, it always nice to see couple's meeting again. I must admit the drink was a nice touch. Never seen an idea that creative yet." 

Stepping back towards her husband who put his waist around her once again, "Why thank you captain, I do suppose it's nice someone appreciates a good innuendo." Bob gave a small groan, but smiled as he buried his head into his wife's shoulder whispering how he did appreciate it and would show her how much later. Out of the corner of her eye Y/N caught a few more aviators still staring, though they seemed much less confused, now slowly settling in to of their quiet friend being married. "Though I believe there's a few more introduction left as well," She mentioned as she stepped towards the remaining group and shot a mischievous grin towards her husband, asking him a question without words.

"Oh just do it, they're gonna know eventually I guess," Bob laughed and looked at his wife with an equally mischievous look, finally taking a sip of his drink. After all, she'd probably let the names slip one day. This was going to be great. Hearing her next words, Jake choked on his drink again.

"Alrighty then. Which one of y'all boys is Statefarm?"

[theaspsaroaceimagines]

You guys really liked being the god of Death, so get ready for

MORE Hazbin Hotel x God of Death! Reader

You're feeling particularly tired, having spent your entire existence working with no rest.

So you decide to take a vacation.

You send a letter to Heaven:

Dear Heaven, I am taking a much needed vacation, so no one will be dying for a while. Do not call me, I will not answer. --Death

And then you leave your post for the first time ever.

Of the three realms, Hell is the most accepting of your presence, so you go there for your vacation.

You arrive and decide to stay in the first hotel you see.

--And, to your surprise, it's being run by Lucifer's daughter?

"Oh my goodness! You're Luci's kid, aren't you? Hi!"

Charlie, who's never met you before, is bewildered.

"Huh? Umm... yeah? You know him?" "'Know him?' Of course I do! Your dad and I go WAAAY back!"

You quickly realize that Charlie has no idea who you are.

"Oh my! Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself! I'm Death."

Needless to say, things start off awkward after your formal introduction.

Charlie tries to tell you that you can't stay there, that the Hazbin Hotel is for sinners.

But explaining why involves explaining the Hazbin Hotel's purpose.

You're ecstatic to hear that she's trying to rehabilitate sinners.

Especially since it's with the goal of permanently ending the Extermination.

See, what the denizens of Hell and the exorcists don't understand is that it's actually impossible to destroy a soul unless you're that soul's Creator.

And there's only one Creator of souls, and they're not into destruction.

So all the Extermination does is send a bunch of sinner's souls to Limbo. Which is your home.

And, for thousands of years, you've had no idea what to do with these souls getting shoved into your home. You've just been kind of keeping them in stasis. It's very crowded in Limbo.

Limbo was never meant to hold so many souls; it's a transitional space, not a destination.

Spoilers for ep 6 under the cut:

When you find out about the court hearing in Heaven, you're pissed.

They had a hearing about whether souls could be transferred between the two afterlives, and you weren't informed or invited?!

You're going to slap Sera the next time you see her.

[tac-the-unseen]

How COD characters react to you admitting you've faked an Orgasm

Angst with minor fluff

Note: There are many reasons someone might fake an orgasm. Someone could not be in the mood anymore, feel uncomfortable in the environment, get tired, and several other reasons. That is what this fic is about, not about 'weak dick game'

Ghost:

•When you dropped that bomb on him he froze. He didn't move, speak, or even blink. He just sat there, staring at you. His mind is racing. He always felt like a Shitty partner and he feels like this proves it.

•Once he found his ability to move he only took a breath. Then after a few seconds took your hand and looked into your eyes. You try to explain your reasoning but he still felt like shit.

•Finally he mutters softly "Why didn't you tell me?" He genuinely feels heart broken that he left you unsatisfied and you didn't voice it to him sooner.

•He sits down and has a long discussion about the why and how. He wants to know how to be a better partner and to make sure you're always comfortable telling him if you need more from him.

Soap:

•He thinks you're joking at first. He makes comments like "yeah right, totally." But once he finds out you're telling him the truth he freaks out.

•He grabs you and and almost crys. He feels like a bad partner and tries to come up with ideas on how to make sure you're alway satisfied with him.

•Sex becomes very different. He's constantly changing positions and asking if he's doing this right. Everytime you two get intimate he seems nervous and tries to solely focus on you.

Price:

•Stunned by the news. He stamers and look embarrassed. He stares at you like you grew wings and flew away. You can tell he's trying to keep his cool but it's not working.

•He buys you multiple gifts ranging from flowers to vibrators. While he does this you notice sex becoming less frequent and when you do have sex he seems less in it.

•When you ask about it he finally breaks down and cries. He says he feels like he can't satisfy you anymore. "What kind of boyfriend/fiance/Husband am I if you have to fake it just so you don't make me feel bad!?" After a talk he kinda gets over it but he doesn't like talking about it.

Alejandro:

•He also thinks your joking at first, but after you tell him you're not lying he stares at you. He starts to curse in both English and Spanish and gets upset. He throws a plate at the wall before slumping on the kitchen counter.

•"Why did you wait to tell me, mi amor!?" He says while not looking at you. When you explain he's quiet. After a while he asks how to make it up to you.

•You bet your ass he's going to pamper and worship you in anyway you please. Makes you promise to tell him and never fake an orgasm again.

Roach:

•He immediately hugged you and nuzzled into your neck. He let's you explain why you faked it and understands that it wasn't his fault. He thanks you for telling him and keeps close to you for the rest of the day.

•The next time you guys had sex he made sure you came several time. He has a little bit of doubt when it comes to his performance but over all just happy you told his so you could work it out together.

Gaz:

•Freezes up and after a minute he's leaves the room to be by himself for a while. He goes over every Sexual encounter he's had with you to try and figure out the when and why.

•Once he thinks he's got it he comes back to talk to you. He wants to know how to make sure you're satisfied. He seems to move on pretty quickly. But everytime you have sex he confirms with you that you at least orgasmed once.

König:

•He stares at you in shock like a deer in headlights before running aways. He hides in his room and has a anxiety attack. He feels like a horrible partner. All that runs through his head is the idea that you're going to leave him for someone that always satisfys you. It shatters his heart to know that he, at some point, neglected your needs.

•Once he calms down a bit he finds you and begs you to let him make it up. "I'll do anything, Schatz! Please I can be better!" You try and comfort him be he won't stop until you tell him what you want and/or need. It doesn't even have to be sexual related, just something to ease his mind.

Rudy:

•Is in denial. He doesn't want to hear it but you notice he takes more time to focus on your pleasure. Or at least, more than before.

•It secretly eats at him for weeks. This has never happened to him before. Then he starts to spiral. What if this wasn't the first time, just the first time someone's told him about it...he dies inside just a little.

Mace:

•He takes a second to soak in that information then he holds you tightly. He kisses you jaw and calmly asks if he can make up for those unsatisfactory nights.

•If/when you agree he gives you the best head of your life. He stays down there for what seems like hours. He checks in on you and apologizes every once in a while.

•After words once you two are ready you guys talk about proper ways you satisfy you and make sure you feel loved.

[jarofstyles]

Can you write something about love bites pretty pleaseeeeee like Harry’s obsessed with giving them

Yes 🤭🤭🤭🤭 here is a tiny one!

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- kinda dirty hehe

——

“So pretty.” Fingers brushed over her sensitive skin as she looked in the mirror, trying her best to ignore how the sensation wanted to make her shiver. The large form behind her wasn’t helping her achieve that at all. “You look so gorgeous tonight but… my favorite are these.” The marks on the curve of her neck that he’d sucked into pretty bruises, blooming purple.

It was no secret between them that Harry quite liked the marks on her, but he liked putting them there the most. “Thank you.” She laughed through her nose, blending the makeup on her cheeks before setting the little sponge down. “But you’re very distracting, you know that? How am I supposed to cover them if you’re petting all over them?”

“Don’t!” The whine was nearly comical as she caught his scowl in the mirror. “Don’t cover up the art, precious. Leave ‘em there.” It was a travesty, in his opinion, any time they were covered with makeup. Even if she was quite talented at the magic of making them disappear, he didn’t appreciate his little marks of love being covered up. “S’not like we’re going to the Louvre- which, they’d probably appreciate the art anyways. We’re goin’ for drinks at a dingy club to buy overpriced martinis while we chat shit while I wait for you t’get tired enough for me to bring home and love on you.”

Harry was many things. Blunt was one of them.

“Tell me how you really feel, H.” She snorted, putting powder under her eyes. Her hand stuttered though, when she felt him tuck his face into her neck and a wet, hot swipe licked over the marks. It was a bit pathetic how quickly she felt lax, like a dog rolling over for belly rubs, but she gave a shaky exhale as his teeth found a new patch of skin to nibble on.

“I feel like… you should leave those marks so people know t’fuck off, that you get fucked well, that you’re mine. Let their imaginations run wild about how I gave ‘em to you balls deep, or if I did them just like this. As long as they know that you’re a loved and taken woman, m’a happy man.” The grumbles against her skin were finished with another bite, eliciting a noise blooming from her throat.

It was hard to say no to the man in most capacities, with his soft green eyes and his strawberry pout, but when he ran his hands over the front of her dress and his tongue over her throat as he found a new patch to work on, sucking harshly enough to make her knees weaken and her clit throb between her legs? It was impossible. “Harry…” the sigh of his name was accompanied by the lull of her head back against his shoulders, letting him slip his hands under the front of her dress and the makeup brush fall into the sink.

“Lucky we’re even goin’ out when all I want to do is worship that sweet cunt all night. But I’ll be good, I’ll let you get finished with your makeup and all that if you leave ‘em be. Show ‘em off for me. Please?” The plead was melted into her bones, breathing picking up as his fingers cupped over her lace covered cunt, holding it firmly. The man knew how to get his way and this was a solid example. The sweet and silly vibe of the room transforming into the hot and sensual teasing one that he had mastered the art of. “I’ll let you choose whatever you want me t’do to you tonight. Whatever my girl wants. Jus’ let me give you another one and leave my art alone. Everyone should be able to see it.”

How could she say no to that?

[luveline]

would you ever consider writing poly!marauders? or even more of the luna reader with platonic (or romantic) marauders?

if u have more poly!m requests please send them (to clarify this is romantic) fem!reader tw cut

"You should be more careful," Remus says, "really, dove." 

You lean back against the kitchen counter and try not to wince as he finishes with the dressing on your arm. 

"I am careful," you say. 

He laughs softly. It's a rare sound, kind that has you smiling immediately. You wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to press down on your injury, and kiss his neck quickly. 

"Thanks for fixing me, handsome," you say. 

Remus pats your back. "That's never something you have to thank me for… You might like me less when the boys come home." 

You pull away. "You texted them?" you ask, already resigned to your fate. 

He looks gorgeous even when you're mad at him, pale skinned but dark in his way, dark eyes and dark brows and his amazingly handsome nose that makes you wanna lean over and kiss him. 

"Afraid so." Remus squeezes a path up your arm to your shoulder. "You know the lashing they'd give me if I didn't." 

"Well," you murmur, "I suppose you did patch me up." 

He kissed your forehead as the sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall. "That's the spirit." 

"Angel?" 

You relax. It's James, which means you aren't in for a loving telling off, just a loving. You stay by Remus' side until James is in view, a shock of green rugby uniform stark against brown skin. He sheds his bag and you practically throw yourself into his open arms, 'cause usually that's exactly what he wants. 

"Wait wait wait!" he says, holding out his hand, his wrist brace scratchy against your arm. "Don't hurt yourself worse! What happened?" 

You fight him, trying to hug him and laughing when he holds you back like you're nothing. He's strong. "James, come on. I cut it on the garden fence." 

He makes a sound like he feels super sorry for you and finally lets you hug him, your face in his solid chest, your hands at the small of his back. You settle in for as long as you want, James and you both suckers for a good hug, and sigh as his cheek kisses the top of your head. 

"You okay, Moons? You look tired." James voice rumbles through your hear, low and warm. 

"Fine. She just shocked me, running in the house with blood dripping down to her elbow." 

"Give us a hug." 

"I'll make tea." 

James turns his lips to your forehead, "How come he'll hug me when we're alone, and he'll hug you all day long when you're together, but he's totally allergic to affection when we're together?" 

"He's shy," you mumble, "ask him again in an hour and he'll say yes." 

The door opens a second time and you'd hide your face pretty much in James' armpit, laughing through the horror. "Hide me." 

"No, I don't think so." 

James works your face away from his chest, hands held over the soft slopes of your shoulders. He looks you in the eye, all melty brown and sweetness. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

You hum. He kisses your cheek. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go harass Remus for a hug then, before he boils the kettle and threatens me with a scalding. Love you." 

"I don't love you, you're leaving me for the wolves." 

"I'm hardly a wolf," comes Sirius' amused drawl. 

James raises his eyebrows at you in a silent gesture for Good luck, angel, and disappears around the corner to the kitchen. 

You sigh and spin on your heel, finding your arch nemesis (concerned boyfriend) propped against the wall. He's in casual work attire, which for Sirius is a smart pair of trousers and a dark button down with the sleeves rolled up. His tan seems to have waned in the winter, leaving him pale. Though he often claims in a joking manner that it's a consequence of loving you, he's always so worried it steals the colour from his skin. 

I like to worry, he'd assured you once. 

"You might not believe me, but you look very handsome today," you say. 

He raises a dark brow. "You say that every day." 

"Emphasis on 'very,'" you say. 

He pulls his weight off of the wall and holds out his hand as he approaches. You let him take your arm, let him assess the small dressing bandage Remus has applied over your cut. 

"It was deep," you admit, "but not very long." 

"Mm, Remus said," Sirius says, near murmuring as his thumb works into your wrist. He rubs over unbroken skin gently. "Does it hurt?" 

You shake your head vehemently. 

"Swear?" 

"Why would I lie?" you ask. You smile at him. "You really do look handsome. And you didn't need to come home from work." 

"It's my lunch break." 

"Oh, good! Let me make you something, while everybody's home." 

"Or I can make you something," he suggests. 

You enter into a stare off. He faces you with little expression, a blank slate. A pretty blank slate. His lashes don't so much as flicker, while you struggle to keep a straight face under so much seriousness. Your lips twitch with a laugh and something about it must break him, because he takes your face into his two hands and presses your noses together. 

"You make it very hard to be sensible about things," he says, and gives you a chaste kiss. 

His lips are a warmth you savour, and he steals them back much too swiftly for your liking. 

"Remus is the sensible one," you deny. "You're the overprotective one. And James is… James." You sigh, lovelorn. "And I'm the stupid one who cuts herself on chicken wire. You really didn't have to come home." 

"I wanted to." 

He leads you by the hand into the kitchen, where James and Remus stand in front of an unboiled kettle, Remus face smushed into James broad shoulder, a muscled arm locking him into place. He looks quite happy. 

"Sorry, I'm still making tea," he says into James' sleeve.

"No, I'm gonna make dinner," you say, yanking Sirius to the lovefest. 

You worm under James' other arm and Sirius strokes at the hair curling over Remus' forehead, mumbling, "Oh, god, she's killed you." 

"Worse ways to go," Remus says. 

[dnvrsmedia]

Dr. Anderson Will See You Now

Dr!Abby Anderson x Wife!Research assistant!Reader

Summary: You meet your now wife, Dr. Abby Anderson, working at Seattle Hospital as a Lab Specialist. 8 years and a marriage later, your life could not have been more perfect. What happens when your wife is destined on carrying out a silly little prank war?

warnings: 18+ mentions/themes of smut, not proof read

word count: 2k

AN: this is my first post back on tumblr in forever. I don’t foresee myself necessarily posting fics here fully time, but post the occasional fic that i am extra proud of. I still am really only posting on AO3 (sevikasplanet).

hope you enjoy.

.

Heavy breaths slow as you come down from your high. Your mind on cloud nine, you almost miss the whispers of reassurance coming from your blonde haired lover beside you. Abby pulls you in to lay directly on top of her. Your nose nuzzling into its designated spot in the crook of her neck. Soft kisses litter her skin as the both of you slow your breathing. You lift your head to look at the blue eyed girl with a toothy smile. No matter how many times the two of you have been intimate, a shy nature subcomes you. Abby chuckles at you with a light hearted roll of her eyes.

“We have been together for almost eight years, married for two of them. How are you still so shy?” Her big palm caresses your thigh as you try to return to your position you previously were in. Abby would not have any of that, the woman tilting your chin to face her with a loving look in her eye.

“I love you, baby.” Abby smiles. Your heart soars at the words left from her lips. That was something you could never get tired of.

“I love you too, Abs.” You plant a slow kiss to her lips, enjoying the feeling of her plush pillows contorting with yours.

Days like these were often very rare in the Anderson household. Abby is a very successful orthopedic surgeon, and you work full-time as a research specialist. The pair of you met while working at the same hospital you do now. Funnily enough, running into doctors was quite the rarity as you were on a completely different wing from your now wife. You had met the big goofy blonde in the cafeteria. It was your first week starting your new job at the hospital’s research facility. To say it was stressful becoming acquainted would be a complete understatement. Everything felt as if it were divinely fated against you (you do have the flair for dramatics and intense perfectionism). Even the stupid fucking self check out machine was laughing at your apparent stupidity.

Abby ran into you having a bit of…technical difficulties as you slammed your badge furiously across the scanner for the millionth time in the span of five minutes. It was pure luck that Abby just so happened to forget her lunch at her apartment today as she rushed to get ready for work. An incredulous chuckle left her mouth, not really sure if this was a bit or not. Tha confusion quickly went away when she heard your frustrated mutters of not so professional language leave your mouth.

“Stupid fuckin’ robot, n’ you’re ‘posed to take my job in the future? Dumb fuck!” Your pouty lips and furrowed brows were unlike anything Abby has ever seen. To this day, she swears this is when she started falling in love with you. Time fell frozen in her mind as she watched you, the most beautiful person she has ever seen.

“Um, I think I can help you with that, if you don’t mind?” Abby clears her throat, feeling the heat rise to her face as all of your attention turns to the buff woman before you.

Left opening your mouth like a fish out of water, your embarrassment flooded through your system– it left you hindered to speak as you nodded your head. All Abby can do is fondly smile at the person before her, what can she say, you have peaked her interest. Abby grazes her hand across yours as she reaches for your badge. Electricity flows through both of your veins at the small connection of your hands. If Abby wasn’t bright red before, she was now. She shook her head lightly as if she was telling herself to remain on task, and did just that. You practically facepalm yourself as you see the freckled face woman flip your badge to the correct side and swipe.

“Oh my god I just threw a tantrum over that.” You giggled at the situation you put yourself in.

“Here, why don’t I buy you your lunch? As a thank you for your hard work uh–” Your eyes trail to the name embroidered onto her white coat. “Dr. Anderson.” A wide smile beams from your mouth, unbeknownst to you, your forever was awaiting right in front of you.

Abby pulls away with a reminiscent smile on her face. Abby was never one to indulge in romantic relationships,at least not the long term kind, until she met you. For the majority of her adult years, Abby spent her time with her head down and her nose between her books. She would spend the little free time she had at the gym or with her close knit group of friends and family. Becoming a successful orthopedic surgeon at her age took hand work and dedication, and if her father taught her anything it would be just that. The Andersons were resilient and Abby was a direct product of that.

Never having known her mother, Abby grew up around doctors. Her second home was the hospital’s daycare. Although Jerry tried his best to be around Abby, there were times where the blonde was left to raise herself. Jerry was open minded and well informed, he lacked the experience of womanhood. Abby was never keen on stereotypical “girl” things. That did help him in raising her, though if Abby did turn out to love tutus and sparkles, he would be the first to participate. Abby appreciated having Jerry as her number one fan. You would think that he would pressure the girl into becoming a successful neurosurgeon, leading a life just as fruitful, but that was not the case. Jerry understood that doing what you loved was the greater purpose of life. Abby just so happened to have a fascination with fixing broken things– where that be bones broken or the relationships of friends. Yet, she never found time to get into relationships herself. Thus, when she found you, she knew she couldn’t let you go. From the moment she saw you halfway to breaking the self checkout scanner, she needed to find a way to fix her way into your life. Those eight years of fixing turned from putting together your pesky IKEA desk, to fixing the hinges on your squeaky door, to finally fixing the ring on your finger, cementing your future together.

The pair of you wouldn’t change the last eight years for the life of you. Those days came with love and laughter. Specifically, unbeknownst to many, Abby liked to play pranks. You, being someone who disliked surprises, somehow fell in love with a six foot two goofball. Her residents would think you were insane for associating Abby with the word goofball. She was nothing shy of a hardass when it came to work. Her pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows were a staple at the Seattle Hospital. She finds it hilarious that the interns are scared of her. Her fellow residents must comply with her reputation when they really know that she is the first one to call when times get hard.

“I have a gift for you coming in at the end of the week.”

The tall blonde smugly smirks as her rough fingers gently contrast her light touches on your naked body on top of hers. Her smile widens as your breath hitches, like you know where this is going.

“A gift? What do you have planned, Dr.Anderson?”

A groan emits from her throat, knowing what that title does to her when you use it. I mean, it is the reason why you two ended up rustling in bed on your day off.

Abby laughs while squeezing the fat of your thigh.

“Nothing you have to worry about. Lover. Just know that you’ll enjoy it just like you seemed to enjoy today.”

A nibble on your earlobe makes your shiver as the soreness between your thighs makes you remember the details of your rendezvous with your wife. Your face smooshes into the crevasse of her neck and shoulder in embarrassment. Abby smiles, ready for her prank to commence.

If you would have known that your wife would go out of her way to make your life unbearably distressing for the next week then you would have told her to take her gift and shove it up her ass. Every waking moment, Abby has decided to tease you. Relentlessly. Constant reminders throughout your day about your gift— that you should be expecting by Saturday— could have never possibly left your mind with how she never let you forget. Her lips trail all of your sweet spots in passing throughout your mornings. Strong hands roughly spread your asscheeks disgustingly well as she wetly explores the inside of your mouth in a storage closet near your lab. Whimpers leaving your lips as your wife teases your nipples while you prepare dinner. Tweaking them in her hands as she whispers dirty thoughts in your ear. Throwing you on the bed, licking, sucking, prodding, and prying at your plush thighs, groaning from below you. Calling you from your lab to an empty office, making you grind on her thigh, then rudely leaving you hot and bothered. Yet, whenever you begged for her to continue, she would find an excuse to not move on.

It’s not that you’d say your sex drive is unnecessarily high, but you have a sexy stallion of a wife, who could blame you? It got to the point where she was the only thing on your mind all day. You felt immense need thrumming through your bones at all possible hours of the day, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. Luckily for you, Saturday was on the horizon. From the moment you woke up, you were by Abigail’s side clinging to her every movement.

Of course, your wife found this to be very endearing and hilarious. Any time you heard a shuffle outside of the front door, you pearled up like a dog. The worst part of the day was waiting anxiously for whatever “gift” your wife had for you. By the time you were growing annoyed, Abby picked you up and threw you over her shoulder—army style.

“Abigail!!! What the fuck are you doing?!” You squealed out between heavy laughs.

To say that you were complaining, ESPECIALLY with the view of her ass you’re getting would be a lie. A loud smack recoils from your hand slapping your wife’s sculpted butt cheek. A faux gasp leaves her lips.

“I’d be careful, baby, I’m the one carrying you.” Abby laughs at your wiggling ceasing. A smack lands on your backside, and although you can’t see her, you know that sexy and cocky smirk adorns her face. Especially after that loud whimper that leaves your lips. Abby flops you on the bed after she makes it up to your shared bedroom. Like a predator to its prey, she slowly stalks up to your lips, her body on top of yours. Her hair loose from her normal solo french braid, creating a halo of hair surrounding your face.

“Hi, beautiful.” Abby purrs as a hand of yours tucks her golden locks behind her ears, caressing her cheek in your palm. No matter the situation, Abby never fails to erupt butterflies in your stomach. Your face turns away from her loving and lustful eyes at the term of endearment.

“Uh uh, baby, look at me. C’mon, you’ve been so good this week. Wouldn’t wanna ruin your surprise now, would you?” Abby coos.

Your eyes snap back to hers, snapping into that submissive state she’s had you in oh so many times. You shake your head and respond to her with a ‘no’.

“Good.” Abby says as she quickly plants a sweet kiss to your lips. You whine in protest at the quick peck, wanting more, yet all your lover does is pinch your cheek with a smirk.

“Patience, baby. I’m gonna go get your gift now, okay?” And with that, the blonde scurried into your en suite bathroom.

Now what you didn’t see would be the devilish smile attached to her face. Abby might be a gentle giant and a fierce lover, but that did not stop her from being wildly competitive. Her need for pranking you only came after a small prank you pulled on her the first year of dating. Thus, ultimately creating an 8 year long prank war between the two of you. Abby even going as far as pranking you on your wedding day.

-2 years ago-

It was a beautiful day to have a wedding, and you could not have been more sure that you were making the best decision of your life. Your intimate wedding occurred at the private beach and house that Jerry owned. The view was spectacular, and so was the day. Before the wedding took place, Abby and yourself decided that you would want to have a private “first look” with you, her, and her friend Leah—a professional photographer. You were practically bouncing off the walls with how excited you were to see the love of your life. You were so curious about what she would wear. So, when it was time to turn around, you were surprised to see your future wife in a blow up dinosaur suit. Your jaw dropped as Abby couldn’t contain her fits of laughter, her tiny dinosaur hands trying to hold you. After your initial shock, you joined in on the continuous laughter. The pictures of your reaction were priceless, and to this day, it is her phone lockscreen.

Silly things like this was what made you sure that you made the correct decision, even if what she is about to do will royally piss you off.

“Close your eyes!” Is yelled from the bathroom with a slight giggle to her tone. Your eyes roll before you cover your eyes with your hands, you know already that Abby hates when you peak.

“They’re closed! C’mon I'm getting bored, Abs.” You yell back.

You can hear the blonde shuffling from the bathroom, trying to hold back her laughs. This sound confirmed to you that your wife was up to something very, very stupid.

“Okay, open up.” Abby bites back a smile as she stands at the foot of the bed.

Your eyes open and your mouth immediately flys open in shock.

“Dr.Anderson will see you now.” She tries to stay composed, clearly failing at the sound of her quiet chuckles.

Abby had teased you relentlessly for a week, turning you on to levels unknown…for an ill fitting “sexy” doctors costume? She looked absolutely ridiculous in this outfit. The costume fit her like an adult trying to put a toddlers dress on. The low cut white dress with a slit on both sides hardly fit over her wide shoulders and built physique. The buttons pulled at a tension so great you were shocked that they didn’t burst. The zipper not even getting the chance to zip due to her ridiculously muscular stature. The fishnet stallings digging into her wide thighs, topping it off with a very very tiny thong. To say that you were not expecting this would say the least.

“Abigail. What. The. Actual. Fuck!” You throw your head back in a loud cackle. Your belly hurting from the intense laughter bubbling up inside. She takes a stride towards you, but stops just as fast as a loud ‘riiiiip’ noise is heard. Her eyes bulge out of her head as she turns around. Her ass and thong fully hanging out as the fishnets now have a large hole on them. A howl erupts from both of your lips at the ridiculousness of it all.

It takes moments for you both to calm down, and after many pictures taken, Abby takes off the costume and joins you back on the bed.

“Although you got me really good, I'm still kinda mad at you for teasing me like that.” You pout at your wife.

Abby trails her hand up to where you need it most, caressing your clothed core. Her lips trailing up to your ear.

“Oh, babe, I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries. 

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment. 

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting. 

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up. 

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment. 

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away. 

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.  

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head. 

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell. 

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky. 

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age. 

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today. 

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all. 

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right. 

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that. 

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him. 

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it. 

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours. 

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue. 

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm. 

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife. 

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer. 

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth. 

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing. 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other. 

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead. 

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun. 

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze. 

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger. 

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition. 

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot. 

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it. 

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world. 

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you. 

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake. 

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before. 

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments. 

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness. 

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy. 

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie. 

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull. 

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously. 

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you. 

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.  

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops 

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore. 

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him. 

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor. 

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles. 

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb. 

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence. 

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time. 

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright. 

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers. 

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others? 

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold. 

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again. 

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made. 

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter. 

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak. 

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger. 

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right. 

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over. 

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location. 

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin. 

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day. 

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks. 

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured. 

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life. 

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh. 

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him. 

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip. 

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head. 

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.” 

[girlokwhatever]

hiiiii PLSS KATE MARTIN ANGST!!!! 🥰🥰

₊˚ෆ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊- ,, illicit affairs,,

kate martin x fem!reader

(not spell checked.. are you surprised?)

it was doomed from the start, when you told kate it had to be a secret.

she had somehow weaseled her way into your life, immediately finding a keen liking for you. for some reason you let her; you let her break your walls down until there was nothing left between you but unspoken feelings of love and admiration. it was inevitable when she kissed you, making it impossible for you to reject her advances because, secretly, you wanted her just as bad.

but no one could know. no one knew.

make sure nobody sees you leave,

hood over your head,

keep your eyes down.

you were running through the dorm parking lot belonging to the building kate lived in. your hoodie was pulled up over your head, draw-strings tugged taught until you could hardly see. kate watched you through her window, the weight of your shared secret making her feel heavy.

she hated seeing you go like this— rushed and panicked with the news that her team was coming back to the dorms earlier than originally planned. her hoodie engulfed you, creating a safe and secret place for you as you crossed the parking lot, eyes downcast as you make your way to your car.

you’d finally been able to come over to her dorm after weeks of hardly seeing her at all. not even moments ago your limbs were tangled with hers, soft kisses and a sloppy make out transpired between the two of you.

her whole team was out, celebrating a win that kate would rather miss if it meant she got some alone time with you. the time with you ended up being short-lived though. not even a full hour had passed before kate received a text from caitlin informing her everyone was going to check in early tonight.

disappointment was etched in her face as you pulled out of her embrace, quickly collecting your things to leave. all she had left was a chaste kiss on the lips and a sweetly whispered goodbye that rang in her ears as she watched your car disappear into the darkness.

what started in beautiful rooms

ends with meetings in parking lots

“i’m sorry we had to meet like this.. i thought the team would’ve been gone tonight.” kate sighs, letting her hands slip off of her steering wheel as you step inside her car.

you could tell she was tired. her hair was messily tied back, dark circles sagging under her eyes as she rubbed them. assuming it was pressure from the very demanding basketball season, you reached out, intertwining your delicate fingers with her calloused ones.

“hey, it’s okay. as long as i get to see you, it doesn’t matter where i am.”

that makes kate smile, her gaze breaking away from the rain-soaked parking lot. her relief only lasts a few seconds and is gone before you could even catch it. of course she was happy to just see you, but realizing her relationship with you has trickled down to these sort of meetings, it kills her.

you used to come to her games. you used to hangout with her and the team. you used to be seen in public together, when you were friends. and now, when you were supposed to be closer than ever, none of that seemed like a possibility anymore. it was killing kate. because now this was almost as good as it gets; secret meetings in an empty parking lot past ten o’clock at night.

kate remembers meeting you for the first time, how different things were then. she remembers meeting you in the warm and dim lights of the library late at night, catching up on late work and trying to escape the distractions of the dorm. but then she saw you. she really couldn’t help it when she started to stare, watching as the light and it’s shadow cast different shades of color over your face as you moved.

the library had been beautiful that time of night, kate always thought so. but not as beautiful as you.

leave the perfume on the shelf

that you picked out just for her

so you leave no trace behind

like you don’t even exist

it’d been awhile since kate even uttered your name in front of her friends. the fear of giving something away loomed over her head like a dark cloud, rain threatening to spill at any moment. it wasn’t until kate came home late after a night with you that your nervous activity started.

caitlin was sitting in the common area when kate got back, motioning her to come sit with a gentle pat of the cushion next to her. your girlfriend was in good spirits so she gave in without hesitation, coming to sit next to caitlin on the couch as she watched a late night basketball game.

“where’ve you been?” caitlin asked suspiciously, turning her nose in her friend’s direction.

“just out.”

“with y/n?”

kate goes stoic, eyes trained on the wall while her previously bouncing leg stands still. she hasn’t been expecting that, what gave it away?

“what? no, we don’t really.. hang out anymore.”

“you smell like her.” caitlin presses in dangerous territory and she knows it. you seemed to be a sensitive subject in kate’s life now, and she had no idea why.

kate shrugs before quickly standing up. she was desperate to escape from this conversation because somehow, caitlin always knows. and she can’t know about this. that’s why when kate shuts her door with a soft click she texts you immediately with a link to a new perfume, offering to buy it for you. she couldn’t tell you about what happened. you’d freak out, go into hiding away from kate for a little while.

so she doesn’t.

she buys you the new perfume and you replace it with the old one, the one that happened to be her favorite. the one she knew you used to wear just for her.

it was safer this way. caitlin couldn’t trace any scent back to you now. she couldn’t trace anything back to you anymore. a big part of kate hated that, but a smaller part of her knew it was better for you, so she settled.

take the words for what they are

a dwindling mercurial high

a drug that only worked

the first few hundred times

“kate, i just need time.”

it was a hushed whisper, one that kate has heard before. she believed it before, and part of her still does. but each time she loses hope, her fingers slip until she’s hanging on by her fingernails.

you promised kate it wouldn’t be like this forever. one day— soon you claimed, the two of you wouldn’t have to love in secret.

“kate i’ve never loved anyone the way i love you,” you’d whisper genuinely and she’d be hooked, fully trusting and forcefully patient. there was nothing she loved more than you, not even basketball, and she’d wait forever to be able to tell everyone that, even when it was having an undeniable impact on her mental state.

“i know.” she whispers back, lips moving against your skin as she tries to become one with you.

it was so hard to remember all the lost promises and time when you were holding her like this. hands in her hair, coddling against her and cradling her head into your chest. it was as if you were massaging all the past memories of empty words out of her brain, trying to make her forget about how you said all of this months ago.

and a couple months after that you’d whisper the same sweet nothings.

“you keep saying that..”

“and i mean it, kate.”

she stares at you, eyes turning to oceans full of complex and conflicting feelings. she was upset, disappointed, angry, and betrayed.

“look i understand what it’s like to come out. i’ve been there and i understand if you’re not ready, but don’t tell me you are.”

her first tear slips along with her conviction.

“kate.. i’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching out to wipe her tears away and she physically softens into your touch. “please don’t give up on me.”

and it was working again. your words, whether they were honest or not, had an affect on kate that made her stay. she’d always stay as long as you asked. somewhere deep down kate knew she was crumbling from the inside out. she was growing restless, a sinking feeling of hopelessness consuming her each time you failed to follow through on your promises. the promises you made while entangling your pinky with hers, kissing delicately along her knuckles.

and that’s the thing about illicit affairs

and clandestine meetings and stolen stares

they show their truth one single time

but they lie, and they lie, and they lie,

a million little times

kate glanced your way longingly, watching silently as you interacted with the people around you. she wished so deeply it could be her so close to you, demanding attention and hearing your sweet laugh.

but it wasn’t. and despite what you said, she knew it probably wouldn’t be her for a long time.

kate felt so real when she was with you. so pure, who she was meant to be at her core. being with you was so real for kate, all her feelings and commitments, all the promises and conflicts were real.

but it was a lie.

every time she’d avoid your gaze or pretend like she didn’t know you, it was a lie. lying to her friends about you, her family, or anyone who asked. she’d lie and say yes if anyone asked about her being single. she’d lie about you.

it drained kate. she couldn’t fathom the idea that this was all per your request. deliberate decisions made by you to deceive everyone around you. kate was like your little affair, a secret you kept hidden away from the world so you could still have your fun elsewhere.

kate was your lie, and you were hers.

when you finally made eye contact with her she broke. all her buried resentment and defeat, all the fake promises and compromises, all the secrecy, all the hurt and confusion, all the insecurity, all the buried thoughts that haunted kate glared back at you.

but she saw it in you too. the weight of your lies and the pain of the truth. not only were you lying to everyone about kate, you were lying about yourself, to yourself.

and you wanna scream

don’t call me “kid”

don’t call me “baby”

kate’s head was deep in her hands, sobbing as shaky fingers pulled at the roots of her hair. for some reason she never saw this coming. the hopeful and innocent part of kate always thought it’d work out, that you’d work it out together. like you always said.

but you’d broken up with her. the stress of your secret relationship finally catching up. this couldn’t last forever, and you realized you’d never come out like kate wanted you to. it wasn’t fair to her. it wasn’t fair to expect her to be okay with being hidden. that’s what you told yourself to feel like less of a coward.

you could see she was freaking out. it took a lot to speak again, too afraid and shameful. too scared you’d make it worse.

“baby i’m so sorry, im so sorry.”

kate squeezes her eyes shut painfully. the word rings like a mantra through her ears, seeping into her soul where it freezes her feelings and numbs her mind. she shakes her head before looking back up at you with a face contorted by hurt.

“don’t call me that.”

“kate..”

“don’t call me that. seriously.”

you stare silently, guilt-ridden eyes shamefully gazing on her soft features, made even softer by the shine of her tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes. this was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. looking at her made you want to change your mind, to take it all back cruelly but you knew you couldn’t.

if you couldn’t accept who you were, how could anyone else?

“how could you do this to me? c’mon, i mean, i was there, through everything. i love you with everything i have. i mean.. i can’t even.. you promised me this wouldn’t happen. you promised.”

look at this idiotic fool that you made me

you taught me a secret language i can’t speak with anyone else

kate felt like a fool. she should’ve known better.

every time she’d make a harmless joke about you being a lesbian and you denied it, she should’ve known. every time you’d claim you were ready to come out to your parents but never did, she should’ve known. she should’ve seen it coming a mile away.

she could’ve, if she hadn’t chosen willful ignorance. but she decided she would rather have your love in private than not at all.

but now she had nothing and could tell no one.

she couldn’t tell anyone about you even if it was over. but caitlin didn’t need to be told twice, or even once. she knew where kate had been going late at night, she knew about the longing looks from across the room. she also saw your text to kate asking to talk.

that’s why she slipped into her best friend’s room that night when she got back home. to hold her as she cried, tell her it was okay and she was there for her.

“i love her so much caitlin.” kate choked out, crying all over again when the image of you in her bed only a few weeks ago flashed through her brain. a cruel memory.

“i know kate. you always love too much.”

and that pattern repeated for weeks, a concerning amount of time that even caitlin was restless. it happened almost every night like clockwork; kate would get back from her self-inflicted extra practice looking exhausted and battered, fleeing to her room without a single word and about ten minutes later she’d attempt to muffle her sobs into her pillow. the pillow that somehow still smelt like the perfume kate bought you.

walking through day-to-day life became harder for kate. no one understood the stupid inside jokes you built together, or the gesture of kissing fingertips you started together.

caitlin forced her friend out into the social world and it only took one conversation to break kate down into a reminiscing mess. objectively there was nothing wrong with the girl other than the fact that she wasn’t you. no one would ever understand kate the way you had, and she’s certain no man would ever understand you the way she had.

kate had to mourn the loss of your love and the connection that came with it. the unique diction you had built together. that one of a kind love could only be found with you, the girl that denied ever loving a woman.

you were a self-proclaimed straight woman. but kate knew, behind closed doors, behind her doors, you were far from it.

and you know damn well

for you, i would ruin myself

a million little times

after awhile kate could finally claim she’d gotten better.

she was enjoying her social life again. going out to bars and clubs, going to team parties, going shopping and playing basketball. she’d even visited home, getting the secret of you off of her chest to her mother.

she slowly eased herself back into normality, following a similar routine to the one she had before you.

the issue was, kate is no longer who she was before she met you. she’d never be that rational woman again. she’d never be able to say no to you again. but that didn’t occur to her, and if it did she wouldn’t mind much because she never thought she’d have to.

it’d been months since she saw you.

but suddenly you appeared across the room, lifting your head before meeting kate’s wide eyes. she knew she was doomed when you waved, a soft smile on your face when she waved back. that lasted for a few moments; stealing glances at each other from across the room before you made your way over.

“hey kate.” it was sweet, like a voice dipped in honey.

“hey..”

“kate, i’ve really been wanting to talk to you. i’m really sorry for how everything happened.”

she looked down at you, draped in your pretty outfit with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes. you sounded so genuine, and she wondered desperately what you wanted to talk about.

“do you wanna come to my place tonight?” she asked, curious and hopeful.

“how about mine?”

“oh, yeah.. sure.”

and kate knew. she knew nothing had changed. you were still the same old you, and she was still the same old her.

she’d go through it all again for you. a million times over.

₊˚ෆ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊- ,,

okay fics inspired by songs are so good

this is my first time using the lyrics in the song and i think im shitty at it.

feedback is definitely welcomed though!

pls enjoy 😛