#i feel like i will never see that money even when i have to inevitably ask for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witherby · 18 days ago

Note

Mother Hen Hal skit perhaps...? Since you said you are up for writing anything, can i recommend some silly mother hen Hal? :3/nf/silly

Y'know what hell yeah. Hal is Mom, and that's canon now.

Also, it doesn't really make sense for me to use the infant gif for Flittermouse when they inevitably get older. Does this one work for you guys? Let me know. I might fiddle around until I find something suitable.

The Littlest Wayne: Mother Hen

Masterlist is Here!

"Ah-ah! Put it down."

You freeze, one hand curled around the handle of the popsicle you were trying to sneak before dinner.

"I'm not a motion sensor, kid. I can still see you if you're standing still. Put. It. Down. If you want a snack then there's a fruit bowl on the counter."

You huff and put the popsicle back in the freezer, stomping over to the bowl to snatch an orange. "Fine."

"What was that?"

You grimace. "Yes, mama."

Hal narrows his eyes at you and holds out his hand. You approach him from where he's leaning against the doorway and hand the orange over, and he starts to peel it for you.

"Kids these days, gettin' sassier and sassier. Y'know when I was young my dad would pop me on the mouth for backtalk."

"Thank goodness you're not your dad," you say, taking it back and stepping into his shadow to let it pull you into the dark. "Thanks, mama."

"Uh huh," he sighs, but his expression is fond as he watches you disappear. He shakes his head and grabs a banana for himself. "Goofy kid. They should be grateful I found 'em in the act and not Alfred."

"Disarm that, please."

Jason glances up at Hal from where he's sitting on his bed, currently taking inventory of his ammo and checking the condition of his guns.

"Uh, 'scuse me?"

"You know your dad's rule. No guns in the house. If you wanna keep it upstairs, you've gotta disassemble it."

"Oh," Jason says, scoffing, "what, like I'm gonna suit up and shoot up the place? I'm an asshole, but I'm not that big an asshole."

"Everyone trusts you, Jaybird," Hal says, "but even the best-maintained guns can misfire. A warped firing pin here, too much gunpowder in a bullet there, a hair trigger —"

"You think I'm running around with shitty equipment like an amateur, Jordan?" Jason sneers and picks up one of his pistols, aiming it at Hal's head. It doesn't have any bullets in it, but fear factor is half of his job. "You think this could go off willy-nilly 'cause I dunno how to take care of my toys? Huh? Just because you're fucking Bruce doesn't mean you get to call any shots in this house —"

A green hammer materializes faster than Jason can blink and smacks the gun from his hand. He hisses flexes his fingers, glaring, only lean back when he suddenly finds Hal glaring down at him less than a foot away from the edge of the bed.

"I'm not playing this game with you, Jason Todd-Wayne," he says. The boy actually feels sweat pooling on the back of his neck. "I have to go pick your brother up from school, and when I come back these guns are either going to be in the cave, or disassembled in your bedroom."

"...yes, ma," Jason mumbles. Hal nods once, gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, and leaves the room.

Tim doesn't glance up when he hears footsteps descending the cave. He keeps scrolling through the security footage from the most recent bank heist on the batcomputer, trying and failing to figure out exactly what the hell Two-Face would want with that many uncut diamonds. Money tends to play very little factor in his scheme of the week, so why —

"Bed time."

"Crime never sleeps," Tim mumbles, rubbing his burning eyes and reaching for the can of Monster on the desk. Another hand swipes it away first, and he scowls. "I'll head up in, like, an hour." He squints when he thinks he sees a partial blueprint sticking out of Two-Face's pocket. "Like two hours."

"Nuh-uh. The one and only time I fell for that, you stayed awake for another fifty hours before we caught onto you. No more computer tonight."

"And I cracked that case fifty hours faster than I would've if I'd slept."

Hal scruffs Tim, hoisting him into the air by the back of his shirt and turning to go back up the staircase.

"Hal! Okay, I'm serious this time, twenty minutes so I can mark my place and —"

"Bed time," Hal hisses. "It is three in the morning and I have to get up at five. Do not test my patience right now."

"Yes, mom," Tim immediately says, eyes wide. He wants to scan that blueprint, but he wants to avoid getting on a sleep-deprived Hal's bad side even more. "Bed time."

Hal nods and carts him off to his room, tucking Tim in and giving him a pointed goodnight before leaving.

Dick knows better than to fight Hal when he puts his foot down for something. Bruce he can gradually wheedle into submission, especially if he calls him Dad and gives him big puppy eyes, but Hal is a demon and seemingly immune to all forms of sucking up.

So when he slips out of his window and into the garden, trying to sneak away to go back to Blüdhaven, he runs into Hal and immediately turns back around.

"Smart move. Get back in bed and I'll have Alfred make sure you didn't pop your stitches crawling down the wall like an idiot just now."

"Yes, mum. Sorry, mum."

"Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne!"

"Oh, fuck."

Nothing but ice-cold dread zips up and down that boy's spine. He darts out of his room and down the stairs, running from room to room until he finds Hal standing in the vestibule with blood at his feet and a nasty snake bite on his arm. The culprit is trapped in a constructed box several feet away.

"Is it venomous." Hal asks, tone flat.

"No, Mother," Damian says, standing at attention directly in front of him. He keeps his hands in his pockets to stop them from trembling.

"Is there more than one."

"No, Mother."

"Will you have it re-homed by tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother."

"Are you going to start asking for permission before bringing more animals home."

"..."

"Damian."

"Yes, Mother."

Hal steps forward with his good hand and gently cups Damian's cheek.

"Do you understand why I'm upset?" He asks, gentler. Damian nods. "Okay. All I'll say is that I'm glad it was me this happened to, and not any of your siblings. I think you really would've frightened Mouse if they got bit."

Damian's eyes widen briefly, not having considered such a consequence. He stiffens and avoids eye contact.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. Hal opens his arms and Damian goes in easily for the offered hug. "I'll get rid of Piper tonight."

"Good. I'm sorry you can't keep her, pal, but it's too dangerous to let it roam the grounds like that. Plus, this bite really smarts. If you're hell-bent on a snake, maybe you can get a small one in, like, a month for your birthday. Real small. Like a hog-nose. Or a corn snake."

"Fine," Damian mumbles, but the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. "I'll fetch the first aid kit for you."

"Thanks, 'ppreciate it."

"Oh, dearest husband of mine."

Bruce maintains a front of stoic calm, unmoving and unaffected by the saccharine pitch of Hal's voice. He continues stitching himself up in the batcave's med room and doesn't look up when a pair of green boots enters his periphery.

"Can you answer a question for me?"

"Yeah, shoot," Bruce says, proud that his voice didn't waver.

"What's the thermal rating on the latest iteration of your suit?"

Bruce glances at the jar of burn cream he hasn't cracked open yet to treat the massive wound on his side. A bead of sweat forms on his temple.

"It's —"

"Is it high enough to withstand a condensed, point-blank blast directly from the sun?"

He doesn't respond. Bruce finishes his stitch job and ties it off, then reaches over for the jar. Hal snatches it.

"Answer the question, Wayne."

Bruce swallows thickly. "No. It's not thermally rated high enough to withstand a condensed blast as powerful as the sun, obviously."

"Obvi — oh. Okay, it was obvious. I'm glad it was obvious. That's fantastic. I just have a follow-up question, then."

The jar creaks in Hal's grip. His free hand is clenched in a tight fist.

"If you knew your suit wasn't sturdy enough to take a blast like that, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STEP IN FRONT OF IT!?"

Bruce clears his throat. "It was going to hit you, and you weren't watching your six."

"I AM ENCASED IN A MAGIC GLOWING SUIT MADE OF WILLPOWER, BRUCE. I WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE. YOU'RE RUNNING AROUND IN LEATHER AND KEVLAR."

Bruce slides off the table, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. A pair of green arms hook him under his armpits and heave him back onto it with a not-so-gentle thud, and he winces when it aggravates his injury. "Hal, stop shouting. I already have Tinnitus and this isn't helping."

"Oh, your poor ears," Hal coos, stepping between Bruce's legs. He sets the jar down and gingerly cups Bruce's ears, pouting. "I'll speak softly so I don't cause you further pain. Y'know, like the massive fucking burn in your side from GETTING BLASTED BY A SUN RAY."

"I'm not going to apologize!"

Hal snaps his mouth shut, glaring at Bruce. "What."

"I'm not going to apologize for protecting you." Bruce's hands cover Hal's. He brings them down to his lap, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tightly. "It's very statistically probable I'm going to do it again, as a matter of fact. And I'll keep doing it as long as I think you need to be protected."

He thumbs over the golden band on Hal's left hand, and the edge of the Green Lantern ring on his right.

"Because that's what I promised you when we got married. That as long as I have a body that moves, and lungs that breathe air, and a mind that can think, I will move and breathe and think in whatever way guarantees your health and happiness."

"Collecting battle scars like bottle pops doesn't make me happy, Bruce," Hal murmurs. "One day I'm gonna check my six and find you on the ground like I did today, and one day you're not gonna get back up again."

"That's the risk we take every time we suit up," Bruce sighs. "People in our line of work seldom make it to retirement age, love."

Hal lifts his hands to cup the back of Bruce's head and draw him into a kiss. There's a subtle tremble in his body that Bruce does his best to soothe with pliant lips and a skilled tongue.

"I'm going to help you with the burn," Hal mumbles against his lips, "then we're going upstairs for movie night, and I'm picking this time. And by then, maybe I'll have decided if you get to sleep in our bed or on the couch tonight."

"Yes, mom," Bruce mutters back, grinning. He hisses when Hal flicks his wound. "Sorry."

#batfam x reader #littlest wayne au #hal jordan #batlantern #reader is like 8 here maybe #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake

427 notes · View notes

strnilolover · 4 months ago

Text

⋆.˚ Anything For You .ᐟ

warnings : fluff!!, pet names (baby, babe, angel, my girl)

summary : just chris being an absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend cause omg.

Whenever friends would come over to your apartment, they’d always tell you that you have an obsession with stuffed animals. Half of your bed being cluttered with different sized plushies, ranging in all different colors.

Though, you wouldn’t say it’s an obsession. You’ve always found comfort in stuffed animals — holding them close at night when you sleep or when you needed to cry your heart out.

Whenever your birthday came around or Christmas, you would always ask for stuffed animals as a present or gift — never anything too big or expensive because you didn’t need them. Even as a little kid, you always had a stuffed animal clutched in your grasp when you walked around your childhood home.

When you had gotten with Chris, it took a while for yourself to invite him around to your place. A little afraid of what he might say to your overflowing pile of soft plushies and stuffed animals that resided on your bed. But, that fear inevitably fizzled out when he had bought and surprised you with a soft teddy bear. Telling you, “I see how you look at my stuffed bear I have, like you want to take it and cuddle it for yourself.”

That same day, you offered for him to come over when you were going home for the night, asking if he wanted to stay the night as well. And he happily obliged.

The first moment he stepped foot into your bedroom, he took in the surroundings. All the little decorations that screamed you, plastered around the room on the walls. But, his eyes immediately caught your bed and how a good portion of it was stuffed with all the different plushies.

He stared in awe, taking in the sight. But, he didn’t tease or tell you it was too much — instead he watched as you added the bear he got you to the pile, heart swelling as he watched.

“You know baby, I find it absolutely adorable that you have so many stuffed animals.” He said, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Makes it more you.”

That was a few months ago. When that moment happened, it made you so happy to know he didn’t find it weird at all that you kept so many plushies with you.

Right now you and Chris were walking hand in hand through the mall. Walking past different stores and popping into a few to buy a few things. Something Chris loves doing is spoiling you — buying you all the little things you like that you have your eyes set on.

A lot of the time, you turn him down from buying you so many things because you feel bad for him spending so much money on you. But, he always reassures you that he wants to do it.

As you both continued to walk, your eyes immediately caught a store filled with stuffed animals. The soft plushies standing out vibrantly — your body almost immediately being drawn in the direction of the store.

“Chris — baby can we go in here please?” You ask, already tugging him along before he can respond. He just smiles, happily following you along through the doors.

Once you stepped inside, you detached from Chris’ arm, wandering away from him through the many isles there were. Your hands running over the soft fur of teddy bears and different animal shaped plushies as you passed each and every one of them.

Chris followed behind closely, watching as your eyes lit up in excitement by every thing you touched and passed. He loved watching you act like a child when you saw stuffed animals — knowing they always made a smile spread across your face, and that’s something he’d do anything for to see stay on your features.

As you continued walking through the isles — something big and grey caught the corner of your eyes. Your head immediately snapping toward it as your eyes widened.

It was a giant grey stuffed bunny. It’s large floppy ears cascading down the side of its face and flopping over its shoulders — your feet moved you closer to the giant stuffed animal, hands reaching out to touch its soft fur.

It was so soft, something that would be perfect for cuddling on the nights you weren’t with Chris. It’s large stuffed frame almost as big as your own body. “Look at how cute this is baby!” You say excitedly, picking up the giant thing and hugging it close as your body turned toward your boyfriend.

A smile spread across his face — you almost looked tiny compared to the rabbit you were holding. “It’s very adorable angel, s’that something you want?” He asked, his own hand reaching out to touch one of the rabbits floppy ears.

You stood there, holding the bunny as you pondered. As you were about to answer, the price tag caught your eye — making you wince. A frown pulling at your lips, you set the bunny down, turning to Chris once more. “Maybe another day?” You say, quickly walking past him with your head hung down.

Chris’ brows furrowed, watching you walk away back toward the entrance of the store. Your mood changed quickly — going from happy to a little sad. His eyes moved to look back at the bunny, quickly realizing why you had set it down and walked away so abruptly.

Sure it wasn’t the cheapest thing, but the way your face had lit up when you saw it and held it, was something Chris wanted to see stay on your face.

He grabbed the big plush rabbit, turning and walking toward the front of the store in the direction of the register. His eyes moved to look at you, who was already out of the doors, walking off toward a few benches to sit down at.

You didn’t look back as you walked out the doors of the store, knowing if you did you’d want to run right back in and land your hands on any of those you could get to. So instead, you walked to some benches, waiting for chris to follow behind you.

You sat there for a few minutes, guilt gnawing at your chest as you realized you just sort of left Chris without a reason as to why you wandered away. After a few more moments, you stood up, turning your body back toward the store even though you didn’t want to. But, you wanted to know where Chris had gone.

As you moved back toward the store, you saw Chris walking out of it. The giant bunny in his grasp as he made his way to you. You stopped, mouth agape as he stopping in front of you.

“Babe, what — why did you get that?” You ask, hands itching to reach out and grab the stuffed bunny. You felt bad, knowing the money he just spent on this thing.

He raised a brow at your question, the stuffed bunny still in his arms. “You wanted it, so i got it for you baby. I don’t care about the price, you know that.” He said softly, holding the bunny out for you to take. You hesitated for a moment — eventually grabbing it when you knew he wasn’t going to let up.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, hugging the bunny close to your chest once more. “You didn’t have to…it was expensive.” You murmured, walking to Chris and hugging him the best you could with the bunny in your arms.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “And I said I don’t care about the price — I just want to see my girl happy, and if a stuffed bunny is going to that reason, then i’ll get you as many as you want.” He said, hugging you a little tighter, lips now peppering kisses down your head and to the side of your face.

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head as kissed your face. Once his kiss attack was done, you pulled back slightly — head tipping up to look into his eyes. “Thank you baby.” You whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He hummed, accepting the kiss. Once you pulled back, he grabbed your hand, pulling you through the mall once more. “Anything for you angel.”

a/n : another chris fluff cause why not?? sorry if this seems kinda rushed and such, but i’ve been loving writing fluff so much recently. let me know what y’all want next!! (been thinking about writing more head-canons and more for Bakery owner matt :D)

317 notes · View notes

ihrthoney · 14 days ago

Text

for us

pairings: namgyu x preg!reader

warnings: angst & fluff :p

an: i started my first big girl job but im motivated so ill try to post more :)! i haven’t posted in a minute and i hate pregnancy tropes but i make the exception for squid games lol. i will make a part two!

nam-gyu was many things, an addict, a partier, an idiot and a sweetheart. the sweetest ever, actually.

unfortunately for you you worked at club pentagon, which is how you met the physical embodiment of an acid trip.

who he was when he was sober was something you cherished and kept close to your heart. it wasn’t hard to weave your way into his rotten lungs, but soon enough you became his air, his new high.

after learning you never did substances, he switched positions at the club and asked you to get a safer job, not wanting you to inevitably cave to the horrible things that he tries.

you scold him of course, reprimand him and argue about hating how he acted when under the influence. for a while he managed to stop, wanting something serious and stable.

but then he met thanos, he came home obnoxiously intoxicated. nam-gyu was so star struck that he saw a famous rapper that he didn’t understand why you locked him out of the room, until he woke up the next morning with a headache he only got when he was on drugs.

apologies spewed out of his mouth, wishing for a second chance. his wish was granted, he found another outlet for “extra money” and promised you both a fresh start.

until the extra money vanished off the face of the earth and now he was in incredible debt.

the few months of bliss now gone, thoughts of continuing such an unstable relationship this far into life didn’t seem like a good idea. the arguments were bad, mostly on your end as you couldn’t get him to stop begging and spilling empty promises,

“i’ll make the money back and i’ll work harder to make more for you, please baby i’m so sorry.” the sight of him on his knees and holding your legs would’ve been kind of sweet if this wasn’t the millionth time he’s promised to be better.

to his disappointment, you walked out of his life that night, asking him to only find you when he grew up.

he was determined to make the money back, nam-gyu had no hesitation when calling the number on the card.

seeing thanos’ face on the big screen in the unfamiliar room brought a bitter taste in your mouth. you felt bad, seeing as he had the talent but like your ex he succumbed to the high instead.

your ex. that fucking moron. that piece of shit doesn’t even know you’re carrying his damn kid.

a week after you walked out of his life, you guys met up one time to exchange clothes and what not but one thing lead to another and here you were in hospital debt. finding a stable job was hard, especially when you worked as a bartender most of your adult life.

the stress was eating you alive, renting the nice place you had was not cheap and the nice landlord could only be nice for so long because you had to start paying more.

the past few months have been rough and you really wish you had the support of your ex even if he wasn’t the greatest, he was yours and that’s all that really mattered.

standing in line to sign the consent forms made you nauseous, afraid of what’s to come. as you’re walking back to your bed, you get stopped by a hand on your shoulder,

“yn?”

you feel your heartbeat quicken as you turn around and look at your ex boyfriend.

“why are you here?” his hand is still on your shoulder, slightly moving up and down your arm.

he always had a thing for keeping a hand on you, he said it grounded him.

“the same reason everyone is, debt.”

the expression on his face makes your chest ache, he looks so concerned that it makes you a wee bit mad, “what debt are you in? you’ve always been financially responsible!”

he was right, out of you two you made the smarter choices. it dawned on you that you had yet to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid.

“yn? what happened? did someone scam you? i know some people that could find them.” his tone deepening as he becomes more serious, “no! it’s not like that. it’s complicated..”

the worry in your voice makes his eyes fill with worry, “baby, you can tell me.” the name makes you push away from him but the distance is immediately gone as he closes it, pulling your hands into his own. you can’t look him in the eye, scared he’s going to be mad at you.

you’re going to keep it no matter what but the thought of him hating you and your kid makes your heart crack.

the swirled hormones make everything seem so much more intense, tears start to fill your eyes which makes his widen. his hands, ever so warm, hold your face and tilt it so you’re looking at him.

“what’s wrong, i’m here ba-“

“i’m pregnant, nam-gyu.” he pulls his hands off of your face like he was burned, an expression of hurt and anger swirls in his eyes,

“who’s the father?” you look at him like he’s stupid, which only makes him more upset. “why are you looking at me like that?”

does he seriously think i got with someone else?

nam-gyu is distraught, the thought of you no longer being in love with him makes him sick. the fact that you’re carrying someone else’s child makes any will to live disappear. suddenly he doesn’t care that he owes money to anyone, there’s no chance to get you back. “does he treat you well? are you happier?”

“i’m not seeing anyone new, nam-gyu.”

“you shouldn’t be playing games if you’re pregnant. you could hurt yourself or the baby.”

despite his own lack of rationality when making choices, he was always so careful with you.

you threw any rationality you had and spit out the truth,

“it’s yours.”

now he was looking at you like you were stupid, “what?”

“the baby. it’s yours. you’re the father. i’m carrying your child.” he blinks at you slowly, taking in the information you just dropped on him,

“it’s.. you’re carrying.. our baby?” nodding your head, you step forward and take his hand and guide it to your stomach.

“after we broke up, i started to feel sick so i took a test. i didn’t know what to do, i couldn’t find a good job near my place, moving is too expensive, i was afraid to reach out to you. i owe the hospital so much because i’m paying by month but i ran out of savings and then this guy came up to me and gave me a card to make money.”

by the end of your ramble, nam-gyu pulled you in for a tight hug, smoothing your back with his hand. softly, he coos into your hair, “i would’ve never denied you. had you called, we could’ve figured this shit out together.”

you argued back, “how was i supposed to know that? you promised me over and over again but nothing changed!”

despite missing the warmth, you again create a distance by pushing him away from you, although it’s no use given how he holds your arms but he still keeps the distance out of respect for you.

“i have changed! i’m here, i’m going to win that money and i’ll take care of you.” his eyes plead, the hands that hold you start to shake.

“you’ll win it? alone?” the logic hits him and he laughs at his own idiocy, “we’ll win, i’ll make sure we both get out of here. we can put the money together. it’ll be more than enough for us to start over!”

you’re skeptical, sure the chance of winning is there but.. is your trust in him still there?

“if we win-“

his hands move from your arms to your stomach, “when baby, when we win-“

your eyes roll at his optimism, “if and when we win, you need to quit drugs. cold turkey. no excuses, no more second chances. if you so much as look at a drug, i will kill you and raise this kid alone, do you understand me?”

he mocks a soldier, hand to his head and stance straight, “yes ma’am!” the pose barely lasts as he starts to giggle, following you to your bed while holding onto your hand.

there was more to come, you had a feeling that much money wouldn’t come so easy, but things felt just a tad easier with him.

#ᝰ honeywrites #HES HELLA OOC IM SORRY #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HC #IM REWATCHING HIS INTRO SCENES AND HE JUST SEEMS SO SWEET #SO CUTIE PIE #i needed to let this out of my system #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x y/n #squid game fluff #namgyu x reader #namgyu x you #nam gyu #player 124 #namgyu squid game

326 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 9 months ago

Note

Hey blue! How are you? I just wanted to say that i LOVE your OC Hedwig. When could we get more of her please? (Oh and i'm not forcing you to write about her right away ofc, take your time!!<33)

Let her burn

Female!yandere x reader

Summary: someone is trying to take you from Hedwig, and she will not allow it, she will watch them burn.

Warnings: basically assault, reader blaming themselves, arson, public humiliation, hitmen, bully mentality, fake friends

Word count: 3.4k

The sun is out for once and everyone in school — even the ones you would classify as allergic to the sun — is outside in the school yard. You and Hedwig’s group of popular rats have occupied one of the tables with benches. You're sitting on the bench and Hedwig right above you on the table with her face turned upwards, eyes closed. The others talk about parties they're invited to, what they're going to buy with the money they've made, what clothes look good and what makes them nauseous — extra points if the clothes already exist on a person in a fifteen meter radius.

You stand up. Hedwig turns down her head and looks at you through her sunglasses.

“I'll go buy a juice from the vending machine”, you say. “The sun makes me thirsty.”

She's about to grab her handbag and join you, but you shake your head.

“You can stay, I'll be back in a minute”, you say.

“Are you sure?” she asks hesitantly.

You nod and turn to walk before she has a chance to protest. You need to get away from Hedwig and her friends' constant shittalk. You've never heard Hedwig join in on their degrading teasing, but she has her own reasons for you wanting some minutes to yourself. Reasons that others are jealous of you for.

You walk into the school and breathe out, run your hand through your hair. Deciding that if you don't want Hedwog to suspect that you ditched her and her friends because of their presence, you make your way through the empty corridors to the vending machine and take out the wallet that Hedwig gifted you. You pop a few coins into the slot and hover your finger over the juice option.

“Y/N”, a voice says.

You turn your head to one of the girls that hang out in Hedwig’s group, Noelle. She's in the cheerleading team — captain, even, if you're not mistaken — and is always judging the other girls on the team. You hear about it at lunch every single day. Confused, you look at her. What could she want you? She has never wanted to speak with you before, always pretended that you don’t exist … or at least that’s what you thought.

“Uhm … hi”, you say and glance behind you, to see if someone else had sent her.

“‘Uhm … hi’”, she chuckles, taking a step forward. “Is that the best you can do after all the time we’ve spent together? You act if this is the first time we’ve met.”

“Technically it is. You’ve never tried to speak to me before.”

“And you’ve never tried to speak with me either, not only my fault.”

You turn around and press the right button for the juice and watch it fall down from its shelf. You can hear Noelle move closer behind you and you’re not sure why your heart skips a beat, and why you’re suddenly on high alert. Maybe it has something to do with the students who have hurt you because of your relationship with Hedwig, or maybe the fact that you know how Noelle acts. You’ve never liked her.

“You know … if Hedwig hadn’t been so quick to snatch you, I’d given you a shot”, she says, suddenly too close to you for your liking.

You can’t help but be … surprised?

“Really?” you question before you have time to stop yourself.

“Of course”, Noelle says as if it was obvious and that you were stupid for not recognizing it, making you feel stupid.

“I uh … didn’t know.”

Noelle scoffs out a laugh and you want nothing more than to leave, but you don’t want to be impolite to her, don’t want to give her a reason to talk bad about you … but you have a feeling that’s going to be inevitable. You squeeze the juice packet like a stressball.

“We should go back out”, you say and try to walk past her, but she grabs your arm.

“I won’t get to talk to you while we’re out there”, she complaints. “Hedwig’s so fucking insecure. She can’t even let you talk to anyone else without becoming jealous.”

You’ve never been this uncomfortable before. You’re frozen in place, confused on what to do. Noelle is Hedwig’s friend and you don’t want to upset her, but you don’t wish to conversate with her any longer.

You only manage to mutter one excuse that actually lets you go. “I have to pee.”

“Two deciliters of sugar …”, Hedwig reads aloud and grabs the sugar package. “Should we do a little more? Just in case? I don’t want the pie to become bitter.”

“Why would it be bitter?” you question from the other side of the kitchen aisle.

Hedwig looks up from the deciliter cup she’s holding, looking clueless. “Rhubarb is bitter, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t think the pie will be bitter.”

“Let’s just add a little more … just in case.”

Your eyes glue onto the trees outside the window, replaying today’s events. You haven’t told Hedwig about yours and Noelle’s conversation, not sure if you should. Hedwig can’t stand knowing that other people could have an interest in you, and she can’t let things go easily. If you tell her this, that could be harmless, she might go around dreading it for weeks … which will go out on you too. But it feels wrong to keep it to yourself. Noelle basically hit on you … shouldn’t you let your girlfriend know? But what if Hedwig thinks that you liked having Noelle basically hit on you? What if she becomes mad at you?

“Sweetheart?”

You flinch and look up. Hedwig’s looking at you with worried eyes from across the kitchen aisle.

“You aren’t listening”, she says quietly and lets go of the whisk. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No”, you say and shake your head. “I’m just tired. My head hurts.”

You lower your head to avoid looking at her. You feel dirty, somehow, as if you have betrayed her even though you didn’t want to talk to Noelle. Besides, you didn’t do anything, right? Why can’t you look her in the eye?

Hedwig walks around the kitchen aisle and cups your cheeks in her hands, directing it up to her. She runs one of her hands through your hair.

“My poor girl/boy”, she coos with a pout. “Do you want something? A cup of tea?”

You nod. Hedwig smiles and lets you go. She walks over to the marble kitchen counter and turns on the kettle. You’re presented with a cup of breakfast tea just a few minutes later. Hedwig hugs you from behind and kisses your cheek before leaning her chin on your shoulder.

“You will get some rhubarb pie soon, okay?” she says.

You nod. Hedwig continues to whisk things together as you watch and slowly sip your tea. A message notification pops up on your phone, from an instagram profile you recognize. You don’t follow it, because you’re not allowed to follow anyone else but Hedwig and your family, but you see who does. The profile picture is taken on school grounds, in the cheerleading uniform.

“meet me tmr in the music room at 11 i wanna tell you something”

You stare at your screen, feeling your body go numb.

“Y/N!”

You flinch again and look up to meet Hedwig’s eyes. They’re burning with rage and worry.

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” she asks and frowns. “I’m talking to you.”

“I’m sorry”, you reply. “What did you say?”

“Can you open the oven?”

You get up from your chair and walks over to the oven, grabbing the handle.

“Be really careful”, Hedwig says. “It’s hot. Don’t burn yourself.”

You open the oven, but your hand lingers for too long, burning the side of it. You shriek and jump back, clutching it with your other hand.

“Oh, my Gosh, Y/N!” Hedwig exclaims and rushes the pie into the oven. “I told you to be careful!”

She closes the oven and hurries to wash your hand under a stream of cold water.

“What is with you today?” she asks worriedly. “You’re not yourself.”

“I’m just tired”, you lie.

“Is that all? Really?”

“And my head hurts. I told you.”

“Y/N-”

“I just need to rest.”

Hedwig sighs and pulls you with her to the bathroom where you’re sat down on the toilet seat while she looks for bandaids. You feel oh, so guilty. Hedwig takes care of your hand and gives it a soft kiss. She looks you in the eye in a way that makes your stomach twist. You want to tell her about her friend, but you can’t predict the outcome.

“You would tell me if there was something going on … wouldn’t you?” she asks slowly.

You can’t bring yourself to answer. If you open your mouth, your voice will fail you. Instead, you choke back your words and give her a small nod. It looks like she wants to say something, tell you that she doesn’t believe you, but keeps quiet.

She curls up closely in your arms that night. If you try to remove your arms, she’s quick to pull them back, as if she’s assuring herself that you’re still here — with her. She’s always curled up in your arms at night, with her head on your chest, but tonight her embrace feels even tighter.

The days go by. Noelle seem to pop up whenever you’re alone, which has made you stay closer to Hedwig than usual. She doesn’t seem to mind it. She holds your hand while talking to someone else, nuzzles up in class, always keeping close. But she looks at you in a way you can’t understand, as if she’s waiting for you to say something, impatient yet scared of what’s to come.

And one day, when you’re walking to the bathroom, you hear her voice again.

“Stop ignoring me”, Noelle says angrily.

You turn around to look at her and gulp. Why do you feel so small? Why does she scare you?

“I’m not ignoring you”, you say exhaustedly. “I just don’t want to talk to you. We have nothing to discuss. Why do you keep on insisting?”

“Because I know that I’m a much better girlfriend than Hedwig could ever be. I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Okay? But I don’t want you-”

“You don’t seem happy with Hedwig anyway.”

You flinch. “That has nothing to do with you, so please just let it be. I want to be left alone. Things will be weird in the group if you continue with this.”

“I'm not the one making it weird, if you just accepted to talk with me then-”

“You don't want to talk about anything, though? You just want me to break up with Hedwig! I’m going back now. Move”

Suddenly everything feels too fast. Noelle grabs you and pushes you up against the wall. You yelp and try to push her off, but her cheerleading activities have built her muscles that overpower you. For a moment, you’re absolutely terrified. Before she has the chance to do anything, however, she's ripped off of you and thrown to the side. Shocked, you look to the side, seeing your girlfriend walk in front of you — which, if anything, makes you even more shocked. You have never been happier for Hedwig’s clingy behavior.

“No, get your fucking hands off of them!” she exclaims jarringly and gives Noelle a harsh push to make sure that she gets farther away from you. “Back off! Are you out of your mind?! Who do you think you are, touching my boyfriend/girlfriend? Absolutely insane! Have you no fucking manners?”

She takes up her phone in her shaking hands, about to call her father.

“I regret ever befriending you, oh my God”, she spits. “I will make sure you pay for this-”

“No, wait, Hedwig”, Noelle pleads, suddenly pathetically aware of what she’s done. “I'm sorry.”

“Oh, so now you’re sorry, huh?” She looks up from her phone, shooting lightening at the other girl. “Not when you texted my girlfriend/boyfriend behind my back? Or when you demanded them to break up with me? But now that you’re caught you’re sorry?! You absolute scum.”

She had seen the messages? You lower your eyes, feeling that horrible shame creep back.

“I don’t ever want to see you near them again”, Hedwig spits. “Trust me, I will let everyone know what you’ve tried to do. Believe me.”

“I won’t do it again”, Noelle says quickly. “Hedwig, please, come on-”

Hedwig grabs your hand tightly and pushes past her.

“Move”, she demands darkly and drags you out into the sunlight.

Hedwig doesn’t let you go until she has pulled you far away from all the other students, until you’re hiding by the canteen delivery entrance. Hedwig is shaking from head to toe, her hands trembling too much to navigate her phone. She sobs harshly, tapping the screen violently until she throws it against the ground with a scream. You flinch.

“H-Hedwig …”, you say hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”

Hedwig’s eyes dart at you in disbelief, offended that you even thought that any of this oculd be your fault.

“N-No, Y/N-”, she sobs, choking on her own tears. She grabs your hands before rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“How did you … know?”

Hedwig wipes her runny nose with the sleeve of her school uniform and hiccups through sobs. “W-When you were sleeping I went into your phone, because I thought that you were acting strange and—and I saw her messages. And when I saw that she went after you to the bathroom I had a feeling that she would—would do something. I’m going to make her pay. I’m going to ruin her life.”

“Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

Hedwig shakes her head firmly. She hugs you tightly, hiding her face into your shoulder. You’re unsure what to do, but eventually place your arms around her.

“I w-want to go home”, she sobs. “I don’t feel well.”

And you do.

Hedwig sits down on her bed, clutching her phone in her hand. You can’t catch her attention, even though you try to call out her name.

“Hedwig, what are you doing?” you ask for the fifth time.

Finally, she looks up from her phone.

“I’m telling everyone in the groupchat”, she says. “I promised that everyone will know what Noelle did.”

With Hedwig’s contacts, soon the entire school will know, you think.

“She made a mistake”, you say. “A very idiotic mistake, but is it really worth this?”

“She was a friend”, Hedwig spat. “She knows very well that you and I are dating and she decides to just … disregard that? No, she deserves it all.”

You can feel the air in the room get switched with something poisonous. You can’t breathe.

“I think I should go home”, you say and get up from the armchair.

Hedwig’s head flinches up towards you.

“No!” she gasps. “Please don’t go!”

She lets go of the phone, sprints up from the bed and hugs you.

“Please stay”, she begs weakly. “Please.”

“I can’t take more of this silence.”

“I-I’ll put on a movie! You can watch whatever you want, just please stay here. Don’t go.”

You’re soon cuddled up in bed with Hedwig having her arms around yours, still tapping away on her phone in silence.

The very next day when you come to school, everything seem to have changed. People are looking at the two of you and you can tell, by the pitiful looks in their eyes, that they know what happened yesterday. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you feel like you’re in the wrong and that everyone else think so too.

You meet up with Hedwig’s friend group who immediately tells her how they've always thought that there was something off with Noelle and how disgusting she is. Yesterday, they all loved her. And suddenly they have felt off about her for so long? You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

You look at Hedwig in disbelief. Do you hear this?

Her eyes twitched. Oh yeah.

Her grip on your hand tightens.

While you’re talking, you see how Noelle enters the school yard. She has dark circles under her eyes and looks … small. You almost feel bad for her. The group gives her nasty looks.

You don’t see the small ‘I-told-you-so’ smile on Hedwig’s face. She drinks it all in, sunbathes in her misery. But it’s not enough. She has humiliated her in front of the entire school and ruined her reputation … but it’s not enough. The sight of her makes Hedwig’s blood boil. She wants her gone, removed out of her sight. Wants her dead.

She had promised herself not to do it again, but she can’t let Noelle come and go like this. What if she somehow manages to fix her life and reputation? What if she starts a new school and no one knows about what she’s done and starts to like her? She has to disappear.

Hedwig looks at you and sighs. You are worth it.

“I have to go to the bathroom”, she whispers. “Can you come with me?”

You nod. While Hedwig goes into the bathroom, she takes up her phone and calls the number she has hidden away behind a contact name called ‘Abbe’s Bakery’. She holds the phone to her ear. But this contact is neither named Abbe or owns a bakery.

“Hedwig, it was a long time ago”, a male voice says on the other side of the line. “Why do you suddenly need me again?”

“My relationship is threatened again”, she says in a hushed tone. “I need to get rid of the threat. You have to help me.”

“Sure, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to burn her in.”

That night when you’re sleeping soundly beside her, she crawls out of bed, making sure not to wake you. Oh, God, if she wakes you … she wouldn't forgive herself. You look absolutely gorgeous when sleeping. No soul in the world is allowed to disturb your peaceful slumber. Hedwig wants nothing more than to cuddle up beside you, hold you tightly in her arms and drift away to another dimension, but she has to make sure the girl pays for what she did.

“I'll be back soon”, Hedwig whispers, knowing full well that you can't hear her. “I will make sure nothing ever happens to you. You will never have to worry as long as I am here.”

She kisses your forehead as softly as she possibly can to not wake you up. She tucks you in and sneaks out of her room. Her heart swells with adoration for you. It only makes her more certain. She has to do this — for you. For your safety. And for her own sanity.

Hedwig wears a black hoodie, pulls the hood over her head and makes sure that none of her hair will be visible and quietly makes her way out of the mansion and runs past the gates. She doesn't take a car or scooter, scared that any security cameras in the city will catch her registration. She runs through the night, not wanting to miss the show. The only thing keeping her company is the sound of her own breathing and her shoes hitting the asphalt underneath her.

She arrives just in time. Red, yellow and orange flames has started to lick at the house on the other side of the road and is quickly embracing it. The flames climb higher, reaching for the moon. Hedwig can hear screams from inside, hears glass being broken … and all she does is smile. She revels in the sight.

You deserve it, Hedwig thinks. You should never have tried to take my partner from me.

She decides to leave before neighbors and firefighters start to come running. It’s with a smile that Hedwig returns to her room and takes you in her arms. You whimper in your sleep and she’s quick to hush and stroke your hair.

“Don’t wake up, it’s okay”, she whispers and kisses your cheek. “Everything is okay now, you’re safe. You’re okay.”

She smiles widely. Everything is okay now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #female yandere #yandere rich girl

620 notes · View notes

alittlebitofloveliness · 2 months ago

Text

This might be a hot take but I’m fully convinced that if Ponyboy got injured in the church fire and died in Johnny’s place, that Johnny would still die because he’d be the member of the gang that wouldn’t be able to handle it

I used to think it would be Darry or Soda- and sure, they’d be absolutely devastated. They’d never be the same. But the Curtis boys know loss, they lost both their parents at once and not only survived but bounced back in a relatively short period of time. Losing Pony would be worse and it would take them far longer to move past it, but Soda and Darry have each other and they would survive it.

Johnny though, Johnny couldn’t.

We know what Johnny and Pony mean to one another. Whether you read them as platonic or romantic or a secret third thing there is no denying they are each others person, unquestioningly and irrevocably. We see in the book how depressed Ponyboy is after Johnny’s death, delusional and then nearly catatonic with grief, and he has his brothers and the remainder of the gang watching over him like a hawk. Their support and presence is absolutely constant for a reason, even if Ponyboy’s suicide watch is largely subtextual and glossed over in a few short paragraphs.

Johnny doesn’t have brothers. He has the gang, that are family in all but blood, but Johnny has spent his life looking out for himself. He sleeps in the lot or couch surfs because no one else is going to find a spot for him, and because his own house isn’t safe. But Johnny is depressed. Ponyboy mentions how the greaser lifestyle and his parents’ warring is ‘killing Johnny’ rather than turning him cold and mean. Ponyboy also mentions that the gang is the only thing keeping Johnny from running away from Tulsa altogether, while Johnny literally voices his suicidal thoughts to Pony in the lot. Point is, Johnny’s mental state was already precarious before the events of the novel. Had he, Pony, and Dally all lived through the story Johnny would still struggle tremendously, probably even more than before. If Pony had died Johnny probably still would not have lived to the end of the book.

Johnny is incredibly protective of Ponyboy (even if Pony doesn’t realize it). Throughout the book we see him take charge whenever Ponyboy falls to pieces, comfort him when Ponyboy is feeling embarasssed after meeting Cherry, let Pony sleep on his legs even when Pony put them to sleep and they had to jump off a train. He was ready to run away with Pony no questions asked. He buys Pony a book and cigarettes when they’re on the run and don’t have a ton of money just to make the whole thing easier for Pony mentally. He literally stabs Bob to death for Pony. So imagine what would happen if Johnny went into that church with Pony and was unable to save him? If they were in that inferno and he saw the beam crash down and helped Dallas drag Pony’s limp body out and it still wasn’t enough? What do you think happens to an already seriously depressed kid when his person- the one person who always understood him without him having to say a word, a boy who was so naive, yet so wise and so desperately kind- dies? What do you think happens when Johnny can’t save the one person he desperately wanted to protect?

It’s simple. Johnny pulls a Dally, and Johnny dies. And then Dally dies too, because he can’t live without Johnny (if it had JUST been Pony who died, Dallas would survive. Dallas cared about Pony- I firmly believe that, but Pony’s death would not affect Dally the same way Johnny’s did. It wouldn’t affect him any LESS but it would affect him DIFFERENTLY- and would not result in his suicide for a myriad of reasons that deserve a whole post of their own.)

But yeah. Had Pony died from the church fire I think Johnny would have died too, and The Outsiders would end with four dead kids instead of three. It is a horrible, inevitable, preventable tragedy, and no matter what variable is changed it will always be a horrible, inevitable, preventable tragedy.

#The outsiders #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis

188 notes · View notes

san8ny · 4 months ago

Note

robber ellie falling in love with victim reader😭

Something.

?: tried experimenting with angst / Older!Divorced!Reader x Younger!Robber!Ellie / Bi!Reader

“and you decided on here of all places?” You ask for what seems like the hundredth time, cleaver in your hold waving in the air all too closely for Ellie’s liking.

“Fuck— yes, lady, like I said, I just get paid to do this shit.” She groans, struggling against the ropes you had her embraced in, “What kind of knots even are these?..”

“Now, i’ve never really had to use this up until now..”

She feels her eyes widen, color draining from her face at the implication, “Woah! H-hey, you wouldn’t need to. We can find a compromise—

“You tried stealing my father’s urn.

Ellie’s winces at the weight of your words, her soiled plan gone to waste, “I thought it was a regular vase.. but— but with that being said, I didn’t succeed so you don’t need to be so brutal! Eh?‘Whaddya say?”

You stare at her for a rather long time before taking the knife and inching it towards her,

Ellie’s entire body tenses up, teeth clenching and her eyes shutting to prep for her seemingly inevitable demise—

Instead, you lightly poke her chest with the knife experimentally, “You’ve got like, no boobs.”

“WHAT THE FUCK? O-oh my god, you’re a pervert..”

“You’re in my house.”

“THAT DOESN’T JUSTIFY IT!”

“Back on topic! Why my place?”

“Needed the cash, how else?” She spits, gaze still never meeting yours fully

“That bad?”

“Wouldn’t be robbing people if I didn’t, would I?” She snaps aggressively, though it was expected

“You know, you should be nicer to me.” You say, reaching over back for your knife threateningly. She seems to quiet down at that, relaxing her shoulders as she obediently nods,

“I think i’d rather you just call the police at this poin, lady..” Ellie whispers, not having the willpower to deal with your manical interrogations, “My dad is sick, alright? He’s on the verge of dying, and I need that money for his treatment. Content now?”

After a brief pause, you speak up,

“Tell you what, you give me proof of this.. and I might be graceful enough to do something for you.” You thumb her bangs, separating each strand to reveal the glistening beads of sweat that pool at her auburn hairline.

“Huh, why?” Her head raises at your all-too gracious proposal, what exactly were you playing at? Pay the person trying to rob you? It’s laughable.

“Well..” you tilt your head, “You’re interesting”

Eventually, you do let her go, informing her of an easier way out than she came in. However, a deep pit in her stomach tells her she’d had been safer with cops than with whatever you were.

The following week, she’s being put to absolute work once she’d validated her father’s bills with you— from scrubbing floors to literally helping you wash your hair in that stupidly huge bathtub you have— she wants to hate you. no, she does! She hates you with every fiber in her. So, why does she feel so strongly opposed to seeing you interact with your husband everytime he’s back from his job? Maybe she hates him too? Yeah, that must be! Ellie hates everything to do with you by proxy, including your husband.

“Have you ever considered marriage, Eleanor?” You ask out of the blue, politely cutting your steak as you two sit across from each other at the dinner table, your husband not being present, per usual, not like he ever is. “My name is Ellie, not..whatever that is.”

You grin at her response, “Aren’t you too old to be going by a nickname though? Especially one as infantile as Ellie? It sounds like a pet-name if i’m being honest.”

She feels a vein threatening to pop as she points her fork at you, “Well, it’s my name so either call me it or not.”

There it is. The way you stare at her even when she’s slightly out of line. It’s a mixture of both amusement and surprise. Like she was some sort of entertainment for you.

“Ellie it is.” You softly say, smiling as you chew your food.

She hates the way it rolls off your tongue smoothly, no sign of condescension in it despite your previous words.

She hates how she feels something else stirring other than supposed hatred.

The other time she’s noticed this odd-feeling of hers rear it’s ugly head, was when you two had visited a bath-house, you stripping with ease as you walk the small steps they have before relaxing into the steamy water. Ellie stands there awkwardly, watching as you let your hair-bun down, all stress exiting your body once the sensations of the water settle around you.

“Well, aren’t you joining me, Ellie?”

She bites her bottom lip in an anxious fashion, almost fighting herself whether or not she’d let herself get that close to you. Regardless, one overpowers the other so she, like you, quickly sheds her clothing, stepping into the pool experimentally, however, she maintains a moderate space inbetween you two, careful not to ever let her body even touch a bristle of hair on yours.

Facing across from you, she studies the way your eyes are closed, soft crows feet at the corners— you were only 31 as she learnt, and already seemed so tired of the life you lived, having to run an entire estate while your— fuck, she couldn’t even recall his name— husband, ran business elsewhere. Ellie saw and took care of you more than she’d ever seen him done. I mean, what did you even see in him— ..what is she saying?

At the realization, she turns her gaze away from your face, eyes instead busying themselves with the small ripples the water makes.

“You never answered my answer.”

She doesn’t seem to want to avert her gaze from the water just yet, but speaks, “I don’t answer alot of the questions you ask if you haven’t noticed.”

“So will you answer one if I ask now?”

“Why should I?” She scoffs at your bluntness, if she didn’t want to answer a question, it’s not like you’d force it out of her.

“I see.” You say, before standing up to dry yourself off with a towel. At this, Ellie seems alarmed. What happened? Why’d you leave so suddenly? Why— why does she seem to care recently more than she’d like?

A reasonable amount of time had passed since the bathhouse, and you seemed to forget about it reasonably quicker. Almost immediately, actually. Currently, you were hauled up in your study while Ellie sweeped the hallway flooring. Upon arrival to your door, she’s met with a quick ‘I’d like to be alone, thank you!’ She rolls her eyes, knocking again. When ignored again, she opts for a 3rd time, before you open the door in irritation, “What— Oh, it’s you, Ellie! Hello!”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, can I come in? I have to tidy up this room before I can clock it for the night.” She says briefly, attempting to enter the room before you block her way with a nervous smile, “I don’t think this room is obligatory, you can just skip it and leave.”

“Uh, no, I’d like to it now rather than have it pile up tomorrow.”

“That’s really not necessary, I mean it, i’ll clean it even.” You try one last time of persuasion. However, this earns you a blank state and an occasional eye-twitch.

Sighing, you step to the side, “If you insist..”

Ellie looks around as you return to your desk, massaging your temples as you seem focused on a slight-stack of documents. I mean, she hadn’t seen you this stressed since the time you were told the oak-tree in the grand-garden had to be cut down because the neighbors were complaining about it obstructing sunlight to their meek vegtable plants. You went though with it, with the help of Ellie’s shoulder and a couple of shirts she had to run through each time you soaked them with your tears.

“I thought you said you had an accountant for taxing?” she asks, dusting the bookshelves, “I do,” You say, biting the cap of your pen as you twirl yourself in the swivel-chair, “these are divorce papers.”

It’s almost like time itself stops when those words dawn on Ellie. You’re..divorcing whatshisname? It’s like a fever dream. Almost surreal. Sure, you two never seemed all that in-love but you had your moments like when you’d kiss his cheek before he departs for whatever country he had shit to do in, I mean, that’s..romantic, right?

“12 years i’ll never get back down the drain. This, is why I ask you if you’d ever marry. Could you ever dedicate your life to another for it to be wasted like this?” You snap your fingers to signify time, bitterly laughing at Ellie’s solemn expression, “Don’t look at me like that, I liked you better than the others because we mutually agreed not to pity eachother.”

There it is, that feeling she faces when these moments spring up on her.

It’s not pity, it’s more like understanding where you’re coming from— but that’d be sympathy. Ellie doesn’t feel quite sympathetic about it, I mean, rich people don’t exactly feel that anyways but, she wants you to be the exception. You’re not like whatever the bunch are. You don’t frequent country clubs and you don’t go seeking elaborate affairs to spice your life. You’re an unsatisfied woman.

“I was young, you know? When my family heard of the marriage, they immediately called me mentally unwell— his family? Even worse. Guess what they immediately came to as reasoning? Witchcraft. It’s comical, isn’t? Me using spells to make a man of all things want me. If I did that, i’d be with Christian Bale, I tell ‘ya! I should’ve taken my signs then when he wouldn’t defend me, but I chalked it up to his fear of confrontation. ” You share, sipping your tea, “Older Men do nothing but leech off your youth. Don’t be like me, Ellie.”

“I won’t.” She finally says, though her throat tightens up, making her voice extra quivery rather than the assertion she was going for.

“Oh dear, don’t tell me my cautionary tale scared you?”

“No! No! It didn’t. I was just wondering, does your rule .. also apply to women?”

A brow is raised in response to the question, “I’d say so, though it’s a more common practice among that accursed other gender.” You kid, smiling. Ellie’s lips slightly pull into their own smile, her worrying expression now relaxing when she thinks you hadn’t caught onto her words yet.

“Do you like older women?”

At that question, Ellie feels the embarrassment return double the amount, slightly ruffling her short hair as she feels the hotness reach her cheeks, “I’m indifferent.”

Ah.

You look out the window before looking at your ring, “I don’t suppose your answer is supposed to imply dual-affection?”

She sighs, continuing to sweep, “I only like women, miss.”

…

“I suppose a women as a lover would be nice.”

Ellie’s heart races at this, is..this an opening? What exactly were you trying to do by saying this?

“Have you ever been with one, Ellie?” You tease lightly

Oh, how she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

After a brief pausing to catch both her breath and recollection of thoughts “..No, ma’am.”

“Want me to be your first?”

How this turnt into many illustrious nights with Ellie warming your the bed had become something both of you couldn’t come with an answer for other transactional sex.

How scandalous would this be if it got out? A well known older, recent divorcee seeking comfort in the arms of her 20 something year old house-hand. It would only intensify rumors, not that you ever cared, but..

“I won’t let you ruin yourself.” You softly whisper, sweeping a light tucking of hair behind her ear, “You’re too sweet for your own good, Ellie..”

That night, while Ellie slumbers, you pull together her seemingly last paycheck, wads of cash together into an envelope that could easily total above 20,000 as you place them near her pillow.

When she does awake, she’s brought to the empty idea of you, slot next to her feeling cold and empty. Where did you go?

Instead of a verbal answer, she’s given one in the form of payment and a brief letter:

‘Will be enough for your father’s bill. Collect your stuff at once and leave.’

Even when she does leave— she says nothing, catching a glimpse of you sat on the stump of the old oak-tree in what seems to be deep thought.

As per usual, Ellie’s last to saying everything

“Anyone could have seen she wasn’t in the right of mind.” The elderly ladies exchange amongst themselves, “I just didn’t expect it to be in such bad taste. Nobody is going to buy that home.’

Ellie’s fingertips brush against the ‘SELLING HOME’ sign they’ve posted up, the other 20 she’s ran off with clearly not stopping the process of this house being sold.

How long has it been since you left her behind again?

#the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #wlw #tlou angst #the last of us 2 fanfic #ellie williams x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou 2

214 notes · View notes

tsukisrants · 6 months ago

Text

TIME TO WORK

Park Seonghwa x Reader

Warnings: Rough sex, Name calling, Slut shaming, Sex in exchange of money, Kind of Hate Sex?, Spit, Anal play, Choking, Dom/sub undertones, Humiliation, Degradation, Slapping, Spanking, Creampie!!, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough Oral Sex…,

Word Count: 9.268

“You’re in a desperate need for a job, and you go and ask for help to Park Seonghwa, one of the richest men in the country. Thing his, you broke his heart years ago: now he wants payback.”

————————smut under the cut ————————

Waiting has never been a problem for you.

Not once, expect for now.

See, you’re pretty prideful of your patience and of the way you can handle situations when experiencing stress.

Now? You look like a damn fool.

You’re not even sure you can actually recognize yourself, if you were to be completely honest.

Standing in front of that door, desperate and pathetic.

Your arms are shaking, your hands feel cold and weak.

If you were to grab a butterfly, the little thing would probably laugh at you and bite you.  And we all know butterflies don’t actually bite.

Do they?

You have no idea.

Right now, your only thought is: will I be able to make it?

Will I look like an idiot in front of him?

Will he laugh at me?

Will I like it?

“Miss? Miss…?”

What? What?

You turn you head and you see the girl: confused eyes, hair tied up neatly and arms busy carrying so many papers.

“Oh- Hi… I booked an appointment a while ago? I think one of your colleagues let me in, I’m Y/N…”, you stutter, clearing your throat as you try to get out of your own head and focus on the situation that you inevitably have to deal with.

“Right! Yes, of course”, says the girl. She smiles, but it’s fake. A smile made out of obligation, out of compassion. It’s her job, nothing more. She doesn’t care about you: just like you don’t care about her.

She’s just a mean to an end, and she knows it.

“Please, follow me, dear. Mr Park is ready to meet you”, she adds, waving her hands towards the door, suggesting you to use those useless limbs of yours and start to move.

You like this girl: she looks perfect in her role.

She doesn’t give a fuck about anything, and she makes you feel at ease, somehow.

She has no idea why you’re here, but in her eyes, her bored eyes, you sense that she feels pity for the dumb girl standing in front of the door of one of the most powerful men in South Korea.

The door is closer.

You’re walking and you don’t even notice it until it’s too late not to.

The door handle is shiny, glistening under the lights.

You want to scream at it.

To rip it off the door and run away: that thing probably would cover your rent cost for the whole month if you sold it.

“Mr Park, your appointment is here”, you hear.

You’re gonna faint.

You so are gonna faint.

You don’t.

You don’t how you manage not to, but the only thing that matters is that you didn’t.

There’s really no need for any other reasons for you to feel like an idiot right now.

The ones you have are already more than enough.

“Let them in, thank you.”

Ok, now you’ll faint.

No way.

It’s been a while since you last heard his voice, but it changed so much whilst remaining so… warm. So him.

You take a deep breath, because now the door isn’t just closer: it’s open.

Fist thing you notice?

The smell.

Or, well, the richness of it.

With all your senses you only are able to perceive one thing: power.

Power and money.

The door closes behind you.

The girl not by your side anymore.

You’re alone now.

But not really, because when you finally raise your head you’re finally able to see him.

Park Seonghwa.

The man everyone either wants, or wants to be.

The man you’ve had, if only for a few months, back when you both were stupid teens.

The same man that is now looking at you, staring you down with that piercing gaze of his.

It’s hard for you to open your mouth and speak up, but you know that you have to, and quickly.

It’s hard, when you have Korea’s wet dream right in front of you.

“H-Hi”, you say.

Which is actually pretty pathetic, especially considering the way your voice shakes and the fact that you should be at least attempting some sort of professionalism given the circumstances.

Well, at least it makes him laugh.

Which means that yes, he recognized you.  

And yes, you actually don’t mind being laughed at.

You don’t know if it’s a thing for you or just the fact that you don’t mind it if he’s the one laughing, which in your opinion would be fair.

“Hello, Y/N. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?”

Well, fuck.

First thing first, he said your name: and he made it sound like the nastiest thing in the world.

Or maybe you’re just a slut, you can’t really decide.

Whatever.

And the sarcasm.

He’s still mad at you, just like you expected.

You did disappear from his life with no explanation and flew to another country whilst in a relationship with him, after all.

In your defence, you were a dumb kid: you were younger than he was and desperately in love with him. Saying goodbye would have killed you, so you made the most childish and selfish decision ever: you just went away.

One day you guys were holding hands and making plans, and the day after you were just… gone.

You had to leave everything behind cause your mom and dad divorced, and you mother couldn’t bare to keep on living in the same country as the man that ruined her life.

So you followed her, and you two moved on together.

 You forgot all about perfect Park Seonghwa, or that’s what you like to tell yourself.

Because if you really had forgotten all about the man, you wouldn’t be standing in his office ready to humiliate yourself.

“W-well… you see, I’m… I thought that maybe…”, words keep on falling from your lips, now all bitten from the nervousness you had to endure waiting for this moment.

Seonghwa isn’t impressed.

He takes his hands out of the pockets of his slacks, only to bring them to his chest. He crosses his arms and slightly tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised and a judgment mixed with a not so well hidden amusement written all over his face.

“Y-You t-thought what, exactly?”

Ok, you didn’t expect that.

Mocking you already?

A sign, that’s what this is. A sign that you should turn your heels and fucking run as far as possible from this man.

He looks possessed.

He looks so mean, despite his ethereal beauty.

Obviously, you don’t run.

You wouldn’t be here in the first place if you had any self preservation or respect.

“M’sorry, Hwa, I really am. I know I’ve been”, you try to say, but he cuts you off.

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Who’s Hwa? It’s Mr Park to you”, he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Like you’re a stupid fucking idiot just cause you thought you could refer to him like you used to.

“Sir, if I’m feeling kind and if you’ve earned it”, he adds, dropping himself on his pompous chair.

His legs are slightly spread: not enough to be vulgar, but just right. To show dominance, and to make you see that he really owns this place.

Not like you had any doubts, but whatever.

It’s not like you mind it anyways.

You wish you had any smart come-back for his tone, but you don’t.

And, well, you’re in no position to be a jerk: you came here to beg, after all.

“M-Mr Park…” you start, and he chuckles.

“That’s more like it”, he comments, and you don’t miss the way his tongue goes to wet those sinful lips of his.

You follow every single one of his movements, as if you’re trying to study them, as if staring at him could help you achieve your goals.

Only thing is helping you achieve is getting wet in front of your ex-boyfriend, but that’s not the point.

“I know I have no right to come here and ask you for help, but-“, you take a deep breath, “I- I lost my job and I’m alone and I have rent and bills and I’m behind with my payments… if I don’t hand the money to my landlord tonight they’re gonna kick me out and��”

He looks surprised, amused, confused and much more.

You, well… you look humiliated, that’s for sure.

But you knew it was bound to happen, and you’d rather beg for mercy than sleep under a bridge or who knows where else.

“And you’re telling me this because…” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer to that.

He’s enjoying this just like you expected.

“C-cause I thought t-that maybe you could help, l-like what’s some money to you, anyways? And you and I, we have a past, you’d be helping an old friend?”

You’re so shameless, it’s disgusting.

But, desperate times call for desperate way, or something like that.

You just know that you need the money, and you need them now.

He laughs, out loud. Shaking his head and muttering about how absurd this whole situation is, as if you don’t know it already. But whatever:

“I’ll pay you back, of course. Just… give me some time and I promise, Hw- Mr Park, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

He gets up.

He looks mean, and his face hides something.

He looks huge, and you stand in place, frozen.

You’re breathing heavily, and you notice that your hands are shaking.

Your legs, too.

Cold sweat is running down your spine, and you feel lost.

He gets closer.

He’s so beautiful, and he gets more handsome with every step he takes towards your trembling figure.

“Money is nothing to me, you’re right. But you really think that, after everything you did to me, I’m just gonna pay your debts? After humiliating me like that, breaking my heart? Are you really that much of a shameless bitch, Y/N?”

His voice is sharp, and his words hit you like daggers.

But, to be honest, you were waiting for them to come. You knew they were.

That doesn’t make them less hurtful.

Seonghwa is right in front of you, and to look at him in the eyes you have to slightly tilt your head, cause he’s so much taller than you now.

He smells rich, and warm. Different than he used to, more mature.

He’s a man now, that much is very clear to you.

His proximity makes you even more nervous, but at the same time the familiarity of it gives you some confidence.

“I-I’m sorry, I swear I am”, you murmur, and you notice that tears are starting to fill your eyes.

He looks pleased at the sight of it, and your belly tightens at the implications of him being engaged in your suffering.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” he repeats after you, chuckling as tears spill from your eyes, crossing your reddening cheeks.

“You want my money, Y/N? You want a bed and a roof on your head?”, he asks, and one of his hands unexpectedly comes up to your face, gently caressing it.

His touch is light and delicate, but you still feel shivers run through your body.

You nod desperately, murmuring a “yes, please” that he barely hears.

“Then you‘ll have to earn it”, he says.

His face is unreadable, but you can’t believe that, despite everything, he’d be willing to help. You feel so happy you could die, and you’re ready to do anything in order to save yourself from the streets.

“I will! I have my degree and I’ll be more than happy to-“, he stops you, and you frown.

From his expression it seems like he’s ready to make fun of you.

“A degree?”, he asks, and you nod, ready to explain yourself, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“You don’t need a degree to suck my dick, Y/N.”

The world is silent.

Your blood is too loud. You feel your heartbeat and his, you feel everything and nothing at the same time.

You’re confused, but not a single word comes out your mouth.

After that, he doesn’t say a word. He just goes a few steps back and leans against his desk.

His legs are open, and you see the bulge of his cock that’s clearly starting to get hard.

You don’t move, you just try to get your brain to function.

What does this mean? Is he serious?

He must be joking, right?

But he isn’t, and you know it: this is payback.

It was going too well, to smoothly.

And now, after all these years, he’s finally granted the chance to humiliate you and destroy you the way you did to him.

The thing is: you need the money. You really do, and you did say that you’d do anything to get it.

But this? This means whoring yourself out.

This means becoming a slut, and nothing more.

With this thought in mind, you move your first steps: not towards the door, to run as fast as possible away from him, but towards his imposing figure.

He laughs, almost as if he doesn’t actually believe what’s happening in front of him.

“You have no shame, do you? Are you really this pathetic?”

As you fall on your knees in front of him, you can’t do anything but agree with his words

He mutters a few curses, and you take the deepest breath ever known to man.

Then, you look up, and are met with the bulge of his cock, tight inside his expensive slacks.

“What a fucking slut”, he says, before moving his arms and grabbing you by the hair.

He forces your face against his crotch, and you almost fall: you find yourself grabbing his thighs in order not to.

He’s rough, and nothing like the gentle Seonghwa you knew and loved as a teenager: the one that would touch you as if you’d break, like you were a delicate flower.

You don’t really miss him.

“Wish I could call everyone from school to let them know that you’re sucking my dick for money, that you’re a worthless slut that would take dick for a few bucks”, he says, pushing his hips against your face, rubbing his clothed cock over it.

The smell of it is intense, and the weight of it scares you: it’s huge, you can tell. So fucking big that it’s not fair.

Your mind is racing, your heart is pounding, and you can feel the tears streaming down your face as you realize the depth of your desperation. But you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. You’re ready to do whatever it takes to get the money you need.

As you lean forward, ready to fulfill his demands, a voice in your head screams at you to stop.

This isn't right. This isn't who you are.

But the fear of being homeless, of losing everything, pushes you forward.

That fear, and that humiliation, they also make you wetter than you’ve ever been before.

Shame burns into your chest, flames running through your veins.

“Bet you’d suck their cocks, too, wouldn’t you?”

His words sting in the most delicious way, and you find yourself purring against the big cock in front of your face.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks again, grabbing your hair and forcing your face slightly upwards, enough to have your gazes meet.

It’s exhilarating to say the least, this feeling of shame and submission that is swimming through your shaking body.

“Y-yours, want- want your cock, not- only yours,” you mumble, your brain barely functioning at this point as you’re way too inebriated by the arousal building inside you.

He seems pleased, very much so. His tongue rapidly escapes his mouth and you watch, enchanted, as it wets his juicy lips.

I find yourself staring and wishing that tongue could be inside your pussy, forcing it open as more fluid escapes from it, leaving your panties wet and humid.

“Then take it out and get to work. Time is money, isn’t it? Don’t you wanna earn more?” he chuckles, moving around his seat.

You see him bend over a little and soon after that he takes his wallet, pulling out a shiny banknote.

You watch cautiously as he waves it in front of your face, and the image that appears before your eyes is one of the most humiliating and exciting you have ever seen.

You startle when, unexpectedly, he drops it against your helpless body.

The banknote brushes against your face before falling on your thighs, and this only motivates you to do better, to show him how much you are worth.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper, finally getting to work and working his pants. You unfasten his belt, the sound loud and steady as your breathing increases and gets heavier.

It takes some effort, but you actually manage to take his pants down his thighs and have them reach the floor along with his boxer briefs.

They pool obscenely at his ankles, and he makes himself comfortable on his expensive chair, spreading his legs wider and wider.

You find the courage to look up at his cock, and the sight of it is enough to pull a moan from you, one that leaves you even more ashamed of yourself.

“So big,” you mutter out, pressing your own legs together from when your kneeling to find some release, to soothe the burning need to be filled up that’s been rushing through your body.

Your pussy clenches around nothing and it’s pathetic, because he hasn’t even touched you once.

Guess you’re just that much of a slut, after all.

“Yeah? You like it, slut? You like this big cock?” he asks, pushing his hips upwards and making said cock move in front of your face.

It’s thick, long, and so, so hard.

The tip of it is the prettiest shade of red and pink, and it’s glistening with his arousal.

Veins run through the length of it and you can see it pulse with the need to be shoved inside something.

That something is you.

Cause, after all, that’s your purpose here.

To be a hole for him to fuck into.

To be a thing, a nothing else. Nothing more than that.

“I love it, love your cock,” you whisper, reaching out to grab it at the base with your hands.

Seonghwa stops you, grabbing harshly at your wrists and forcing your body closer to his as you stumble forwards.

“No hands,” he orders, smiling maliciously.

“Lick it, start with my balls,” he orders, biting at his plump lower lip, his eyes shining with an intense darkness.

His words are, unsurprisingly, harsh and mean.

And, well, just as unsurprisingly, you find yourself loving them and enjoying the rush that they provide to you.

The air around you starts to get heavy and dense, and it’s almost like you can feel the weight of it as it presses down against your flushed skin.

Your blood is loud as it swims through your veins, and you hear beats fast, the sound of it reaching your ears.

His tone leaves out any possible refusal, so you just… obey.

It’s empowering, exhilarating.

It’s everything you’ve always craved without even knowing it.

Slowly, you lean over and breathe in, the powerful scent of his arousal hitting you and invading your senses, dominating your whole being.

The only thing that’s in your mind right now is the irresistible need of pleasing him and showing him that you’re worth his money, nothing else.

With that thought in mind, you finally get into work.

Your mouth salivating and wetting itself, you stick your tongue out and fulfill his wishes, lapping at his balls and nuzzling against the sensitive skin.

The groan he lets out vibrates through the room and sends shivers all the way down your spine.

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he pushes his hips forwards and works at his tie, untying it and proceeding then to open his nice dress shirt, button after button, showing inches of defined skin, muscles tensed with the way pleasure is circling around his body.

He’s rather magnificent, sitting in front of you and holding so much power, so much energy that it feels like the room is going to implode with it.

“Good girl,” he moans, forcing his hips upwards as you take them inside your mouth, the weight of his sack filling you up as you lick at it, feeling the skin and its texture against your tongue, moaning as your nose presses against the base of his dick, making it harder to breathe normally.

His words force a moan out of your mouth, too, and he notices it, chuckling softly through his low moans.

You feel something at your neck and notice soon enough that what’s now circling your throat isn’t is hand, no.

It’s his tie, forcing you closer to his balls and basically working as a fucking leash.

“Look at you, such an obedient little bitch, aren’t you?”

The way your hips stutter and wave doesn’t help, and you feel like a puppy wiggling their tail when presented with a treat.

“Bark,” he orders, allowing you to breathe and leaving your mouth empty, a trail of spit connection his balls, now shining and wet, with your parted, and roughed up lips.

You blush profoundly, your cheeks turning a crimson red as you consider his order.

Barking feels completely dehumanizing, and your hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed, not in the slightest.

Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, one of his eyebrows lifting up as he eyes you curiously, as if posing a challenge to you, daring you to try and refuse to follow one of his orders.

“It’s embarrassing…” you whisper, breathing heavily and trying to avoid looking at him in the eyes, failing at it when he tugs at the tie resting against your neck, making you get closer to the cock standing proudly in front of your face.

“Do I look like I fucking care?”

And soon enough, a bark is escaping your mouth, faint and barely audible.

It’s not enough, he says.

You bark again, loudly this time, shaking from where you’re kneeling and feeling the wetness between your legs get more difficult to ignore.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’d say you’re a natural,” he snarls, laughing at you as he looks down at your body.

Tears of utter humiliation fill your pleading eyes, and the sight of it makes Seonghwa groan deeply.

He grabs his own dick at the base, giving it a few pumps, before hitting you in the face with the tip, smearing his precum all over your flushed face.

One of the tears you were fighting back betray you, escaping your lashed and running down your cheek.

Seonghwa licks his lips and rubs the tip of his dick against it, wetting his cock with your tears only to start rubbing it against your lips, making you taste your humiliation along with his arousal.

It’s salty and sour and sweet altogether, and you already find yourself getting addicted to it, needing more and more and more.

So you get your tongue out, lapping at the shiny tip of his cock. You circle around the head, moaning at the feeling of warmth that spreads through your tongue.

“Tastes good,” you mutter out, licking fervently at his cock as he keeps on stroking himself, grunting from where he’s sitting.

You go even further than just staying there, licking at it, and you take his wrist into your hand and pull it off his own dick, surprising him with your determination.

Seonghwa lets you have some fun with it, allowing you to reach out to grab the length of his cock.

You have it in your hands, finally.

You stroke it once, twice, before bending over a little bit to push the head inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking gently at it to try and taste as much as possible of his delicious juice.

“Fuck,” he groans, using one of his hands to keep your hair out of your face, giving him space to look at your eyes as you get your mouth stuffed full of his thick cock.

You take your time, eager to savor every drop of his pleasure, to give yourself to him and make him satisfied like never before.

His cock slides between your parted lips with extreme ease, filling your mouth completely, giving you a sensation of fullness never felt before and leaving you inevitably curious to know how it would feel if he filled you up elsewhere too.

The reddened tip of his cock meets the back of your throat and choking sounds escape from your mouth, and when he hears them he just moans even more, louder than before.

He enjoys watching you struggle to take more in your mouth and it pushes you to relax your throat and let his big cock fill you completely, taking your breath away for a few seconds, and making spit fall from your lips and down your chin.

It’s so fucking messy and dirty and it makes your head spin with shame and arousal.

Your whole face is wet with a mixture of spit and tears and precum and you find yourself wanting and needing more of it.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, this is exactly what you were born for,” he groans, pushing his trembling hips upwards and forcing another choking sound out of you, at which he utters out a few curses.

“I’ll double the money I was gonna give you if you bend over the desk and let me fuck you raw in the pussy, what do you say? Want a new dress? Some fucking new shoes?” he asks, still rutting his hips against your face and forcing you to swallow his whole cock down your aching throat.

You should probably refuse. Sucking Seonghwa's cock is one thing, but this? This would mean going way beyond, and the thought sends your mind into complete turmoil.

He seems to have little patience, and that's why he roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls his hard cock out of your mouth, leaving you empty and gasping.

"So? I don't have all day, Y/n," he asks, running his own hand along his cock, wet and slick thanks to your saliva that’s now coating it and slapping you in the face with the red tip, making you hiss at the impact.

“I want- I want three times the money for that,” you say, challenging him to deny your request, to say no and refuse.

He doesn’t.

“Let’s do four, since I also want to play with your asshole,” he smiles, bending over towards you and patting at your cheek like one would do with a puppy.

You gasp and try to find something to snarl back at him, but nothing comes out of your mouth, nothing but a little whimper that only serves to make him feel even more powerful.

Seonghwa stands up, and you notice how he is more or less dressed: his pants fallen to his ankles along with his boxers, the jacket resting on the back of the chair, the expensive white shirt completely open, showing off his sculpted chest and the magnificence of his body, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Now that he is standing, Seonghwa looms even more over you, making your breath catch and your poor heart beat even faster.

Seonghwa grabs you by the hair, and the sudden movement forces you to stand up and follow his will.

"You're too dressed, what kind of slut are you?" he asks, grabbing the fabric of your blouse and pulling it slightly. In response, you bite your lip and decide to make amends, quickly unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall softly to the ground.

You're not wearing a bra, you never do.

The air hitting your nipples only makes them more turgid, and your skin is crossed by countless shivers.

He gasps at the sight of your exposed skin, and it makes you feel so good, to be looked at with such want, with pure and utter hunger and desire.

Seeing Seonghwa burning with the desire to possess you gives you a courage that you probably wouldn't have otherwise, so you push yourself further, unbuttoning your skirt and letting it fall forgotten at your feet.

Black lace panties adorn your body, and you feel the wet and soaked fabric rubbing against your most sensitive spot.

You are left only with the soft white knee-high socks and your shiny black loafers, standing in front of one of the richest and most powerful men in Korea.

“That’s more like it,” he chuckles, licking his lips and looking at you from head to toe, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“You’re so hot, Y/n. You made the right choice, coming here. This little body of yours was made to be fucked, and what better way to earn money than spread your legs and let me do just that, huh?” he murmurs, as one of his hands goes down to his cock. He strokes himself as he watches you, and it makes your skin burn, to be looked at in such a dirty, naughty manner.

His tie is still around your neck, the only garment covering you along with your panties and knee-high socks.

The black fabric is in perfect contrast with your skin, and even though the tie is very light, it feels immensely heavy where it rests.

"Fuck me," you whisper to Seonghwa, because you too are starting to feel extremely horny and in need of attention.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, and his hand collides with your cheek, making you turn your face to the side.

The blow wasn't overly strong, but still impactful. Enough to make you catch your breath for a second and to remind you who is in control here.

"Rude. Where are your manners?" Seonghwa asks, dangerously approaching you and grabbing your chin, squeezing the skin and forcing you to look at him.

"Please, I beg you, sir, fuck me," you whimper, now completely abandoned to him and totally under his control.

"Now, that's better," Seonghwa whispers, and shortly after he makes your lips collide in a quick and fierce kiss. He bites your lip, making you moan against his mouth, before pulling away from you.

"Good girl. You act all tough, but you just want someone to put you in your place, don't you? Want me to show you who’s in charge?"

His words are exactly what you were hoping for, and the wetness between your legs increasing only confirms thqt.

You nod. What would be the point in denying anything? Right. There’s no point, and you know it. He know is too, it’s pretty obvious. He’s always been able to read you, and this is the same. Years passed by, but deep down you guys still know each other.

Seonghwa, at your admission and your being so yielding, can only swell with pride and satisfaction.

He approaches you, and the world spins wildly: he grabs you by the hair, pulls you towards the desk, and forces you to bend over it, pushing your head against the polished and intensely scented mahogany of his desk.

You have your ass up, covered only by your panties.

You hear Seonghwa swear and soon one of his hands clashes with the sensitive skin of your butt, and he gives you a strong spank.

You flinch, gasp, and squirm, and he takes it as encouragement to hit you again: two, three, four times.

Now the mark of his hand lies on your skin, and you feel completely possessed and owned by Seonghwa.

"You have no idea how many times I've thought about you over the years. How many times I've thought about hurting you, having you all to myself even just once," Seonghwa confesses, running his hands over your ass, caressing you heavily.

His words are intoxicating.

"I've thought about you too, I swear, Seonghwa. Sir. I shouldn't have, but I did. I-I never forgot about you," you whisper, instinctively moving your hips upwards, trying to keep his hands on you for as long as possible.

You're not lying, you really mean what you said. Seonghwa has always been a constant in your life, it's undeniable. Your biggest regret and remorse. Your biggest and burning desire.

"Shut up, Y/n," Seonghwa commands, and you feel him grab the expensive fabric of your panties. A few seconds later, a loud noise fills the room.

He's torn them off, reduced them to shreds.

Pieces of fabric fall to your feet and your wet pussy is now completely exposed to him.

You feel drops of pleasure escaping from your trembling pussy and wetting your thighs, and you try to relieve the looming pressure by rubbing your legs together, but Seonghwa stops you.

He first grabs your hips, then your ass.

Seonghwa spreads your cheeks open, and you hear the air move as he bends down and spits on you.

He fucking spits on you.

His saliva runs down from your ass and to your pussy, adding wetness and naughtiness to the mixture.

He’s not satisfied, so he spits again, this time closer to your asshole.

You feel his breath against your sensitive skin and you find yourself holding your breath.

“This little hole, fuck, I wish I could just fuck it,” he groans, knowing damn well that he can’t just do that.

“N-Next time…” you utter out, wiggling your hips to try and meet his touch.

“You plan on coming here to get fucked more? Are you that greedy, you little whore?” he asks, laughing a little as he leans over you to just go and bite the skin of your ass, still covered by his handprint.

“S-so greedy, sir. I’ll come back whenever you want, do whatever you want,” you confess with a shaking voice, making Seonghwa laugh at you for how pathetic you are.

“You really have no shame. What a fucking slut,” he adds, before actually going silent.

What you feel next makes your eyes roll back and your hands reach out to the end of the desk to grab the wood and gain some support out of it.

His wet tongue is sliding against your little hole, wetting it more and more and making it pulse with the need to be filled up.

It’s a foreign feeling, to have someone eat your ass out like this, but Seonghwa seems like a starved man as he holds your cheeks open and dives in, licking and kissing and spitting and making your whole world turn upside down.

“Tastes good,” he groans, breath heavy and voice full of lust.

He pushes the tip of his tongue inside of your ass, and it makes you see stars.

Seonghwa fucks you with it, again and again, making slurping sounds.

One of his hands slides down and you feel one of his long, slender fingers rub against your wet hole.

“Just a finger, what do you say?” he murmurs, asking you for permission.

A permission you can’t help but grant him, nodding and murmuring a “please” that you’re not even sure was audible enough.

Seonghwa wastes no time, and soon his thumb makes its way into your tight and warm hole.

The sensation is unparalleled: you feel completely filled.

It doesn't matter that it's just a finger, you feel like you could explode at any moment.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, and loud moans escape from your lips.

Seonghwa also moans, as he fucks your asshole with his finger.

You are already lost in pleasure, and he has not even touched your pussy yet.

It makes you feel really dirty, really perverse.

You feel like an actual whore begging to be filled.

“So tight,” he comments, and you feel this cock being shoved against the back of your thighs, as he smears precum over your skin and rubs against your legs to get some relief to his aching dick.

“Please, I want your cock, sir. Fuck my pussy, please, please, H-Hwa…” you beg, trying to get him to finally push his dick inside of you, and you feel already close to the verge of tears with how desperate you are.

“Here it comes,” he murmurs, finally giving the both of you what you crave the most.

With your thumb still inside you, you feel Seonghwa moving behind you.

He grabs his cock at the base and brings the tip closer to you, rubbing it against the sensitive and wet skin of your pussy, against your lips, right between your juicy folds, and pushing against your swollen and red clitoris.

A moan escapes your lips, and you find yourself spreading your legs even wider and begging him to put his cock inside you once and for all.

Finally, Seonghwa rubs the swollen tip of his cock against your wet hole, teasing you for just a few seconds before pushing it inside your pussy.

In one hard thrust, Seonghwa buries his thick cock inside you, making you scream in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

You feel so full, with both of your holes filled by him, his cock pressing inside you and stretching you completely.

You don't even notice a drop of saliva escaping from your lips and running down your chin, and if you could see yourself, you too would think of yourself as a whore.

“Fuck, this pussy is so good,” groans Seonghwa, and you make the effort of turning your head to try and look at him as he fills you up.

His head is thrown back, his neck exposed and lucid with sweat, and he seems completely lost in pleasure as he starts to rut inside of your pussy, fucking you and making you his.

For the first moments, Seonghwa's thrusts are not calculated, but dictated by his need to feel something warm enveloping his cock.

He enjoys the moment and ignores your helpless body, seeking only his pleasure.

Seonghwa's cock slides easily into your body, your wet pussy emitting dirty and exciting sounds as it is filled by his cock.

You tremble under his thrusts, and soon Seonghwa accelerates the movements of his hips, sinking into you with more force and precision.

He fucks you like he would fuck a whore, pushing all the way into your pussy and moving his finger into your ass.

He is not completely satisfied, though.

That's why you see him bend over you, pushing his cock even deeper into your pussy. Seonghwa brings two fingers of the hand that is free to your lips, and pushes them into your mouth, filling you even there.

"Christ," he gasps, starting to move the fingers he pushed into your mouth.

"Look at yourself, Y/n. You have all your holes filled by me, you're getting fucked in each of these tight little holes for money," Seonghwa grunts, and as you feel the saliva escaping from your lips, you see his eyes getting darker, more intense.

He moans and gasps, fucking you with all the strength and passion he has in his body, moving his fingers inside you and fucking you without the slightest mercy.

“Make it worth it, clench this pussy on me, huh?” he moans, despite the fact that your pussy already is clenching and hugging his cock as tightly as humanly possible.

You feel every movement of his inside you. Your skin and his rubbing together, his cock caressing the most intimate and deepest parts of you, sending electric shocks to run through every inch of your body and his as well.

Seonghwa's legs tremble as he sinks into you, fucking your mouth with his fingers and forcing you to choke on them, making you cough and then making your holes contract around him consequently. The rough and forceful way in which he is fucking you forces your body to move against the desk, and your wet and needy clitoris rubs against the cold and shiny wood of the desk.

Your nipples in contact with the mahogany stimulate you in the most delicious way possible, and you are completely intoxicated by the pleasure that grows rapidly inside you.

Your orgasm is getting closer and closer, and the feeling of being completely at the mercy of his desires only increases the strength of your pleasure.

Seonghwa towers over you, filling you everywhere, and could do anything to you: you wouldn't object, you wouldn't refuse anything. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked for and more.

Everything.

Not for the money, for him.

You don't tell him, that's for sure. But you think it.

Seonghwa is the only thing on your mind, not your rent to pay or your empty pockets.

Only: Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Seonghwa.

“Yeah, say my name. Fucking scream it,” he groans after he notices how you’re chanting his name in pleasure.

He takes his fingers off your mouth, giving you all the freedom to moan his name.

He forces you to scream, fucking you more harshly, a hand grabbing your hair and pulling at it enough for you to arise from the desk and for you spine to bend and for him to reach you and kiss your neck.

The position you’re in isn’t the most comfortable, but it sure as hell is exiting.

Seonghwa kisses your neck and bites at it, sucking the sensitive skin long enough to leave a plethora of marks behind.

Tomorrow you’ll be covered in his marks, you’ll look debouched and devastated and his.

His thumb leaves your ass empty and gaping, and now he’s completely focused on fucking your pretty aching pussy.

“Mine, Y/n. From now on you’re mine. You’ll get everything you want, but you have to be mine. My slut, my little cum dump,” he groans, licking all over your neck and sucking your ear lob in his mouth as he moans into your ear.

“Yes! Yes! M’yours, I-I’ll let you do anything, a-anything,” you moan, feeling floaty and lost, shaking and pushing your hips backwards to meet his trusts.

“I’m close, so close,” you confess, hiccuping between your helpless moans.

Seonghwa growls, and he fucks into you one last time before taking his cock out of your pussy and taking a step back.

You whine and complain, begging him to put it back in, to just do something.

“I want to see your face when you cum. I want to look into your eyes as I cream that pussy,” he explains, grabbing you by the hips and manhandling you in the position he prefers.

You’re sitting on the desk, you legs spread open and you pussy glistening with a mixture of your juices and his, all puffy and needy as your hole clenches around nothing.

“Ask me for it. Beg for my cock,” he says, voice mean as he touches his cock and teases his balls.

You have no dignity left at this point, so you don’t hesitate and do just as he asked you to.

“Please, sir, I need it. My pussy needs it, please, please,” you cry out, tears actually falling from your pretty eyes as you decide to tease him and tempt him a little bit.

One of your hands slides down your body, and you rub at one of your nipples, pinching it and feeling the most delicious pain ever.

With the other hand you go down to rub fervently at your needy little clit, circling around it and playing with the most sensitive part yourself.

“Please? Pretty please? Give it to me, Hwa, I beg you, sir, fuck me,” you continue, hand trailing down your pussy as you spread your own folds for him, exposing yourself like never before.

Wet juices fall from your pussy and are close to pool on his desk, and the sight of it is completely nasty.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch what’s mine,” he growls, getting closer to you and slapping your own hands away from your own body.

He directs his cock to your pleading pussy and pushes back in, spreading you open once again.

The new angle touches the right spots, reaches exactly where you were craving his cock to hit, and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

One of his hands reaches your throat, and he just keeps it there. An heavy weight against your neck, the promise of the most beautiful threat.

Seonghwa looks at you with something hidden in his eyes, and a wicked smile shows on your face.

“Choke me,” you dare him, biting at your lower lip as moans force themselves out of your mouth.

“You fucking brat,” moans Seonghwa, and the hand around your throat tightens, and tightens, and tightens.

The sensation of air and oxygen being denied to you is exhilarating, it's wonderful. Seonghwa even controls this: he decides whether to let you breathe or not. The thought makes your head spin and only increases the pleasure that floods your body.

Seonghwa's hand tightens again and again around your neck, choking you while looking into your eyes, dominating your body and soul.

“C-Close,” you whisper with the little air you have left, legs shaking around his waist as you sense pleasure building up inside your belly.

“Cum. Cum on my cock, you pathetic little thing,” orders Seonghwa and finally, he decides to grant you some mercy: his thumb comes down between your spread legs, and he starts to rub at you clit with precise movements, making you cry out loud and sound.

“Fuck! More, more, harder!” You shout, and Seonghwa lets go of his hold around your neck to grab your hip and use it as leverage to fuck more harshly inside your cunt.

His cock slides inside you with extreme ease, and his movements are precise and determined, and the tip of his cock rubs against all the right spots, making you breathless from how much it makes you enjoy.

Your hands reach his shoulders, and you cling to him tightly, scratching them from under his shirt and pushing it away, uncovering his back and scratching his skin.

Seonghwa doesn't seem to mind, on the contrary as your nails dig into his skin he only moans more, only rubs his fingers more decisively against your clitoris.

Seeing him so lost in pleasure and so deeply aroused is exactly the push you needed to finally succumb to your own orgasm.

The force with which you come is devastating: your legs tremble with strength, your breath breaks in your throat and the gasps and moans that escape from your lips are filled with desperation and pure pleasure. Your pussy contracts and tightens around Seonghwa's hard cock, as if wanting to keep it inside forever. Your clitoris pulses and sends electricity throughout your body.

Your turgid nipples brush against Seonghwa's chest as you hold him close and tight to you.

But what surprises both of you even more is another thing: the explosive way in which your orgasm overwhelmed you, making you squirt hot and juicy liquid around his cock, along both of your thighs. It seems to never end, and you surrender to pleasure as you squirt again and again against him, squeezing his cock and massaging it with your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re a slut, you’re a fucking slut, you just squirted all over my cock,” he groans, fucking into you as he forces you to give him even more of your precious juices.

His hand, the one that was rubbing at your clit, is covered in it, all moist and shiny and wet.

He brings it to his lips, sucks his own fingers and tastes you, your eyes spread open as you watch him savor your squirt.

“So fucking good,” he moans, before reaching down to get more of it, rubbing his hand against your folds and making you cry in overstimulation.

“Taste yourself,” he orders, before smearing your own juices against your lips, making you lick them clean as he watches.

“Want your cum. My pussy- it’s so empty, please, please, fill me up, cum in me,” you beg, tears falling from you eyes as your body begs for some mercy, begs to be filled, begs to be owned.

You lose control of it, and just slump on the desk, back hitting the wood and legs spreading even further.

“Take it, fuck! Take my cum, take it all in you pussy, here it fucking comes, ‘s all yours,” he moans, starting to slur his words as he shoves his dick inside of your abused cunt without a care in the world, the slide made even easier thanks to your powerful orgasm.

You feel it clearly: Seonghwa's hands run up your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them tightly.

The thrusts into your pussy become more erratic, stronger, more unrestrained.

Seonghwa's eyes become burning, shining with pleasure.

His moans become lower, deeper, strong enough to make your heart race, and you feel him bury himself one last time in your wet pussy, all the way in.

You feel him fill you with hot cum, squirting his thick and warm liquid inside you, flooding your wet and trembling pussy, abused to exhaustion.

You feel full to the brim, completely filled with his cum.

Seonghwa trembles, leans forward and kisses your breasts, while his hips make small instinctive movements, and he tries to push even deeper inside you, trying to bury his own cum deep in your pussy as far as humanly possible.

You gently pet his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

He just lays there for a while, keeping his cock inside of you to plug his cum inside your cunt.

“So full,” you whisper, clenching your pussy around him and enjoying the feeling of being so utterly used.

You both enjoy these moments of quietness, both still shaken and exhausted, taken by waves of pleasure and with labored breath.

You never would have imagined that this day would have gone this way, but honestly you wouldn't change a thing, and you don't care if this truly makes you a whore.

The only thing you care about is having had Seonghwa in such a way, being possessed by him like this and getting exactly what you needed, what you wanted.

After a few endless minutes, Seonghwa leaves a gentle bite on your breast: this time it doesn't hurt at all. It's somehow delicate.

You still flinch when he does it, and you hold back a smile. He pulls away from you, sits up.

You don't dare to imagine what condition you're in, but the way he looks at you makes you understand that it must be quite a sight.

Seonghwa pulls his cock out of your pussy, and you groan in dissent, feeling suddenly empty and sad, not wanting his cum to come out of your pussy. You want to keep it inside you as long as possible.

Seonghwa doesn't speak as he gets dressed.

He puts on his boxers and pants, buttons up his shirt. Adjusts his cuffs, his collar.

He does all this without ever taking his eyes off your body.

When you regain some strength, you decide to get off the desk, and you have to hold onto it to avoid falling.

Your panties are torn, so you can't put them back on.

You just slip on your skirt and blouse, and feel a drop of Seonghwa's cum escape from your pussy and run down your flushed thighs.

When you glance at him, you see him fumble with his wallet.

Realization of what’s going to happen sinks in, and you feel your cheeks turn a crimson red, and shame overtakes your body and overwhelms you completely.

“This should be enough for today,” Seonghwa says, his eyes looking dark and somewhat empty.

He hands you over a bunch of bills, and you spread your eyes as you take in the actual amount of money he just handed you.

That’s more than a month of your usual income.

You just made it in a couple of hours.

“I- T-thank you,” you mutter out, at a loss of words.

Seonghwa snickers, and watches cautiously as you take the money from him with shaking hands, face full of disbelief.

“Give your number to my secretary, Y/n. I’ll call you when your service will be needed. Be ready to come to work at any time, got it? Whenever I need a bucket to cum into, whenever I need to empty my balls, you drop everything and come to me to take my dick, no objections, no buts. We have a deal, right?”

Seonghwa's words are cruel, raw. But you didn't expect anything different, you knew well what you were getting into.

And you accepted to offer yourself to him with that awareness.

So, even though you feel humiliated, mocked, used, you nod. Grabbing your purse from the floor and carefully putting the banknotes inside, you notice that Seonghwa doesn't fail to observe your legs in the meantime.

"I'll be the best whore you've ever had," you confirm, forcing yourself to abandon lucidity and pride, clutching your purse as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Seonghwa sits at the desk, arranging the papers that you moved with your body and bends slightly to smell the scent of your fluids that have soaked into the wood.

"You can go. Oh, and don't clean your thighs. You have to go home with my cum dripping from your pussy, because if you still have a place to sleep at it's thanks to that cum, and I want anyone who looks at you enough to see it: do you understand?"

You swallow loudly, but you dare not argue.

You blink and try to maintain at least a hint of control, moving your legs slightly as you feel liquid coming out of your body.

"Yes, sir," you reply, bowing slightly in farewell.

Seonghwa seems to have returned to what he was when you first entered the room, but that doesn't surprise you at all.

However, you notice him grabbing the torn edges of your panties from the floor and tucking them into the pocket of his expensive pants.

He dismisses you immediately with a wave of his hand, and you gather your strength and leave the room: destroyed, exposed, without panties and with the purse full of money.

When you leave the room, there is only his secretary, the girl who escorted you to the door.

You have no doubt that she heard everything, but she smiles just as she did when you entered a few hours earlier.

You leave her your phone number, she writes it down in her agenda with precise professionalism.

You don't miss the quick glance she gives to your legs.

You don't cover yourself, you do as Seonghwa ordered you to.

You obey.

You smile, say goodbye to the secretary.

You enter the elevator, the doors close, and for the first time you look at yourself in the mirror.

You are not the same person as you were this morning.

You fix your makeup as quickly as possible and smile.

You leave.

It takes no more than two days for your phone to ring, and for it to be an unknown number.

Time to work.

290 notes · View notes

punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

somewhere to run | 5. first date

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You are left picking up the pieces from the events of the carnival night, in more ways than you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, jealousy, domestic violence and implied SA (nothing descriptive), mental and physical abuse, bar-fight type violence

WC: 6.8K

A/N: This is a tough chapter, please heed the warnings and if anyone thinks I need to add anything, please let me know

Series Masterlist

You stared listlessly at the blades of the ceiling fan swirling above your head as you listened to the town waking up outside your window. It was getting harder and harder to force yourself out of bed, the all too familiar feeling of emptiness weighing you down with each passing day.

It's been almost a week since that night at the carnival. Almost a week since you've seen him. You wished you could remember what his lips felt like, but whenever you thought about that night, all you could see was the look on his face when you finally told him the truth. His hands dropped from your waist like you had burned him. His eyes hardened like you had slapped him. And before you even had a chance to explain, he was gone.

It was a miracle you were able to make it home, tears clouding your vision as you drove down the quiet streets back to your little apartment, all alone. At first, you had tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, but after an hour, you weren't so sure anymore. So, you picked up your phone and called him. You weren't even sure what you would say, but you needed to try to make things right. It didn't end up mattering, anyway. He never answered, which should have been telling for what was to come, but you still persisted.

You called him two more times - once more that night, and again the following morning, but still he ignored your calls. Now, you stared at your phone, looking at the unanswered texts you sent, hoping he would be tempted to respond that way, but there was no such luck.

Please call me back, I want to explain.

I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.

Where are you?

The last text was sent Monday afternoon when he didn't show up at the diner for the first time since you started. Even Betty looked shocked, but you wouldn't tell her what happened. How could you?

The rest of the week was the same. Every day you glanced up at the door, hoping to see his familiar frame walk through, hoping that maybe enough time would have passed for him to give you another chance, but all week he was missing.

You overheard Tommy talking with Maria in the kitchen, asking if she had seen his brother. Was he doing this to make things worse for you? Inevitably, the truth would come out if he kept this up, and you would be left to deal with the onslaught of questions. Was he purposely trying to hurt you?

Little did you know, later that evening you would receive your answer.

It was Friday, and you were on the schedule for the dinner shift. At least you had the luxury of laying in bed, sulking with only your overpowering guilt and the enormous stuffed penguin he won for you to keep you company. You stared at it now, wondering why you didn't shove it in your closet so you wouldn't have to look at it every time you walked into your room. But you knew the answer. You were punishing yourself for being selfish, for being dishonest, for being a horrible person who deserved what she got.

Eventually around noon, you pulled yourself out of bed, hunger getting the best of you and the smells from the pizza place downstairs didn't help matters.

You got a reminder on your calendar that you were supposed to go to book club tomorrow night. Aside from work, you hadn't left your apartment all week. You had to cancel. There was no way you would be able to go through with it. You could barely muster the energy to shower, and the only reason you managed to drag yourself to work was for the money. No longer did you have anything to look forward to now that Joel made his feelings crystal clear with his absence. What little enjoyment you had in this new life was long gone.

Deciding that you should take a short walk to try to clear your head and grab a treat from the coffee shop, you tugged on jeans and a T-shirt before pulling your hair back and grabbing a pair of sunglasses before heading down the stairs. At least with the sunglasses you could avoid eye contact.

Right as you were locking up after yourself, you heard your name. You grimaced but turned around and forced a smile when you saw Hailey approaching with a friendly wave.

"Hey," you said, giving her a small hug when she got closer.

"I haven't seen you all week! Have you been sick or something?"

"Something like that," you mumbled, adjusting your sunglasses.

"I've been trying to catch you, I wanted to show you some pics from last weekend. You were there, right? I thought I saw you tagged in something," Hailey said as she scrolled on her phone, presumably looking for pictures she took from the carnival.

"Tagged?" you repeated, confused. She nodded and held up her phone, showing you the Facebook app. You shook your head and frowned.

"I'm not on Facebook," you said to her. She pursed her lips and swiped through a few images before finally stopping on a video. It was terrible lighting and the sound was awful but you could clearly see the yellow dress you were wearing as you watched Joel play the target game. Even from the shitty video you could see the obvious attraction in your eyes as you gazed at him. A chorus of cheers followed after each pull of the trigger, but your eyes remained glued to Joel's back, frozen in place.

"Isn't this your page?" she asked, clicking on your name and showing you the profile. You took the phone from her with shaky hands, scrolling through the information and pictures listed. It was you. Everything listed was correct, but you never created this page. You wouldn't have been that stupid. Then the realization hit you and your blood ran cold.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and went back to the video, noticing at the top the location was tagged along with you, Joel, and a few other people from town you barely recognized.

"Oh my god," you whispered to yourself.

"What's wrong?"

You handed her the phone back, tears burning the back of your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go," you said, turning back around to fumble with your keys. You raced up the stairs, making sure both doors were double locked before hiding in your bedroom, your phone clutched in your hand as you looked up your fake profile, trying to learn more but you already knew.

Patrick was coming for you.

You were downright terrified to work that night. If he found you, and it was just a matter of time at this point, he most likely would wait until you were alone. He would wait until he could follow you, find out where you lived, and only then would he make his move. The idea of walking home at night seemed like a really bad idea, so even though it was a ten minute walk, you chose instead to drape yourself in an oversized hoodie with sunglasses and jog to your car, glancing nervously around the parking lot for any suspicious vehicles before sliding into the driver's seat.

Anxiously, you checked your mirrors the whole short drive to the diner, but it didn't appear that you were being followed. You knew once you got to work, you would be safe. Being around other people was your only defense. Then you had the weekend off, so you could hide and figure out what to do. All you had to do was get through your shift.

The diner was busy. It was Friday, and the carnival was no longer in town, so people were going back to their regular routines. Many people in town tended to stop by for dinner before the only movie theater in town ran the 7pm showing, so that typically meant a 5:30 rush.

Fortunately, you were busy. It helped keep your mind off everything: Patrick. Joel. The mess you created everywhere you went. It was all pushed to the back of your mind as you ran around the dining room, dropping off food and wiping down tables. You hadn't even noticed the familiar voice talking to Maria at the hostess stand, even though you had been yearning to hear it all week.

You were filling the ice when you heard him somewhere behind you, and you were so relieved you almost cried. Finally, he came back and you could explain to him what happened. He was the sheriff, after all. And you trusted him. If anybody might be able to do something to help you, it was him.

You turned around with a deep breath, then froze at what you saw. Joel was seated at one of the booths, not at the counter like he typically would be, and gazing adoringly across the table at Nikki.

He was on a date.

You thought you were going to be sick. You clutched your stomach and turned away, blinking back the tears but before you could go hide in the back, Maria spotted you.

"Do you mind taking care of Joel? Gina's got too many tables," she asked. You thought you would faint the way all the blood drained from your face. All you could manage to do was nod, and she hurried back to the hostess stand, completely oblivious.

You forced your feet to move, keeping your gaze down as you pulled out your pad of paper and pen with shaky fingers and forcing a weak smile when you approached their table. You weren't sure if his intention was to have you wait on him, or if he just wanted you to see him with another woman, or maybe he didn't care about you at all. But his reaction gave you nothing to work with since he barely spared you a glance when you greeted them. However, Nikki recognized you and gave you a warm smile.

"I don't think I knew you worked here!" she said, and when Joel realized you knew each other, he finally seemed to react. A muscle in his jaw twitched when he dragged his gaze up to look between the two of you, no playfulness or warmth to be found in his eyes. You swallowed and tried to focus on your job, ignoring Joel as best you could, but Nikki spoke before you could even get the specials out.

"We know each other from book club," she explained to him before turning back to you. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Oh, um, no I don't think so," you said nervously, feeling Joel's eyes burning a hole in the side of your head.

"Oh, that's a shame! We had such a fun time last month," she said with a giggle. You had to admit, they made a good match. She was beautiful and seemed very nice. You should be happy for them both, but you knew the moment you got home, you would collapse into tears.

"You should go," Joel said gruffly, and it took all the strength you had to make yourself look at him. He no longer gave you the same look he used to, and it broke your heart. He looked at you like a stranger, like he barely even knew you. It felt more painful than anything Patrick ever did.

"Maybe I will," you said, tearing your eyes away from him. Before Nikki could say anything else, you rambled off the specials, your mind on autopilot. You ripped a hole in your paper with your pen when you saw out of the corner of your eye Nikki link her fingers with his across the table. You mumbled something about being right back and hurried off, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was too cruel. You endured a lot in your time, but this? This was too much.

As you filled up their drinks and flicked away a stray tear from the corner of your eye, you heard Joel's voice clear his throat behind you at the counter. You turned around, drinks in hand. He was leaning over the counter, trying to stay hidden from sight.

"I didn't mean for -"

"It's fine," you said coldly, staring him down. He blinked at you, and for the first time you saw a shred of guilt pass over his features. When he didn't say anything else, you shifted your weight and glanced over his shoulder at Nikki.

"You better go. Your date's looking for you."

His gaze fell and he pinched the bridge of his nose, about to say something else but you didn't let him. You could only take so much. By the time he looked back up, you were halfway across the dining room, setting down their drinks and giving your attention to your other tables.

You drove home that night with hot tears finally trailing down your cheeks, your mind completely fixated now on Joel and Nikki. It hurt how he moved on so quickly. Maybe you misread him. Maybe he was just looking for a conquest and nothing more. What else would possibly explain it? For the first time, you wondered if you were the one better off after all.

Would he kiss her goodnight? Would they have sex?

Did they already have sex?

You parked your car and hunched over the steering wheel, letting the tears flow freely now that you were home and no one was around.

A sharp rap on your window pulled you out of your misery, making you jump. You wiped your cheeks before turning to look, your eyes widening and your heart immediately getting stuck in your throat.

Patrick just shook his head in disappointment, then beckoned you out of the car with his index finger. With a shaky hand, you reached for the door handle and swung it open, sliding out of the seat and taking a deep breath. Just when you thought the day couldn't get any worse.

"When are you gonna learn I'm never gonna give up on us, babe?"

After he left, you laid there in your bed, staring up at the fan swirling above you once again and the smell of that fucking cologne permeating your sheets. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. You couldn't help but think you brought this on yourself. Maybe if you didn't go to that fucking carnival in the first place, none of this would have happened. Joel wouldn't be icing you out, Patrick wouldn't have found you, and you wouldn't be cleaning up the mess he left between your legs while you sobbed over the bathroom sink. Every time this happened you were eternally grateful for your oldest cousin back home who took you to get birth control at the local clinic behind your husband's back. If not for her, who knows how much worse things would be.

But here you were, finding yourself slipping right back into the same situation you were trying to escape. This time, he promised to go to AA and NA. He promised he would try to get better. Part of you wanted to believe him, because what other choice did you have? He would always find you. And it was encouraging he didn't insist on staying with you at your apartment, nor did he hit you. This time.

Just as you were contemplating whether or not to flee again, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You sighed and made your way over, your body and mind exhausted, the events of the day catching up with you. You lifted your phone up and froze. Blinking a few times, you sunk down into your mattress and opened up the message.

Joel: I'm sorry about earlier

You sniffled and stared at your phone, having no idea what to say. Had he just texted you the day before, or even that morning, maybe things would have been different. You decided to ignore it for now, turning your phone on silent before crawling under the covers and trying to block out the smell.

After a fitful night's sleep, the next morning you eagerly checked your phone, hoping for another text from Joel, but you only had one from Hailey. Disappointed, you opened it up, reading her message about book club that night and who was hosting. You reluctantly agreed to go at the last minute, figuring you would at least be around people for a little while, meaning you would be safe. Besides, you wouldn't be able to avoid Nikki forever. The town was too small and you were sure everyone was already buzzing about their date last night.

You swiped back to your message with Joel, staring at the words again, wondering if you should respond. What if he wasn't alone? What if Nikki spent the night with him? You put your phone down, choosing once and for all not to reply before burying yourself under the covers again.

Going to the book club meeting was a mistake. You politely declined a glass of wine, and you regretted it about twenty minutes in when Nikki began telling the whole group about her date with Joel.

You sat there, listening to every word, each one like a stab to the heart while she told all the ladies about how chivalrous he was when he picked her up, what they talked about, what movie they saw. Every minute bringing you closer and closer to tears.

That could have been you if you had just been honest with him, or maybe just stood up for yourself once in a while instead of letting Patrick steamroll you every chance he got for the past five years.

A couple women glanced your way as Nikki spoke. You had to imagine some people saw you together at the carnival. Towards the end of the night, the heat between you was palpable, but you were pretty certain nobody saw you kiss. You did your best to look indifferent, to act like Joel was just a friend and there were no feelings there, but it was hard. At one point, Hailey asked if you were okay and you had to lie about having a headache, hoping it would explain your quiet behavior.

"It was a little strange at the end of the night, though," Nikki said, finally wrapping up her story.

"How so?" one of the older ladies asked, and you could see the flush creeping up her neck before she even spoke.

"Well, he didn't seem to take my hint about coming inside for coffee when he dropped me off. Or maybe he just didn't want to..." she said, trailing off.

"Oh please, who wouldn't want to," Hailey chimed in, making Nikki giggle. "He's probably just so rusty he wouldn't know it unless you made him a big neon sign that said 'Joel, sleep with me'."

That caused a ripple of laughter amongst the women and you took a steadying breath, already planning on announcing you needed to leave early due to your fake headache when Nikki added one more piece of interesting information.

"Yeah, maybe. But even saying good night, it felt like he didn't really want to kiss me."

"But you did kiss?" another woman asked, and she nodded.

"It was... not what I expected," she admitted, pink dusting her cheeks as she took another sip of wine for courage.

"What do you mean?" Hailey asked, and you silently thanked her for being so nosy so you didn't have to ask the same questions that kept popping up in your head.

"I don't know, I thought he would be a better kisser. It was very... boring. Like, there was no passion or excitement."

All the other women murmured to themselves in shock while you remained perfectly silent. That was most definitely not the experience you had kissing Joel.

Fortunately, they moved on from the topic of Joel shortly thereafter, and you decided to force yourself to stay until the end. Given how horrible the whole week had been, you allowed yourself to feel a little bit of hope after Nikki's comment.

He didn't want to kiss her. Maybe you could still figure out a way to fix this.

Joel groaned as he rolled over in bed and snatched his phone off the charger, glaring at the device and mentally cursing whoever texted him so fucking early on a Sunday. Then his sleep addled brain jolted awake and his heart skipped a beat, wondering if your name was going to pop up on his phone again, but he was met with instant disappointment when he saw Nikki's name instead.

That couldn't be a good sign.

He should be happy to see that Nikki texted him. Deciding to blame it on the early hour and nothing more, he moved past it and set his phone back down to read the message later. He closed his eyes and sighed. Now that he was awake, all of the turmoil from the past week came rushing back to him, always plaguing his every waking moment.

He hadn't realized how much you were hurting until he finally saw you at the diner that night. It was one of his biggest regrets, taking Nikki there. He knew what he was doing, but he did it anyway, and it hurt you. But you didn't deserve that. Even though you nearly shattered his world with your secret, you still didn't deserve it.

His intention was to try to prove he wasn't as hung up on you as he really was. That it was fine that you were married. That he could move on.

It was a little cruel to go right to Nikki. He knew she had feelings for him, and he took advantage of it, all to prove he was over you. And it wasn't even true. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And now he was going to end up hurting two women, just to protect his ego.

So he decided he would try to make it work with Nikki. She was a pretty girl, she was nice and kind. Maybe, in time, he could develop real feelings for her. But when she kissed him the other night, he felt absolutely nothing. Not like what he felt when he kissed you. And that worried him.

If he knew now what he would be missing out on, could he really be happy with someone who didn't give him a fraction of what he felt with you?

He wished more than ever that he didn't let his emotions get the best of him that night. Maybe you had a reasonable explanation. He couldn't fathom what that could be, but he should have at least heard you out. You wouldn't have intentionally hurt him. In fact, you tried to tell him, in your own way. You constantly pushed him away, kept him at arms length, but he just kept coming back for more. Was it even your fault? Did he pressure you so much that you were forced to share something you weren't ready to share?

Letting his desperation win, he picked up his phone again and checked to see if you maybe texted him back in the last five minutes. When he quickly determined you didn't, he opened up Facebook. Maybe you replied to his private message on there.

Joel didn't get nervous often. He had a steady hand, a level head, and had a knack for seeing two steps ahead. He typically had a calming presence, which fit well for his job when he was able to de-escalate situations naturally and with ease.

But today, he was nervous.

For whatever reason, you didn't respond to his text message the other night, but you did decide to respond to the Facebook message he sent at an ungodly hour in the hopes he could get through to you some other way. And by some miracle, it worked.

You had agreed to meet him for coffee and talk. It was unexpected, he thought he would have to try harder, but you were very agreeable to seeing him.

He wasn't sure what he would say exactly, but he knew he wanted to apologize sincerely and give you the opportunity to explain your situation. If not to get some closure, then to at least make going back to the diner less uncomfortable.

He took a deep breath as he raked his fingers through his hair and swung open the door of the coffee shop. He glanced around the room before his eyes fell on you: hunched over and staring down at a small cup of coffee on the table in front of you.

He took a step forward, then stopped when he saw a man with a buzz cut and a beard sit down across from you. Joel didn't recognize him and he was fairly certain he could recognize just about anybody in town at this point. Something about the way you glanced up at the man across from you set his teeth on edge. You didn't smile. You didn't laugh. You looked pale and your eyes looked tired. He watched as the two of you exchanged a few words, and based on the man's body language, the mood was tense. Then suddenly, he reached his arm out across the table to grab your wrist and you jumped, fear flickering across your face. Even from this distance, Joel could see the whites of the man's knuckles as he squeezed your delicate skin under his firm grip.

Joel's nostrils flared and his jaw clenched and before he knew it, he was marching over to your table. Your eyes flicked up when you noticed him, looking like you had seen a ghost. Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you sat back in your chair. The man you were with noticed your reaction and finally loosened his grip, and you immediately tucked your hands on your lap underneath the table. He turned around and looked up with a scowl just as Joel approached.

"Everythin' alright here?" Joel asked, staring at you. You opened your mouth to reply, but the man across from you stood up, cutting you off.

"Everything's just great, Joel," he said with a sneer. Joel tore his eyes away from you to regard the man you were with. He looked him up and down, sizing him up, before answering.

"Sorry, have we met?"

"In a way," he said, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. Joel glanced at you again, but you were just staring down at your coffee cup, refusing to look at either of them.

"Don't look at her, look at me," he said, and Joel's head snapped back around with a glare.

"Excuse me?"

That was when Joel smelled the man's cologne. The same one Sarah bought for him. The same one you told him you were sensitive to. The wheels began turning in his head as he tried to put the pieces together.

"Patrick," you said quietly, trying to calm them both down when you felt other customers giving you curious looks.

"Shut up," he growled at you, still staring at Joel. Joel stiffened, the anger building low in his stomach, but he fought to keep a clear head.

"Hey, take it easy," Joel tried to interject, but Patrick scoffed. As his anger began to rise, Joel could see his neck splotching with red and veins popping out under his reddened skin.

"Don't stand there and act like you haven't been fucking my wife!" Patrick all but shouted, pulling the attention of everyone in the coffee shop now. Joel balked and took a step back.

"You've got it all wrong, we've never-"

"Patrick, I'm not sleeping with him, get a grip!" you snapped, finally standing up from the table.

"The hell you aren't. Why's he sending you messages in the middle of the night on Facebook saying he misses you and he's sorry and he needs to see you?" Patrick asked, turning on you now.

Your jaw dropped and your cheeks flushed pink, your surprised gaze bouncing between the two men and that was when Joel figured it out. Patrick lured him there to cause a fight, and you looked to be completely in the dark.

Joel glanced around nervously at all the onlookers now, murmuring amongst themselves, gossip he was sure would spread to the ends of town before noon.

"Listen, why don't we go outside and calm down. I can explain, it's not what it looks like," Joel said, lowering his voice.

"I'm staying right here," Patrick said, sitting back down in his chair and jutting his chin out with a glare. He seemed hellbent on doing this his way, and Joel was not in the mood.

"You're disturbin' the peace. These people are tryin' to enjoy their mornin' here. Either come outside with me, or we can do this a different way," Joel replied, pulling the hem of his shirt up to flash the gold star on his belt. Patrick laughed, then leaned over to grab his wallet out of his back pocket, showing Joel his own badge.

"Philly PD. 9th precinct. Wanna try that again, sheriff?"

That bit of information stunned Joel, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hell, honey, at least you got a type," Patrick muttered to you, putting his wallet away. You grimaced and dropped your head between your shoulders, looking defeated.

"Either way, I gotta ask you to leave," Joel said, standing his ground. He could see the flush rising up Patrick's neck again, his fingers curling into a fist on the table before you stepped to stand between the two men.

"C'mon, Patrick. Let's go," you urged, holding your hand out shakily. Patrick slowly turned his head to look up at you. There was no love in his eyes. No affection or care. All Joel could see was raw anger.

"Why don't you come down to the station with me. We can talk this out, hm?" Joel asked him calmly, not feeling comfortable letting you leave with this man. You turned your head to the side, your eyes unable or unwilling to meet his.

"I got it, Joel. I'm sorry," you said softly over your shoulder.

Joel watched Patrick stand up and mock you under his breath before snatching your hand and pulling you roughly to his side, leading you out the front door. He was scrambling to find another reason to keep you from walking out of there, but he was too late. The pair of you were already halfway down the block by the time Joel was able to gather himself and walk out the door.

He stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips, watching as Patrick nearly dragged you up the street. You managed to turn your head once to look at him, your eyes wide and filled with worry before you turned the corner, disappearing from sight.

Nikki was talking his ear off, all bubbly and excited as she led Joel into one of the few bars in town. A blind man could see she was trying too hard. She was the one who came up with the idea of drinks, turning down dinner beforehand, and wearing one of the shorter dresses he's seen on a woman in a long time.

He realized about half an hour into the night it must have been a real blow to her self esteem when he turned her down after their first date because she was hanging all over him, pushing her chest against him every chance she could and even encouraged him to do a shot with her. He entertained the idea once but stopped her after that. He wasn't lying when he told you he wasn't much of a drinker, and he certainly wasn't interested in having meaningless, sloppy sex with Nikki, so he tried to slow her down and distract her.

"C'mon, why don't we order you somethin' to eat?" Joel said, flagging down the bartender for a menu, but Nikki shook her head and pouted.

"I'm hungry, but not for food, Joel," she whispered in his ear, then brazenly slid her hand over his thigh to try to cup him over his jeans. His hand shot down and grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doin'?" he asked with a nervous chuckle, and she groaned, pulling her hand back to wrap her arms around his shoulders instead.

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied, leaning forward to nibble on his ear. He made a face and untangled her arms from around him, pulling her back to her own stool.

"Listen, Nikki-"

A roar of laughter and some broken glass from the other side of the crowded bar caught Joel's attention. It was a Sunday night, but it was busy. There was a big football game on above the bar and it seemed to pull in all the men in town that evening. It was no wonder Joel didn't notice Patrick until that point.

He watched him through the throngs of bodies as he stumbled around the pool table with a couple other younger men from town. He looked like he was wasted: his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils blown wide, and his face was bright pink. Nikki followed Joel's gaze and turned back to him, confused.

"Who's that?" she asked, but Joel ignored her and instead waved down the bartender again.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked, wiping his hands with a worn out rag.

"What's goin' on over there, Hank?" Joel asked, nodding in Patrick's direction, watching as he grabbed the ass of a blonde girl heading to the bathroom.

"He's been here for hours," Hank said, leaning across the bar to keep his voice as low as possible. "I started waterin' down his drinks around 5, but he keeps gettin' worse and worse. Told one of his friends there to take him outside, I think he's too far gone and won't take kindly to me askin' him to leave."

Joel nodded and continued to watch. His skin looked red and his hair looked damp with sweat.

"What's wrong?" Nikki purred in his ear, trying to get his attention back on her, but he shook his head.

"Somethin' ain't right," he mumbled.

"I think he's married to that new waitress at the diner," Hank continued. Nikki sat back in her seat and said your name, her eyes beginning to clear. Hank snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"Yep, that's the one. Was sayin' some real god awful stuff earlier 'bout her to those guys. Now you know I hear my fair share of bawdy talk 'round here, but this was enough to even make me blush."

Joel cursed under his breath and stood up from his stool. Nikki grabbed his arm and frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"Just gonna have a talk with him," Joel said, shrugging her hand off as he pushed his way through the crowd. As Joel approached the pool table, Patrick's drunken gaze fell on him and he smirked.

"Well, look who it is boys," Patrick said, his voice too loud as he stumbled to lean against the wall. "If it ain't the sheriff of this here wild west." Patrick laughed at his own joke, but the other three men he was with quieted down when they saw Joel.

"I think you oughta head home. Seems like you've had enough this evenin'," Joel said, his voice steady.

"I don't think I like you telling me what to do," Patrick said, his smile slipping as he pushed off the wall and took a few steps forward. One of the younger men that was playing pool with Patrick set his cue down on the table and spoke up.

"Hey man, let's just head out - "

"Shut the fuck up, I'll handle this asshole," Patrick turned and yelled, causing the whole bar to go quiet. Joel took a deep breath and reached behind him for his handcuffs.

"I don't fucking think so," Patrick said, his eyes locked on Joel's hand, but Joel just shook his head.

"You ain't givin' me much of a choice," he replied, but before he could blink, Patrick reared back and swung, his meaty fist coming in direct contact with Joel's chest, momentarily knocking the air out of his lungs. Luckily, Patrick was too drunk and missed Joel's face. But Joel was still relatively sober, and therefore much quicker. He lunged forward and clocked Patrick right in the nose, making him stumble backwards clutching his face with a pained howl.

People scattered out of the way, some men calling out to Patrick, telling him to stop, but most were just encouraging the fight with drunken excitement.

Once Patrick got his bearings, he ran forward at full speed, aiming to knock Joel down to the ground but he dodged him with ease and instead sent him flying head first into an empty table. He rolled over with a groan, blood trickling from his nose, a bright purple bruise already forming under his eye.

Joel leaned over him with a grin.

"You done?"

Patrick just groaned again, his hands coming up to rub his head. Joel took the opportunity to snatch his wrist and twist him around on the floor. Pressing his knee into Patrick's back, he pulled his other arm around and handcuffed him before pulling out his cell and dialing the number for the station.

Once Joel loaded Patrick into the back of Bobby's cruiser, telling his deputy to book him and he would deal with it in the morning, the rest of the bar went back to watching the football game, the excitement now over and done with. Joel scanned around and found Nikki seated exactly where he left her, but she looked less than pleased. He sighed and pushed his way through the crowd, back to his date.

"Hey, sorry 'bout -"

"I think I'm ready to leave, Joel," she said curtly, standing up and snatching her purse from the bar.

"Alright," he said. He led her outside and was heading to his truck when she stopped in front of a waiting car. He turned to look at her, confused.

"I asked a friend to come get me," she explained, and Joel slowly nodded.

"Hey, I'm sorry 'bout tonight, but sometimes the job just gets in the way."

"Was it the job, Joel? Or was it her?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He paused, unsure what to say as he averted his gaze. She looked down at her feet and took a breath before bringing her eyes back up to him.

"This isn't going to work out, is it?" she asked softly. Joel forced himself to look at her again and after a moment, shook his head. He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and he immediately felt guilty. He took a step forward but she sniffled and stepped further away.

"I don't know why I couldn't see it. The whole fucking town sees it. Even after what happened at the coffee shop this morning... I just hoped..." she trailed off and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and he truly meant it. He didn't want to hurt her and he felt like shit that it had to come down to this.

"It's fine. I'll get over it," she said, trying to sound strong before turning to her friend's car and sliding into the front seat. He almost reached out, almost asked her to stay, but he stopped because it would have been cruel and selfish. He was only looking to assuage his own guilt. Instead, he watched the car back up and leave the parking lot, a pit growing in his stomach now that he was alone.

He knew it was the right thing to do, that he had to be honest with Nikki. At least he didn't lead her on, and he hoped he didn't hurt her feelings too badly, but he still felt like an asshole.

Then his thoughts drifted to you. What happened today after the coffee shop? Even though the guy was an asshole, it didn't change the fact you were married and he couldn't have you. What was he supposed to do? Pine away for you his whole life? Would he really ever be content with just being your friend?

And what the hell was he going to do with Patrick? He could charge him with assaulting an officer, that should keep him in jail for a few days until he posts bail, but would he ever see any charges actually stick? Or would he make a few phone calls and have them disappear?

He didn't anticipate this ever being a problem. He's never had to deal with another lawman on the receiving side of his job.

He was entering uncharted territory.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #sheriff!joel #STR fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal

900 notes · View notes

takusan-no-ai · 4 months ago

Text

A Helping Hand

PAIRING: Peruere/Jean x Male Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: Their crush on (Y/N) only grows stronger after they witness a kind act

Peruere never has a moments rest; not as Arlecchino and not as “Father”. She has to balance a life that leads to no happy endings for herself. All for the sake of her children. And although it is a tough burden to bear, it was a necessary sacrifice for everyone’s sake.

At least, thats what she thought. Until she met you, a young man who just wanted to lend a helping hand to those in need. Life dealt you the wrong cards that led to a more difficult path; not much money, not much strength, but a lot of courage.

Lyney said you wanted to help out at the orphanage for a little, just to see the kids smiling faces. Peruere was cautious at first, and even though she allowed you entry, she kept their more “dangerous” activities in the dark. Freminet was tasked with keeping an eye on you, as a safety precaution.

Slowly, however, you began to weave your way into her heart. She had more time to sit back and think, the children were happy, and…she was happy. For once, in a long time, she actually smiled. Not having to bear the burdens of responsibility alone was relaxing. A feeling she hoped to never forget.

A soft humming voice lead Peruere towards the room of sleeping children. It enchanted her, like a lyre played to lure in unsuspecting travelers. Only she knew whom the voice belonged to; (Y/N).

His voice held a honey sweet melody, and a comforting embrace. Like her voice. Peruere rubbed at her eyes, “It’s too late to be thinking like this,” she whispered. A yawn escaped from her mouth, despite her best efforts to remain silent.

The lullaby came to an abrupt stop. He turned around to look outside the ajar door, only to find nothing. He smiled softly, a slight chuckle escaping himself.

Peruere hid away on the side of the house, having rushed out of view. Her heart was pounding, a small, barely noticeable blush tinted her skin. The humming had resumed, slightly louder this time. “He knows,” she thought. Sighing in defeat, she slumped down to the ground and relaxed on the wall of the house. Her eyes became heavy, and before she knew it, Peruere was fast asleep.

She woke up with a blanket and pillow that day.

Another day of endless work. Piles of notices, requests, complaints, and everything else tiresome swarmed up what used to be a clean office space. She took one day off…one day…and it came to this. Jean could feel another headache incoming.

A knock on the door gave her a rush of relief. A conversation, even if it were more work, was a small break from the inevitable. Her hero, you, walked in. A fellow knight that worked closely alongside Jean for a long while now. You’re also a long time crush of hers.

The smiled that graced your face fell immediately. “He knows.” Jean knew the gig was up immediately, and leaned over her desk, giving up without even trying to deny it; she was exhausted!

Dark circles under her eyes, a grumbling stomach that wants brunch, aching bones, stiff shoulders, and sore wrists. You got to work, grabbing and taking her home, where she can sleep in bed. You even left a plate of pizza from Cat’s Tail for her to eat when she wakes. With Jean taken cared of, it was time to get to work.

After a nice long nap, and a full stomach of pizza, Jean was ready to head back. However, upon opening the door to her office, she saw a clean stack of papers, filled out completely. Her office was shining so brightly it looked brand new. And a sweet aroma from the potted dandelions filled the air.

But none of these were as shocking as what she’d seen in front of her; (Y/N) was passed out in her desk chair. Slumped over and snoring softly. She giggled before sighing, “If I was more diligent…you wouldn’t be putting in so much effort.” She walked towards him, brushing his hair gently.

She looked at him with a smile, blushing as she continued to pat him. She didn’t notice the knocking on the door for but a moment. “Ah! Yes come in.” It was Kaeya giving a brief report on his recent trip to a fatui base. As soon as he was there, he was gone.

And once again, Jean hadn’t noticed a change in her surroundings; she hadn’t noticed that the snoring stopped, or that the chair creaked slightly. That is why it was a shock when she was suddenly engulfed in a warm and tight embrace.

She looked up at him, (Y/N), a blushing and shocked face gazing back at him. He only smiled in return, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“If you weren’t so selfless, I wouldn’t have to.”

- Fin

#genshin impact x reader #male reader #imagine #peruere x reader #peruere #jean gunnhildr x reader #jean gunnhildr

151 notes · View notes

slut4sugu · 2 years ago

Text

𝐄!𝟒𝟐 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Prowler Miles x shy Fem!Black Reader

Including: aged up!characters, sweet yet flirty miles, use of nicknames/pet names: mami, ma, doll, baby, princesa, uncle Aron being funny, overprotective miles, use of Spanish

🎸: 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐦- 𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐟𝐭. 𝐘𝐆

FIRST WEEKS DATING

Makes sure your okay and comfortable 24/7, he might look scary but nonetheless he always makes sure your safe.

Always picks up on the 2nd ring when you call him, no matter what time of day (unless when he’s out being the prowler) he always picks up even if its just you calling because you can’t sleep.

Gives you self defense weapons, he almost laughs when he sees you holding a heavy Bo-staff making you pout slightly before he eases up on the teasing and just gives you a taser an alarm.

Tells you to not be out late at night without letting him know (so he can avoid that area)

Acts as your guard dog whenever you two go out, making sure that whenever you step into a place people know your with him

When you finally sat down with Miles’s mom and Uncle for dinner, Rio was happy to see that you spoke Spanish as well. (And of course you called her Ms.Morales)

Uncle Aron winked at Miles when he told everyone he was happy he brought home, ‘A pinky pie.’ Which made him roll his eyes, before discreetly holding your hand from under the table.

Teaches you a bit of self defense which then led to him pinning you to the wall, and your first kiss. Which was shortly ended by Aron, who interrupted the kiss to remind miles to pay up for losing a bet. (Aron said that miles was soo whipped for you that he couldn’t go a month without kissing you, which an defensive miles denies. Which started the bet that he inevitably lost)

Doesn’t tell you he’s the prowler unless you find out, besides that he waits to tell you until wayy later.

FIRST COUPLE MONTHS

Gets more comfortable with you, starts calling you his girl more openly

Becomes more soft around you: Starts pulling you into hugs randomly and kisses for no reason, kissing your knuckles when your first waking up.

Like hobie he has to be touching you in some type of way, if you both have a sleepover or he falls asleep while hanging out with you, his arm has to be around your waist/ holding your hand. He feels more comfortable knowing that your locked in his hold.

Very very very light sleeper, since yk prowler biz and all. If your trying to creep out of bed in the middle of the night forget abt it, the slightest feeling of you leaving his grasp wakes him up. And you’re met with a, “What you doin doll?”

Leaves his hoodies and shirts at your place when he’s out being the prowler, he knows you like wearing his clothes especially the smell of the expensive cologne on them, and he loves seeing you in them when he inevitably comes back to check up on you.

SPOILS TF OUTTA YOU, little did you know he was making bank in his line of work, until you started to notice the one to many expensive gifts he would buy you almost daily. Whether it be a necklace you told your boyfriend you would ‘die for’ that you magically saw on your bed the next afternoon, or some red bottoms heels that you saw in a store window.

“Ve a divertirte, princesa, y muéstrame lo que compraste cuando vuelva.” (Go have fun princess and show me what you bought when i get back)

Eventually you asked how he’s getting the money for all of these things, and thats when he sat you down and told you everything. You were shocked at first but it made sense, you told him you would always love him regardless of what he did, as long as he didn’t get too hurt. Which made him chuckle before stating, “Mami, I never get hurt. Don’t worry about me, now get ready I’m taking you out in an hour.”

He loves spending money on you mainly because you look good in anything you try on, whether it be dresses, heels, skirts, whatever it is. As soon as he sees you in it consider it sold.

4+ MONTHS

Finally says ‘I love you’

Those three little words aren’t something that miles says a lot, so when he said them to you one lazy afternoon while you were snuggled into his side, your eyes widened and you sat up to look at him. “You love me?” Humming in response, you quickly sat on his lap before wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him. Your face buried into his neck.

“I love you too amor.”

After that day, you became wifey in his head.

Though keeping his stoic demeanor you could tell he changed a little after that, being more meaningful with his kisses and hugs.

he became a little bit more overprotective in the process but you reassured him that you’d be safe and always wold tell him whenever your going somewhere.

Bought you a promise ring on your anniversary </3 (it was very nice for a promise ring, it almost looked like a wedding ring but miles said your wedding ring would be much nicer </333

He gave you a credit card with ALOT of money n it, he hardly wanted you to use your own money so you had almost 20K+ saved on your cards because of it. (Mind you he paid for ALLL of your expenses: Cars, apartment, student loan, etc.)

Uncle Aron started to realize how much miles loved you and started to give miles a little little bit more time with you. Which was greatly appreciated by the both of you.

Overall you were wifey from the start </3

#🎸.𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐀𝐌 #atsv fluff #atsv x you #earth 42 miles x reader #42 miles x fem!reader #prowler miles #atsv prowler #prowler x reader #miles morales prowler #atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #atsv miles #atsv headcanons #atsv hcs #PROWLER X BLACK!READER #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #miles x y/n #miles x black reader

2K notes · View notes

princessfbi · 10 days ago

Note

48?

48. Rampage

Evan Buckley was on a rampage. A stress, anxiety fueled, chronic overthinking headache, probably hangry induced rampage. Not to mention exhausted.

Eddie was just waiting for the inevitable crash to come. He had money on it being in the middle of reorganizing their closet or when he decided to change out the bedding in their guest bedroom for the third time.

The strong arm that curled around his shoulders didn’t have to work very hard to get him to move and he sighed as he let Tommy pull him down until Eddie’s back was pressed to his chest and his arms were wrapped around his middle.

“Should we be concerned yet?” Tommy asked as he pressed a kiss to Eddie’s temple.

The vacuum cleaner blared on again with a whine.

“Not yet. But if he starts muttering about making another trip to IKEA, I get his arms and you get his legs!”

Eddie felt the huff of Tommy’s laugh and sank into his embrace as their legs tangled together.

“When I told you two to make the house your own, I don’t think I was expecting quite so many designs of cutlery.”

That had been an adorable if not mildly frustrating meltdown to watch from Buck as he stressed over which of their silverware to use for dinner as if anyone would be looking. But whenever either one of them tried to mention it, a spoon was wielded at them while red rimmed eyes begged them to be serious. It wasn’t until Tommy had thrown Buck over his shoulder and carried him up the stairs to their bedroom that he managed to get any sleep.

Of course that had been after they’d both taken their turns with him with the mission to make Buck forget the entire English language let alone the word salad fork but the point was he got some sleep.

Eddie would just be glad when the stupid holiday was over.

“I’m surprised you’re not more stressed out,” Tommy murmured in his ear and Eddie drummed his finger on Tommy’s forearm.

“My parents aren’t…” Eddie breathed out a sigh. “I never once questioned if they loved me. My pops and I could scream at each other until we were hoarse and my mom really knows how to just take you out at the knees. But I knew they loved me.”

The figure of his stressed out boyfriend passed the doorway as Buck obsessively vacuumed behind the cabinets.

“He didn’t have that. It was always a question for him. This is the first time he’s going to be the center of attention with them.”

Which was why they were in the middle of an Evan Buckley hurricane. One dinner. One Thanksgiving. One meal where Buck and his parents are sitting down without Maddie as a buffer and they were there for Buck. To see his new home, his new life, his new everything.

Same for Eddie.

It just made sense to get the holiday and the introduction to their new life to their parents. Surprisingly, neither of their parents seemed surprised when they told them about each other and Tommy; about how they were incomplete without the other and it just… made sense. Eddie flat out refused to call them a throuple. It sounded like a stupid Instagram trend. Buck was his boyfriend. Tommy was his boyfriend. Eddie was theirs. Boyfriends. A family, Buck had suggested and neither of them let go of Tommy until that wet sheen over his eyes went away.

Still, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little bad that his and Buck’s folks were getting special treatment while none of Tommy’s family would be in attendance.

“I am not subjecting either of you to any of the Kinard clan ever if I can help it.” Tommy had said when they’d brought it up and that had been the end of that discussion.

Still, it had been Tommy’s house first. He probably hadn’t meant to invite Buck and Eddie’s familial drama along with their furniture when he asked them to move in with him.

Tommy made a noise that Eddie couldn’t quite place even as his arms tightened around Eddie’s middle.

“He says they’re trying,” Tommy said and Eddie forced himself to push down his own feelings so he didn’t color Tommy’s experience with the Buckley’s.

He deserved to make his own opinions.

“They are… in their own way.”

Still, Eddie had been the one who had seen the way their secret had gutted Buck from the inside out and made him question everything he’d ever known. Eddie had been the one who had heard Margaret tear the nursing staff and Philip into a new one when they suggested she rest while Buck had been in the coma. Eddie had been the one to bite his tongue instead of asking her why suddenly she could care now and not when Buck was conscious and needed to hear it. Eddie had been the one to see Buck question over and over again why he was the one who lived, why he deserved to be there, and all those moments of doubts stemmed from them.

They were trying but Eddie wasn’t sure he was quite ready to forgive yet.

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #polyfire #buddietommy #my fic writing #prompt game #dreaming-marchling #royal decree

81 notes · View notes

elvearryn · 1 month ago

Text

König + Horangi Headcanons

Regrettably, the brainrot has taken hold of me properly, so this was always going to be an inevitable post

(This is also a chance for me to compile and work out my characterization of these two, as a sort of warm-up exercise for writing them).

All SFW! Trigger warning for mention of scars, alcohol, gambling, violence (military), you know Call of Duty typical stuff

All the headcanons for each are separate for each character, a few mentions of Horangi in König’s list but that’s it

That being said, here are my headcanons for König and Horangi 🙏

Horangi bites the inside of his cheek when he’s thinking really hard or having an internal emotional tug of war about something, he actually developed this habit because he used to instinctively press his tongue against the inside area of his cheek that had been scarred (if you’ve seen the popular design where he has a scar from about the corner of his lip up to his cheekbone, and yeah. I like that concept a lot)

Horangi used to drink and smoke heavily, as part of his gambling days. He dropped that habit when he joined the military, and to this day absolutely resents heavy alcohol of any kind, but doesn’t actively avoid milder alcohol as much as he does the stronger stuff, he just doesn’t see the appeal in it anymore

Speaking of which, Horangi sucks at gambling, in fact he’s so terrible at it it’s a wonder he stayed in the business so long. He actually wound up so far in debt because he kept telling himself “it’s not statistically possible that I can never win.” So he kept trying to prove he was capable of winning (he wasn’t.) Eventually, he did quit, escaping debt by fleeing normal civilian life in the process

Horangi hasn’t touched gambling since, he’s wary of even simple card games (glances judgmentally at uno). Even if he still gets that itch sometimes, he curbs it by playing games that don’t involve luck at all

By that I mean Horangi loves strategy games. A downright freak about them even, this way he’s not risking any money on card games that might be rigged… (Horangi chess menace, anyone..? Not promising that he won’t try to cheat in checkers) and he swears like a sailor whenever he loses

Any rush Horangi used to get from gambling is gone anyway, nothing can compare to the adrenaline spike from being on missions. In comparison, gambling feels like a watered down high and a desaturated painting, it wasn’t anything like the vivid colors of the battle field experience… and even that could get boring sometimes…

(That is not encouragement to throw yourself into combat 💧)

Horangi loves silver jewelry, especially rings. But never wears anything gold or with gems on it, he prefers the sheen of silver, and thicker jewelry too, heavy banded rings and he actually considers his dog tags as something of a fashion statement… there was a point in his life where he had his ears pierced, and only ever wore silver or black for those, however the piercings have since closed up as they would have been a hindrance in his military work

When Horangi was a kid, he wanted to be able to skateboard, the kind of kid who thought kick flips and riding rails down the stairs was the coolest thing, unfortunately he was never really all that good on wheels, and didn’t have the time to master the hobby

(He sure as hell can snowboard though. Don’t ask me; it came to me in a vision)

Horangi was actually planning to get full tattoo sleeves on his arms, but discovered that he was somewhat unnerved by the constant jabbing of the ink needle when he got his wrists and forearms done the first time around, since then he’s been a little wary about getting more. It’s not that his pain tolerance is low, or that he’s scared of the process, he’s just kind of annoyed by the way it’s done and the time it takes since it leaves him with nothing to really do while he waits with the incessant jabbing of the needle… yeah, he’s not a fan

Horangi has scars on his back (tiger scars!!!) from his youth, they’re not pretty or nice to look at, all ridged flesh and awkward lines, he couldn’t sleep on his back for weeks while they healed; and even after that there was phantom pain.

Because of these scars, Horangi dislikes having his back to anyone even more than the usual soldier. Not because he got the scars in that way, but simply because he’s subconsciously aware of them being there and he doesn’t like the idea of having them out in the open (even though he knows they can’t be seen when he’s dressed)

Horangi likes to doodle, no he’s not a good artist, he just likes to scribble on things, drawing in the dirt with a stick when he was a kid kind of thing, always carries a pen with him and doodles when he’s bored

Horangi is a great swimmer, like athlete level good at it. Do not try to race him, he will win

Is an avid language enjoyer, Horangi actually likes exploring different languages and how they work phonetically as well as alphabetically. His English is remarkably good, even with his thick accent

On that note, Horangi’s penmanship is… less than perfect. Maybe a small case of doctor’s handwriting if you know what I mean. He tends to slant his words a bit, and it looks a little like chicken scratch, but it’s charming in its own right

Horangi likes rock and rap, I think when he was a teen he would have really liked No Brain, especially the song “내 가죽잠바 My Leather Jacket” as well as western heavy metal, though he likes rap and hip hop too, anything fast paced or with a heavy beat (guilty pleasure listening might be lighter r&b) if you saw Gangnam style in his playlist, no you didn’t

If Horangi played an instrument it would be electric guitar, but only as an excuse to shred until the callouses on his fingers split and he had to wait for new ones to develop

Horangi is selfless to a fault, he likes to think he wouldn’t go through hell and back for just about anyone when he knows deep down he would in a heartbeat, he’s always cared deeply about others, he just struggles a little to express it, very much more of a subdued affection kind of guy, shown through little actions instead of straightforward declarations which are a rarity, but do happen

Horangi likes the military because it gave him purpose and direction. And best of all- an outlet. What else was he supposed to do with his somewhat short fuse and need to release pent up energy? Bashing up enemy forces seemed a good enough way as any

Horangi takes his coffee black, americano. (Shamelessly stole this headcanon from his voice actor…)

Bonus :

(His words not mine, do with this information what you will)

Now… König is somewhat of a difficulty for me to work through, he’s a bit of a silly bastard I can say that much. Still working on disemboweling him to understand how he works so his list might be a bit shorter, but I’ll try my damndest

König is clumsy, not in a “whoops I fell down the stairs silly me…” way but in a “where the hell did I leave my keys..?” kind of way, which is funny because he always struck me as someone who pays attention to detail while also having situational blindness, like “holy shit there was a car right there” even when you could ask him what the arrangement of crates were in a cargo shipment and he could tell you exactly without needing to think hard about it

König is absolutely incapable of keeping himself still, one of the reasons he was denied the position of a sniper… whether it be literally twiddling his thumbs, or bouncing his leg, he is always moving one part of his body at any given time

Two words, bad liar… König is a terrible liar even, not even consciously he just isn’t good at not giving an honest answer, especially if it’s to people he’s comfortable being around. Shifting eyes, clenched jaw, kicked puppy sort of demeanor if he’s actively trying to withhold the truth, he’s bad at covering it up unless he’s annoyed, then he can evade giving a straight answer but otherwise he can be read like an open book

In terms of social interaction, König is not some sort of inept stuttering dork, rather I would simply describe him as a little out of his element in mundane social settings. He’s a menace on the field, and he’s comfortable with that, when he isn’t occupied with something physically or mentally demanding however… he’s a tad socially awkward. But he’s still brazen and a little cocky, albeit easily annoyed or flustered (not blushing wreck flustered, just at a loss for words and maybe a few confused blinks if anything)

König is also competitive and a bit of a grump honestly, he takes things personally and tends to overthink, maybe a bit of a bad habit that involves twisting things in his mind until they’re warped from what they initially were, but yeah he’s gonna take things as a challenge or a jab at his abilities (inferiority complex coming back with a vengeance in the form of feeling like he needs to prove himself constantly)

That’s not to say König isn’t a “gentle giant” he does have a soft spot and isn’t prone to picking fights himself, but he’s also… bipolar for lack of a better word, he would definitely treat something with the most tenderness his large hands can allow, but then turn around and obliterate an entire unit with a blind sort of unhinged arrogance that doesn’t take kindly to being rivaled

König is like a barely domesticated guard dog with self worth issues that present themselves through mild narcissism and social insecurity. Again, he’s a madman, just listen to his voicelines, Horangi may look insane on the outside but he’s actually relatively stable, König on the other hand is like a carefully constructed bridge made of entirely weak points that are holding themselves together by faint pressure and the whole thing is covered in tape that mask wounds instead of bandaids

If König played an instrument it would be drums, he needs to be able to bash on things, I think he would get frustrated with something like guitar or bass

König is a bit demanding with things he wants, and likes to think he can get what he wants with relatively little struggle, not that he’s a spoiled brat by any means, just that he sees something and goes “I want that.” And isn’t afraid to say that he wants it, and that’s basically saying “I intend to get it” but he also does have manners, and isn’t exactly extroverted, but he has an obvious sort of intensity about him that really shines on the field, he likes a good fight

(Que “Finally some worthy adversaries!” line)

König knows he’s strong and is confident in his abilities, but despite knowing this he still doesn’t take praise well. Or compliments, he’s all sure of his abilities until someone points out he did a good job and suddenly he has no idea what to say, similarly if he thinks he can handle something and voices that, and someone replies “yeah you’re right, you’ve got this” he’d be like “???” because he’s not used to the positive reciprocation, he’s used to only having himself and the physical proof that he can do things and do them well, so when someone points it out he’s at a loss

König is more likely to let German slip into his speaking than Horangi is to let Korean slip into his, König’s English also isn’t as good as Horangi’s

König is a little possessive and can get defensive too. Stems from his childhood, being picked on a bit he learned to keep his stuff close to him and be careful who he shares with if at all, and is not trusting even if on the outside he appears relatively open despite his social awkwardness

However, König likes having instructions and knowing what exactly needs to be done, he’s organized and likes not always having to make a lot of complex decisions— the structure of the military gives him a way to keep himself occupied in this manner. And he likes feeling like he has a use, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted

(He’s still bitter about not being a sniper).

König’s handwriting is surprisingly nice, it’s neat and simple, but he doesn’t write paper and pencil often, in fact he usually records numbers and data if anything, and types everything else. He likes using digital tablets

König takes his coffee sweet, and doesn’t care about the temperature, he’ll drink coffee that started out warm and sat out long enough to get cold.

Rammstein fan? König is guilty. Also loves Slipknot and Korn. Orange Sector fan to the end too. His guilty pleasure is instrumental music. (Sometimes he and Horangi share their music with one another)

König wears his hair long (not super long, just a little unkempt and about jaw length), and he has stubble. He keeps his hair tied in a low bun for missions, on leave and for downtime he’ll tie the bun higher

König is shockingly loyal, like makes a conscious effort to be loyal to people, and is surprisingly thoughtful about little things that others wouldn’t really pay much mind too. It’s sort of a subconscious thing actually, he remembers a lot of insignificant stuff for no real reason, it just sticks

In König’s mind, he has a few jokes he came up with that he thinks are hilarious but has never had a chance to say them and is also a little doubtful other people would be as amused as him, so he keeps them to himself.

(Horangi might luck out one day)

Cough… and that’s all!! I’ll update this if I ever think of any more. But yeah, that’s all I got. Hope you enjoyed

83 notes · View notes