#i swear i'm not 3 sweeps old | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sstrwbrryccke · 11 months ago

Note

I SAW UR SUGAR BABY!SOOBIN FIC AND IT'S SO FUCKING HELLO ?!? could u possibly write something similar for hoon :00 (n could it be male reader :00)

HIIII thank you im glad you enjoyed it ahhsagds !!! and i have so many thoughts for sunghoon <3 i think he would be a bit more smug compared to soobin, not as obedient but playful and cute in his own way!

the ending is a little rushed because i wrote this on the airplane to shanghai 💀😭 (also not proofread so its probably really bad)

— sponsor | sub park sunghoon

tags: aspiring skater!sugarbaby!sunghoon x rich!reader, amab reader, power dynamics, praise kink, unconventional settings to have sex, soft sex, shower sex, frottage, thigh fucking, body worship

you were old money, the kind that people call 'disgustingly rich'. the type of rich family that throw galas instead of family gatherings, and that's where you met him in the first place. it was one of your many cousins' birthday, excessively wealthy and extravagant, a golden gilded hall decorated with a specially laid ice skating rink for performers. you heard your cousin had been an avid ice skating fan and wanted a live performance for his birthday.

the night had been smooth, dull as you would expect out of a bunch of old-money conservatives whose idea of humour is joking about tax evasion. but you notice just by the off-chance, a lean man clad in all black, bumping into a column, a word slips from his mouth; which you can only guess was a swear word. it was strange, he was clearly out of place. but this wasn't some wattpad story about you sweeping a mysterious man off his feet, so you shrugged and continued sipping on your champagne glass.

you only really notice him during the performance, the mass was seated in the grand hall, lights dimming as the spotlight shone; and it was seriously strange. because he wasn't even the main lead, in fact, he was one of the many backup dancers. yet you just couldn't take your eyes off him. there was something so enchanting about his elegance, you could feel his genuine dedication and passion from where he skated. when the show finished, you find yourself clapping, eyes still mesmerized as the boy leaves for the backstage.

a crowd gathers around the main leads, interested sponsorships and words of praise exchanged. while your eyes drift to the man walking off, taking a scone from the buffet stands before disappearing into the balcony. naturally, you follow after him— which in hindsight was slightly creepy because you've been practically eyeing him down. but you really wanted to spark up a conversation with this pretty boy.

when you reach the balcony, you find the backside of the man leaning on the railing. you lean next to him and he was visibly startled— so much so he dropped the scone in his hand. he does attempt to catch it— horribly, and the dessert tumbles into the void, his mouth agape. "aish..."

"ah, sorry."

"no, it's no problem! really! sir!" he quickly rectifies, aheming into his fist and waving his other hand around before looking directly in front of him. occasionally glancing at you with his eyes only. he was visibly nervous, definitely embarrassed too. he straightens his back and raises his chin, probably trying to seem professional in front of you; but you could tell with the way he clenched his jaw that he was tense. and you don't blame him, it looks like this was his first time coming to such a luxurious gala, surrounded by tons of powerful men and women who could either make or break his career.

"well, what's your name?" you offer a conversation starter, since it didn't seem like he was budging.

"i'm park sunghoon, sir!"

"nice to meet you park sunghoon, how old are you?" you ask smoothly, stretching a hand out for him to shake. he couldn't even look you in the eyes, what a shy and polite man.

he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, before taking your hand with both of his, bowing. "nice, nice to meet you too! i'm 21 turning 22, sir."

"we're the same age, that means you don't need to call me sir."

"yes sir." he replies without much thought.

you give him a pointed look and he quickly shuts up. he was endearing in his own way though, the interaction made you smile. this man who had previously been so elegant and precise on stage was actually very timid.

"you caught my eye in the performance."

he lights up at this, turning his head to you with a small bashful smile on his lips. "thank you so much, i'm surprised you remember me."

"of course i do, couldn't keep my eyes off you in fact." you advance, tilting your head as you subtly flirt. you were into him and you wanted him to understand that. "oh." he mouthed, and it seems like he was starting to recognize the connotations of the conversation. he was still smiling, but you could see a pink tint on his pale skin.

"no, seriously. you're super talented, i want to sponsor you."

his smile drops, a shocked expression on his face instead, soon he's ecstatic. "really?"

you chuckle, "yes, really."

☆★☆

perhaps, your definition of sponsor was just sugar baby with extra steps. because soon, the two of you fall into that type of relationship. it started with a bouquet of flowers after his practice (which you went to weekly), then it became a dinner invitation, and eventually you were lavishing him with gifts and luxury items. okay, perhaps you were just courting this man in the form of presents.

you watch on the sidelines as sunghoon does his usual practice on the ice (a private ice rink you hired for him), he glances towards you with a mischievous grin before doing a silly spin. you just chuckle, shaking your head. when it was over you sling a towel over his neck like usual, handing him a water bottle. he stares at you, rather proud of himself.

"did you see the spin?"

"nah, i was looking at the wall." you joke, there was literally no one else but sunghoon to look at. "issh" he shakes his head, lightly punching your arm.

after, you treat him to a nice dinner in this expensive restaurant, he’s used to your dinner invitations, but he still can't settle his nerves coming to such a high-end restaurant. chatting with you soothed his anxiety though, and shortly he was joking and laughing like usual.

the first course was served, and you took this opportunity to slide over the blue container with the tiffany and co logo. sunghoon takes it shyly, glancing at you, you give him an encouraging look. at the beginning of this dynamic; he did try to refuse the expensive gifts, but you were insistent and sunghoon secretly enjoyed receiving the presents too.

he feels his heart thumping with excitement as he unwraps the case, a genuine surprise in his eyes when he pulls out the silver wire tiffany t bracelet. he’s been wanting it for a while now, mentioning it once casually. and you remembered! he tries it on for you; because he knows you like seeing him with your gifts. the bracelet glints in the light and he looks at you with a reserved smile.

"thank you so much... i don't know to repay you—"

"by being mine." you interrupt him, the words come out before you can even comprehend it, baffled by your impulsivity. "i'm sorry it just came out— if it makes you uncomfortable i apo—"

"yes."

you blink slowly, while he looks at you with full seriousness. and that's how sugar baby sunghoon came to be.

☆★☆

navigating the dynamic was like navigating any other romantic relationship, though sunghoon treated it like a contract at the start. unusual, but usual for sunghoon. it made you chuckle about his seriousness of the entire situation. the whole circumstance was bizarre but silly. what an endearing man. he would sit you down one day, hands clasped together.

"what are your expectations for me?"

and you snicker. he said it like it was a full-time job, which maybe it could be.

"recieve my gifts, and enjoy your best life."

he looked determined, continuing on. "is sex on the table?" he was surprisingly straightforward. it's always the quiet ones who were unexpectantly bold huh...

"if you're comfortable with that, yes." you give him a firm nod.

"i see." he pulls back, shy again.

"so, are you?" you tease, because he didn't outwardly give an answer.

he pauses, and you spot a glint in his eyes. his tongue darts out to wet his lips and his mind runs rampant. how cute.

"i am."

☆★☆

and wow was that quite literally the best decision in your entire life. everything remained the same, except now you have an extremely hot and sexy ice skater whose libido was as high as his talent. life was good. life was great.

training went as you expect, sunghoon absolutely smashed through his routine. running back to you with a proud smile, hands on his hips.

"i did pretty good, didn't i?" he always asked similar questions, pridefully, wanting to be praised.

"did you? didn't see." you would always tease him, and he would respond by playfully hitting your shoulder. the sass doesn't last long though, because the moment you two are alone in the locker room that's when you go down on him, embracing him as his lovely quiet moans seep out from your kiss.

it should be classified as an addiction at this point, the amount of unconventional places you guys had done it in. collecting locations like pokemon cards. it was tame at first, or tame for your standards anyway. the first time was in the hotel, of course, but after that, you went straight for the ice rink. its not exactly public, as you had rented the entire private rink for your beautiful ice prince, but the setting itself was scandalous. just imagining the sanction that housed many hours of his talent, being dirtied by his sweat in another sense was downright sinful. sunghoon never complained however, because as long as you praise him, he was satisfied. boy was he a sucker for praise, he keens when you whisper in his ear, almost over the moon when you compliment him on his skating. he would moan unashamedly, (normally he would block his moans or whimper) and you respond by spreading his legs in clear view of the ice rink. slam him down and feel his back arch prettily against your chest.

sunghoon was contradictorily both shy and straightforward when it came to his words and actions during sex. he's quiet and sometimes downright refuses to moan or beg. yet when he's close he would straight-up demand things from you. when you fold his flexible body in half and ram into his sensitive hole, he would spread wider for you (which you thought was physically impossible but he proves you wrong), yet bashfully hides himself when you praise him. he was a man full of contradictions, but it really drove you wild.

but it wasn't all about sex anyway, sex made up barely half of it, because it was really all about him. sunghoon just had a soul that was born to attract you. he's introverted and reserved with others, which explains why he doesn't attract sponsors or gain lead roles, but underneath it all was such a uniquely endearing man with a strong ambition for his passions.

you absolutely loved spoiling this boy and watching his reactions; him wearing the items you brought for him just gave you that extra dose of serotonin. when the two of you made it official, he was just so much more ecstatic with each gift he received from you. it wasn't even the gifts themselves that pleased him so much, it was the care you gave that really hit the mark for him. that burberry scarf he eyed for a few minutes? woke up to it on his lap. the prada bag he briefly mentioned he thought was fashionable? on the kitchen counter. you just paid so much attention to him, and he felt so loved.

you supported him in his ice skating career too, attending every competition he's been in and always making sure to watch over at least one of his daily practices a week. he had big ambitions and eventually wanted to compete in the olympics, which you had no doubts he would achieve.

gradually, you wanted to integrate him into your life too, though it was hard to explain to your parents the logistics behind taking a 'common ice skater' with you everywhere. you two managed to keep a low profile.

and by everywhere, you meant everywhere. you brought him to tennis and golf practices, he struggled with golf but had fun with tennis. and you brought him to basically every single gala and ball your family tree hosted. it was enjoyable at first, but introverts do what introverts do and he gradually voiced how he preferred quieter, more intimate meetings with you. in which you decided to only bring him to the important galas. (maybe every single one was a bit overkill) but he was so right because intimate stay-ins with him were so much better and more peaceful compared to your hectic everyday life. he was a very mindful and health-conscious person, so you often find yourself doing stretches and going to the gym with him. it was absolute zen. plus, there was the bonus of you slowly snaking your arms behind him, kissing his neck and lips as much as you want without worrying about public perception.

☆★☆

you can tell something was bothering him, with the way he fidgeted and dazed off in your shared hotel room. anyone in his position would he nervous, after all, he was competing for the olympics! through much hard-work from his side and endless support from yours, he qualified for the olympic team after winning nationals with flying colours. you knew he had it in him, you knew since the first day you met.

“hoon, you nervous?” you ask, coming up behind him to rub at his shoulders. he gives you a small smile before sighing. “a little.”

you pull him into a hug, your chest pressed towards his back. he relaxes slightly. “want to talk about it baby?” you stroke his stomach, trying to soothe him.

“it’s silly,” he gives you a half smile. you slap his thigh lightly “issh!”

“it’s not silly, tell me.” you pout, kissing his neck. he laughs as you lavish his neck with lovebites.

“i’m just worried that i’m going to lose.” he says in-between giggles. you temporarily stop your assault in his neck, lifting your head to look at him.

“you won’t lose baby, and even if you do, just being in the team is already an amazing feat. most people go their whole lives without even touching olympic level.”

he seemed a little reassured by this, but you could tell his mind was still swirling with other thoughts. you kiss his cheeks, waiting for him to open up about it himself.

“it’s just, if i lose, im wasting all your effort and money.”

you finally pause at this, giving him a look. “what? how am i wasting effort and money on you?”

he seemed a little nervous, gulping down his saliva. “i mean, you invested so much into me, the least i could do is win.” you were shocked, was he dense or stupid? maybe a little bit of both. you roll your eyes as you lift him in your arms. he lets out a startled gasp as you bring him to the bathroom. you face him towards the mirror, grasping at his chin so he looks directly into his eyes.

“do you see this? what a gorgeous, beautiful, godly man.” you whisper in his ear and you watch his cheeks blossom a scarlet red. your hands trail down to his chest, unbuttoning the top.

“wow, look at that. so pretty, so soft and perfect.” you knead his chest, flicking at his pink nipples before moving down, massaging his toned stomach. he was staring at the parts your hand were drifting to as you fondle him. you kiss the shell of his ear, making him shiver “hngh…”

your fingers trail down, you lick your lips at his delicious reactions. palming at his erection. “every part of you is so pretty. such nimble arms and thighs, no wonder you’re so good at ice skating. everything about you is just so lovable.”

he was trembling, glancing into your eyes in the mirror and you could tell he wanted you to continue. “don’t you get it already? you really think i brought all those gifts, paid all those lessons and sponsored you because it was an investment?” you whisper, he turns his face to meet with yours, taking your lips desperately.

“i love you.” he whispers breathily into the kiss, that was the first time any of you said that sentence. he freezes, anxiety filling his face.

“i love you too, hoon.” you french kiss him, your tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip, he reciprocates gladly.

“i love you i love you i love you so so much.” he stammers, grinding his ass against your hardening cock. “i love you too baby, you have no idea how much i love you.” you grunt into his ear, sliding your dick out from your underwear. the both of you were barely clothed in the first place.

“hngh put it in already please,” he’s never been this vocal before, you felt your cock twitch just at the desperation in his voice. but you controlled yourself, he had a skating competition tomorrow after all.

“hoonie the olympics is tomorrow.” he whines and you chuckle fondly. spoiled brat.

“put your thighs together.” you give his ass a light slap, he listens and puts his thighs closely. you could see his dripping cock through the small gap. “good boy.” you praise and he rubs his thighs together.

not waiting any longer, you slip your hard cock between his thighs, groaning lowly at the sensation. god it felt so good, he clearly thinks so too because he immediately whimpers, pushing back at your dick. you let him adjust to the sensation before slowly thrusting against his thigh.

“angh... ugh… so good… love you… love you…” he whimpered, panting softly. you pull his head to the side to kiss him again, hand grasping at both of your cocks and he cries into your mouth. you thrust harder and faster, he reciprocates happily by clenching his thighs tighter. soon his stomach was squeezing and his pants became breathier.

“gonna come, can i come? please? please?” and who were you to resist your prince?

“come for me hoonie, come for me.”

his thighs stutter and he clenches his teeth as a strangled voice comes out. he came in spurts, long and thin. you wish you could taste his pretty semen as well but thats for another time. you slip your cock out from his thighs, jerking yourself off and coming all over his ass and back.

it was arousing and you could almost go again, but he needed rest so you tenderly kissed his back, cleaning him up.

“i’m going to win for you.” he says breathily while you were wiping him down, you look at him amused, chuckling.

“don’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

“no, this seriously motivated me to win. i’m going to win the olympics and then we’re going to have the most mind-blowing sex ever.”

you guys share a look before laughing.

☆★☆

everyone could hear the thumping of their own hearts as they waited for the results to unveil. sunghoon grasps your hand and you give him a squeeze.

before you could process it, you were ecstatically cheering, turning to sunghoon. the man beside you was in genuine shock, staring at his high score as if it was an alien on earth. holy shit, he got the highest score and he’s in first place!!!

snghoon lunges for you, tumbling you out of your chair as he tightly hugs you. not like you cared about the people staring, because you shared the excitement. you hug him back just as tightly, stroking his back. you feel the crook of your neck and shoulder wet.

after a few seconds, you help him stand and he wipes his eyes with an embarrassed smile. you couldn’t stop grinning as he received his medal.

☆★☆

sunghoon was able to keep both of his promises that day. the moment you two arrived in the hotel, you had a very needy sunghoon clinging around you neck, drawing you into a deep kiss as you navigate around the room.

you manage to peel him off for a second, to undress him and yourself, stumbling into the shower. you adjust the water while sunghoon unrelentlessly grinds against your cock.

“hn, god please! ive been wanting this since yesterday, ive been so good, so good, please reward me” he whimpers quietly and you melt. you grasp his hips tightly, pulling his back flush against your chest and you grind down his ass. he groans, hands propped on the shower wall for support.

your finger plays with his rim and he whines, prodding the hole before inserting. you were careful, treating his body like porcelain as you coo into his ear. he was so desperate, willingly giving up his sweet voice for you to hear. you add another finger and he was now fully rutting against you, eyes closed as he fucked himself on your fingers. it was an endearing sight, but you pull out, slapping your cock on his ass.

“what do you want again?” you play innocent, chuckling at his offended expression. he groans, frustratedly pushing back at your cock.

“you know what i want! i want you inside me please!” he whines out and you laugh. you give him what he wants, slipping your cock into his tight hole, groaning as you feel his gummy walls enclose around you.

“you feel so good sunghoon, such a pretty boy.” you coo into his ear and he clenches his thighs tighter. you thrust into him, each one faster and harder than the previous one and he was in actual heaven. tongue lolling out as he groans with each motion, it didn’t take long until he was crying out a strangled coming.

you weren’t done with him yet though, you prop his flexible legs up, making him sink deeper into your cock as he chokes. before he could protest you start nailing into him, hitting his prostate so well and on point that he visibly crumbles, hands desperately grabbing at anything as his cock sputters out another load.

his eyes were wide as he watches his dick cry uncontrollably, while you adjust behind him, ready to piston into him all over again. oh boy was he in for a wild ride…

that’s how the night progressed, you plummeting his ass in the shower, and then at the bathroom counter, then you moved him to the hotel bed, forcing him to ride you until he couldn’t prop himself up anymore.

his body slumps over yours, exhausted and overstimulated, thighs trembling and nerves sputtering. but you still moved beneath him and he cries “can’t! can’t, hurts please it feels too good.”

you grin into his skin, jerking his cock a few times and he comes again. body limp. you pull out and the warm semen in his hole dribble out. just as you try to move to clean him up, his arms tightly wind around your waist.

“stay here.” it was a demand from your ice prince and you snicker.

“anything for the olympic winner.”

#fic ☆#ask ☆#anon ☆#sub sunghoon #sub!sunghoon #sub!enhypen #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard thoughts #sub enhypen #enhypen hard hours #sub!idol #sub idol #sunghoon x you #enhypen x reader #kpop x male reader

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saltnsugarbear · 1 month ago

Text

your hands are all over my scent

summary: The Bear hosts a friends and family Halloween party after hours! Being Sydney's childhood friend, she invites you to meet everyone!

title from: "Halloween" by Noah Kahan

word count: 0.6k

content warnings: reader is the same age as Syd which makes them younger than Richie, playboy bunny costume, swearing, Sydney mentions stabbing Richie again <3

divider by @strangergraphics

"Oh no. Nope, no, no way. Don't even think about it." Sydney says firmly from where she stands beside Richie.

"What the fuck are y'talkin' about?" Richie ashes his cigarette, looking over at her. He has to pretend like he wasn't watching the way the fluffy cottontail bounced when you walked to the drink table.

"Oh-o, you know what I'm talking about.." Syd's eyes get wide with emphasis as she looks back at you inside.

They both watch you as order some Halloween special Fak and Sweeps made up at the bar. When you're done, you turn around and make a beeline for the door. You don't bother grabbing your coat as you walk out of the building, spotting Sydney and Richie near the entrance of the alley. There's an added spring to your step as you go over to the duo, spotting Richie's cigarette in between his fingers.

"Can I have a hit?" Your eyes are bright as you look at Richie.

The look in your eyes makes his brain pause. You're looking up at him expectantly, the bunny ears on top of your head are slightly crooked.

After a moment Richie's brain catches up and he clears his throat. He can feel Sydney's eyes on him as he nods.

"Yeah, sure.." Richie holds out his hand for you to take the cigarette. You're not quite sure what possesses you in this moment but instead of taking the cigarette from Riche's hand, you grab his wrist gently and bring the butt of the cigarette to your lips.

Richie can see Sydney bury her face in her hands in his periphery, but his eyes are transfixed on where your lips wrap around the cigarette. You take a long drag, before you remove your lips and take his hand away.

There's a ring of your lip gloss around the filter that Richie can't look away from. You move your head away from Syd and Richie to release the smoke from your lungs. You miss the way Richie glances over at Sydney, who's already glaring at him.

"Thanks!" You chirp, giving Richie a bright smile.

"Yeah, 's no problem.." Richie clears his throat again, rubbing the tip of his nose with his thumb. You turn to Sydney, placing your hand on her elbow.

"I ordered us that vampire blood cocktail that Sweeps made up! I'll hold on to yours for you!" You smile at her sweetly. With that, you're walking back inside, fake rabbit ears bouncing with each step.

Silence settles over Richie and Sydney as the door shuts behind you. He can feel her gaze burning into his profile as he stares at the spot where you were just standing.

"I didn't do anything!" Richie insists, holding his hands up in a display of innocence.

"You let them hit your cigarette!" Sydney exclaims.

"What was I supposed to say? No? Like a jagoff?" Richie sounds offended at the mere idea.

"I'm going to stab you again.." Sydney grumbles, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets.

"You're the one who brought them to this thing..." Richie mutters, bringing his cigarette to his lips. He inhales along the filter as Sydney grumbles beside him, kicking pebbles along the pavement. Richie grumbles back at her mockingly, a habit he's picked up from Eva recently.

"Just don't..." Sydney sighs. She puts her hands in front of her in a 'stop' motion. "Don't like... Pursue them if you're not actually interested. If you're just looking for like.. A quick fuck, they're not the person to choose.."

"Too old for a one night stand.." Richie scoffs, "Don't have to worry, bout it. Can look without touching, can't I?"

"Oh gross.." Sydney exclaims, shaking her head. "Don't do any of that near me."

With that last piece, Sydney turns to go inside, shaking her head like she's trying to forget the words Richie said.

Richie rolls his eyes as Sydney goes back inside, looking around the empty street before turning back to The Bear.

"Fuckin' playboy bunny..." Richie mutters as he flicks his cigarette to the ground. He watches as you hand Sydney her glass, eyes shut as you smile at her.

"Fuckin' bunny.."

#saltnsugarbear #not enough sugar #bearblrpromptober #saltnsugarbear promptober #richie jerimovich fanfiction #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction

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aviradasa · 4 months ago

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I know this is my second request in less than 30 minutes, but what about a fic of reader and leola, Both sync during that time of the month and they just sass and complain about everything Aaravos does down to his cooking while he takes care of them🤣😂🤣

Also, can this fic be like a comedy thing

🤣🤣 say less, I got you. Also, I decided to make this in more of a oneshot style! I hope that is alright. Sorry, I got a bit lazy towards the end. Maybe this will get another part, lol, but it's a comedy I don't think I've ever seen a well thought comedy 🤣🤣 anyways I hope you enjoy 🖤

Reader and Teen!Leola sync up.Aaravos is done.

I 100% believe this is his default look before he says some sass ass shit to yall in this.

Also, I have a confession. I miss his old model he looked so much more intimidating. Anyways

Aaravos x Fem! Mom Reader. Hc

{Comady} warnings:there's like an innuendo at the end and cussing. Besides that, you're good

Check out the other parts to this string of HC

Masterlist

Aaravos introducing you to his daughter

Aaravos getting ready to propose to you with the help of leola

Teenage!Leolas first partner is human how do you and Aaravos react

@delusional-mushroom @josmarney23 @imsimping4life

The sun had just peaked when you woke up feeling a lot more irritable than normal. Which was a sign to you that the next week was going to be a nightmare, as you and your teenage daughter had synced.

You reluctantly look over towards the window and roll your eyes at the light poking through.

Yes, we have curtains up, but you swear they can never close all of the way, and it pisses you off to no extent.

But since there is nothing you can do about it. You just groan in frustration, covering your face with your hands before turning to look at your husband, who lays peacefully next to you in bed

You are always jealous of him. because he sleeps and wakes up so pretty, and you always say you wake up looking like you fought 3 wars, then had a night out in a tavern. But besides that, you're jealous that he doesn't have to feel like the gods are mid-fistfight with your uterus.

That prick

Just as you're about to get up, you hear your daughter in the kitchen. A few seconds pass, and you hear the sound of one of your plates hitting the ground.

as the sound of the shattering glass hits your ears, Aaravos shoots up, and you fall back into the mattress as fast as you can.

Cause they got you all the way fucked up if they think you're dealing with that in this condition

Sorry Leola yo daddy's coming for you.

It's probably for the best today. Those were cute plates, and you're a little pissed that one is now broken

In the kitchen, Aaravos walks in to see one of your NICE ass crystal plates shattered and an irritated leola floating above the mess

And this shit is broke broke. There are no hella big pieces to pick up; it's all small shards, and they are everywhere. So Aaravos pushes leola to the side and uses a quick spell on the broom so it will sweep up on its own as he tries talking to his daughter.

"How did this even happen?"

"I don't even know. I opened the cabinet, and it fell onto the floor when I tried to grab the one under it." She starts saying in a quickened, frustrated tone

"Well, why would you try to grab the one under it in the first place," Aaravos says, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. For him, it's too early for this bullshit.

"Because the one on top might have dust on it? Everybody knows that, dad!" Leola says, getting more annoyed.

"Girl, lower your damn tone with me. I'm not the one who broke your mother's plate." He says, narrowing his eyes at her. She just groans, getting more frustrated.

"Well, it wasn't my fault! It was just an accident!" She shoots back at him.

"Who's accident was it if it wasn't your fault? Because I would really like to talk to the person who I'm cleaning up broken crystal after right now. At 7 o'clock in the morning." Aaravos says in amusement with a raised eyebrow.

Leola just rolls her eyes and floats out of the kitchen with a " well you missed a spot" as Aaravos stands there chuckling to himself.

He does not feel bad about talking back to yall during hell week.

He loves both Leola and you to death, and he will help all and try and accommodate you both to the best of his abilities, but he will sass back and get some attitude if Leola and you do

The king of matching energies lowkey

He thinks of it like this. If I'm doing this shit for yall on my own, voluntarily I'm not taking any shit.

He isn't just part of the sassy man apocalypse he started the damn movement.

Anyways

As he stands across the kitchen, watching his little magic broom clean up, you walk in

As you walk into the kitchen and see his little magic broom floating around your side eye tf outta him

And he side eyes you back

"Good morning, my love." He says suspiciously, knowing you're about to say some shit

" Why is there a floating broom cleaning. Do We have to rely on magic for everything?" You say approaching him.

"If you don't want me doing it with magic, you can be my guest to do it manually. Because I don't think Leola is going to." He says with a smirk

You're gagged, honestly. Are you supposed to come up with something witty this early in the morning, like you already feel like you're getting stabbed? You don't have time for that

You just avert your gaze and go to the other side of the room to get some food.

" If you want, I would be happy to make something." Aaravos offers

"Oh, I keep forgetting you can cook. Yes, that would be lovely"

That smug face he was making drops before you could snap your fingers.

"Excuse me?"

A little while later, he is sitting there flipping some pancakes, and you and Leola appear over his shoulder

"You flipped that one a little early it's a kinda light. I like em dark golden, not light golden," Leola starts.

"Then eat one of the other ones. There's 10 on the plate right there." He says back quickly

" You poured that one on their weird pancakes are supposed to be circular," you say, pointing out a wonky-looking one

" Oh really. I didn't know that." He replies sarcastically

" How the hell didn't you know that? You gettin' old or something -" Leola starts. She was never good at understanding sarcasm

You quickly cover her mouth with your hand. " Watch your damn mouth, girl. Don't be talking to your father like that."

"Thank you-"

"but she is right what the fuck kinda shape is that I've never seen anything like it?"

You both are kicked out of the kitchen until it's time to eat

After the morning passes and all eat, it gets better, and even apologize for SOME of the things you said

The afternoon is pretty chill. You all kinda do your own thing, Aaravos researches in his study while you read a book next to him, and Leola goes out with some friends.

Everything is pretty nice

Until night comes

He doesn't even tell you guys he's cooking dinner. He doesn't wanna hear it.

He didn't account for your scary ass sense of smell.

You and Leola enter that room looking like the twins from the shining

Yall just appear behind him hand like

🙂🙂

He sees now that Leola got her scary-ass look from you.

All stared into his soul, and he wasn't even facing you both

"What are you making?"

"Stew."

"Why does it look like your stiring diarrhea-"

"Get out."

You all get the doors magically locked on you 😭

But when yall are let it, that shit tasted good as hell.

Like damn food, it's so good that you lowkey contemplate if you should give him head later.

Jk yall, don't do that when your daughter is in the house. Only when she leaves.

After dinner, Leola just thanks her dad and goes to bed

Not long after, you and Aaravos have the same idea.

Time to repeat for the next 6 days 😊

Don't worry, on day 8, you'll kick Leola out of the house for a few hours.

#tdp #aaravos #tdp aaravos #aaravos the dragon prince #aaravos x reader #the dragon prince #tdp x reader #thedragonprince #dad aaravos #parent reader #leola the dragon prince #leola tdp #tdp leola #leola #Teenage leolas #nothing bad happens au

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arcadia-of-pluto · 2 months ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Nineteen

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4,646

Themes; isekai, slow burn (eventual smut), Canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for some swearing and mature themes

Notes; Hey guys! Finally done with Sea God Rafayel and now we're on Foreseer Zayne! Currently, his chapter spans until twenty-three, so hopefully I'll be able to wrap up his story soon and get on to the next one. I'm unsure if I want to do Abysswalker Rafayel since that's in the future or if I should skip past that and go straight to the next one 🤔 either let me know or I'll figure it out myself!

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Masterlist

"I will cut out your heart with a dagger honed, my darling. And in Love’s name, your heart will become my faith. Your body will be washed clean like a pearl. I will care for your heart. Till we meet again and you can reclaim it for yourself."

- Siren’s Ballad, Act 3: Muia

You felt your feet sinking in sand, endless is the yellow sky. Plants grow along a dried riverbed. You walk beside it for a long, long, long time. The skin on your fingers is dry, cracked. Your feet begin to bleed.

At the edge of the riverbed is a young man and a giant sea creature. You cannot make out his features, but you think he’s taking in the animal’s warmth. He appears to be singing a melody. ‘Tis strange, alluring. But you can barely make out any notes as his voice is barely above a whisper.

You take a few steps, wishing to hear him better and when he looks up, you immediately recognize those eyes. He stands up and reaches out to you like you were an old friend returning from a long trip.

“There’s Whalefall City.” He points to the bones of sea creatures long dead. In the distance, they rest in the sand dunes.

“That’s where I can look at the sea?”

“...yes.”

You take his hand and you arrive at your destination when the sun rises. The teen turns toward you and– a dagger plunges into your chest.

Warm blood drips and seeps into the sand below. You watch helplessly as he rips open your chest and holds your heart in his hands, red with your blood. A tiny flame feeds on your fresh blood and a shiny crystal, emitting a strange light, rests at the center of the flames.

There’s a voice in the air whispering, “The reason for us to leave the desert is not to find an oasis…We’re here for a heart, to take it back and make it our worship.”

You jolt up in your bed. A dream within a dream? That was...insane.

Your hand clutches at your chest, almost worried that your heart isn’t there even though you’re alive and breathing– breathing?

Yeah, no.

You felt like you were suffocating. It genuinely felt like your heart was ripped from your chest. You take a few breaths to calm yourself.

To calm yourself, you talk with Algie about the ceremony tomorrow. She says girls wear light, flowy clothes and braid their hair with beautiful pearls and shells. She also says they prepared a lovely garment for you. You also worry about what all you need to do, but she says all you need to do is stand in a conspicuous spot and give Rafayel your hand. She quickly dissuades your worries, telling you that the Sea God’s follower will help him see Lemuria’s future and that the prophecy will reveal the fate of Lemuria.

It’s just a bit nerve wracking, you hope your dream wasn’t a premonition of what’s to come.

Today was the day. After thousands of years, Whalefall City holds the Sea God’s ceremony again.

Before the sunrises, the whole city is in festival mode with everyone looking forward to the ceremony celebrating the Sea God’s coming of age and gaining the power to protect the ocean.

As Konche and Algie argue amongst each other, she turns around to spot you in a corner.

“Y/n, what’re you hiding over there for? The sea god won’t be able to see you!” She gently scolds you and you sigh, “Does it matter? There’s so many people, he might not…”

“Quiet, here he is,” Konche whispers and the crowd erupts in cheers. You look up and spot a huge shadow sweeping over Whalefall City.

‘Tis a beautiful and sacred creature of the ocean. It appears to be a whale and yet has bird wings. The Sea God sits on its back, passing by his loyal subjects before stopping at the gates to Whalefall City.

He walks through the crowd until he stands in front of you, your breath hitches in your chest as he lifts the veil on your head and takes your hand.

Beautiful, intricate patterns are painted on his body. His eyes are shaped like crescent moons with how much he was smiling. It's as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Everyone moves aside, creating a path for you both as you make your way down. Every child says their blessings in Lemurian. Gorgeous coral branches are thrown behind you as you approach the temple’s doors.

The door slowly closes behind you both, songs from the outside melding with prayers for inside the temple.

In the dimly lit hall, the fire twists in the darkness, about to go out. The young Sea God intertwines your fingers and holds your hands against his chest. You close your eyes before calling out his name silently.

Yes…You were willing to give him your heart. You are willing to give him your sincerest form of worship, that’s how much you care for him. You are willing to have his very being etched, engraved onto your soul as you praise and pray to him for the rest of your life.

Soft like a silken thread, the Sea God’s fire touches your hand. The fiery thread embeds itself into your palm, becoming a line, a part of your very soul. Your eyes flutter back open to meet Rafayel’s gaze.

The young Sea God’s voice like the wind, blowing out the only light in the darkness, “This is my promise to you. For ‘tis Lemuria’s vow, a bond everlasting.”

"No one knows what happened that day. Lemuria is plunged into endless darkness and panic seeps into every part of the ocean. The deep sea is angry and in its wrath, waves slam against the cliffs and rocks fall into the waters. Even temples are turned to rubble."

"Tis a long time before the sea god walks out of the temple alone, bringing light back to Lemuria. As he leaves the temple, the alcove that once held the flame collapses."

"The Sea God’s follower is gone."

"Bathed in sparks and cinders, he holds a small, pulsing flame. It writhes like a newborn. Some said that the flame was born from the purest faith. Some said that the sea god sacrificed his follower to save Lemuria…"

"Different stories, some true, some not, circulated until the people gradually forgot about the ceremony. No Lemurians have ever seen the Sea God’s follower and the little fish that swims around him– they are gone, whereabouts unknown."

"Only many, many years later than the god of the sea has perished, when the kingdom has sunk to the depths of the ocean, a rumor begins to circulate Lemuria. The God of the Sea had lied to the deep sea. For his beloved."

- Lemuria: The Days to Come

The sunlight burns behind your eyelids and you feel more tired than when you first fell asleep. You rest your hand over your eyes and groan as you sit up, your other hand feeling oddly heavy.

You open your eyes and turn to look before realizing Sylus was still holding your hand with his head limply off to the side as he slept in the chair.

“That must be pretty uncomfortable..” You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you feel a headache pulsing through your temples.

What exactly happened at the end? Did Rafayel…Take your heart or?

“The God of the Sea had lied to the deep sea for his beloved,” You murmur, holding your chin in your hand. You wonder what that meant.

Did he give his heart away instead? You clearly didn’t leave the temple with him at the end…

Wait– Not you, her. The main character–

You rest your head in your hands with a low groan.

What was going on?

You were slowly forgetting who you were, being overwhelmed with all of these unfamiliar memories and unable to remember what your past life– what your real life was even like. You felt like you were actually becoming the protagonist of ‘Love and Deepspace’.

“This is insane,” You sigh, leaning your head back against the headboard.

“What's insane? Did you get a good rest?” Sylus asks, cracking one eye open as he looks at you, before he chuckles and shakes his head, “Nevermind, don’t answer that, sweetie. The dark circles under your eyes tell me all I need to know.”

“I mean, I did sleep. I just...” You trail off and Sylus pats your hand. “Felt like you didn’t sleep?” He stands up and holds out a hand for you, “First, let’s get you changed out of that dress and then, we can get you some coffee to wake you up.”

You take his hand, your body suddenly feeling heavy as if it recalled how light it felt under the water in Lemuria.

Then, you hear something clink around your neck and bring your hand up to touch the necklace that rested flat against your chest.

“Now where did that come from? I’m pretty sure I took all of your jewelry off before you fell asleep,” Sylus raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest before he grabs some folded clothes. “It doesn’t matter. Here, this is what you wore to the Nest. I thought you’d want to wear it back home.”

But you shake your head, hand clasped around the blue scale on your necklace. “I’ll take one of your shirts again,” You clear your throat, but grab the white skirt, “I’ll wear the skirt though.”

After minutes later, you’ve groggily changed into the oversized black t-shirt and tucked it into your skirt. A pair of sneakers on your feet as you leave the room, fiddling with your necklace.

“I boxed up everything I’ve gotten you and had it sent to Linkon,” Sylus says as he walks toward you, holding a mug toward you and you gratefully take it.

You take a few sips of the scorching hot liquid before you raise an eyebrow, “Do you know my address?”

“No, I just had it sent to your workplace,” He chuckles and motions for you to follow him as Mephisto flies over to rest on his shoulder.

“Now, come on. Drink that and we’ll take you back home.”

You try to drink as fast as you can without burning yourself and then rush out the door behind Sylus, your phone resting in your backpocket as messages upon messages pile up.

Your phone finally pinging with notifications as you and Sylus entered the city limits of Linkon City. You assume you didn’t have the best of service in the N109 Zone, or perhaps Sylus was somehow blocking all outside interference from contacting you during your stay. You’d never know.

What you do know is, you’re so tired... You can barely keep your eyes open as you grasp at Sylus’ leather jacket before your hands limply fall to your side as your eyes start feeling heavy.

“Y/n?” You can hear Sylus question before he sighs, and uses his evol to hold you up on the bike, the reddish black mist wraps around both your waists.

Then, you fall back asleep once more– just hoping for a normal dream this time.

"Under Astra’s command may the Foresser deliver His will, for that is his fate.”

- Philos: Tome of the Foreseer

In the coldest regions of Philos, the Foreseer has resided in the Tower of Thorns since time immemorial. The Almighty Astra bestowed His power unto him, ordering the Foreseer to act as an emissary for the divine.

The royal family sends an envoy to the Tower of Thorns every 100 years to listen to the Foreseer’s prophecies. Yet, the Foreseer has not bestowed a prophecy to the royal family in hundreds of years. Envoys sent by his majesty never returned and their whereabouts remain unknown to this day. There is a rumor that the Foreseer has been perpetually frozen in an icy tomb.

To him, 100 years is but the blink of an eye.

And so, a new envoy travels through snow and ice, entering his tower. It happens again and again- as it always has for the past thousands of years. But you?

You’re not a real envoy– you’ve come here to treat your illness.

To do this, you must take the Creatio protocore from the Foreseer’s scepter. You have no other choice. This is your only way of survival.

Suppressing your anxiety, you walk into a massive room. The room was cold, almost as cold as the snowy outside, but bright as the moonlight glimmered against the many spears of ice decorating the room. A throne stands in the back of the room, a frozen throne.

You take a deep breath, before you bow respectfully. “I am his majesty’s envoy sent here to listen to the Foreseer’s prophecy.” Your voice echoes through the empty room, not a person in sight until you look up and notice a man wearing a blue robe sitting atop the icy throne. He holds a scepter in his gloved hand.

How strange though…His body is ensnared in brambles, thorns wrapping around his arms, legs, and chest. It almost appears like he’s shackled to the throne.

Maybe he wants to leave but something is stopping him?

You slowly approach him, seeing that his head is lowered and his eyes are shut. He’s encased in ice.

“Is he…unconscious?” You murmur to yourself. You look him up and down, wondering if you should just take the protocore now and run, but you stop yourself. His gloved hands were frosty, almost fusing the scepter to his palm. He was pale, not a hint of redness on his body at all, save for his lips.

He looked alive but…not at the same time. The thorns just a breath away from touching his black hair.

After wrestling with your thoughts, you decide it’s best to take the protocore. He’s not using it, afterall.

Might as well put it to good use.

You reach up toward the staff to grab the protocore with your gloved hand, but then a shard of ice shoots toward your hand and you jerk it away to avoid spilling any blood.

“How impudent..”

You suddenly hear a voice and you don’t immediately assume it was the man in front of you because why would it be?

He’s been asleep for thousands of years, not to mention his eyes are still closed. You look around with your brows furrowed.

Was your imagination playing tricks on you? Or…is he simply pretending to be frozen?

Your eyes widen as the thorns that were steadily wrapping around the man suddenly crumble before they disappear into thin air. You take a few steps closer to the Foreseer, confident that he’s not actually awake right now, and you take a good look at his face.

“He’s a lot more spritely than I thought...Every book I’ve read describes him as an old man,” You talk to yourself, holding your hand up to your chin before you jump in surprise as his mouth starts moving, “It seems that those Tomes you’ve gleaned through have taught you nothing about etiquette.”

Then, his eyes finally open and you’re caught off guard by how pretty they are.

They’re green, no brown…Hazel perhaps?

He glances over at you and you take a few steps backward, suddenly feeling more anxious than you did before.

“Y-You’re not actually frozen!?” You sputter out but realize he’s still not moving.

But is he still immobilized? Now, you’re curious.

You tap the side of his neck with your finger, it’s cold to the touch. Almost as if you had touched one of the ice spikes in the room.

He grunts, annoyed, “Do you know what happens when fools disrespect the Foreseer?” His voice was fittingly cold and monotone. Though you were worried, at least, he couldn’t move so you brought your hand up to touch his shoulder. It was just as freezing as his neck and stiff, akin to a corpse.

“Your actions are testing my patience.” He keeps his eyes trained forward, refusing to look at you as if you were a bug underneath his feet. As anger sparks within your chest, you place your palm against his chest and push, trying to get any kind of reaction out of him other than a monotonous reply that you would compare to an angry cat.

“It seems you do not know what true horror is.” He brings his gaze back to you. His face unchanging, keeping the same expression of slightly turned down eyebrows and an otherwise neutral look on his face.

“And you are frozen. My expectations were a bit higher than this,” You sigh with a small shrug as you step back from him.

“Winter punishes every wrongdoing in due time.”

Gods, he really sounds like an npc.

“Haven’t you heard of doing what is necessary in a bad situation?” You raise a brow, placing your hand on your hip.

“But who exactly is in a bad situation?” The Foreseer hums, tilting his head up at you.

You shake your head with a small laugh as you move forward once more and pat your hand across his lower abdomen. The man sucks in a deep breath before he sighs, otherwise staying silent.

You look up at him as you tap his stomach, “The ice is more like a crystal…What is it?”

“You have a wild curiosity and a brazen tongue.” He looks away from you and you let out a scoff, “And your tongue is like a winter’s loveless embrace.”

You bet this guy was real fun at parties.

As you roll your eyes, you pat along his stomach again, trying to figure out just what is keeping him in place.

You hear another noise from the Foreseer but decide to ignore it and instead, you have a teasing look on your face. “That’s your punishment for being impolite.”

“A punishment?” You finally hear some emotion in his voice, though it’s annoyance mixed with a hint of disbelief.

“Aren’t you furious? You are being treated like a plaything.” You tilt your head to the side, a bit shocked that he isn’t even trying to move.

“Fury? Those sorts of emotions I no longer have any use for.”

Well, that’s just sad.

You take a few steps back once more to reassess the situation. If he can’t move, that means you have the best opportunity to grab the protocore and promptly leave.

Though it is a bit unfortunate to just leave him here, he’s a Foreseer. You’re sure Astra, at least, values His emissaries enough to pardon a small mistake like this.

You reach up to grab the protocore once more, confident you’ll be able to take it but, once again, a ball of ice comes toward your hand and knocks you off your feet.

You land on the freezing cold stone floor, your face close to smashing against the bottom step that led up to the throne. You quickly look up as ice erupts from behind the Foreseer’s throne, and your eyes widen as you watch the frost disappear from his limbs. His gloved fingers twitch around his scepter.

He…can move?

Ah shit, you need to get out of there fast.

As you scramble to your feet, the Foreseer is already standing up and taps his staff against the ground.

“I’ve played enough of your little games. You forget yourself, testing the limits of my benevolence.” He starts walking toward you and you fall back down to your knees, seemingly unable to move as your legs felt like jelly underneath you. As he swings his staff, bright blue light swims around his body and you tense up.

You’ve got to calm down and get ready for a fight. You lift your arm up in front of you and spit out a quick response, “I-I am his majesty’s envoy! You can’t kill me!” Though, the man scoffs, “An honest death is not a suitable punishment for every pretender.”

Wait, does he know you’re not from the castle?

Before you can react, a cold sensation coils around your feet. You look down and see frost climbing up your legs.

“Tell me, do you know the fate of thieves who sought the Creatio protocore?” He asks. The ice soon reaches your neck and it’s like a cold hand that’s tightly gripping your throat.

That’s kind of hot—

Without sparing a glance, the Foreseer walks past you and he disappears into the shadows…

“Wait– Where are you going, Foreseer? Mm..!” The crystals cover your mouth, sealing it shut and you feel panic beginning to sink in. You couldn’t breathe, your body felt so cold and heavy…You could feel your eyes sluggishly, slowly closing and you really hoped everything would be okay the next time you opened your eyes…

You woke up to a bright light shining behind your closed eyelids. Sunlight drifts through the windows adorned with brambles and roses.

He…left you here for the whole night! At least you weren’t dead, but still.

The Foreseer sits on his throne, reading a book. The sun’s glow casts an illusion of softness on his otherwise cold demeanor. You clear your throat, deciding to strike a conversation with your would-be killer, “...Foreseer? Uh, a fine morning we have today. Isn’t the weather great–”

But the moment the latter leaves your lips, a frigid snowstorm begins to brew outside before promptly subsiding.

Okay…so he has control over the weather. Isn’t that just lovely?

Other than that, he doesn’t look at you. It seems he won’t even give you a chance to explain yourself. “So…You’ve been encased in ice for ages, but you still read on that throne…Shouldn’t you be tired of the world’s greatest chair after staying there for hundreds of years?”

“You may try it yourself and then inform me of your findings,” He says without looking up from his book, turning the page with his index finger.

“No, no. I…uh, can’t feel my body at the moment,” You sheepishly laugh off your panic of not being able to feel your limbs.

It’s honestly a bit terrifying.

“I have yet to eat anything after entering the Tower of Thorns so could I…” You try to choose your words carefully, yet he still doesn’t look up. “A human can survive for seven days without food.” He plainly states, “Given your stubborn character, you should live for an extra two days.”

“You’re…not going to leave me frozen for nine days, are you?” You ask, your aching and stiff neck straining to look up at him from his throne. Your throat choking up as your eyes begin to water at the thought of dying in this way.

“Are those tears of your remorse?”

No, they’re tears of someone who was supposed to die years down the line, now only given nine days. Idiot.

“I… Look, I’m not his majesty’s envoy,” You sigh. “I’m here to ask for a prophecy of my future. Every prophet I consulted said I had three years left to live and I refuse to believe them.”

This finally makes him look up from his book.

“I’m telling you the truth this time...” You trail off, a bit embarrassed that you’re talking about your fear of death with a seemingly immortal man.

“Indeed, they are delusional.”

“Huh? Have you scryed my fate, Foreseer?” You seemed a bit hopeful with an excited look on your face.

“To disguise yourself as the king’s envoy and sneak into the Tower of Thorns…You certainly have less than three years.” The Foreseer leans back on his throne and crosses his legs.

“Foreseer, you can’t– mmph!” Ice covers your mouth again and he continues his reading.

A seemingly endless silence returns to the throne room...

Nightfall greets the Tower. Taking the place of sunlight, moonlight shines into the room. Today is the first day of your punishment for entering the Tower of Thorns. You’ve come to that realization after being frozen here. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much, but it’s not like you knew he could do this to you.

It is nigh impossible to warm the heart of a demigod who lives in these rime-kissed lands.

In the middle of the night, you’re suddenly awoken by a radiant flash. Golden words float before you. They are magics cast by the Foreseer’s book.

What…is he looking for?

The Foreseer stares at the words, brow furrowed. It seems he’s not happy with what he’s seeing.

You squint from the light and try to clear your blurry vision by blinking a few times. Then, you clear your throat as if to let him know that you are awake, though he remains unmoving.

“Do you wish for your mouth to be sealed once more?” He questions and you pause before quickly speaking, “That’s a book about gardening, is it not? I also adore flowers.”

His wintery gaze falls on your face, he clearly doesn’t trust you. “Your mouth is only capable of spouting nonsense.”

“I’m not lying! I used to be a gardener. Every flower I care for turns out splendid.” You tried to speak excitedly with your hands, but they were still as frozen as ever. The Foreseer stops what he’s doing.

The sharpness of his gaze pierces you, trying to gouge the truth from your head.

“Did I…offend you?” You ask after a moment of silence. Though, he looks away. You think for a second that the conversation is over, but, with a lift of his finger, the ice on your body begins to melt. “Is...my punishment over?” You ask, rubbing your reddened hands together to try and warm them back up.

Though, as your body has been frozen for almost two days now, you end up falling to the side. Your elbows cracking against the floor.

Ouch.

“If you desire it, then I shall indulge you.” He closes his book. The words of gold dissipate and the room is plunged back into darkness.

Once your eyes readjust to your surroundings, the Foreseer has already descended from his throne. “Come then.” He motions for you to follow and then begins walking toward a spiral staircase. You shakily stand up and quickly follow behind him.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the top while he is unfazed. In the distance, snow-capped mountains are like white seashells. You realize you weren’t brought up here to admire the scenery, however you can’t help but take a few minutes to gaze upon it in awe.

Then, you notice a tiny white flower bud between the bricks. “Why is a jasmine growing in a place like this?” You question, confused at how this flower could be trying to grow here of all places.

The Foreseer’s frigid gaze observes your every action as you carefully examine the bud. “There’s something wrong with it. I doubt it’ll bloom any time soon.” You sigh, fingers brushing against the fragile little thing.

“Will you be able to care for it?” He asks as you consider the possibilities, but he seems to predict your next action. He moves toward you, looking into your eyes, “Answer me.”

“Y-yes..! Of course. It’s a miracle for anything to grow here. Without a competent gardener tending to it, the bud will inevitably die.”

You emphasized the phrase “tending to it” and glanced at the man’s expression. He gazes at the bud and touches its small leaves, “If this jasmine blooms, you may leave the tower with your livelihood intact.”

You’re not sure if you’re imagining things, but it seems like the Foreseer holds the jasmine in higher regard than you.

For now, in order to buy yourself some time and an opportunity, you have to say yes.

“Alright, I agree to your terms.”

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! I don't really have much to say this week tbh but thank you for over 500 notes on my newest drabble!! I didn't expect for it to pop off this much, but I'm glad you all enjoyed it 🩷

I'll be working on a personal project this weekend, but I'm going to try to write a few more chapters for ToF and maybe one chapter of Divisa— I'm not sure just yet on the latter, but I'll give it a shot!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

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dustydaddyyy · 2 years ago

Text

no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n

a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside

You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter.

You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.

They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.

There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.

"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.

"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"

"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"

You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.

"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.

"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.

You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.

Hence the disdain for cold weather.

"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.

"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you.

"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"

"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"

"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.

You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.

The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.

Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.

Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.

Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.

You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.

It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.

You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.

"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.

He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk.

You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.

You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.

"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"

In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.

What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.

You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.

Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.

Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.

"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.

It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.

"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"

"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"

"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"

Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny,"

The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.

You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.

They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"

"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"

The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.

"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.

"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–

You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.

"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.

"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna go,"

"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"

"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"

Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"

"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"

"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"

"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"

"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.

"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"

"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"

"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"

He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"

Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.

Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.

He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.

And now, here he was.

At your door.

After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.

The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.

"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"

"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"

You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"

"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace.

"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese,"

Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"

Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.

Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.

The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless.

"Where'd you get those?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"

Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"

Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.

"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"

You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.

"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"

"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"

"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit,"

Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.

"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"

"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"

The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.

"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.

"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"

"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.

"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"

"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.

"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"

Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.

"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.

It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.

"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"

"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.

You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.

"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.

It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?"

Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.

"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why,"

You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.

Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.

"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.

"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"

You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.

"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"

Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"

"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.

"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"

The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.

"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"

"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.

The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.

"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.

"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"

"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"

Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.

"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.

You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.

"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.

Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.

"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.

"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter. "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"

"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.

"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"

Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"

"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.

"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.

"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"

Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"

You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.

"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.

"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"

"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.

"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"

"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.

"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Think I can manage some dinner,"

"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"

"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.

"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.

You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.

Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"

"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"

Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.

"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"

"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"

"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.

"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"

Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.

"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"

Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"

"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"

"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.

"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"

"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"

You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"

"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.

"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.

"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"

"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"

Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.

"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.

"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.

When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"

Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"

"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"

"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.

"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.

It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.

You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.

Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.

"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.

"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"

"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"

"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.

"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.

"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"

"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"

"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.

It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.

You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"

"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.

"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.

Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.

Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.

"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."

"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.

"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"

"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"

You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"

Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.

"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"

"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.

"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"

Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"

"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"

You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"

"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"

"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.

"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"

"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"

"Hence the game we were playing,"

"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"

"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"

Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"

"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.

"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"

"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.

"You asking something?" you ask him.

"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.

"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"

"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.

"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"

"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"

"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"

"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"

"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.

Because we both know what you were really asking.

"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends,"

Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"

"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.

"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.

"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"

Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"

"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.

"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"

"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"

"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.

"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.

"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.

Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.

"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly.

"I didn't say anything,"

"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.

"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"

You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.

"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.

"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"

You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"

The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.

"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.

Except he doesn't.

Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.

Stupid.

Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.

It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.

"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"

Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.

"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.

"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"

Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off. She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"

"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"

"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.

"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"

"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.

You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.

He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.

"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual,"

"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.

"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"

You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"

"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"

"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"

"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"

"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"

"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.

"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"

You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.

Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.

The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"

The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.

"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.

"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"

Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.

"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"

Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"

You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"

"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.

"Just a beer for me, thanks,"

It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"

"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"

"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"

You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.

"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"

Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.

"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"

"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.

"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.

"Have a nice night, Tommy,"

"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"

"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.

The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.

You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch.

After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.

This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.

You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.

You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.

"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"

You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.

"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.

"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"

"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"

Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.

You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"

Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.

He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.

"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"

Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.

"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.

His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.

"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"

Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face.

"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.

"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.

"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"

His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"

"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"

Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"

You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.

You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.

It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.

"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"

He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"

"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.

"Well, in that case. . . "

Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.

Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.

"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.

This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.

"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 3 months ago

Text

Somehow, Through the Storm

Summary:

Living in the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling to cling on to life through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there…

This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Tags: @lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @igotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know <3

Warnings for this chapter: homelessness, implied threats, food scarcity, implied loss of parents/family/loved ones

AO3 link:

NOTE: I know I said that the first two chapters would come out today and I am still hoping to get chapter 2 out later on today but I'm not 100% that will be possible as I have a lot more left to write than I initially anticipated, but it will at least be coming soon!

Chapter 1 - Inej

Some flowers bloom where the green grass grows; our praise is not for them, but the ones who bloom in the bitter snow. We raise our cups to them

- We Raise Our Cups, Hadestown

This is an old story. It has been told many times, in many ways, with many different faces, and yet we tell it again. This is a sad story. And yet, we tell it anyway. That’s our role, in all of this, and we are nothing if we do not fulfil it. This time, it started - as Inej’s stories seemed to have begun to do so with concerning frequency - with getting kicked out.

“No- please, wait-” her pleas were cut off by the dull, painful thud of a bag being hurled into her chest.

She gasped, winded, and as she stumbled backwards her foot slipped from the top step. Hendrija huffed what might have been a short, breathy laugh as she watched Inej fall, but Inej managed to regain at least some of her dignity as she rebalanced on the gravel. She was shorter than Hendrija anyway, and glaring up at the older woman standing above her on the porch she felt incredibly aware of her smallness.

“Move on,” Hendrija jutted her chin vaguely down the street, “You ain’t wanted here, girl,”

“Please, Hen, I swear I’ll get you the money-”

“No you won’t,”

“I will,” she promised, “Please, just a couple of days, I swear, I just need a couple of days, I’ll get you-”

“Three months. I gave you three months grace, and I haven’t seen a cent. You’re done, now get off my property before I call the stadwatch,”

“No, Hendrija- Hendrija!”

The door slammed in front of Inej’s nose and she screamed her frustration at the apathetic panels. That was it, then: she had officially been thrown out of every hostel in Ketterdam. Brilliant.

There was, unbeknownst to Hendrija, almost one hundred kruge tightly hand sewn into an inside pocket of Inej’s jacket - but last time she’d tried to pay her with ‘that type of cash’ Hendrija had refused it.

“You don’t come in here and give me someone else’s money, girl,”

“I didn’t-”

“You earn some money for a room here, or you don’t keep one. You got it?”

Inej wasn’t sure what else Hendrija expected her to pay with, though. There weren’t any jobs to find. Not now. Not ever.

“Fine,” she’d said, “I’ll earn something. How’d you-?”

“You think I don’t know you ain’t worked a day since you got here?” Hendrija nodded to the purple bills tucked between Inej’s fingers, “Where’d you get it?”

Inej squared her shoulders, pretending not to feel the pit crumbling inside her stomach, as she told her where the money was from out loud and apologised, again, to her Saints inside her head. Hendrija’s cheeks blanched.

“At the very least, lass, if you’re gonna steal, don’t steal from him. Nasty way to go, when he gets to you - and he will. Always does,”

Inej had given her a sincere nod, then brushed off the conversation without another thought. It didn’t matter what anyone she stole from might do if they caught her, because they wouldn’t catch her. No-one ever did.

She lingered for a brief moment on the porch of the rooming house, as though Hendrija might open the door and say that she’d changed her mind, or that was only teasing and oh dear, Inej, don’t you take things too seriously. But, of course, she didn’t. Inej didn’t really want her to, she supposed, other than that it would be easier than trying to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. She shouldered her bag, appalled to feel herself stagger slightly beneath the weight. When had she last eaten? There was nearly a hundred kruge sewn into her jacket, yes, but she hadn’t dared to touch it yet. It had only been hers for a couple of days. Inej wasn’t exactly an expert, but she thought it might be best to wait a while before she used it in case someone got wise somehow. The last thing she needed was to end up in a prison cell.

Although, an upsettingly convincing voice added inside her head, at least it would be a place to sleep. Somewhere dry, with a pillow and a blanket. Somewhere she could stay still, lie down and close her eyes, eat once - maybe even more than once - a day and never have to feel the wind. Inej almost laughed out loud at herself. What had she become? What had this city turned her into? She used to be good. Now she would do anything for a bed, for food, for a roof the weather couldn’t chase her through.

A gust of wind prickled down the back of Inej’s neck, sending a shiver running over her, and she reached to turn her collar up against the breeze. It was going to rain soon, she was sure. Where was she going to sleep tonight? She sighed into her jacket, creating a brief pocket of warmth, and began to walk. Prayers first, then food, if she could find something. She had hours until sundown. She’d figure something out.

The Saints didn’t require a Chapel to hear their prayers, but there was a small one in the North of the Warehouse District for anyone who preferred an organised service. Inej attended when she could - she tried to light incense for her parents at least once a week, but more realistically did so about once a month, maybe twice if they were lucky. She leant against the wall of the building next to the hostel, just out of sight if Hendrija was sticking her nose out of the window, and began to dig through her measly bag of belongings. Should she change her clothes to go to Chapel? Her only other shirt and trousers were probably no cleaner than the ones she was wearing, but she ran a comb through her hair and did her best to pull it into a quick, neat braid. At least she’d tried to make an effort. She didn’t think her Saints cared, but people definitely did.

There was a little matchbox in her bag as well, but when she slid it open with trembling fingers she was overcome with the sudden desire to scream and hurl it into the street when she discovered it was empty. She settled for holding it so tightly that the thin card crumpled in her fist, then shoving it back into the bag. She could just leave it for the day; find something to eat and start looking for a place to stay, try to buy matches once the money in her pocket felt safe. But when had she last been to Chapel? Not for several weeks. She couldn’t not go, and she couldn’t afford to turn the matches into an excuse not to return. Her parents deserved better than that. They deserved better than any of this.

She sighed again as she stood back up from the wall and slung her bag across her shoulders, then ventured slowly into the street. It was busy, or busy enough anyway, and she knew that everyone here would have just seen her and Hendrija arguing on the porch bare moments ago so she wasn’t really expecting much when she wove into the crowd, going unnoticed until she parted her lips to venture:

“Excuse me? Does anyone have a match?”

People glanced down at her, or between themselves, all with the same expression as they stepped away and a ring of space was created around Inej. She tried to step forwards and, as though she were a drop of oil in water, wherever she moved the strangers stepped away from her, pace for pace.

“Please, sir,” she tried, turning to try and focus her quiet appeal on the closest individual, “Would you happen to-?”

He shook his head, turning away. Inej dug her fingers deeply into the cuff of her sleeve as she watched him pull a cigarette from his pocket as he walked away. She tried again, and then again.

“Please,” she said, again, as the crowd parted around her, “I’m sorry, but does anyone have a match that I could use?”

From behind the shape of someone’s dusty red coat as they moved away, a boy appeared in Inej’s field of vision. He looked up and caught her eye, then seemed to sigh as he beckoned her towards him with one gloved hand - the other remaining secure over the carved handle of the cane he leant against. He was taller than her but Inej would guess they were a similar age, though his face was aged by the little scars that crossed his pale skin.

“I can help you,”

Inej paused.

At the very least, lass, if you’re gonna steal, don’t steal from him.

Inej had stolen from him twice. The first time nothing happened, except for Hendrija refusing the money - as if her boarding house weren’t full of criminals and as if she didn’t damn well know it - but if he’d gotten wise? What if someone at the house overheard something and passed it on? She swallowed tightly.

“I didn’t ask for help. I asked for a match,”

“I can give you a match,” he said, reaching one of those leather-clad hands into his pocket, “I can also help you,”

Inej frowned. For a moment she studied the matchbox that he held out between them, and then it was in her hand and the boy was pulling away and she didn’t know why but it felt like something… something had happened. The air felt calmer now. She was part way through sliding the box open when he said:

“You have ninety three kruge in your jacket,”

Inej’s head snapped up.

“Excuse me?”

“Ninety three kruge,” he repeated, “That’s how much you have, isn’t it?”

“Wh-?”

“That’s how much you have. That’s how much you took from me, three days ago,”

Alarm bells started ringing inside Inej’s head. There was probably very little point in lying now, and her brain was already trying to click through what to do, how she could get out of here, where she might be able to run - he probably wouldn’t be able to keep up with her with his limp, and he almost certainly wouldn’t be able to climb up a building after her. If she could just make it to a rooftop she could disappear, run until her legs ached, then find a nook somewhere in the skyline to fall asleep and pray the rain wouldn’t be too heavy. But what after that? If he knew well enough to track her here, to a house she’d been tossed from under the safety of a false name, would she ever be able to safely walk these streets again? Maybe if she found somewhere to stay on the rooftops she would be okay - there were plenty of nooks that could form a snippet of shelter, the stadwatch would never rouse her from them, she could steal food from market stalls and storefronts, and finally become fully invisible. No-one would ever have to know that she was there.

But even as these thoughts occurred to her the boy shifted, ever so slightly but definitely intentionally, and a shape that looked very much like a pistol appeared and disappeared between the folds of his immaculate coat. She twisted her fingers around the little box of matches.

“You’ve got the wrong girl,”

“Have I?”

His voice was rough, like two stones being scraped together to form words.

“Believe me,” said Inej, slipping the matchbox casually into her pocket, as though he wouldn’t notice, “If I had ninety kruge I wouldn’t be hanging around here,”

She turned away.

“Ninety three,” the boy corrected, “And I’ll have that back, if you don’t mind,”

Inej hid the brief, disappointed scrunch of her nose before she spun and tossed the matchbox back to him.

“And the cash?”

“I told you, it wasn’t me,”

The boy shook his head.

“I suppose Inej Ghafa must live elsewhere then,” he said, and she knew he’d noticed when she tensed at the sound of her name, “Shame. I was going to offer her a job,”

“Who are you?”

He smiled.

“Maybe I’ll tell you,” he said, “if you tell me how you managed to get in and out of a house with no-one ever seeing you and yet only took ninety three kruge,”

Inej frowned, thinking of the rundown house and its leaky ceiling, up to three sleeping bodies pushed into every room but the attic. The attic was this boy’s domain, and he didn’t share his space with anyone, but it was still not the kind of place that looked prosperous; a door had been balanced on its back atop stacked crates to form a makeshift desk, there was no running water but a slender basin that must have been carried in and out to be refilled at least once a day, uneven and creaking floorboards, a worn down mattress with no bed frame or sheet, a blanket without a quilt. She’d thought finding an entire ninety kruge in those rooms was a miracle.

“There was more?”

“If you knew where to look. A proper thief would have found plenty to take,”

Something in that comforted Inej, just the tiniest bit. She was not a proper thief, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be one.

“How did you get in?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I was there,” he shook his head, “I didn’t hear you. I didn’t see you. Not until-”

“Until I spoke,” said Inej, the memory returning to her.

She hadn’t known there was anyone close enough to hear her when she slipped the money into her pocket and thanked her Saints out loud. The boy nodded. Inej tracked through her movements in her mind, trying to work out where the boy must have been - outside the room, she supposed, on his way up the stairs perhaps? That didn’t feel right, though, because surely she would have heard his footsteps - at the least the sound of his cane. She drew the floorplan of the attic in her mind; it was barely smaller than the other floors of the house, partitioned part way through with a wall that stretched over half the width of the room to create a more private space for sleeping. Maybe he’d been behind the wall. There was only a very small window on that side of the room, it was where the slope of the roof divided it the most, and Inej hadn’t inspected that tiny slither of glass before she slipped through the larger window on the other side of the room. Idiot, she thought, fingers tensing as she tried to study the deceptive change in the boy’s eyes, what have you done now?

“I had no idea you were there, until then. How is that possible?”

Inej shrugged. She’d wanted to be silent so she had been, why did that matter? The matter at hand, as far as she cared, was why he hadn’t apprehended her when he heard her - and what he might want from her now. There was some kind of angle here, of course, she just didn’t know what it was.

“No-one ever does,” she told him, “Who are you?”

“Were you trained as a dancer?”

“An acrobat. My family… all of us are acrobats,”

Were acrobats.

“It’s your turn to answer a question now. Who are you?”

The boy smiled again.

“You already know that. You just don’t want to say it,”

A beat passed.

“Dirtyhands,”

“I prefer Kaz,” he said as he conceded a nod, smoothly but not quite relaxed enough to not raise Inej’s suspicions, “I found two names for you. I assume Inej Ghafa is the real one?”

She nodded. Why bother lying? She had not known, when she slipped through a window several months ago, who it was that she was stealing from. Would she have done it, if she’d known? She wasn’t sure it would’ve stopped her - it hadn’t stopped her three days ago, had it? She hadn't known he was in the building though, or she might have been careful enough not to part her lips.

“Is that what you’d prefer to be called?”

Inej nodded again, without taking her eyes away from Kaz’s.

“Is Kaz Brekker your real name?”

“Real enough. Do you feel like giving me my money back, Inej?”

Not particularly, she thought, as she released a small sigh and stuck her thumb into her jacket to burst the ugly stitches she’d made around her stash. As soon as Kaz had laid gloved fingers onto the notes they vanished in a smooth folding motion of his palm, and in their place a small card was raised between the pair.

“If you want a more reliable income, come to this address for eight bells tomorrow evening. I’ve got a job for you,”

Inej shook her head.

“You can leave the recruitment kit at home,” she told him, “I’m just passing through,”

“You’ve been here seven months,”

There was a pause.

“I came to pass the winter,” she ventured, “but-”

“But it isn’t ending,”

Inej nodded. Winters had been getting longer in Ravka, the spring short and the summer unbearably hot, but it was worse here than anywhere she’d travelled to across the Eastern Continent. Seven months in Kerch had passed in a twist of frozen ground, dead flowers, howling winds, and endless storms.

“There’s something wrong with the weather,”

The weather has no mercy.

Kaz gave no reply but a nod, as if that was an explanation all alone. He was still holding out the card between them, and after a moment Inej reached out. Her bare fingers brushed briefly against the leather of his gloves, and then the card was in her hand and his was dropping away. She forced her eyes away from the dark, endless pools of his, and studied the words on the card for a moment.

“I don’t read Kerch,”

“You know where Bloemstraat is?”

She shook her head.

“Meet me at the Slat, then - I know you know where that is,” he almost smiled as he added that, “Seven bells half chime, tomorrow evening,”

A moment passed.

“I’ll be there. But you should know: I’ll leave when spring comes,”

Kaz laughed, short and coarse, almost taking her by surprise.

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes,”

He shook his head.

“You really don’t know Ketterdam, do you? There’s no spring coming, not here. Barely to Kerch at all; not anymore,”

Not at all? Inej faltered.

“What do you mean?”

“You heard me,”

“Why?”

“Why does anything happen around here? The world’s been thrown off kilter,”

Inej shook her head.

“You should get out of this city. There’s a storm coming; this place isn’t worth sticking around for. Not through that,”

Kaz laughed again.

“No-one leaves this city,”

He turned away, taking only a few steps before he glanced back over his shoulder to say:

“Oh, and Inej? Don’t ever steal from me again. And definitely don’t sneak up on me,”

Inej watched him leave, clutching two matchsticks and a slip of paper between her fingers, wondering what had just happened.

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rust-painted-fingers · 1 month ago

Text

Day 2 ... Full Moon

Techno's finger's glided over the keys, touch quick and playful. His shadow danced and flickered, following the rhythm of the music.

It was half past three, and Phil has yet to arrive home.

A dissonant chord echoed through the house, Techno's accompanying sigh hidden.

"I swear if you come back with an open wound…" Techno murmured, gaze enraptured by the flickering flame.

Phil was having a very bad, no good, terrible fucking shift.

12 hours till 3 am:

"You ready Phil?"

He met Niki's eyes and they shared a sigh.

"I swear to god I'm never taking this shift ever again, I'll fucking transfer if I have to," Phil grumbled, going over inventory.

"That's what you say now, but then you'll start feeling like a hare in a colony of bunnies soon enough," Niki quipped, scrubbing down the inside of the truck. "If I couldn't stand three hours what makes you think you can?"

Phil ignored her.

"Uhh, what are you talking about…"

Ranboo jumped at the sudden attention from the two of them.

"Shit this is your first time, isn't it?"

Niki bulldozed through Ranboo's spluttering, "Ignore him, he's just grumpy his and Techno's schedule never align." She waved her, now ignoring Phil's indignant 'Hey!' "All you need to know is everything's about to be more chaotic."

"Chaotic…?" It was clear Ranboo had no clue what was going on.

Phil sighed, "The full moon is here and its about to make every patient ten times more difficult."

"I thought that was just a myth," Ranboo said, fingers fidgeting with the box of supplies Phil asked for.

Taking the box, Phil called over his shoulder, "Believe it or not, be prepared for the worst."

10 hours till 3 am:

"How do you cut your finger off with a pumpkin scoop."

Phil looked up from his stretch. "You alright?"

Ranboo lifted his head, wonder shining in his eyes, plus some speck of pumpkin guts. "It was a kid kit."

21 year old male, helping his nieces carve their first pumpkin. Overeager and began carving the pumpking before all of the guts were scooped. Wanting to clean it up a little more, he grabbed ahold of the pumpking bowling style and lobbed his ring finger off.

Phil shrugged, "You've seen worse."

"Yeah, and somehow a pumpkin full of blood is still more disturbing."

"Ok it wasn't filled—"

"Alright boys, we can worry about Ranboo's mental state later, can you reach the top? I think I saw some guts fly up there."

Phil watched as Ranboo sweeped pumpkin innards into a bucket, already tired.

8 hours till 3am:

"Oh my god Jason you fucking asshole!"

"Ma'am we need you to step aside."

"You know I get scared easy, why would you—"

"Hey I know this is a lot, what's your name?"

"Jessica," the young woman sobbed, tears and blood streaming down her face.

"Ok, hi Jessica, I'm Ranboo. I need you to follow me outside, I promise you my team is doing everything they can to help— Jason was it?"

"They named him after that stupid fucking movie, I know!"

"Hey this is not a judging zone, promise, let's get you…" His voice went distant, escorting the distraught wife outside of the kitchen.

Phil locked eyes with Niki.

"On three, one, two, three—!"

30 year old male, father. Wanted to surprise his wife who was preparing dinner. Instead, he got a surprise slash to the chest, inches away from his neck.

"Well there goes our scary movie nights…" Jason groaned. Phil and Niki were careful but speed was critical and a few bumps were unnavoidable.

They passed Ranboo and Jessica. "I can't fucking believe you did that on our anniversary." She seemed more composed, her wobbly voice the only sign of distress.

"Ranboo."

"Ready."

5 hours till 3 am:

"I thought firefighters were the ones who helped people stuck on trees."

"They do, but our patient isn't stuck in a tree anymore," Ranboo said. Phil was more preoccupied cleaning his hands once more with a wipe. Blood always got tacky and settled inside the skin. It was a feeling Phil grew used to but even he could only tolerate it so much.

Niki glanced over to the front. "Hey Ranboo, are you sure they gave you the right direction? The city doesn't have any trees, at least not this far in."

"Didn't you guys know, they installed a new sculpture downtown," Ranboo grimaced, eyes on the road.

A beat.

"You're joking."

"Honestly would've thought you knew, Phil, didn't Techno mention it?"

Phil didn't answer the question, because Techno did mention it. In fact, he talked about it in great detail, and Phil already knew the scene awaiting them was going to be bloody as all hell.

"Niki, get double of everything ready." Because the tree they were headed to was an installation that featured spikes surrounding the trunk. Phil can still remember the excited way Techno spoke of the symbolism, how there was a birds nest that the cuckoo chick basically took hostage. It wasn't meant to last long, there was a numbered amount of normal eggs the cuckoo was meant to push out.

Phil wondered if Techno would be fine missing that particular date night.

4 hours till 3am:

"You alright there mate?"

Niki nodded, as if there wasn't a huge black eye forming on her right side.

Ranboo was a little too quiet for his taste, so Phil let her organize the remaining inventory to check up on him. She was used to the frenzy.

Taking in a deep breath, he released it as he knocked shoulders with Ranboo. He really was too tall, sitting down and yet he only barely reached his chin.

"It's not my fault you're short."

Any and all good will left Phil as he captured Ranboo in an elbow lock.

"It's not a matter of short or tall, Ran," Phil gritted, "It's about the abnormaility that is your femur being longer than our entire torso."

They grappled for a bit, with Phil as a clear winner because Ranboo may be over two meters, but his limbs were gangly and a trip hazard more than anything.

"Ok ok! I'm fine I promise!"

Phil let him go, but left his arm resting on his shoulders. "Yeah?"

Those shoulders shrugged. "I mean, you were right. I'm used to seeing worse. Honestly I don't think anything will ever beat that time with the maggots." Phil suppressed the urge to gag. He managed to block that memory.

"I get the feeling there's more."

A chuckle, "I don't know man, it's just weird. Usually the worst of worst gets spaced between shifts, but we just came back from a scare actor punching Niki, and that's the tame part."

Three highschoolers, ages 16 and a 17 year old, excited for a haunted house promoted as free for students. The cost came in the form of unsafe practices and two electracuted teenagers. The seventeen year old sported broken knuckles for getting into an altercation with an actor right before they arrived. Niki was mistaken for the teenager and got sucker punched.

"You gotta admit, it was pretty funny seeing the guy fly through the air."

He got a laugh, and Ranboo wheezed in between breaths, "I keep forgetting she has a black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jistsu."

"And you better not anymore after that demonstration."

Both Ranboo and Phil jumped, Niki cooly leaning against the truck.

"Aye aye, captain!" They chorused.

Niki grinned and went to sit next to the driver's seat.

2 hours till 3am:

"How ya holding up," Niki chirped.

Phil looked at her questioningly.

She rolled her eyes. "We're close to done, did you and Techno have any plans?"

"No jinxing! I am so close to saying goodbye to the mortal realm and you are not taking that from me!" Ranboo chimed in.

"You just had to ask en route?" Phil grinned.

Niki shrugged. "Can't really ask after, can I? The minute the clock strikes and you're gone," she teased.

Phil conceeded. "There's nothing planned, maybe I'll listen to a new piece he practiced." He laughed at her pout. "What do you want me to tell you? We're old and I can hear our bones crack in the morning."

She blew a nonexistent strand of her off her face — Phil didn't want to mention the tightness of her bun in case of causing unecessary stress of balding— and snapped a new pair of gloves. "Well I'm going on a picnic. It's going to be romantic and I'll have LED candles to set the mood."

"Can I come."

"I thought you were leaving this mortal realm?"

Phil just smiled, and against his better judgement, hoped this would be the last call of the night. Maybe he could surprise Techno.

30 minutes till 3am:

"I swear to gods if they don't count this as overtime—"

"Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure the director is afraid of you."

"Ranboo bring the truck around, I don't think we can move any further without making the injury worse."

Long legs disappeared around the corner before Niki finished her sentence.

"At least it isn't too bad, we should be able to get back to the hospital just before clock strikes three," Phil said, patting the man's pocket for a wallet.

Unknown adult male, heavier with height and weight, a sliced achilles heel on the right leg. Currently unconcsious.

"It's kinda weird, they didn't tell us how he got hurt… Did you find a wallet?"

It was strange, even more strange how there was nothing, not even a social security card or anything. "No, did they say anything about his mental state?"

Niki hummmed, hands busy with bandages, "Not that I remember, but they said the line cut after he provided the address, maybe he got mugged?"

The male wore a typical business suit, four pant's pockets and nothing inside them. He checked the jacket's inner pockets and yielded similar results. "This is weird, he doesn't have any further bruising or lacerations—"

"Uhm, guys…" Niki and Phil looked up, and froze.

Ranboo, with shaky fingers and a trembling lip, said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring them to you."

Aimed at his head, a man pointed a gun.

Bored of waiting, Techno abandonded the piano in search of Carl.

"There you are, I guess you're waiting for him too huh?"

The tortie looked up at him with wide unblinking eyes, curled in a cute donut shape on the couch.

"C'mon, let's watch something while we wait. We'll make Phil jealous that he can't join the cuddle pile until after he showers." Techno scooped up Carl, and as predicted, he began purring up a storm.

Techno wasn't paying attention all that much when he turned on the TV. Really, he just wanted some background noise while cuddling Carl so it opened on the news channel.

So focused on the soft fur beneath his hand, Techno barely caught the next words.

"—hostage situation that is using three EMT workers and an unknown civilian. Currently the hostage taker speaks of religious affiliation and requests to, quote, 'let the ritual commence without interruption—"

Techno's chest got felt heavier as he drowned out the noise of the news anchor because suddenly he was meeting Phil's gaze. It was his word ID, the one he always complained about because he looked like a sleazeball when in reality he was caught mid blink.

"Mrow."

Techno barely noticed Carl leaving his lap, his head full of static. No fucking way. It couldn't be. There would always be weird shit that happened but never did Phil get caught in a fucking hostage situ—

"Techno, hey woah—"

Before he could think beyond 'danger' his fist swung. A hang grabbed and pulled him forward, but he caught their foot to unbalance them. As gravity pulled them down Techno met Phil's eyes and only had a proficient 'fuck' fly through his head before they hit the ground. Hard.

"Ah, mate, I just got out of a hostage situation, I don't think I can spar anymore without a warmup at least."

Techno was still speechless at several realizations at once. And then he grunted as he felt Carl's 15 pound body put all his weight onto his shoulder. "Carl why are you doing this to me."

"It's called karma, Tech."

"And you!" Techno shouted, surprising Phil, "Why the hell didn't you call me! Why did I have to endure five minutes of pure adrenaline before your pasty ass got home."

Phil spluttered, choking out a laugh. "If I called you would've been even more of a wreck, what are you talking about!"

"But it would have been a controlled nervous wreck instead of an unrestrained catastrophizing spiral into—"

"Techno we're still on the floor."

"— a future where Carl would be raised by a single father—"

"Can I please shower before reassuring you I'm ok."

"I'm not letting you anywhere out of my sight from now on," Techno sniped, pulling Phil up.

Phil scritched Carl from where he curled around Techno's shoulders. "I really wasn't hurt, Niki had the worst of us and the black eye wasn't even from the guy."

It took a few minutes of patting Carl before Phil looked at Techno's unimpressed face.

"And Ranboo?"

A wince. "We pushed for him to take a break but the kid doesn't know how to stop. I think he would go insane if he actually took it."

Techno sighed. "I'm organizing a tea party and you're all expected to attend."

Phil laughed, taking off in the direction of the bathroom.

#techza #techzaspookyweek2024 #rose writes #crying cause i took a break that went on too long #i'll probably re work the ending for ao3 so it'll live on tumblr by itself for a while #next time im writing something UNDER 1k cause i cant do this daily TwT #also apologies for the formatting i don't think it transferred and i refuse to look at it any longer rn #happy techza week~

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year ago

Text

Believe Me When I Tell You

(x)

Warnings: None really. Brief mention of sexy times. Angst. Death. (And a moment of hope.)

Summary: Dean will always keep his promises.

Pairings: Dean x Y/N

Word Count: 535 (not counting the song lyrics.)

A/N: This was written for @deanwanddamons Rock SPN Flash Fan Fic Challenge 3. I was given the song I'd Die for You by Bon Jovi. Thanks for hosting this challenge once again, my dear! I love them!

A/N 2: I don't know why this challenge is bringing out all the angst in me! I swear I'm not doing it on purpose. Just listening to the song and the lyrics, this is what popped into my head. There also seems to be a theme of Dean's love confession happening in these drabbles as well! So...sorry again.

Oh, btw, @thatonewriter I took your advice and also included more of Dean in THAT position in this drabble too. 😁

The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

Blood is thick on your hands; it just keeps flowing. You’re frantic, trying desperately to make it stop, pushing against the gaping wound that’s spilling Dean’s life’s blood onto the concrete below him.

But it won’t stop; it’s a raging red river and you can build no dam to keep it back.

“Dean!” You scream at him as his eyes flutter closed, long lashes shutting out the bright jade. His breathing is so shallow. You shake him hard. “Don’t you do this. Do you hear me?”

He begins coughing and a trickle of blood seeps from between his full, soft lips. Lips that often press against your forehead to calm you - lips that sweep across your skin and worship you. You let go of the futility of trying to hold back the tide of sticky blood, and grab his cheeks.

“Look at me! Now, Dean. Open your eyes!” You scream at him again before forcing your voice to be calm, to act normal. He’s fine, he’ll be fine. He’ll come through, he always does.

“Dean, baby, open your eyes. Why did you do this?” You challenge him in a broken voice. “Why? You weren’t supposed to be here; why did you come? Why did you get in the middle?”

That split second flashes in your mind, Dean jumping between you and a demon wielding an angel blade, taking the blow meant for you. He’d jammed the demon knife into its heart, but not before the silver blade had slashed through him.

You shake your head at him now and his eyes flutter back open, slightly unfocused.

You lift his hand and press it against your cheek before leaning down to press a soft kiss to his bloodied lips. You run your gaze over his beautiful face, searching.

“Why?” You ask again, quiet and close.

The ghost of his smile appears, his voice barely a whisper. “I told you why. Did you think I was lying?”

A memory plays - of lying beneath him, his head pillowed on your chest, arms wrapped around you while you trailed fingertips across his shoulders, softly humming. You felt him smile against your skin, then press a kiss there.

“Are you humming Bon Jovi?”

You giggled. “It’s stuck in my head.”

He was silent for a minute before asking. “You know the lyrics to the chorus?”

You nodded. “Yeah, something about he’d die for her, and lie for her…and…cry for her?”

Dean chuckled softly before quoting the lyrics between kisses and nips against your skin.

Baby I’d die for you

I’d cry for you

If it came right down to me and you

You know it’s true

Baby I’d die for you

His touch had been electric, his mouth beautiful as he spoke the words across your body. And yes, you had known that he meant them. He meant every word. It was his safe way of telling you he loved you, wrapping the confession in an old rock song.

Now he smiles again. “I never make promises I can’t keep.”

You feel him fading from you, but you kiss him deeply and the magic of the kiss keeps him close for a moment more, long enough for you to look into his eyes and make him a promise of your own, and it’s one you will not break.

“Don’t get too comfy up in heaven, Dean Winchester. Cause I’m coming to bust you out.”

Tags under the cut:

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester drabble #deanwanddamonsrockflashfic3

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

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Fall Drabbles, Day 3

prompt: scarecrow

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: When the new member of his town is struggling, Frank lends a hand.

warnings: swearing, once again adorable levels of fluff

a/n: When I tell y'all I am SO excited for this one. This is a Lumberjack!Frank Stardew Valley AU!!!! You do not need to be familiar with the game to enjoy this piece. Let me know if y'all want to see more in this AU!

w/c: <1k

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Frank let the ax head thud against the lush grass. Huffing a breath, he stretched his tense shoulders, trying to unravel the stubborn knots building across his upper back from the extensive physical labor. As he was about to lift the ax once more, a rustling in the clearing behind him gave him pause.

Squinting, he made out a figure crouched by a stack of sticks across the meadow. After a moment, the person shifted towards him enough for him to identify you.

He’d only spoken to you twice, if single word sentences and grunts could be considered speaking, but he knew a lot about you. The unfortunate effects of being a newcomer in a small rural town, he supposed, your entire existence became exciting local news. You were looking after Old Man Taylor’s run down cabin, he’d even heard whispers about you repairing the place to start a farm.

Despite learning a majority about you from other people, you intrigued him. Everything about you was young, soft, sweet, not at all what he expected a new farmer to be considering the aging community he lived in.

In the distance, you rifled through the pile of fallen branches at the base of the large oak tree, studying the group before selecting a few to add to your basket. Hands perched on your hips, you tilted your head before grasping the largest of the bunch, a split tree limb, and dragging it backwards. Frank bit back a laugh as your body lost the fight against the weight and resistance of the branch when you fell on your ass. Deciding to stop lurking and come to your aid, he called from across the clearing. “Was that the plan or did ya need some help?”

Whirling around, butt still planted on the mossy ground, you laughed when you spotted him. “Lord above, Frank, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Basking in the beautiful tone of your voice, he strode over to you, watching your beautifully unmarred hands brush dirt off of your overalls as you stood up.

Heat flooded your face as you replayed his offer in your head. ”You saw my valiant attempt then...“ Biting your lip, you glanced up at him.

Sucking in a breath, Frank was taken aback by the immediate effect your doe eyes had on him. ”Happens to the best of us.“ He shrugged, hoping that his face hadn't betrayed his desire to sweep you off your feet and carry you back to your place.

You scoffed, "Oh yeah? Hard to believe you given that you're so...” You trailed off, circling a hand in his general direction.

The barest hint of a smirk graced his lips. “So what, sweetheart?”

Huffing in embarrassment, you averted your eyes from his stunningly fit body. “Nothing.” You murmured.

Eyes softening, Frank looked to you for approval. “Did ya want a hand with that?”

There were those magnificent doe eyes again. You nodded slowly.

Grasping the fallen limb with one hand, Frank hefted it up with ease, setting it over a broad shoulder. “Where to, dollface?”

Smiling at the nickname, you answered shyly. “My cabin, if that's not too far for you.”

“Course not, since I'm so...” He imitated your comment from earlier and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what, tough guy!” You laughed, not finishing the empty threat.

“What're you plannin' on doin' with this thing anyway? Clubbin' seals?”

You looked at him, horrified, “No! Of course not! I would never--” You paused, then rolled your eyes. “That's a cruel joke, Frank. You had me thinking I'd made an awful impression.”

Frank chuckled. ”Sorry, dollface.”

“You're forgiven.” You smiled sweetly. “And, since you asked SO nicely, I'm building a scarecrow.”

Brow furrowing, Frank's steps faltered, “A scarecrow?”

“Yeah, they're these little human-shaped statues that you put in the middle of your crops to scare the crows.” You explained, twinkle of jest in your eye as you smirked at him.

“I know what they are, smart ass.” Frank snorted, “I meant why're you buildin' one?”

You shrugged, eyes falling to the ground, “I, uh, I planted some crops a few weeks ago and the birds got to them as soon as theey sprouted. Guess I'm not too good at this whole 'farming' thing, huh?” The chuckle that left your mouth was humorless and sad. Frank's heart twisted in response.

“Hey now, you're tryin'. That's what matters.”

Giving an unsure smile, your lips twitched upwards. “Thanks, Frank.”

“Course, sweetheart. Did you want some help buildin' it?”

Tilting your head, your voice was laced with appreciative surprise, “You'd do that?”

Nodding solemnly, Frank gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “In a heartbeat, dollface.”

With a giggle, you took his free hand and pulled him all the way back to your house.

A few hours, buckets of sweat, and a quick trip to Frank's place later, the two of you looked proudly at the tall, only slightly lopsided, scarecrow standing guard in your field.

Running a hand over the flannel shirt that composed the torso, a soft smile sprouted. “I hope you don't want this shirt back.“

Frank squeezed your shoulder. ”It looks better on him anyway.“

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fluff #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #punisher #nmcu #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #my writing #fc #fall prompts 2023

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 1 year ago

Text

Restoring the Roots (Joel Miller x Therapist! reader)

Chapter 4: Action

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 here | Chapter 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x therapist! reader, post outbreak

Rating: M, swearing, descriptions of trauma, descriptions of suicidal ideation, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap)

Word Count: 10.5K (buckle up with a snack y'all)

Summary: Life after moving to Jackson looks drastically different for Joel, survival mode is over and now he and Ellie can finally put down new roots. Ellie adapts easily but Joel finds himself struggling to settle into this new life, in more ways than some. At Ellie and Tommy’s insistence, Joel begrudgingly finds himself in therapy to try and work through his struggles but what he encounters is more than just painful memories and deeply rooted trauma.

A/N: It is finally here you guys! Finally! Life has been extremely fucking hectic and heavy lately but I wanted to persist with this story because I truly love it. Again, a heartfelt thank you to every single one of you that likes, reblogs, comments and encourages me with this little WIP. I'm still amazed that anyone at all wants to read my work, so thank you. A MASSIVE hug to my beta @serenaxpedro, for staying up with me, editing and providing feedback to me, and cheering me on as I contemplated how to best tell this story. You are my everything!!! This chapter is LONG, the longest by far lol. I couldn't bring myself to split it up because it didn't suit the flow of the story, so please enjoy our grumpy old man as he starts his first therapy session!

You pulled the collar of your vest up higher on the back of your neck, the brisk breeze sending a chill through you as you stood outside the horse paddock. One leg propped up on the fence as you fed a hose through it into the half empty water trough on the inside of the paddock. Winter in Jackson hadn’t been as rough as you were anticipating, life was a lot different during the harsher seasons when there was enough food to sustain the commune, and everyone had their own house to provide shelter from the elements. Although spring had made its appearance, you still felt winter’s remnants in the early mornings before the temperature warmed up, when there was frost on the ground and your breath fogged up in the air. You were finishing up some chores around the stables in between clients, meandering between the stables and the paddock, tossing a few hay bales over the fence for the horses, sweeping up the aisles.

Despite the monotony of the everyday tasks, they never failed to bring you comfort amidst the hectic schedule that you maintained. While the office of the practice was cozy and welcoming, you always preferred being at the stables, around the horses. Nothing compared to the sounds of them munching away at their dinner, the sweet smell of their hay, or the sounds of their hoofbeats throughout the paddock. It was undoubtedly your happy place.

This morning however, was different. It was Thursday morning, and no amount of tasks or chores could quell the growing nervousness you felt at possibly seeing Joel again today. You thought back to your meeting with him, recalling the warmth of his baritone voice, his sharp jawline, broad shoulders and endearing smile. You thought about him more times than you wanted to admit. It made your cheeks burn. His hardened exterior and gruffness were easy enough to spot from miles away, but the small cracks of vulnerability and softness that you saw in your first conversation intrigued you to no end. It also broke your heart a little.

His hazelnut eyes looked weary. Empty. Void of warmth for a long period of time. You could only imagine the horrors they had witnessed. You knew better than to fool yourself into thinking that you could fix him. No, you had long let go of that nonsensical notion. Believing you could fix anyone, fix their trauma, fix their nuances, it was a fool’s errand. Especially now, amidst the end of the fucking world as you and everyone else knew it. You knew that it was not your job to fix people, but rather help them. That was really it. You wanted to help Joel. Help him heal. Help him realize he was worthy of help. It was the same goal for all your clients of course, you only wanted to see their happiness, their small wins, their progression, but with Joel… that desire was much stronger. And you had only just met the man.

Your ruminations were interrupted by a gentle shove and nibble against your arm resting on the fence. You looked up at the black muzzle in your face, chuckling at the inquisitive eyes of one of the herd members, Cole, a young jet black gelding, inspecting you in your dazed state.

“Sorry bud, I don’t have any treats on me right now.” You stroked the velvet skin of his muzzle as he persistently shoved at your hand. His nose peeked through the open gaps in the fence to reach your vest pockets, ears pricked forward. Usually you had treats handy for them every morning but you must have forgotten them in your absent minded state. You made a mental note to grab some sugar cubes from the feedroom in the barn when you were done watering. Suddenly, Cole jerked his head upright out of the fence, spooking and skittering off to the side of the paddock as you looked down to see the water trough spilling over, splashing all over the ground and onto your shoes.

“Shit!”

You accidentally dropped the hose and clambered after it, the water pressure causing it to slither frantically back and forth across the ground. You managed to grab it near the opening and awkwardly bend the rubber in half, hoping that the kink would give you a split second to run back to the stables to turn off the tap. It did, but not first without spraying frigid water up against your neck and chest.

“Fucking hell.” You gritted, as you jogged over to the stables and screwed the tap shut, still gripping the rubber bend tightly. You looked down at your shirt in dismay. The gray long sleeve was now drenched over your chest, the collar of your vest offering practically no protection as you felt the cold chill start to seep through your skin.

‘Fuck. I could always call Tracey to bring me a spare shirt.’ You contemplated as you began to shiver. Just as you glance down at your watch to see if you had time to change, you hear your name being called softly from behind you.

That warm, slightly raspy, deep baritone voice.

Shit. Your breath hitched as you froze to the spot.

You were anticipating him being late at least, if he actually did show. But currently, you are cursing his punctuality and whatever powers that be for putting you in this scenario today of all days.

“Hey Joel!” You squeaked slightly as you turned around. Feeling another wave of shivers wash over your body, you dropped the hose and wiped your wet hands down the front of your jeans while walking over to him.

“You’re early,” you chuckled awkwardly as you tried to pull the sides of your vest closer together across your chest. Of course the vest you chose to wear this morning had a broken zipper. Of course.

“Didn’t wanna make a bad impression for the first … y’know session. Plus, it’s pretty tough to get lost around here,” he replied with a nervous tight lipped smile. It’s like you’re drinking in his appearance for the first time all over again, as if you forgot how fucking attractive he was in the days that passed after your initial meeting. Another shiver visibly runs through you as you try to squash down those lingering thoughts, now very aware of your soaked shirt against your chest and abdomen. Joel clocks your shivering as he steps a bit closer.

“Everything okay?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. You do a shitty job of hiding your discomfort but his gaze instantly drops down to your exposed chest, taking in the damp fabric clinging to your chest, a few droplets of water still running down your neck into your cleavage. He swallows slowly and averts his eyes.

You might as well be rusting from the inside because your voice continues to come out at a squeaky pitch.

“Yeah! Just my daily struggle with the hose while I was watering these guys. I am a sore loser this time around.” You chide yourself as you continue to pull at your open vest, only drawing more attention to your chest.

“You uh, do you want me to come back in a bit? If you wanna get changed into something else,” he clears his throat and tries to look anywhere else but your chest.

On any other day you normally wouldn’t care. If it was any other client you normally wouldn't care, and would deal with it later. But something about the way you catch his eyes briefly raking over your damp skin has your heart pounding in your chest. It also hit you at that moment that your nipples were probably visible through your shirt since bras were now obsolete and you weren’t wearing anything else underneath.

Yeah. A change of clothes was definitely happening.

“Uhm, I think I might go see if there’s anything in the barn here,” you jerked your head in the direction of the stable doors, “but you don’t have to leave. Just gimme a couple minutes and I’ll be back.”

“Sure no problem, take your time,” he replied. You gave him a small smile and ducked your head as you scurried away into the barn. Luckily, with how often you’re at the barn you do have spare clothes hung up in the tackroom for when you go riding. Flitting through the jackets and other dusty clothing on the hooks behind the door, you find a black pullover with a ¾ zip and a high collar. It’s thin and probably one size too small since you joined the commune and put on weight, but it’ll have to do the job. You peel the wet shirt off with a grimace and throw the pullover on, not before grabbing a handful of sugar cubes out of the jar on the tack shelf and shoving them into your back pocket. By the time you get back out to the paddock, Joel is leaning up against the fence, petting the horses.

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

By the time Thursday rolls around Joel’s nerves are shot to say the least. His fear, anxiety, and anticipation at seeing you again swirl together in a cocktail of restless energy. He tries to throw himself into odd jobs around the house, fixing the bannister on the porch, messing with the plumbing in the kitchen. Ellie of course clocks his silent tornadoeing through projects. She knew that when Joel was trying to put his mind off something, he would bury it under any and every excuse for work, any excuse for providing, that he could.

By the time she comes downstairs to leave for school Joel’s already in the kitchen, pouring his second cup of coffee. She wrinkles her nose and makes a beeline for the fridge, pulling out the box of eggo’s, popping two in the toaster beside him.

“Ugh. That stuff still smells like shit, a year later. There’s no way it’s good for you,” she quips. She waits a beat and gives him a pointed look, waiting for him to start slurping it out of his mug at childish volume, like he always does. Except he doesn’t. He’s staring off into space as takes a sip, drumming his fingers on the counter. The bottom of his t-shirt is wet and his fingers have some kind of grease on them, and then she notices the open cabinet under the sink, tools strewn about across the floor.

“What did you do to the sink now?” Ellie sighed and leaned against the counter beside Joel. He still doesn’t respond in his daze, his brows furrowed in concentration

“Joel. Joelllllll.” She waved her hand in front of his face as he shook out of his trance. He grunted at her and frowned as she gestured to the mess on the floor.

“It was just a valve that needed tightening. Besides, what are you doing up this early?”

“Uh it’s 9:03? I’m late for school??,” she raised an eyebrow at him, grabbing the eggo’s and sitting down at the table, shoving one into her mouth. “Did you also start taking apart the bannister upstairs? And the bedroom doors off the hinges?”

He grunted at her and as he proceeded to put the sugar jar in the fridge, and then the milk in the cabinet with the seasoning jars.

“Okay dude what’s going on?” She looked at him with a bizarre expression. “I know I normally have to remind your senile ass of where stuff is around the house and what’s happening on certain days but you never start jobs around the house and not finish them. This is a whole other level of scatter brainedness”

“Nothin’s going on, I’m just trying to get this stuff done that I’ve been meaning to tackle for the last couple months. Figured I would get it done this morning, wait- you said it was 9:03? Shit.” He gulps down the rest of his coffee and dunks his mug in the sink, his right hand ghosting over his left wrist. To this day that damn watch doesn’t work, but he feels the lack of its weight around his wrist.

He goes to move out of the kitchen but Ellie jumps up and blocks his path. Joel gives her an exasperated look and clenches his fists at his side.

“Ellie,” he half-heartedly warns her.

She raises an eyebrow at him and waits, a knowing expression plastered across her face as she takes another bite of her eggo. It’s the same expression she has when she teases him about being a fossil, the same expression when she tells him an insufferable pun from that joke book he pretends to despise, but secretly loves.

Damn this kid for calling his bluff.

“For crying out loud, alright. Alright. I went to see the therapist in town the other day. The one Tommy was talking about. We talked and I’m supposed to meet her at the stables this morning. Happy?!” He sighs and shifts his weight, putting his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling.

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. “Holy shit, seriously?! Joel, that's awesome! I knew that was some pretty fucking amazing advice I gave you” she playfully shoves him with a shit eating grin. “Can I come with you please?! I wanna see the new foal again,” she pleads.

“Absolutely not, you’re already late for school, now go on.”

She rolls her eyes at him and shoves the rest of her eggo in her mouth, grabbing her backpack as she heads out the front door.

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

When Joel arrives at the stables you’re distracted, which he’s somewhat grateful for. Cursing yourself with your back to him as he approaches the paddock. When you turn around and he clocks the soaked front of your shirt his throat goes dry. Your panicked expression, wide eyes, only fueling his dormant hunger as he watches droplets of water roll down the swell of your cleavage with each heavy rise and fall of your chest. He blinks a couple times and forces his gaze elsewhere, anywhere else.

Christ.

Could you make it any more difficult for him to maintain his morality? He’s somewhat grateful that he’s still wearing his bulky winter jacket that barely covers his crotch, as he feels his blood starting to rush south.

Agreeing to this whole therapy idea was insane to begin with.

Of course Joel was skeptical. Aside from the fact that he was not on the run anymore with Ellie, and no longer in danger, he didn’t see the merits of talking to someone about his problems, and shit that had happened in the past. It was in the past and it no longer affected him, therefore how could it really fix or address anything that was no longer a problem? Sure the consultation, or ‘meet and greet’ as you had affectionately referred it to, went well enough and Joel could feel the slightest softness melding away from his hardened exterior, but you were as much a stranger as the next person. He didn’t know you at all, and despite the warmth and amiability you exuded, and the comfort that washed over his system after your conversation, he was still hesitant as hell.

Naturally, he tried to hide it, but that was pointless when Ellie instantly recognized his nerves getting the better of him that morning. He had held your conversation in the back of his mind as he ricocheted between tasks throughout the house over the next couple days leading up to Thursday. She was right as always though, the little devil. He saw things through till the end, and he knew all too well that he was starting to slip once he abandoned working on one project to start another. Good contractors don’t do that, and he prided himself on being a good contractor. One whom clients could rely on to not just get the job done, but get the job done well. He probably could have stayed in the house and continued his disastrous endeavors to fix shit that probably did not need fixing, but he surmised it was pointless once Ellie left for school.

And so here he is, trying to get a grip on reality as he marvels at your appearance for the second time since your meeting. Not wanting to make things any more awkward, he walks over to the paddock where some of the horses are gathered as you change your clothes in the barn.

Hearing your soft footsteps as you return, he looks over to see you in a tight, black pullover, that hugs you in all the right places, the zipper straining against your chest. You’re wearing dark wash jeans again that mold to the swell of your hips and your ass, and you’re sporting a baseball cap this time, your hair pulled into a ponytail. Joel’s mouth waters slightly as you approach him with that same warm smile. He itches to reach out and pull your body flush to his. You could be wearing a fucking potato sack for all he cares and you would still look cruelly appetizing he realizes. Before he can gawk any longer, he feels something tug at his sleeve, hard enough to jolt him out of his thoughts, and the tickle of whiskers and soft velvet brushing against his hand. He turns back to the fence to see a smaller black horse fussing with his coat.

“Ahhh I see you have been targeted as the next culprit for treats,” you observe as you come to stand beside Joel at the fence. He huffs out a small chuckle as he pets the colt’s muzzle while avoiding getting nipped.

“This is Cole, our resident mooch. He will do anything and everything for treats and he has a habit of forgetting his manners when he is around new people, isn’t that right?” You say in a playful stern tone as you look at Cole.

“Are they usually so food driven?” Joel asks you as he watches the young gelding, who moved on from his sleeve to now start chewing at biting at the fence. He recalls when he goes out on patrol with Callum that the chestnut horse never seemed to fuss him with treats or food seeking behavior. He wouldn’t hesitate to stop and graze on the grassy plains when they are on their way home from patrol but he also listens to commands without needing motivation.

“Not always,” you respond, “horses are prey animals so they very much rely on their instincts, they will never turn down food if you offer it to them, but some are more food driven than others. You nod your chin towards Cole, “Cole here is one of our younger herd members, he’s only six, very much still a kid, so he just wants to play, eat and be mischievous overall. Isn’t that right monkey?” You smile and shake your head while booping the horse's snout, scratching the side of his face. Joel observes you intently and again gets lost in a trance as he views your affection for the horses shine through. The love you have for them is clear as day, and again he feels himself soften, as his respect and admiration for you increases.

“It’s his lucky day though,” you say as he watches you reach into your back pocket, pulling out a handful of sugar cubes. “Here,” you take a little more than half and reach out to Joel, dropping them into his palm. He feels the warmth of your skin as your fingers brush against his, your small hand barely containing a handful of sugar cubes, dwarfed by his much larger hands. You’re so much smaller than him, he thinks again as you look up at him brightly.

Joel obliges as Cole already has half his face through the open fence, lips opening and closing as he reaches for the cubes in his hand. He greedily nibbles them up in less than 5 seconds, his soft muzzle and whiskers tickling Joel’s palm, as he continues to push at his hand, waiting for more cubes to magically appear. Joel chuckles warmly, “Sorry bud, that’s all I have for now,” brushing off his hands on his coat.

“Is Cole used in the therapy sessions?” He asks as he watches Cole walk away towards the other horses in the paddock, now disinterested with the lack of food.

You chew your lip and squint your eyes slightly, “Not at the moment, he’s a bit too young to be incorporated into the therapy process. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, all horses bring a useful energy and perspective to the therapy, at the end of the day they are animals that will revert back to their base prey instincts, like spooking, defending themselves and looking for food to survive. But sometimes in order for the therapy to be effective, to complete certain exercises or observe patterns between the clients and horses, they need to have a certain level of commitment, trust and engagement with us. Cole would rather play and eat, and he loses concentration very quickly due to how young he is, it takes much longer to get him engaged and focussed so that the client can benefit from working with him. He’s a big suck though so it’s hard to stay cross with him.”

You flash Joel a warm smile again, and by God if his heart doesn’t stutter every time you look at him like that. You look at him with hope, adoration, and a mutual understanding, almost as if you’ve known him for longer, in the life you both lived before this dystopia. He’s already nervous around you but it’s borderline uncomfortable, the faith with which you look at him, when you don’t really know him at all. He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve your warmth. He’s sure if you knew half of the atrocities he has committed, you wouldn’t look twice in his direction. He’s also sure there are other people in Jackson with questionable morals who did things to survive, to make it from one day to the next, but Joel’s past rivals the shit he has seen in horror movies. Yet somehow worse than that. Horror movies that he would never let Sarah watch, even when she turned 15. How could someone who seems so pure, so hopeful, with such good intentions want to help those with blotted, mangled pasts?

“If you don’t mind me askin’ how did you get into this therapy stuff?” He questions as he turns to face you, putting his hands in his coat pockets and leaning against the fence.

You nod, smile at him again, “It’s totally okay. Everyone has an origin story, right?” You inhale softly and lean against the fence, mirroring his body language and looking out into the paddock.

“I had just finished up grad school for social work when the world went to shit, but I didn’t have that many hours of practice under my belt, save for what I had done in internships and field placements. I did my undergrad in psychology which was good, but I yearned for more than just understanding the brain and our behavior, why we act and function the way we do, and so on. Not to mention I was the friend in my friend group who people always came to with their problems, seeking advice and stuff.” You chuckled half heartedly.

“On a more serious note, before my last year of my grad school program, a cousin who I was very close to, took his own life. It ripped my family to shreds. No one saw it coming. The crazy thing is,” you pause and swallow, looking at Joel, “he was the happiest fucking person I knew.”

He watches you fiddle with the loose threads on the inside of your jean pocket and shift your feet, grinding the toe of your boot into the dirt. It’s unsettling to see your composure unravel bit by bit. It’s only the second time you are both meeting but as he watches you bite your lip, struggling to find the words, he feels the urge to comfort you. Reach out and touch your shoulder, grab one of your hands and squeeze it tight. Anything to help restore that confident demeanor, that warm smile to your gorgeous face.

“He lived such an ambitious life. He taught English to children in Korea, lived in the mountains of Colorado, rock climbing, and riding motorcycles. He gave the best bear hugs, and was always trying to make others smile. He had the biggest heart… and yet he was suffering the deepest level of pain that no one could comprehend. Too much for him to comprehend.” You trail off and Joel can see your eyes start to get misty.

You clear your throat and smile. “So many of us are suffering in silence and no one has any idea. I believe we all have an innate inner strength that can help pull us out of our anguished mental state, but sometimes we need someone, something, an outside perspective- whatever it might be, to show us that we can move forward and face our life’s challenges. I wanted to be that person to support others, and help them figure out how they can use their strength to get through it.

You look out wistfully towards the horses and then back at Joel. “Maybe if my cousin had someone like that he would still be here. Truthfully, there are no words to describe how gratifying it is to see people cross those mental obstacles, gain more confidence in themselves, heal from their trauma and grow overall. It’s just very rewarding.”

You huff out an exhale. “That was a long winded explanation, probably too long but that’s how I got into providing therapy,” you finish, pensively meeting his gaze.

Joel’s brow is furrowed, his head tilted slightly as he remains captivated by your words. His eyes soften as he takes in your expression. There’s a hint of melancholy in your voice as your expressive eyes fail to hide the pain behind them. There’s that feeling again, he notices. A softness. The embers of warmth emitting from his core as he sits with your pain. Hardness softening, yielding into empathy. You had suffered loss too, a suffering similar to what he had gone through.

Before he realizes it, brief memories are flitting across his mind. Flash frames like a broken projector. Bloodied hands pressing against her wound, her agonizing cries, cradling her body in his arms. Dragging Ellie out of the capitol building, just in time before it combusted into flames and debris. Tess’s words echoing in his mind

Save who you can save.

His spine stiffens as he clenches his fists in his pockets. His feels his mouth going dry and the blood rushing in his ears.

“Joel?” You’re looking at him with concern. “You still with me?”

He blinks a couple times and swallows, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I am. And I’m sorry for your loss. I, I appreciate you sharin’ that with me. Really”

“It was a long time ago but … thank you. And I know it’s easier to feel comfortable talking to someone about vulnerable things when they themselves are able to be vulnerable with you as well. It goes both ways.” You tell him earnestly.

Despite your reassurance, Joel’s mind is still reeling. He does a shitty job of hiding his dissociation, as you check in with him again.

“Hey.” You duck your head slightly to catch his gaze again, his eyes flit nervously to yours.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, Joel. Just because we had the consultation and you’re here, you don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it’s for you. You can still back out if you want. It’s fully within your control. Do you still want to do this?”

Within his control.

He plays those words over and over again in his mind. When was the last time anything was ever really in his control? Hell, he doesn’t even know what that word means anymore. Survival meant making choices, choices to ensure that you would be safe. That you would live to see another day. But choices did not mean you were in control. They oftentimes meant choosing the less shittier option to make the best of the situation. Choices sometimes meant being self-serving and using others as a means to survive, hurting others on purpose. He wasn’t in control when Tess died. Or when Sam and Henry died. Or when Ellie was taken from him.

Does he want this?

Every time he thought he was in control, he failed. Failed to protect, failed to provide, failed to prove himself. He didn’t want to invite those fucking feelings in again, but he also knew Tommy and Ellie were right. He couldn’t continue on this way if he wanted to have any semblance of a future in Jackson. Any semblance of a life. A life where he could live, not just to endure and survive.

Joel looks over at the horses, biting the inside of his cheek. They’re huddling contently under one of the shelters, a few laying down and a few grazing on the outskirts of the paddock. The breeze flowing through their mane’s and tails. And then he looks back at you. Into the depths of your bright, understanding eyes and your warm smile.

“Let’s do it,” he says with a small smile.

—----------------------------------

Aside from the hazardous mishap with the hose this morning, and all other things considered, the morning seems to be going by smoothly. Not only did Joel actually show up, but he seemed to be doing a better job of calming your nerves, rather than you reassuring him. You don’t normally share your story about your cousin, you do explain to clients what got you into therapy as a way to be more relatable. A way to begin to carefully craft the therapeutic relationship between therapist and client.

But with Joel, you wanted to share your pain with him. You knew he had suffered, regardless of the rumors and stories milling about in the community. You knew he was holding onto trauma, in his mind and body. It was evident when you saw him begin to dissociate. You were relieved to see however, that the more you shared, and the more you chatted, the more relaxed he became. He wasn’t avoiding your eyeline, looking everywhere else but you, and he wasn’t stumbling over his words. His body language was actually open, you observed, as he directly faced you with his hands in his pockets, nodding along as you spoke, focusing on your eyes.

Your heart felt just about ready to soar out of your chest, as you tried not to smile too hard when he reaffirmed his consent for the therapy. They were all baby steps. Incremental, but significant to the process and you were thrilled. Almost still skeptical that he came this far.

You explain a few more housekeeping things before stepping into the paddock with him. Details like confidentiality, and basic horse safety, but since he was already comfortable riding on patrol, it was pretty straightforward.

Joel visibly perks up when you enter the paddock as he takes in the herd and the mountains in the background. The horses too are bemused by your presence, as they look in your direction, observing the both of you.

“So what happens first?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do I just pick one?”

Callum instantly catches his eye as he scans the herd. The chesnut gelding is hard to miss, aside from his unmistakable white blaze running down his face, he’s also one of the taller horses.

You notice Joel’s recognition of Callum and chuckle, just as Callum looks over to you both and begins walking in your direction. “That would be far too easy, seeing as it appears that you already have a friend in the herd.”

The large gelding nickers quietly and steps closer as Joel reaches out to him. “Hey there bud, how’s it going?” He speaks softly, patting the side of Callum’s neck as he leans his face in closer to Callum’s, running his hand down his blaze. “You behaving since our last ride?” Joel grins as he looks from the horse’s large deep set eyes to you.

“Callum’s been my patrol partner for a few shifts now. He’s a good one. Smart as a whip and he gets the job done.” Joel continues to pet him with a smile of adoration on his face.

Fuck.

If you thought you were prepared to see Joel interact with the horses, you were sorely mistaken, you now realize. His interactions with Callum are precious and you’re endeared by how his demeanor softens around the large gelding. You almost wish you could let him do the session with Callum but their pre-existing relationship would make it less effective, and you tell him as much.

“It looks like you have a great bond with Callum already, I can see that in how he came over to you. He’s quite relaxed” You nod towards Callum as he lowers his head and softly chews his lips.

“It’s great to see,” you reassure him, “but I’m curious to see you interact with someone you don’t already know. Callum is actually the herd leader. He’s always looking out for the others, maintaining the hierarchy, and protecting the others when threats arise. It’s interesting you get along with him well.” You hum noncommittally as you point out the parallel and take a step back to observe him and Joel.

Joel raises his eyebrows, his eyes soft. “Really? I didn’t know that. I just figured he was one of the older horses here, so maybe he had more experience than the others?” He furrows his brows and looks back at Callum.

“He is older than some of the others here but he doesn’t have that much experience with being on patrol, surprisingly. He’s only been used in the past year or so, but it seems he has the right demeanor for it.” You continue with a knowing look, “it’s possible that you have a strong bond with him because of those traits. Being a leader and protecting others.”

At that statement, Joel's eyes flit to yours. Something akin to recognition flashes across his eyes. Recognition mixed with a guarded fear.

“That’s a good thing,” you quickly point out, “but to experience the effectiveness of equine therapy, any kind of therapy really, you have to get out of your comfort zone. And Callum is part of that comfort zone right now. Why don’t we let him go and see the rest of the herd?”

Joel nods and gives Callum one final pat, “I’ll see you later bud.”

You gesture for him to walk further with you into the center of the paddock. Most of the horses are standing around the round hay bale in the middle. A few walk over, and continue past you both, glancing your way.

“Now, most of these guys know me cause I feed them almost everyday, so I’m going to step off to the side, and let you be with them. We’ll see who approaches and chooses you,” you conclude with a wink.

Walking a few steps away from Joel, you clasp your hands behind your back, slightly amused at how lost he looks. His broad figured presence is powerful amongst the majestic animals, but his uncertainty and lack of confidence gives away his control. He walks further into their space and the herd parts like the Red Sea, most of the horses walking around and past him. Not even Cole approaches with the promise of more sugar cubes. Joel turns back to look at you, waiting for your cues and shrugs. You bite your lip to keep your smile from stretching across your face and gesture for him to keep going. Giving you a skeptical look, he proceeds further till all but one horse remains in his path.

He slows to a complete halt, as he sees a smaller mare standing just ahead of him. She’s a pinto, with white and brown patches all over her body. She’s small height wise, at least a foot shorter than Callum, but certainly not small width wise, as he observes her wide belly protruding out from her sides. She stands facing Joel head on, with both front legs planted squarely, tail swishing erratically at the flies around her. She looks slightly to the side and Joel notices her right eye is blue. Almost human-like and a tad sinister, when viewed from the side. He also notices that she has a good chunk missing out of her right ear, the same side with the blue eye.

She continues to face him, an unimpressed expression on her long face.

“It looks like Gracie wants to stick around,” you call out to him.

Gracie, huh?

Joel appraises the mare and decides to take one small step towards her. Gracie lifts her head slightly, her ears swiveling back and forth, as she shifts her weight from one back foot to another.

He continues to take another step forward, bigger this time, placing him within a few feet of the mare. She instantly pins her ears to the back of her head, and snorts, as she walks away, her blue eye fixed on Joel. She doesn’t walk far, save for a few steps, but Joel turns back to you and says, “I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem that impressed with me.”

You bite your lip hard, trying not to give him a patronizing smile. But you can’t help it upon seeing his cute puzzled expression. Trying to exercise your poker face, you reassure him. “She doesn’t know you. To her, you are a stranger, as she is to you. What would be your natural reaction to a stranger approaching you?”

Joel frowns slightly as he contemplates your words, before he turns back to the disinterested mare. He grinds his lower jaw, the fingers on his right hand twitching as he appraises Gracie. “I would be guarded too I suppose.”

You encourage him a bit more. “Maybe try a different method to approach her. She might be more receptive if you can show her you’re not a threat.”

This time Joel walks around to Gracie’s far side, taking a few trepid steps towards her neck, and slowly reaching his hand out, palm facing up. She turns her head slightly towards him, her left ear swiveling in his direction. She stretches her neck out the slightest bit. He waits a beat, then continues to approach her slowly. You hear him coaxing her, “Easy there girl. I’m just coming over to say hello.”

He continues to talk to her softly as he approaches her side. Amazingly, Gracie lowers her head to his outstretched palm, sniffing and tickling his hand with her whiskered muzzle. A swell of pride surges up within you as you watch Joel murmur to the small mare, gently stroking her neck. “There you go. Nothing to be afraid of huh?”

He looks at you with a tentative smile as you walk over to them. “Joel, that was amazing!” You praise him excitedly. “What were you thinking the second time around as you went up to her?”

“Uhm. I don’t know if I’m honest,” he looks contemplatively at Gracie, focusing on her brown one eye. “I guess I figured if she sniffed me, or heard my voice or somethin’, she’d feel more comfortable with me.”

You nod eagerly as he explains his thought process to you. Naturally, you didn’t expect Joel to open up right away given that it was his first session. Hell, you didn’t expect him to show up at all. The fact that he was here, engaging with you and Gracie, was significant in and of itself. He was still learning to trust you, trust Gracie, and trust the process of therapy in general. Being mindful of this, you refrained from asking him too many questions, or probing his inner reflections. You were just as much concerned about spooking him as you were when interacting with the horses.

“You did all the right things,” you reassure him. “Horses are always assessing their environment for threats, so when we speak to them as we approach them, and allow them to see us in their eyesight, they can more easily perceive us as safe.”

“Not to mention, you also switched sides when you approached her,” you point out to him.

He replies, “Yeah. Her other side. The side with the blue eye, seems more… I don't know. She seems more nervous with that side.”

You smile and hum as you reach out to brush the hairs from Gracie’s forelock out from her eyes. Sensing the question on Joel’s lips before he asks it, you explain to him. “It’s hard to miss, her ear on her right side. Unfortunately, Gracie was in a horrible accident almost a year ago. The farm she came from, they had a barn fire, and not all of the horses made it out.”

You pause and sigh. “Sadly, her foal was one of them. She ran back into the barn after being evacuated to try and rescue her little one but it was too late. Her head collar got stuck on an exposed beam in the barn aisle way and it ripped a chunk out of her ear when she tried to escape.”

Joel’s mouth gapes open, his brows drawn together as he slowly stops petting her neck. “Jesus Christ.” He looks at you and back at Gracie in disbelief with his big brown eyes.

He swallows and waits a beat, before he pensively asks, “she lost her baby?”

Although he doesn’t say it as a question, more so as a statement to himself. A confirmation.

You grimace slightly. “Yeah. The foal was only about a month old, poor thing. When Gracie arrived here she wasn’t interested in anything. We had given up hope that she would even want to eat or go out in the paddock with the other horses. At one point she just resigned herself to the corner of her stall in the barn, and would attack anyone who came near her stall door. It took a while for her to get acclimatized to Jackson, and even longer for her to build trust with us.”

Joel’s brows are furrowed as he looks at Gracie, a serious expression plastered across his face. To anyone else it might seem like he was mad or grumpy. But you notice how his focus zeroes in on her. There’s intention behind his gaze, something you can’t quite put your finger on. He grunts in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything.

Interesting. You make a mental note of his response for later.

“Well, it looks like your partner has picked you, Joel. Why don’t we go into the round pen with Gracie and do some more one-on-one work with her?”

You clip a lead rope to Gracie’s halter, and hand it to Joel, trusting him to walk her out of the paddock into the adjacent round pen.

Following them into the pen, you close the gate behind you and clap your hands together. “Alright, now that you have your partner, let’s try a small exercise shall we?”

You walk up to Joel and unclip the lead rope from Gracie’s halter, taking the lead rope from him. Your fingers brush against his and you can’t help but relish in the warmth of his hands during the brief touch. They may be calloused but his fingers are soft, thick and long, you don’t miss the veins running through the backs of his hands either. You feel the heat running through your body as you imagine his fingers elsewhere before snapping back to reality.

Nope. Stop it. Concentrate.

You clear your throat and quickly take a few steps back, nearly tripping over yourself in the process. Upon realizing she wasn’t tethered to Joel anymore, Gracie walks away from him, flanking the perimeter of the pen.

“Okay, this exercise is about communication, nonverbal communication to be specific, and trust,” you explain to Joel. “Let’s see if you can get Gracie to follow you around the pen, without holding onto her headcollar, or leading her with the lead rope.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you with skepticism, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know, I know, it sounds impossible” you raise your hands at him, trying to appease him. “But sometimes we have to use other methods of communication when we don’t always have the usual tools or resources available to us. This will build trust and strengthen your relationship with her.” You give him an encouraging smile and fold your hands behind your back, still holding the lead rope.

Joel turns to observe Gracie as she lazily grazes on the grass in the center of the pen. You can see that he is lost, his body language hesitant again as he is unsure of what to do.

“I doubt I’ll be able to,” he calls over his shoulder, “she seems to have a stronger relationship with the grass at the moment.”

You don’t succeed in stifling the snort that escapes your nose, as you look down at the ground and shake your head. Despite what Joel presented as, namely, a hulking, intimidating, capable man, his self doubt penetrated the cracks of his facade, beyond the depths of his core.

Many clients encountered resistance or setbacks in their first couple interactions with the horses. But Joel was alarmingly quick to discount his abilities, submitting himself to self-deprecation. It made your heart ache for him. He was experienced in his horse handling skills, far more experienced than many other people in the settlement, and yet his confidence faltered quickly.

This man, who had likely been through hell and back in his previous life, who contributed to the community, who exuded warmth despite his brokenness, deserved to feel confident. He deserved to believe in himself. You wanted to grab him by his massive shoulders and shake him like a ragdoll. Remind him of his capabilities, remind him of his worth.

“Remember what you thought about when you approached Gracie in the paddock?” You remind him carefully. “It’s the same idea here. She’s only just met you. You have to give her a reason to trust you and follow your lead. Start there first and everything else will fall into place.”

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

Joel had to admit, you were right. This didn’t feel like therapy at all really. It felt like he was just spending quality time with the horses and getting to know them. He’s surprised to realize he hasn’t stopped to think about the disaster of unfinished projects he left at the house, or Ellie at school, or when his next patrol shift is. Your presence is unreasonably calming as you explain the exercise to him, encourage him with the horses, and give him space and patience to just be.

Sometimes it’s a bit too much space though. He chides himself internally at the longing he feels when your hands brush against his as you grab the lead rope from him, or when you take a few steps away from him to observe. It’s unnerving Joel realizes. That he is already starting to crave your presence near him, your reassurance and encouragement. It’s when you go silent and let him take control, or make a decision, that he starts to feel uncomfortable. Like a fish out of water, he feels out of touch with exercising any kind of authority. But he also doesn’t know how to handle his interactions with Gracie without your guidance.

He also was not prepared to work with a horse that he didn’t know. The tiny mare seemed irritable by his presence at first. From what Joel knew about horses, and his time going out on patrol with Callum, they needed a strong leader. Someone to lead, and make decisions on behalf of everyone else, for the safety of the herd. Naturally, he approached Gracie with the same gusto but she didn’t take too kindly to that strategy.

He observes the mare as she grazes on the grass on the perimeter of the pen, your words echoing in his mind.

Give her a reason to trust you.

When you explained Gracie’s past to Joel, he was shocked. He wondered if she might have been abused, judging by her right ear, and her overall behavior, but nothing could have prepared him for the real horrors of her past. Barely escaping with her life and losing her foal.

He clenches his teeth together and flexes his jaw, feeling his blood run cold. Anxiety washes over his body as he thinks about her loss. Her suffering.

Why in her right mind would she trust anyone? Why should she give her trust to anyone?

He gets lost in the rabbit hole of grief as it consumes him. His composure begins to unravel. You must notice this as you call out to him.

“Joel? Everything okay?”

He turns his head slightly to the side, acknowledging you with a nod but not fully turning around. With his jaw set, he walks over to Gracie with heavier footsteps and his shoulders raised. The heel of his boots driving into the ground as he strides up to her.

Before he can even get halfway to her, the mare jerks her head up from the ground and abruptly trots in the opposite direction, away from him with her ears pinned against her head. His chest heaves with a huff as he exhales and looks back to you. But again, you don’t give him any clues, throw him any freebies, or give him any direction.

“Try again,” you say to him softly. A neutral expression plastered across your features.

That’s another thing. Joel is irritated that can’t get a read on you when he looks at you expectantly, clueless as to what to do next. Your sporadic tidbits of guidance or feedback are not always given freely. He needs to know what he is doing wrong, or what he is doing right. That is, if he is doing anything right at all. Your neutrality is unnerving and it only builds his frustration.

All of a sudden that control he was too hesitant to take hold of, looms over him like a giant storm cloud swallowing up the Texan sun. Out of his reach, yet all consuming at the same damn time.

Nope, he doesn’t like it one bit.

He tries a few more times to approach Gracie with no avail, as the pinto mare continues to retreat from his proximity, remaining on the outskirts of the pen. Joel grinds his jaw and puts his hands on his hips, his gaze narrowing at Gracie.

“It’s no fuckin use, she’s made up her mind about me,” he grumbles as he turns to walk back over to you. His heavy footsteps scuffing up the dirt as he drags his feet.

“How can you be so sure? You got her to let her guard down moments ago.” You raise an eyebrow at him playfully with a knowing look. He grunts in response and frowns at you.

“That was a misnomer, beginner’s luck,” he mutters, looking at the ground. He crosses his arms, dejection rolling off of him in waves.

“Can you tell me what you were thinking when you approached her?” Your warm attentive eyes search throughout his face, patiently waiting for his answer.

Joel looks over to the temperamental mare, who’s now stopped grazing, standing off to the far side, with her eyes slightly closed. He purses his lips and closes his eyes. As they remain closed, images of Sarah’s sweet smile, expressive eyes and mop of curls cloud his mind. He can still hear her giggle when she would crack a joke at him about being old. He can still feel her small body curled into his, when she would pass out on him in the middle of movie night. Joel inhales sharply and slowly opens his eyes.

“I was thinkin’ about how she lost her foal…thinkin’ about what she went through with the fire… I don’t know, I felt angry that’s all.” He states plainly in a gruff tone.

He bites the inside of his cheek as his gaze meets yours. He waits for you to recoil from his bluntness, retreat from his hard demeanor. Only, you don’t.

Instead, you give him a soft smile and nod. “There’s no right or wrong answer Joel, remember? You’re empathizing with her. Empathy is a good thing, but sometimes when we empathize too much with the pain that others are experiencing, it impacts our ability to communicate with them. We got lost in their pain, their frustration, their anger. All of the heavy emotions.”

He tilts his head to the side as he takes in your words, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Gracie is picking up on the energy you’re putting down,” you calmly explain to him. “Remember, horses are prey animals, so by default they are highly attuned to their environment, and the emotional state of others around them. It’s how they survive. She interpreted your anger and frustration as a threat to her safety.”

That does make sense, the more that he thinks about it.

He should know better, he tells himself. He’s been out on patrol enough times to know that the instincts which the horses possessed were extremely valuable when it came to tracking down infected, or raiders that encroached on the settlement territory. He recalls a particular patrol shift where Callum was uncharacteristically distracted for the better part of their evening, persistently pulling Joel in towards the forested area that flanked the south of the commune borders. Joel eventually gave into the gelding’s frantic energy as he snorted and trotted further into the forest clearing to see a lone clicker weaving in and out of the trees. He swiftly aimed his sniper rifle at the infected, his gaze narrowing through the scope, as he pulled the trigger, the body dropping to the ground with a single shot. He never questioned the gelding's intuitive behavior after that moment.

Suddenly, Joel feels very embarrassed for being so thoughtless and brazen in the first place. Couldn’t you tell him these things beforehand so that he doesn’t end up making a fool of himself?

“It’d be a whole lot easier if you could tell me these things darlin’, so I know what to expect,” he says with a slight smirk, folding his arms across his chest.

Your expression falters for a second as your eyes flit across his arms, and he sees you blush slightly. You regain your composure quickly and mirror his body language, crossing your arms over your chest and popping your right hip out.

“Again, that would be way too easy. Where’s the fun in that?” You tip your chin up at him and smile, almost as if you were challenging him.

“Besides, this isn’t about getting it right the first time! It’s your first session. You’re still learning about Gracie, as she is learning about you. Don’t be so hard on yourself Joel. You’re doing a good job, really.” You reach out, placing your palm on his arm, a hopeful smile on your beautiful face.

His breath hitches as he feels the heat emanating from your small hand on his bicep. Despite the thickness of his bulky winter coat, your touch bleeds through his clothing, sending warmth throughout his body, an electric current running through his veins. He feels his pulse start to pick up just as you quickly drop your hand and take a step back from him, looking down at the ground.

Joel inhales sharply.

It’s devious really, how much he enjoys seeing you affected by his presence, his touch. You look sinful when you’re flustered, peering up at him with those doe eyes. His fingers dig deeper into his biceps as he tries to ground himself, pushing down lingering thoughts of the image of you looking up at him from your knees.

“Uhm, okay,” you stammer, trying to regain that effortless composure, “let’s try it again, but this time I want you to be mindful of your energy. Think about your body language, and your breathing as you approach her.”

You take a few more steps back and away from Joel and he nods, turning to Gracie’s direction. He’s amused to find her pointedly standing with her bum facing him, her head peeking over the fence of the pen.

Yeah he probably deserved that.

Okay. Body language and breath, he reminds himself.

Steeling himself, Joel walks over to the mare, his steps laced with apprehension as he approaches her left side. Her ears swivel backwards in his direction and she raises her head. Joel pauses, waiting a beat to gauge her reaction, then continues his slow strides until he’s less than 3 feet from her. He repeats his actions from before, reaching his left hand out with his palm facing up.

“Hey Gracie girl,” Joel says in a soothing tone as he continues to approach her. Gracie fixes him with her brown eye and snorts, letting out a large puff of air, still looking over the fence.

Joel comes to a stop just short of her left shoulder, his palm still outstretched towards her.

“I know, I’m just a stranger. I know you don’t trust me, I get it.” Joel doesn’t even realize what he’s saying in the moment, but he continues to ramble and say whatever comes to mind, in the hopes of reassuring the moody little mare. “But I want you to trust me. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I want to trust you too. What do you think?” He continues in a deep, soft lilt.

After a few moments, Gracie turns her head to him, and stretches out her neck to sniff his waiting palm. He holds his breath for a few seconds, and much to Joel’s surprise she starts to chew her lips and lick his palm slowly. He lets out a long exhale and the corners of his lips quirk into a small smile.

“There you go. Atta girl.” Joel continues to praise her soothingly, bringing his other hand up to her neck as he begins to pet her.

He steps up closer to Gracie’s body and begins petting her in long strokes. From her neck down to her shoulder, from her shoulder up and across her back, and down her tummy. Her body hair is short and soft, almost silky smooth. His fingers trace the small swirls of hair in her coat, where the hair grows in opposite directions, and Gracie slowly relaxes, lowering her head and closing her eyes slightly. As he runs his hand over the wide swell of her belly, he pauses, and rests his hand there. Feeling her broad ribcage expand and contract with each breath she takes. ago.

“When did you say that she lost the foal again?” He calls out to you without looking away from the mare.

“About nine months ago I believe,” you reply back to him, “she’s still holding onto some of the baby weight as you can see, despite her refusal to eat when she first came here.”

Joel hums to himself, his brow furrows and his lips slightly parted as he continues to gently pet her around the middle. Gracie turns her head, looking back at him momentarily. He gazes into the depth of her wide brown eye, the amber hues reflected in the light.

He feels his throat start to constrict as he looks to her wide belly. Empty, but still glaring with the reminder of what she lost.

Joel doesn’t know what possesses him to do what he does next, but he almost feels like he’s in a trance. Running on autopilot. He shuffles even closer to her side, and rests his head on her back, almost draping himself over her side. Luckily she’s short enough that he doesn’t have to stand on his tip toes, it almost feels like he’s resting his chin on the head of someone a couple inches shorter than him. He continues running his hands up and down the swell of her tummy slowly, feeling his chest and his arms being pushed up and out with each deep breath she takes.

Think about your breathing.

Joel allows himself this moment and closes his eyes. He gets lost in the rhythm of Gracie’s breathing. No sooner than that, does he realize that he is matching her every inhale and exhale in time with his own breaths.

A few minutes pass and Gracie shakes her head, stomping her hind foot and snorting as she shakes off flies. Joel opens his eyes and jerks his head up, already raising his hands in anticipation that she will take off again. Only she doesn’t, she remains with him.

Remembering the task you gave him, Joel gives her one last pat on the neck. “What do you say we go for a walk huh? C’mon girl.” as he slowly turns away from her and begins walking towards you. He doesn’t look back to see if she follows, but he does walk at a slower pace as he makes his way back to you.

Your poker face fails you this time as your smirk stretches into a huge grin. Suddenly, you abruptly hold your hand up to stop him in his tracks before he can reach you.

With a quizzical expression on his face, Joel quirks an eyebrow at you. You gesture at him to wait for a few seconds. So he calmly waits, his hands by his sides, fingers twitching in anticipation. After a minute or so, Joel hears the soft thudding of hoofbeats against the dirt, feels a puff of warm air against the back of his left shoulder, tickling his ear. His face slowly breaks into a triumphant smile that matches yours, as he slowly turns to see the little mare contentedly standing behind him.

You wordlessly step to the side, out of his path and motion for Joel to continue walking. A bright smile still plastered on your face as you watch them together.

He walks around the outskirts of the round pen, adjusting his long strides and allowing Gracie to catch up with him. He does a few laps and then he stops. Much to his surprise, Gracie stops alongside him. He changes direction and walks the other way, experimenting with stopping in his tracks again, as she remains by his side. A few laps go by when Joel realizes you haven’t said anything in a while. He looks to you for confirmation and you nod to him, gesturing for him to meet you in the middle of the pen. He confidently strides over to you and sheepishly smiles once more when he feels Gracie’s muzzle nibble at the back of his shoulder. A small chuckle escapes him, his dimple peeking through his smile.

He turns around and runs his palm down her face, from her forehead to her muzzle. He whispers to her softly, “Hey there baby girl. There you are.”

Taglist: @beskarandblasters, @pr0ximamidnight, @theewokingdead, @atinylittlepain, @prolix-yuy, @swiftispunk, @harriedandharassed, @amywritesthings, @missgurrl, @silkiers, @jasminedragoon, @mayasopinions, @pedgeitopascal, @elegantduckturtle, @sarahhxx03, @Snow30285, @gracie7209, @stevieboyharrington, @kirsteng42, @pedrit0-pascalit0, @loquaciousferret, @axshadows, @a-sh-lyn, @dotcie, @pedritosdarling, @lhymer1995, @nerdreader, @suzmagine, @like-a-dirty-french-novel, @delicious-collection, @serenaxpedro, @iamasaddie, @javiscigarette, @spooky-nob, @mxtokko, @axshadows, @sn1peraj, @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff, @javiscigarette, @wannab-urs, @cloverhasnobrain,

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x therapist! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #equine assisted therapy #equine therapy #joel miller fluff #restoring the roots fic #restoring the roots

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crossovershipstournament · 1 year ago

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ROUND 3: SIDE 2: Jiminy Cricket (Pinocchio)/Timothy Q. Mouse (Dumbo) VS Megaman (Megaman)/Pit (Kid Icarus)

Propaganda for Jiminy Cricket/Timothy Q. Mouse:

This ask! So cute!

Also this ask~!

I swear to god, this has nothing to do with the Jimmy Timmy Power Hour thing, I came up with the ship separate from that. So like, as someone who grew up watching both movies, I was like "There are similar elements to these movies." "These two characters are kinda similar." "You know, I wonder how these two would interact, given their similar circumstances." "Yeah, they'd def bond over talks of the kids they watch over and such." "Perhaps the two would be besties." "Wait, both appeared in Dumbo's hat in the opening of The Mickey Mouse Club? Awesome!" "Hold on, maybe they could also be an interesting romantic couple." "I am writing stuff in my head and also a fic and doing art as we speak." "There are old Disney comics that have them interacting, I am on Cloud Nine right now." "This is my ship, I love them. They are both not straight. They're besties. They're trying their best." And here we are. I'd be more than happy to make art specifically for the polls if asked/contacted. Otherwise, I'd be happy to direct your attention to those old comics and stuff. And I'd be more than happy to also elaborate/talk more about 'em when asked.

#hi! my partner submitted Jimothy! please vote for them!

Cute art!

To the person who's drawn the cute chibified art of them, thank you for doing prop off gander today. I've been sick in bed all day and completely forgot.

So hi! Yes, hello. I came up with Jimothy several years ago and was the one to submit the prior propaganda to the blog. These two have been in so many scenarios in my mind, y'all have no idea. They are so small. They are both mentor figures (more or less). They, uh, small. Even outside the ship dynamic, I can imagine them being amazing friends. Did you know that prior to their Disney work, both of their original voice actors (Cliff Edwards for Jiminy, Edward Brophy for Timothy) were in a live-action film with Buster Keaton? That has nothing to do with the ship, that's just a fun fact. I would have more to say, but like I said, still sick. Please vote Jimothy.

More art!

TINY DAD SIDEKICKS

#OH THATS SUCH A CUTE SHIP ACTUALLY??? #TINY MENTORS..... AWWW..... #YEAH IM ON TEAM TINY MENTORS #VOTE JIMINY AND TIMOTHY

Uhm hi, please vote for Timothy and Jim…PLEASE!! They are literally so cute together :0) just two little dads living their best lives

Even more art!

#they are from the 40s…so old and in love Jimothy is a couple you can fit in your pocket. To be honest, I'm just glad they made it past round 1. This silly lil crossover ship I've made sure has grown over the years, huh. I'm super-glad that it's gotten so much love over the years. No matter what the outcome is, I love you guys.

#jimothy SWEEP

Propaganda for Megaman/Pit:

This ask, which includes the art used in the bracket image!

Oh my god. This one came immediately to mind. Idk how big the ship is now, but I remember like seeing it everywhere back when Super Smash Bros Ultimate was like popular on Tumblr/Twitter. I think it was originally a crackship cause both of them were in Captain N (a cartoon), but it’s like a serious thing now. Literally all it took was one interaction between them (there’s like dialogue you can get if you do some combination when you play as Pit) which is just Pit gushing about Mega Man. It’s cute. And honestly kind of iconic

#MEGAPIT ?? good for them #go back in time and tell kid me the ship he came up with on a whim would be in a tumblr bracket :'3

#megapit sweep!

#megapit nation let's pokémon go to the polls #let's give it for a wholesome and iconic crackship

#MEGAPIT NATION RISE. RISE. RISE #MEGAPIT

#MEGAPIT!!!1!

#MEGAPIT NATION RISE UP

#c'mon megapit nation #sure they may lose but let's get them some votes anyways!

#vote for the boys people!!! #let's get them as far as possible

Art Credit: Jiminy/Timothy pic from the Disney comics Megaman/Pit art by @/farraigeart

#Crossover Ships Tournament #Poll Tournament #Jiminy Cricket #Pinocchio #Timothy Q. Mouse #Dumbo #Megaman #Pit Kid Icarus #Kid Icarus #Can I just say how cute it is that Jiminy and Timothy are now up against an artificial boy and a boy who can fly?

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zyvel-writez · 1 year ago

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6 Uchiha men x Fem! Maid!Reader

Characters:

•Obito

•Itachi

•Madara

•Sasuke

•Shisui

•Izuna

So this oneshots was requested by my lovely viewer _ . I'm still improving my writing skills so I hope you can appreciate this🤗

WARNING: Slight teasing!!!

"Shut up, you still need to practice woman!" Madara hissed.

"You're the one who needs to shut up, old man!!!" Naruto and Sasuke shouted back, making the older Uchiha roll his black eyes while I put my tongue out in his direction.

"You need to apologize right now to Zie, she did everything she can" A mini chubby Obito said while hugging my cheeks.

Enjoy~

__________

You took a deep breath as you sweep the floor, it was currently a rainy day outside the Uchiha household and yet you were cleaning the dusty floor on the main room of the house of the 6 Handsome and totally hot Uchiha men.

Yep

That's right. You're a maid that works in the Uchiha household, not that you mind it through. Having to clean and help the 6 hot uchiha's wasn't bad either, you even thought that any girl would Kill for your position...

Right~

Anyway, you hummed a small melody while sweeping the dusty floor to let your boredom away. The uchiha's were also not here because they needed to do their jobs, the uchiha's run a big company called Uchiha corps, while you on the other hand, was still a college student. Of course you needed money to buy some expenses in order to study in Konoha University. Your mom's paycheck wasn't enough so you thought it'd be great for you to have a side job. And that leads you to being a maid in the Uchiha household. The payment was quite high because it turns out that you were the only maid in the house and you have no choice but to accept it.

Once you were done sweeping the floor, you stalked to the kitchen. You put your apron on your maid outfit to avoid getting wet (🤨). You started to clean the dishes here and there still humming the music through your lips. You were working as a maid for about 3 months now and everything was fine, except that Shisui was a bit...flirty with you, giving you compliments here and there but you didn't mind that, you still keep yourself humble as much as possible. You were distracted that you didn't even heard the main door opened and slight closed. But you were brought back to Earth when you heard faint and heavy footstep on the living room. Your motherly (protective) instincts started to kicked in while some panic thoughts rushed through your brain cells.

What if a robber got in the house? What if it was a murderer? Will you die being a maid? But how did they even got in!? You swear that you locked the door...so who could it be? Your thoughts was ringing inside your head as you quickly took a pan and holding it securely on your hands as you slowly and steadily tip toe-ing to the living room. The footstep became loud and more clear as you came closer. You knew it wasn't just one or two but more. God,how are you gonna handle this?

You pressed your back to the side of the door that connects the kitchen and living room while you held your pan just the side of your head, ready to attack whoever walk through. You kept your guard up as you listened to the sound of footsteps. It didn't take long for one of the footsteps to start walking to the direction of you. You took one last shaky breath before holding it, once you knew the presence of the guy was just right before the door. You jumped out with the pan moving fast to the guy and your eyes tightly closed, not caring to see who it was.

"AH!!!y/n!what are you doing-!?"

A soft and startled voice squeaked that made your eyes shot open, the scene was like in slow motion. Your pan was slowly swinging to the direction of one of your boss. Not just any boss but it was the lovely and gentle Uchiha you've quiet known... It was Izuna Uchiha, you saw him quickly activate his sharinggan and catching your wrist that held the pan while the other hand rest to your shoulder, stopping your attack. You were breathing fast and a small sweat went down you left cheek. You noticed that there was a small tint blush on his cheeks and the smell of alcohol reached your nose.

"I-izuna?" You stuttered in emmbarassment and your eyes wide open at the realization. But before any of you said something a voice joined.

"WhAt'S tHe CoMmOtioN HeRE?"

(What's the commotion here?)

A voice slurred and you snapped your head in its direction only to see a drunk Shisui stumbling and leaning to the wall for support while he walked towards the two of you. You also noticed how drunk he smell and by the looks of him, you knew your two boss is drunk.

"Nothing. Come on, we need to get you some water." Izuna said calmly. You looked up to him and saw him gave you a small smile and you nodded. You helped shisui drink a glass of water while Izuna took out a tray full of glass with water in it.

"U-uhm...why do you need these for?" You asked, keeping your heart beat at a calm pace from earlier events, you held the tray secure to your hands as Izuna gave you an apologetic smile.

"The others are...also drunk..." He explained while he put one of Shisui's arm over his shoulder and walked back to the living room, you followed him with curiousity booming through your body but decided to wait for some explanation.

The three of you walked and it didn't take long for you to see the other 4 Uchihas on the couch. Madara sitting with his arms spread on top of the couch, Obito mumbling something with his eyes closed, Sasuke's eyes were also closed with his head leaning to Itachi's buffed shoulder, Itachi's head was in hands, slowly rubbing his temples. They all have clear pink blush on their cheeks. Their gaze went to the three of you before their black eyes moved towards your small and cute frame. You blush at their movement and you can't actually help but to look down to your feet under their blazing gaze. Izuna walked closer to another couch and made Shisui sit there with you following behind and together, You and Izuna made your way to the others, distributing the glass of water each to one another. They mumbled a small 'thanks' and 'thank you' before drowning the glass into their throats.

"So...what happened?" You asked as you sat beside Izuna and Shisui. Izuna sighed deeply when he sees the others looked at him. He knew he would be the one explaining... everything.

"The Senju finally agreed to us with building another company and we celebrated that leads us to our drunken state." Izuna explained, he slumped his back to the couch, allowing himself to relax. You nodded, fully understanding the situation and before you say a word. Another voice joined in.

"What happened -hic- earlier at the -hic- kitchen?" The husky voice asked, you knew this voice so your head turned towards Madara himself and you quickly got nervous because who wouldn't? You just nearly attacked and hurt one of your boss with a Pan.

"U-uh..about that...I was lost in thought that I didn't realize you all...came back here...i-i- thought there was an intruder so...I uhm..nearly attack Izuna...with a Pan..." You explained, you fingers nervously fidgeting with each others. Izuna who saw your nervousness decided to step in.

"It's ok really. I didn't got hurt. I was proud to know y/n can defended herself and for the safety of the house... plus, we totally forgot to let you know that we're here...so yeah." Izuna said with a smile, he patted your head gently making your tensed muscles go relax under his touch. The others took some moment before humming in approval.

"I wish I could've seen her adorable face when our little maid was about to attack~" Shisui purred right beside the shell of your ear. Shisui's statement brought a small smirk to the lips of Madara, Obito, Sasuke and of course Itachi while Izuna just smiled sweetly (Izuna is too innocent for this). Heat rush through your cheeks again and you fell into the pits of emmbarassment making you look down to your lap. You still have your apron on which was a bit wet.

"For once in my life I agree with Shisui. y/n is really cute in that maid outfit." This time, it was Sasuke's voice that said. Your eyes twitched at their teasing but it didn't help you one bit.

"Someone's flustered~" Obito teased, leaning his chin to his palm as he stared at you. By this time, your face was all red like a tomato and Izuna who was a bit drunk sighed. (He is jealous｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡) You didn't notice how wide and sinister Itachi and Madara's smirk was cuz' you had your head down.

"Stop making n/n flustered. Your all drunk." Izuna stated sternly and he stood up with you, you face still hot even when you heard Izuna mentioned your nickname he used to call you. "I'm going to bed, you guys can just go to your own...good night everyone." Izuna said and dragged you to a hallway, not giving the others time to say good night back. You and Izuna's room were just right beside each other so he doesn't mind walking you to your room. Once you two reached your own rooms, you gave him a small hug which he returned back.

"Thank you Izuna...have a great night!" You said quickly and broke the hug before he did the same. "You too y/n." And with that, you entered your room and shutting the door behind you. Your face became hot again once your brain flashed the statements of your bosses, saying those things flawlessly in front of each other.

You sighed, shaking your head before changing to your pajamas. You let your head fall to the soft pillow and your blanket covers your body, providing you enough warm and letting you fall into a soft slumber.

*Creak*

*Closed*

You slowly stir from your sleep as you hear slight movements in your room. You rubbed your eyes tiredly and your sight focused on a big shadow hovering over you. Your eyes widened but didn't make any sound... You noticed it's long spiky black hair and glowing red eyes.

"M-madara dono?"

(Dono = master/boss etc. It's the same as 'sama') You asked, your voice slightly trembled with fear as you stared up to him. Madara was smirking sinisterly and the smell of alcohol was still around him, hinting you that he was still clearly drunk.

"You've been such a good maid for us y/n...we should probably give her a reward~" A voice slurred beside you. You turned your head to your right and saw Itachi with a pink faint blush on his cheeks while looking at you. Your faces were inches away from each other. A growl escaped the older uchiha and you turned back your head to Madara.

"Yes indeed your right Itachi." Madara growled, bringing his fingers to your chin making you look more up to him. His sharinggan was glowing through your dark room and you felt fear. What were going to happen? What if- your thoughts were cut off by Itachi's gentle voice.

"We aren't going to hurt you n/n. Trust us, we maybe look like very drunk men but we still have full control of ourselves." Itachi said, like he was reading your thoughts. You gulped your own saliva while you slowly nodded, your eyes were still focused on the glowing red eyes of Madara. Do you really trust them? One wrong move and you're doomed. You're all alone in your own room, with the two older Uchiha who smell alcohol roaming in their bodies...

"God, it's your fault for making our hearts throb hard y/n." Madara suddenly blurred out of the blue making you look dumbfounded and confused. Itachi chuckled softly at your reaction and brought his hand to touch your soft cheek.

"He means that you made us fall in love with you y/n. We all love you once you stepped inside our lives." Itachi explained making your eyes wide in realization.

WHAT!?

"W-what?" You manage to whisper. Your thought's voices was louder than your real voice. You didn't know how to feel anymore. Now that you've known that the 6 Uchihas was in love with you! .... But how though, you were just their maid, you were just a commoner unlike them who were raised in a pool of money.

"Don't think that we are joking here y/n. We know what we feel and now that you know the truth, we don't care about your social status. We know how pure your heart is, how you would help other people... that's why we want you." Madara explained, he leaned to your face and kissed your forehead with a deep sigh.

"We all have talked about it and that's why we 6 love you...I hope you're ok with it" Itachi said, kissing your cheek. You felt emmbarassed and hurt at the same time.

"B-but...Izuna is Madara's brother and Sasuke to Itachi...H-how will this even work?" You asked, you hands gripped the sheets of your bed while your eyes got teary. If you'll accept their love, it'll be very weird cuz' Madara and Itachi will be sharing their girlfriend with their own brother. And if you reject their love, all of them will be broken even if you pick one of them...You tightly closed your eyes, your head began to hurt like hell at the thoughts. What's even worst is that, they've discussed this all to themselves without you knowing.

"We knew this might hurt you but we promise each other we'll do anything to keep you ours. We'll work with the help of each other. We promise you." Madara said, bumping his head to your softly while Itachi kissed your hand. The comfort your getting from the two older male was very convincing and you nodded your head slowly.

"You two really mean it?" You asked, sniffling with your red puffy cheeks. The two nodded and kissed your cheeks before giving you a bear hug. The hug caused you to fall on your back to the bed with them snuggled to either side of your neck. Their hot breath fans your soft neck as their eyes closed and hands tangled securely around your waist and shoulders.

"With all of our lives y/n."

The two responded, making your lips curl into a small smile.

____________

Oh.my.god.that was fricking LONG👹

But then again, I finished it!

Also. I can make part 2 of this if y'all want!!!

#Obito #Sasuke #Madarauchiha #Itachi #Izunauchiha #Shisuiuchiha #Uchihaxfemreader #fem!reader #slightteasing #narutovariousxreader

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tssspeaknowstan · 1 year ago

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Swift Short Story (Eras Edition): Please Reblog After Reading. I'd like Taylor Swift to like it!

TAYLOR: IF YOU SEE THIS, PLEASE MESSAGE ME YOUR COMMENTS OR DROP A NOTE AFTER YOU READ THE STORY.

I wrote this months before Midnights was released—back in March 2022 actually. Because this story alternates between two characters, the ~ indicates a change in character.

December 11-12, 2019: Kennebunkport, Maine

You be the prince and I’ll be the princess. It's our love story; baby, just say, "Yes”(1). But our love story later became a tragedy when you: Stephen announced you'd be marrying someone else to please your dad. He told me, "if you and Stephen had been closer in age, maybe it would be fine," and that made me want to die. The idea he had of her, who was she? A never-needy, ever lovely jewel whose shine would reflect on you?(2). I was confused because I didn't feel pretty; I just felt used(3). I should've known that I wasn't your princess; this wasn't a fairytale. I wasn't the one you'd sweep off her feet(4).

We fought about your marriage at 2:30am because everything was slipping right out of our hands. I ran out crying and you followed me out into the street. I’ve raised myself for a goodbye because that was all I've ever known. You then took me by surprise; you said, "I'll never leave you alone because you are the best thing that's ever been mine." But the next morning, you broke your promise. At that point, I became the worst thing that's ever been yours(5).

The morning after our fight, I was driving in my Chevy when you called. You begged me, "Stephen: don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait, or say a single vow."(6). I should’ve stuck with that perfect plan, but I worried my father would sabotage it.

“Sorry Betty, but I can’t.” I then hung up. I still saw your face in my mind as I was driving away because none of us thought it was gonna end that way(7). You and I didn't know that we were built to fall apart. We broke the status quo before we broke each other's hearts (8). I was thinking one day, I'd tell the story of us; of how I was losing my mind when I saw you here. But I held my pride like I should've held you. Oh, I was scared to see our story's ending. Why was I pretending this was nothing? I'd tell you, "I miss you," but I didn't know how. I've never heard silence quite this loud(9).

I then got on with my dreadful December day to marry my witch wife. I would've had the sweetest day of my life in Kennebunkport's chocolate church if I married Betty instead.

December 13, 2022: New York City

Love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right(10). My story started when it was hot and it was summer; I had my wife right there where I wanted her. A guy came along, got her alone, and let's hear the applause! He took her faster than I could say sabotage. He had to know the pain was beating on me like a drum(11). He always chased down the newest thing and took for granted what he had (12). And the saddest fear came creeping in; that she never loved me, him, anyone, or anything(13).

Then she came around again and said, "Baby, I miss you and I swear I'm gonna change, trust me." I remembered how that lasted for a day.I said, "I hate you," before we broke up(14). It was such a shame, because I was Sir Here to stay. Now I'd be Sir Gonna be alright someday. Maybe my wife would miss me; but by then, she’d become Mrs. too late(15). Regretting her was like wishing I never found out that love could be that strong(16).

Betty: three years had gone and I've been reaching, even though I knew you weren't there. I was playing back a thousand memories, baby; thinking about everything we've been through. Though maybe I've been going back too much lately; when time stood still and I had you(17). I've been out in the world; searching for my soul. I haven't been scared to be hip, but scared to get old. The last time I felt free was when none of that mattered because you were with me(18).

One night, I took a train from Kennebunkport to New York City, where I could take a vacation from my sorrow. It didn't take a while for me to find myself walking through a crowd, where I’d hear a Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under their coats. Everybody here wanted something more; they were searching for a sound they hadn't heard before(19). The only sound I wanted to hear was funk music at Tribeca's Dive Bar, where I later went.

There, it felt like a perfect night to dress up like hipsters and make fun of our exes. It also felt like a perfect night for breakfast at midnight to fall in love with strangers. I was happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time. I then saw Betty yammering on with strangers she barely knew(20). Betty: would you still have me? Would you love me? Would you kiss me on this bar's porch in front of all your stupid friends? If you were to kiss me, would it be just like I dreamed it? Would it patch your broken wings?(21) I wished you'd say, "you'll remember me," while standing in your nice dress and staring at the sunset, babe. With your red lips and rosy cheeks, I hope you'd say, "you'll see me again" even if it were just in your wildest dreams."(22).

Stephen: you still got that James Dean daydream look in his eye, and I got that red lip classic thing that you liked. It's been a while; I didn't mean to stare(23). I heard your wife was nothing like me. Don't you smile at me and ask me how I've been. Don't you say you've missed me if you don't want me again(24). And if you've been missing me, you'd better keep it to yourself because coming back around here would be bad for your health(25).

I then saw my ex-man with his new girlfriend. She was like, "Oh my god! Isn't she your ex who lives in delusion?"

With pride, my ex-man replied,"Oh yeah! She’s still 22 and living inside her fairytale fantasy(26). She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's f*cked in her head(27)" I wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted(28).

Although his comments hurt me, I had to ignore him. So, I asked the bartender fella over there with the hella good hair, "Won't you come on over baby?(29)" I then loudly raised my Jack Daniels glass with the bartender's champagne glass. "Here's a toast to my real friends. They don't care about the he said, she said. And here's to my ex; because forgiveness is a nice thing to do." Hahaha, I couldn't even say it with a straight face!(30) I then pulled the bartender's black shirt towards me. "I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover."(31)

Stephen then joined in on my fun."Hey Betty! How have you been?"My senseless self spoke on behalf of my sensible soul. "Oh, I forgot that you existed and I thought that it'd kill me but it didn't(32). Stephen: don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. I'm fine with my spite, my tears and my beers!(33)"

~I told her,"Betty: you need to calm down(34). This is why you'd got a long list of ex-lovers. They'd tell you, 'you're insane.' Because I know you love the players, and you love the game.""Oh, my God, look at that face. You look like my next mistake. Love's a game, wanna play?!(35)"

Because you played offence, I now had to play defence. After all, you, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard, had knocked me off my feet again and got me feeling like I was nothing. "Betty, all you are is mean, and a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life(36). You are wasted like all your potential and your words shoot to kill when you're mad. I hope you have a lot of regrets about that."(37). Thereafter, you stormed outside the bar and ran towards Central Park in tears.

Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest, which made you run and hide like a scared little girl. I looked into your eyes; thought I knew you for a minute, now I wasn't so sure. So here was to everything coming down to nothing. Here was to silence, that cut me to the core. Where was this going? I thought I knew for a minute, but I didn't anymore. For years, I've been staring at the phone; you still haven't called and then I felt so low that I couldn't feel nothing at all. And I flashbacked to when you said, "I'll be here forever and always(38).

I knew men's looks could be deceiving but Stephen, I knew I saw a light in you. And as we used to walk, we'd talk and I didn't say half the things I wanted to. The way you walked, talked, and said my name; it was beautiful and wonderful(39). I wish you'd never changed because we were happy(40). We showed them all no one could touch the way we laughed in the dark. You should've always been there for me. You should've always burst through my door with that "baby I'm right here smile"and it would've felt like a million little shining stars had just aligned. And I would've been so happy. People asked me how I've been as I was combing back through my memories. What could I say when tears were streaming down my face in front of everyone I knew? And what could I do when the one who meant the most to me was the one who didn't show? You should've been here and I would've been so happy.

Later, Stephen caught up to me at Central Park and said, "I'm sorry,"And I said, "I'm sorry too," and that was the moment I knew(41) you didn't deserve me. People like you would always want back my love they pushed aside, but people like me would be gone forever if they said goodbye(42)."Baby—""Don't call me baby. Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me(43) become.""You just don't understand me."

I've been dreaming about the day when you would wake up and find that the best girl you were looking for has been here the whole time. "Unlike your wife, I was the only one who understood you. I’ve been waiting here all along. So, why couldn’t you see that you belonged with me?(44)" Silence then came down upon you as you were looking up. Because you didn't answer, I started running.

And right before your eyes, I was aching. I wore my best apology, but I was there to watch you leave(45), which I couldn’t accept. "Come on Betty, don't leave me like this! I thought I had you figured out. Something's gone terribly wrong. You're all I wanted."(46)

You were drowning in your tears when you replied, "Then answer me!""My dying father threatened to remove me from his will if I didn't marry his business partner's daughter, who later died." Among the properties in that will, included his mansion, where I was raised. I still lived in that home, but without you Betty, I was homeless.

You then surprised me with details on what you've been doing during your love life. "You don't know how many guys I've dated since you left. I've been breaking hearts a long time, and toying with those older guys. They were just playthings for me to use. This is how love works(47)." No, it isn't.

Love was all you wanted, because you were giving it away like it's extra change and hoping it would end up in men’s pocket. But men left you out like a penny in the rain(48). I could've picked up the pieces for you, even though in most men's eyes, you were beyond repair. We had a crooked love headed in a straight line down; it'd make any couple wanna run and hide. Then it'd make them turn right back around(49).

I missed your tan skin and your sweet smile. So good to me, so right and how I held you in my arms that December night. Maybe this was wishful thinking or probably mindless dreaming. But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right. I'd go back in time and change it, but I can’t. So if the chain was on your heart's door, I’d understand(50).

I should've been there in the back of your mind. I shouldn't be asking myself, "Why?" You shouldn't be begging for forgiveness at my feet. You should've said, "No" to your dad, and you might still have me(51). But then, I remembered how you were the only one who took the time to memorize me; you still knew my fears, my hopes and dreams(52). Even in my worst times, you saw the best of me(53).

My head wanted to push you out, but my heart wanted to pull you in."As much as I wanna believe you Stephen, I’m scared that ghosts from your past are gonna jump out at me; they'd lurk in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles.” “I don't care because right now you're mine.” Then you said, “don't you worry your pretty little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine and life makes love look hard. But they can't take the love that's ours(54). I wish you would come back."

And I wish you knew that I missed you too much to be mad anymore. I then began choking up. "I confess, babe. In my dreams you're touching my face and asking me if I wanna try having a relationship again with you. And I almost do(55).” I was a mess, but I was the mess that you wanted(56). You then dried my tears. "It's okay, Betty. I wanna try again with you." “Thanks Stephen. I promise to be your strength.” “And I promise to be your solace—forever and always."

Then, I didn't know how it’d get better than this. My hands shook. You pulled me in and I became a little more brave. It was your old kiss, which was flawless(57). I've been spending the last three years thinking all love ever would do was break, burn, and end. But on a Wednesday on this new day, I watched it begin again (58).

Lyrical credits to Taylor Swift. This story won't be published in any print publication.

Song List

1. Love Story: Fearless

2. All Too Well (10 Minute Version): Red (From the Vault)

3. Lucky One: Red

4. White Horse: Fearless

5. Mine: Speak Now

6. Speak Now: Speak Now

7. Breathe: Fearless

8. The Very First Night: Red (From The Vault)

9. Story of Us: Speak Now

10. State of Grace: Red

11. Better Than Revenge: Speak Now

12. Girl at Home: Red

13. I Knew You Were Trouble: Red

14. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together: Red

15. Mr. Perfectly Fine: Fearless (From The Vault)

16. Red: Red

17. If This Was a Movie: Speak Now/Fearless (Taylor's Version)

18. I Bet You Think About Me: Red (From The Vault)

19. Welcome to New York: 1989

20. 22: Red

21. betty: Folklore

22. Wildest Dreams: 1989

23. Style: 1989

24. Don't You: Fearless (From The Vault)

25. Picture to Burn: Taylor Swift

26. right where you left me: evermore

27. champagne problems: evermore

28. ...Ready for It?: Reputation

29. Shake it Off: 1989

30. This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: Reputation

31. Lover: Lover

32. I Forgot That You Existed: Lover

33. closure: evermore

34. You Need to Calm Down: Lover

35. Blank Space: 1989

36. Mean: Speak Now

37. this is me trying: folklore

38. Forever & Always: Fearless

39. Hey Stephen: Fearless

40. We Were Happy: Fearless (From The Vault)

41. The Moment I Knew: Red

42. All You Had to Do Was Stay: 1989

43. illicit affairs: folklore

44. You Belong With Me: Fearless

45. The Last Time: Red

46. Haunted: Speak Now

47. Don't Blame Me: Reputation

48. Tied Together With a Smile: Taylor Swift

49. I Wish You Would: 1989

50. Back to December: Speak Now

51. Should've Said No: Taylor Swift

52. Stay Stay Stay: Red

53. Dress: Reputation

54. Ours: Speak Now

55. I Almost Do: Red

56. Dancing With Our Hands Tied: Reputation

57. Fearless: Fearless

58. Begin Again: Red

#taylors version #taylornation #taylor swift #taylor swizzle #speak now taylor’s version #fearless taylor’s version #red taylor’s version #1989 taylor's version #reputation taylor’s version #lover album #creative writing #tstheerastour #folklore #evermore #midnights

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