#if I bring him to a drive through someone will give him his own order. if I walk by a restaurant he is invited in.

[sergle]

I know this is so And Then Everyone Clapped, but when me and Mr. Hugo were taking a walk together, he stopped me for a few seconds to gaze wistfully through the front door of a restaurant, and someone popped out while we were walking away to Invite Him Inside

[monster-effer]

Let Him Be Your Guide - Sylus x reader

Summary: Head canon involving what kind of partner Sylus would be with a headempty!reader. Content/Warnings: MDNI, reader is not MC, f!reader and Sylus are dating, fluff, smut, fingering (587 wc) A/N: I randomly started thinking about Sylus dating a reader that doesn’t want to think too much, a reader who always has to be “on” in their daily life and wants to be “off” in their downtime. The reader may have a stressful career, or they may struggle with anxiety, executive dysfunction, or depression, which mentally exhausts them. I hope y’all enjoy, let me know what you think <3

In my opinion, Sylus would be the perfect partner for a headempty!reader because he would make them feel secure and taken care of. No one would dare fuck with the fearsome Onychinus leader. And even if they try, he will swiftly make them regret it with his evol. So by extension, no one will fuck with you either.

If you want to go shopping, Sylus will take you on his motorcycle. He would make sure that you are dressed head to toe in riding gear that he ordered custom made. All you need to do is to hold onto his tapered waist and enjoy the warmth radiating from his body.

Sylus will choose which stores you visit on your shopping trip. He will cradle your hand in his own as he guides you to your destinations. He will handle interacting with the store employees, ask them any questions you may have, and give his opinion on the clothes, shoes, and accessories you show interest in. And of course, he will pay for anything you decide you want. When you are tired of being out in public, he will have your purchases whisked away to his home by Luke and Kieran and drive you back on his motorcycle.

Sylus’ care does not stop when you’re alone together. If you’re feeling needy, Sylus will cater to your every whim. He is always eager to pleasure you because it is yet another opportunity to provide for you and it turns him on.

One of Sylus’ favorite ways to make you see stars is by finger fucking you. And your sole responsibility is to lay back on his bed and let him have his way with you. He warms you up by stroking your mound through your underwear until you soak them. He loves to work you up before slipping your underwear to the side and sinking his fingers deep inside of you while using his thumb to rub hard circles on your clit.

Sylus never tires of feeling your juicy pussy quake around his long, slender fingers. He savors every gasp of pleasure that leaves your mouth. His eyes are glued to your form as he watches you try to jerk away from the overwhelming pressure building within your core.

Sylus also can’t help but whisper sweet praise into your ear as he brings you to your breaking point multiple times over. Nothing is more rewarding to him than leaving you boneless and in a daze.

Sylus never forgets aftercare. He peppers your flushed face with kisses before walking to his bathroom to run you a warm bath. The cupboard in his bathroom is always stocked with your favorite bubble bath scents and pounds of Epsom salt to release any tension left in your muscles.

While you are soaking in the tub Sylus has his personal chef prepare a meal you will enjoy together. No input is needed from you because Sylus is knowledgeable on what type of meals you enjoy the most. The attention he pays to your preferences, wants and needs leave you feeling loved and cherished. You never have to be “on” or lift a finger when you’re with him. You can let yourself be the attendee and not the planner, and for that, you are eternally grateful.

In my opinion, Sylus would be the perfect partner for a reader who wants someone else to take the reins, for a reader that struggles with anxiety, executive dysfunction, or depression.

Perhaps…he would be perfect for someone like you?

[ennn]

Let's appreciate how complex Agatha's relationship with Billy is

GIF credit to @isagrimorie

The genuine emotion brimming from Agatha in this moment is very interesting and I really want to break down all the layers of how Agatha is relating to Billy—because it is truly not as simple as Agatha feeling sentimental or motherly to Billy.

There are a few layers at work here (and I also want to give a shout-out to @trickofthelights for her excellent recap points):

Billy reminds Agatha (enough) of herself

There are two driving forces at the core of Agatha as a character. We know this because her characterisation has been incredibly consistent throughout the show and Schaeffer has talked about them, which is: (a) Agatha is self-serving and (b) Agatha loves powerful witchcraft.

Billy is a powerful witch who did a horrifying thing in order to survive. He's been lying to these wonderful parents. He also just tried murdering three people in a fit of rage, provoked by Agatha no less.

Would Agatha care if he was less powerful? Would Agatha care if he didn't have a dark side? If he hadn't shown to be duplicitous and dangerous and subject to his darker impulses?

If he wasn't alone and without a coven, a possible outcast even among witches because of his unusual origins and power?

I'm pretty sure the answer is no, she would not. She would have dismissed him the same way she did his "Teen" persona. Agatha doesn't care about witches, Agatha cares about powerful witches –because that's who Agatha is and what drives her.

And we also got hints of this with Agatha and Wanda (hello consistent characterisation). In Schaeffer's words:

There is respect and almost affection inherent in [Agatha's interest in enormously powerful witchcraft], as indicated by how she felt about Wanda. She was mean to Wanda, but really she was fascinated by Wanda and admired her and wanted to hang out with her. 

And if this wasn't clear enough, what Agatha tells Billy shortly later about breaking the rules and being a true witch just screams projection (more on that in my next point).

I was delighted that Agatha really did bounce back from the attempted murder – but it's not because she's forgiving. Oh no, I think, Agatha was testing her theory by poking the bear (calculated move, bad at math) and she's glad she was proven right.

I mean, she not happy about the attempted murder but her curiosity wins out. You see her poking at Billy and trying to figure him out in the rest of this scene.

Agatha also hates self-righteous moralising and searches out for the darkness in people – delights in it even – because she knows people and she knows her own darkness.

Billy is different but also not so different from Agatha, as much as Billy or his mom would hate to admit.

Agatha is dealing with her childhood trauma

Yes, Agatha is projecting on Billy, but she makes a choice about it. We hear her telling him what she would have wanted someone to tell her: that they shouldn't be afraid or ashamed of who they are or what they did to survive, that they are part of a community.

Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. ... That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. That's what makes you a witch.

She's trying to be the person she needed when she was a child, because she simply doesn't want someone else – particularly a younger witch – going through what she did.

She doesn't want anyone to go through what her mother put her through. And that's a choice.

Because there are a number of ways a character can deal with trauma: they can lash out and bring others down, wanting others to experience to the pain they went through, or they can realise that what happened to them shouldn't happen to anyone else in their position.

There's something beautifully self-serving but also selfless in that, because this is a way for Agatha to heal from her trauma. She can tell Billy things she may not be able to tell herself.

And it's interesting because as a self-serving villain, Agatha could just be jealous of Billy's power. But in this moment at least, Agatha's empathy and compassion – as buried as they usually are – prevail.

And yes, Agatha was fond of kid Billy

This is what Schaeffer touched on in her interview answer and it makes sense, with the insight that Agatha – like any good actor – does invest a bit of herself in every role she plays.

Agatha does have feelings (as much as they might make her vomit) and I do believe she has a soft spot when it comes to kids, given her experience with her son and her own childhood trauma. And that kids don't have the level of hypocrisy and darkness that adults do.

It makes sense that Agatha would have some level of care about the Scarlet Witch's magical kid Billy. And that is a fondness that has carried onto teenage Billy – who is powerful and a survivor and has a potential for darkness in a way she can relate to.

There are layers and they intersect and it all ties back to how Agatha is incredibly complex and yet consistent as a character.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hiiii! <3 Could i order a pizza Thick Crust with red sauce, artichokes, spinach, Roasted Mushrooms and shallots for drinks i would like to have a root beer and sweet tea and a dessert, with Lewis Hamilton <33 ( if you like with a totowolf!reader) thank u bae 

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thick crust sugar daddy red sauce rough sex artichokes "Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" roasted mushrooms "fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” shallots "I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you" root beer daddy kink sweet tea dumbification dessert yes served by Lewis Hamilton

Lewis x wolff! reader

TW - rough sex, unprotected, slight dumbification, subspace (if you squint) fingering, LITTLE bit of car play, creampie, oral (m and f receiving)

WC 1600+

Y/N POV

"Let's go, please," I say softly to Lewis who had taken me shopping but now I was ready to get back to his place.

"You're quite impatient," Lewis chuckled softly but still took my hand and lead me to the exit.

"Lew, just need you," I admit softly when we get to valet clenching my thighs together trying to stimulate myself as much as possible.

"Quit it! Someone is gonna notice you clenching your thighs like a whore," Lewis whispers into my ear while giving my side a warning pinch.

"Yes daddy," I whisper back as the young man pulls in front of us with one of Lewis's car.

When we get back into the car Lewis's hand is instantly on my thigh giving it a strong squeeze making me whimper slightly.

"Are you always such a needy whore? Had to leave early because you need my dick?" Lewis questions me with a teasing tone.

"Haven't seen you in awhile," I admit softly while Lewis squeezes my thigh again.

"I want you to fuck me when we get back to your place, please," I say to Lewis softly.

"That's what you want?" Lewis questions while slowly moving his hand up my thigh and under my dress finding my soaked panties.

"You're fucking soaked," Lewis states while teasing my pussy through my panties.

"Please daddy," I beg while leaning back and spreading my legs for Lewis.

"Can't even make it home?" Lewis teases while pulling my panties to the side and sinking 2 fingers deep into my pussy finding my G-spot with no issue.

"Fuck daddy, thank you," I moan out when Lewis starts fingering me at a slowly but consistent pace.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight for me," Lewis grunts out readjusting himself in his pants slightly.

"Oh daddy," I moan while bringing my hand down to my pussy and start rubbing small circles on my clit.

"You're not cumming until we're back to my place," Lewis tells me sternly when he feels my pussy clenching clearly getting close to the edge.

"Daddy, please," I cry out when I feel myself close to the edge.

"No," Lewis states sternly while pulling his fingers out of my pussy and roughly pulling my hand away before sending down several rough slaps down on my pussy making me jump and whimper each time his rough hand landed.

"Daddy," I cry out trying to bring my hand down to my clit but each time Lewis would just slap my hand away.

"Wait," is all Lewis tells me making me move my panties back into place and sitting up trying to compose myself.

"Stop clenching those thighs together. Sit with your legs slightly spread," Lewis tells me while holding my thigh away from my other one.

"We'll be home in a few minutes, just be good," Lewis tells me while we drive the rest of the way back to his place. When we park I make quick work of getting all the shopping bags out the car and up into Lewis's apartment before I'm taking his hand into mine and leading him into his bedroom where I'm instantly pulling his mouth onto mine.

"So fucking desperate," Lewis groans against my lips as he helps me pull off his shirt only detaching our lips when we pull it over his head.

"Need you right now daddy," I whine against his lips as I finally get his pants unbuttoned and pulled down with his briefs while I push him down to sit on the edge of the bed before I get down on my knees and pull his heavy cock into my mouth.

"Fuck," Lewis groans when he feels my lips wrap around the tip of his cock.

"Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use," Lewis teases as he starts pushing my head down to take more of his cock into my mouth. I'm sure if my father knew about what Lewis and I got up to in our downtime I'm sure he would've been a whole lot less heartbroken when we found out he would be moving to Ferrari next season.

When I feel Lewis hit the back of my throat I gag around him but he doesn't seem to care because he pushes me down even further making me take his full length.

"Fuck, always take me so well," Lewis grunts making me look up at him to find his dark eyes hooded yet still swimming with lust.

I start bobbing my head gagging almost every time I hit the back of my throat but it doesn't slow me down in anyway just enjoy the way I was making Lewis feel good.

"Fuck," Lewis grunts while pulling me off his cock by my hair.

"Get on the bed," Lewis tells me making me climb into bed and lay down on my back not entirely sure what position he wants me in but knowing he would easily be able to readjust me however he needed.

Lewis climbs back into the bed and instantly is pulling my dress up and off my body leaving me in just my soaked panties since I hadn't worn a bra today.

"Fuck, such a pretty little thing," Lewis says while trailing his fingers down my sides making goosebumps appear across my skin.

Lewis leans down and pulls my mouth into his for a heated make out session because I feel him start moving his mouth from mine down to my neck where I feel him sink his teeth into my sweet spot and start giving me little hickeys all over my neck and collarbones.

"I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you," Lewis says while sitting back and taking in the sight in front of him. He softly pokes at a few of the marks he left before he starts leaving open mouth kissing on my tummy before he's ripping my panties off making me whimper at another pair gone.

"I just bought you 20 new pairs, I can rip an old pair up," Lewis tells me when he sees I'm not happy with them being ruined.

"Please daddy," I whine when I feel Lewis softly trailing his finger up my pussy lip but never once dipping into my folds.

Lewis finally leans down and takes a small lick through my folds only grazes my clit softly making me more needy.

Lewis finally gives me what I want after he feels likes he's teased me long enough before he sits up and lines his large cock up with my pussy and instantly slide all the way in and starts fucking me giving me no time to adjust.

"Fuck daddy," I cry out when I'm finally filled the way I've been needing to be.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock." Lewis grunts out in a teasing tone, poking fun at the fact that he had successfully stretched me out to take his cock with no problem.

"Daddy," I cry out when Lewis continuously hits all my sweet spots only bringing me towards the orgasm I had been chasing on and off all afternoon.

"Fuck, I can see you daddy," I moan when I notice the small bulge Lewis was creating because he was so deep in my pussy. I press down on his cock through my tummy making me moan out loudly while Lewis just hisses at the next added pressure.

"Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy,” Lewis grunts out while replacing my hand with his and pushing down even harder than I was pushing.

"Shi- Fu- Da- Lew- Fuck," I moan stumbling over my words struggling to find what I'm trying to say.

"Fuck, haven't even cum for me yet and I already fucked you dumb," Lewis groans out while still fucking into my pussy at a brutal pace.

"Daddy, mo- fuck more," I stutter my words again making Lewis look at me with a raised brow.

"Can't even form a sentence like this and you think you can handle more?" Lewis questions in a condescending tone.

"Please," I cry out, making Lewis instantly speed up his pace throwing me over the edge almost instantly.

"Fuck, came for me so good," Lewis grunts out while still fucking into my quaking pussy. I was still cumming all over Lewis's cock when he sends a final rough thrust deep into my pussy and unloading a massive load deep into me.

"Fuck daddy," I whine when I can feel Lewis's cum painting the gummy walls of my pussy. Once Lewis has rode out his orgasm he slowly slips out from my abused pussy before leaning down and placing a kiss on my forehead before slipping out of the bed and grabbing his discarded shirt from the ground and walking over to clean me up.

"No, daddy," I whine out when I feel him touch my overly sensitve pussy.

"Baby, I'm Lewis, it's over, just gonna clean you up a little. Relax for me love," Lewis tells me softly while still attempting to clean me up.

Once Lewis has cleaned me up the best he can without overstimulating me further he tosses the shirt back onto the ground and grabs a clean shirt from his closet before slipping it onto my body. Lewis finally climbs into bed once he's put a pair of fresh briefs on. He pulls me to his chest where he lets me relax into him and come back to reality.

"Lew, that was perfect," I tell him softly while running my fingers up and down his chest allowing for goosebumps to form on his skin.

"Ya? I'm glad. I'm also glad you're coming back to me know," Lewis states while looking down at me and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Not my fault," I grumble hiding into Lewis chest while he laughs softly.

"What can I say, I enjoy you stumbling over your words," Lewis laughs making my face go red just thinking about how good he is.

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ no part. random flashback. ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

You pull up to John's apartment building, a weird feeling of anxiety in your chest.

Your oldest is chattering excitedly in the backseat about spending the weekend with his daddy, while the youngest, still a bit groggy from just have woken up an hour ago, clutches her favorite stuffed animal.

“Alright, monkeys,” you say with forced cheerfulness as you turn off the engine. “Time to go see Daddy.”

Gabriel practically bursts out of his car seat with excitement. You unbuckle Linnie and hoist her onto your hip, grabbing the overnight bags with your free hand.

John opens the door before you can knock, a warm smile spreading across his face as he sees the kids.

“There’s my boy," he grins, kneeling down to your oldest’s level to scoop him up in a bear hug.

Your youngest reaches for John immediately, smiling big around the binkie in her mouth. “And my girl.”

"Hey," you say softly, trying to muster a smile. John stands up, taking Linnie in one arm and holding Gabriel's hand in the other.

It’s then that you notice it—a purplish-reddish mark peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

A hickey.

Your stomach drops, for whatever reason.

"Thanks for bringing them over," John says, his tone casual, as if everything is normal.

“Daddy lets us order pizza!" Gabriel grins, bouncing on his feet.

"That’s great," you reply, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

You force yourself to focus on Gabriel and Linnie, planting a kiss on each of their heads. "You guys be good for Daddy, okay? Mommy will see you on Sunday."

As you turn to leave, John catches your arm gently. "Hey, are you alright?" he asks, trying to meet your eyes.

“I’m fine, and even if I wasn’t, it’s not your job to check up on me.” You mumble, harsher than intended.

John seems to accept this, releasing your arm with soft sigh. "Drive safe," he says simply.

You barely make it to the car before the tears start to burn your eyes. The sight of that hickey, evidence of someone else in John’s life…

You manage to buckle yourself in and start the engine, your vision blurred by tears.

As you drive away, the weight of your emotions overwhelms you. The road ahead is a hazy blur, and sobs wrack your body. The realization that John is moving on, that he’s finding happiness with someone else, feels like a fresh wound.

You pull over to the side of the road, unable to see through the flood of tears. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as you cry, letting out all the pain, frustration, and loneliness you’ve been holding inside.

The thought of another woman touching John, of him caring for her the way he used to care for you, is almost too much to bear.

After what feels like an eternity, the sobs subside into quiet sniffles. You wipe your eyes, take a few deep breaths, and force yourself to focus.

The kids need you to be strong, that’s what you tell yourself.

With a heavy heart, you pull back onto the road and drive home…

But not before sending a quick reply to that Tinder DM that you had been ignoring for the past three days.

•••

John closed the door after you left and set the baby to her feet to toddle around after her brother. He sighed, a lingering sense of guilt washing over him. He couldn't shake the image of the pain in your eyes when you noticed the hickey.

He thought you’d go off on him, get all pissed and possessive. He didn’t think you’d give him the cold shoulder.

After lunch, John lets the little ones down for a nap in their shared room. He tucks the oldest into his big-boy bed and the baby in the crib against the opposite wall of the small room.

Once they’re asleep John heads to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee. He sits at the kitchen table, savoring the brief moment of peace. His phone was on the table, and he picks it up, going straight to Tinder.

A smirk forms on his lips as he sees a new message from the profile he’s been using under the fake name “Jake.”

You: Hey, Jake! I’m free tonight if that works for you? 😊

Jake: Let’s meet at that little Italian place downtown around 8.

He sends the message and puts his phone down, leaning back in his chair. He knows you’ll go to the restaurant, expecting to meet “Jake,” only to find yourself stood up.

He hopes the disappointment might lead you to call him for comfort, a scenario he finds himself oddly anticipating.

Hours pass, and the kids eventually wake up from their naps. John spends the evening feeding them dinner and giving them a bath, all the while keeping an eye on the time.

He plays with them until bedtime, reading them stories and tucking them in once more.

As the clock nears 8 PM, John starts to feel a wave of guilt. He knows what he’s doing isn’t fair, but he can’t help himself.

He spends the rest of the evening cleaning up the apartment and watching TV, waiting for the call he suspects might come.

Finally, around 9:30, his phone buzzes. He sees your name on the screen and his heart skips a beat. He answers, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, love. Everything alright?” he asks, even though he knows exactly why you’re calling.

Your voice sounds strained, and he can hear the disappointment. “Yeah, I just… I went out tonight, and the person I was supposed to meet never showed up. I feel so stupid.”

John’s heart aches hearing you like this, but he forces himself to keep up the act. “I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. Wanna talk about it?”

You sigh, the frustration evident in your voice. “I just don’t understand why people do this. Why pretend to be interested if you’re just going to disappear?”

John nods, though you can’t see it. “Men are idiots, lovey. But you know I’m always here for you, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I know.” You sigh softly. You lie back on your bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Still there?” John asks gently.

“Still here…” You wipe under your eyes, the wetness from your frustrated tears lingering on your cheeks. “The kids asleep?

“Out like lights.” John chuckles softly.

You smile to yourself, imagining how happy and comfy the kids probably are at John’s right now. “I miss them already.”

“You can come by whenever you’d like.” John says, trying not to sound too eager.

You snort at that suggestion.

“Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“Suppose it does.” John agrees. “Unless the kids aren’t the only ones you were missin’.”

You want to roll your eyes, go off on him, explain how inappropriate that was to even suggest…

But your heart flutters. Your cheeks blush.

And you’re lonely.

Your attempt to move on totally failed, and here’s John trying to cheer you up. Maybe that was a sign from the universe.

“John…”

“M’sorry,” John says. “I didn’t mean to… to cross any boundaries.”

You chew your bottom lip a bit as you weigh your options.

“Still with me, lovey?”

“Uh-huh…”

You could practically hear the smirk in John’s voice as he spoke next. “No words, hm? What’s on your mind, then?”

“Just… thinking.”

“Thinkin’ about..?” You swear John’s voice just got huskier, more sultry than it was just a moment ago. You feel goosebumps as you hear John exhale, seemingly shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch. “What has you thinking so hard?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” John grins to himself. “Hope it’s not that fuckin’ dickhead who stood you up.”

“No… not him.” You speak softly.

“Someone else, then?”

You roll your eyes, knowing that John is fishing for a specific answer. “Wouldn’t you love to know, Johnathan.”

“Bet I could guess,” He’s smirking, you know he is.

You sit up, kick your heels off and toss your dress towards the hamper. “Bet you’d be right.”

“Why don’t you come over then, lovey?” John practically purrs. You can’t see it, but John’s rubbing a hand over his inner thigh, palming himself over his grey sweatpants. “Could cheer ya up.”

“Yeah?” You sigh, your hand not holding the phone moving dangerously close to the dampness between your legs.

“Yeah,” John whimpers whispers. “Make ya forget all about that fuckin’ Jake…”

You freeze. You remove your hand from your panties. You sit up fully in the bed.

“What did you say?”

“Hm?”

Your eyes narrow. “I never told you what his name was.”

John’s eyes widen. He sits up as well, clearing his throat. “Sure you did, you- you said it was Jake o-or Joe or something-“

“I can’t fucking believe you.” You scoff, ending the call.

John tosses his phone to the floor, rubbing a hand over his face.

Fuck.

[jellybonbons]

Calm husband x Assertive wife headcanons

DI!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

A/N: heavily inspired by safa and fahad’s relationship from dubai bling.

Leon with a wife who is a bit of a firecracker—she's got that bratty streak, a stubborn side, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. But beneath all that, she's also incredibly understanding, compassionate, and fiercely loyal (only to him and her loved ones).

After all he's been through, he's looking for someone who can keep him grounded, bring him back down to earth, or just take charge in the relationship. He wants to be pampered and taken care of.

Leon, who's all about going with the flow, has this "it is what it is" mindset, but you, his wife, are the one who calls the shots on his behalf. As Leon grew older, he stopped giving fucks except for his darling wife.

Take driving, for example. If someone cuts him off, he's the type to shrug it off. But you? You're the one with road rage, ready to give them a piece of your mind. And when his order gets messed up, he'll just eat it, but not you. You'll be marching up to the manager, making sure he gets what he paid for because, hey, it's all about getting your his money's worth.

"Sweetheart, it's fine, really," he said, offering a small smile.

"No, it's not. You specifically said no chilli. And what do they do? Add it in anyway. It's like they're gunning for you," you replied, clearly irritated and a tad dramatic. Poor white man can't handle his spice.

Sometimes you'd push the limit, and he'd have your back. But once you're home and out of the public eye, he'll give you a lecture about where you went wrong. It might take you a minute to actually hear him out because, let's face it, you're stubborn. But he's got his tricks to make sure you eventually listen, if you know what I mean.

People might raise eyebrows at your marriage because you two are total opposites. They whisper nonsense behind your back because of your straightforwardness and confidence, and that's something Leon doesn't let slide. That's when he gives a damn, because nobody gets to badmouth his wife.

"I heard Leon's wife is quite controlling. Poor guy can't even make a decision without her approval," someone remarked, their tone condescending.

"Excuse me," Leon quickly interjected. "Let me make one thing clear: my wife is not controlling. Decisions in our marriage are made together, as equals."

“And if I hear anyone disrespecting her again, there will be consequences. Understood?" His tone was firm as he addressed his subordinates with a hard gaze. 

"Yes sir," the subordinates replied hastily, scrambling to return to their tasks.

This might have been the only instance he'd wield his authority as the top agent, but it was a line he wouldn't allow anyone to cross. 

What really makes your relationship click is the mutual respect and understanding you both share, along with your shared drive and ambition. You get that his job can eat up a lot of his time, with weeks and even months away from home, and sure, it gets to you sometimes. But he's pretty good at making it up to you (material gestures and physical affection).

Leon really appreciates how you get his career demands, and he's all for you pursuing your own career path too. He'd rather see you doing your thing than stuck at home while he's away. However, if and when you decide to have children, he might lean towards the idea of you being a stay-at-home mom, though ultimately, he respects it's entirely your decision.

As for that tracker thing, it's not about being controlling; it's more about being protective. With him going on those risky missions, you like having a way to keep tabs on him and make sure he's safe. At first, he wasn't too keen on the idea, but when you explained how it eases your mind, he kinda got it. Plus, it's kinda fun to mess around with it sometimes, right?

“Hey, where'd you sneak off to earlier?" you asked with a mock sternness, tapping your foot as Leon entered the room. "Your little dot disappeared for a while there."

Leon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about? I've been right here the whole time."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Oh really? Because according to the tracker, you vanished into thin air."

A grin spread across Leon's face as he produced a cup of boba from behind his back, "I may have noticed a certain someone was feeling a bit down, so I thought I'd surprise her with her favourite pick-me-up.”

“Aw, Leon!” you exclaimed, jumping on him and nearly causing him to drop the boba and possibly break his back in the process.

[koshkamartell]

Hello my loves.

This is it. The final chapter of No One But Me. I'm sorry it took so long to write; there was so much emotion and energy involved in this final part that it took longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it.

Thank you to my little group of faithful readers who have showed their support and love throughout this journey. I have appreciated all your comments and reblogs so much. It gives me alot of joy to hear that my story has been a source of joy and entertainment for someone.

I haven't added a warning list to this part in order to avoid spoilers. Please leave me your thoughts after you read.

The sound of the gunshot reverberated throughout the clearing surrounding the cabin, stirring birds to flee from the forest treetops with the loud flapping of their wings. You only managed to run a few yards from the porch before the gunfire caused you to come to a halt.

Your boots skid in the icy snow as you whip around in search of where the shot was fired from. Your eyes scan the surrounding woodland for any shapes or movement between the trees. You imagine a man - another raider - just as tall and ugly as Lyle, stalking through the forest clutching a hunting rifle, on his way to kill you. The thought drives a spike of fear through your guts and makes your full bladder ache.

You search around, vigilant and alert, subconsciouly holding your breath in your lungs. You pause and wait, trying in vain to keep your body from shaking. You wait for but nothing happens. No sign of danger presents itself, neither in the form of an infected or an unknown, ominous figure holding a gun.

You inhale a gulping breath of the bitterly cold winter air and a visible puff of cloud escapes your lips when you exhale.

Was it Joel who fired the shot? He must be absolutely livid with you, crazed with fury at your repeated insolence, your second attempt at escape in less than two days. He must have fired a warning shot when he saw you had gone, as there's no way Joel would miss a target, not with all his weaponry prowess.

You look back to the cabin now, your whole body still shivering with fear, expecting to see Joel standing on the porch brandishing a gun in his large blood covered hands. But Joel is not there.

Your eyes then fall upon the figure laying on the ground.

You had been so startled by the sound of the gun shot that you hadn't realised Oscar was not next to you. Your stomach sinks when you see that Oscar had not made it as far as you; he had fallen to his knees just a few steps from the cabin.

"Oscar!" You shriek with panic. Your own voice sounds muffled as your heart beat continues to thrum inside your head and inbetween your ears. You pace back to meet him, gasping in sharp breathes of the cold morning air as your legs work to carry your exhausted body.

You drop to the ground infront of Oscar and bring your trembling hands up to cradle his face, the stubble along his jaw pricking your palms. His skin feels cool to the touch and beads of sweat are dotted across his forehead. "What happened? Oscar, what is it?"

His eyes screw shut and his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. He sucks a sharp breath of air through his clenched teeth. "I...I gotta lay down."

"O-Okay," you murmer. Oscar plants a hand on the ground behind him and begins to recline back. You splay one of your hands against the middle of back, your other still holding the side of his face. "Let me help you, go slow."

Oscar tries to shift his legs out infront of him but his limbs move too quickly, as though they are uncoordinated and weak; he plops down onto his backside with a thud, hissing with pain at the way his body jostles. You coo sympathetically and urge him once again to take it slow. He grunts and lays down flat on his back, pressing a hand to his lower abdomen.

You notice the motion straight away. "What happened to your stomach?"

Oscar gives a slight shake of his head but doesn't open his eyes or say anything. You slide your hand down from his face to where he clutches his stomach. You curl your fingers gingerly around his and try to gently pry them away from the area. At first he resists, but after you whisper a tearful please he relents and uncovers the spot. You gasp when you see that his whole palm is covered in blood.

Oh my god oh my god oh no

There's a ragged hole at the bottom of his jacket. You quickly fumble for the zip and yank it downwards, sweeping the panels to the side of his torso. Oscar allows you to do so without protest, his eyes still tightly closed, clearly battling against the internal agony that has been afflicted upon his body. You grab the bottom of his sweater and hurriedly tug it upward. You are desperate to see the hurt hidden underneath his clothes, desperate to see just how bad the damage is.

When you find the source of his pain, you cannot contain the strangled cry that claws its way up your throat, raw and ugly. There's a small round black hole etched into the left side of his lower belly, just above his hip. It is a clean cut bullet wound with the flesh around it still firm. A thick pool of deep red blood puddles inside it, overflowing into a trickle that spills down to his groin.

It's a gunshot wound. When had he been shot?

"How?" You whisper brokenly, tears springing to your eyes. You grab hold of his bloody hand and squeeze it, wanting to reassure him of your presence, that you're still right next to him.

Why don't you remember?

Everything leading up to this moment is a blur within your memory. You don't have the capacity to realise just why, though. You don't know that while trapped within the chaos inside the cabin, your conscious had been overridden by your will to survive. You don't know you had dissociated, brain detaching from a reality you couldn't cope with. You hadn't remembered Lyle shooting Oscar because your mind was protecting you.

Oscar groans and squeezes your hand in his shaking one. "W-w...what can I do?" You stroke his forehead tenderly. "How do I stop the bleeding?"

"I'm okay, honey," he mumbles, his beautiful dark eyes flickering open to stare up at you. His little round glasses sit crookedly on his face and you gingerly fix them to perch straight on his nose. He offers you a weak smile in return. "Just...just stay right here."

"I'm here," you promise him, stroking over the curls on his temple. "I'm here."

The sound of a gun firing stops Joel's fist from connecting another gruelling punch to the raider's already gruesome face. It is like he's being snapped out of a trance, suddenly propelled from a hellish nightmare back to reality. His vision blurs as he struggles to focus on the scene before him, and it takes several seconds for him to remember just what had transpired within the last ten minutes.

Joel glances down at his hand curled tight into a fist. It's completely coated in blood, and although his knuckles are raw and stinging, he knows the blood doesn't belong to him. His eyes descend to the lifeless body laying underneath his straddling thighs. He sees the grisly wreck of the man's head and it prompts a wave of nausea to lurch in his stomach. He has to quickly swallow the bile that rises in his throat, the bitter acid burning his oesophagus.

Joel can't remember the last time he lost control like this. Maybe a long while before he started living in Jackson. It must have been, for Joel had to learn to hold back on dishing out beatings when he arrived in town. Despite wanting nothing more than to slap the shit out of some of the insubordinate young men around the town, he had quelled his temper with all his might for the sake of Ellie. He had masked so much of himself, of his true nature, all for their chance to carve out a decent life together in the safe community.

But that savage beast of wrath had lain dormant inside him for all this time, waiting for a reason to rear its barbaric head and fight. There had never been a legitimate reason for this vicious part of Joel to show itself while they lived in the haven of Jackson. But then again, nothing had evoked such an intense fury inside him as when the raider threatened your life right infront of him.

You.

His mind panics instantly, your name falling from his chapped lips with an edge of desperation. His head jerks around to where you were left beside the bed. You're gone, the leftover rope hanging limply from the bed frame, the ends frayed. A pocket knife lays on the floorboards where you were sat, its blunt looking blade glinting against the lone ray of sunshine pouring in through the window.

Estrada, the mother fucking prick. Did he really come all this way to get you? And you're gone, but who fired that shot? Are there more raiders out there? That pussy can't keep you safe. He needs to get out there and get you right now.

Joel shoves himself off of the raider's body and staggers to stand up. The bones in his back crack as he straightens upright. His whole body is an aching fucking mess but he refuses to think about pain. He can't. He's got to find you.

He grabs Lyle's gun off the floor and then hastily pulls on his boots, ignoring the blood his smears on every surface he touches. He storms out the bedroom to the front door, his footfalls striking heavily against the floorboards with each purposeful, formidable step. You can't have gone far; Joel knows you can't ride a horse and he's pretty sure the raider shot Estrada, so he's willing to bet you're still in a quarter mile radius.

Fuckin' Estrada. He'll blast the useless son of a bitch to pieces. He'll make you watch, force you to see how no one will ever come between you and he. Finally get it through that head of yours that you only belong with him.

Joel stalks out through the front door, resolution and determination catapulting him forth on his long legs. He's going to have to do something a little more drastic, he thinks, in order to cement his ownership over you, so you and everybody else in this world can see you're his, that you can't run away. Maybe a fucking brand on your skin.

Joel's boots only just meet the snow before he abruptly halts at the fringe of the cabin deck. It turns out you didn't even get past the boundary of the clearing, didn't even get 20 feet from the cabin. Instead you're here kneeling on the ground, Oscar laying down beside you on his back, his head in your lap. It appears intimate, a private moment he has stumbled upon, and it makes his stomach twist with burning possessiveness. He scowls, flexing his hand around the grip of the pistol, the raider's blood already drying and crusting over the broken skin of his knuckles.

Joel calls your name, his raspy voice loud and harsh, cutting through the air like a master commanding his dog. Your head snaps back to face him instantly; wisps of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks, your eyes wide with distress, your nose tinged pink from the cold air and all the crying you've done. You stay kneeling and Oscar remains on his back, which somehow pisses him off even more.

What the hell is going on? And where'd that gun shot come from?

"Goddamn it," Joel growls. He stomps over to you, jaw clenching and unclenching. He's going to drag you back inside by your hair after he kills Oscar. He'll strip you of your clothes and smack your ass until it's black and blue. His anger is palpable, radiating from him like a furnace, and the terror on your face amplifies with every determined step he takes.

"Joel, please," you plead, "don't touch him!"

"Get up and go back inside, right now!" Joel snarls. He'll do as he damn well pleases, and if that includes beating the shit out of Estrada like he did the raider, then so be it.

Joel bends down to grab you by your collar but your hand shoots up and grips around his wrist, your fingernails sinking into his skin. Your red rimmed eyes stare up at him, frantic and imploring.

"Joel, wait, listen to me!" You gasp shrilly. "He's hurt! Look!"

Joel's gaze falls down past your face to where Oscar lays beneath you. He's startled by the change in Oscar's appearance, so unexpected and pitiful that it actually dampens the anger and jealousy seething from his core.

He watches Oscar stare up at you and Joel, brows pulled together in a pain filled wince, a dull quality to his brown orbs. His pallid skin has a waxy sheen to it and there is a blueish tint to his trembling lips. His breaths come out in long stuttering gasps. Joel's eyes trail down to where Oscar's shirt in bunched in your hand and he sees the bloody hole sitting at the bottom of his belly.

You are right. He's hurt. The raider did shoot him.

"Joel, what d-do we do?" You sniffle, tightening your grasp around his wrist. "How do we treat it?"

The internal damage is difficult to assess, but judging from the location of the wound and how Oscar currently looks, the bullet has likely hit some organs, Joel silently deduces. It's dire, and with how Oscar's shivering right now he's not sure how long the man will survive for. Joel has seen his fair share of people die from all different kinds of ailments and wounds. He knows the signs well.

His gaze shifts back to you, jaw ticking as he deliberates his answer. You look so hopeless, so desperate for some kind of confirmation that you can actually do something to remedy the situation. It isn't your fault you're so naive, he reminds himself, and being kind is just part of your nature, so ofcourse you care. Ofcourse you care that Estrada is currently bleeding out in your arms. But God, does he fucking hate that you still care so much about this prick.

"Can't do much for a gunshot wound," Joel delivers the words matter of factly. "Not without all the surgical stuff in Jackson."

"What?" You whisper, your face contorting with disbelieving anguish. You relinquish your hold on his wrist as if the touch of his skin has become too uncomfortable to bear. "No, no. Surely there's something we can do now. We can get the bullet out, right?"

Joel tucks the gun in his pocket and descends down on one knee beside you. He avoids Oscar's eyes, instead training his gaze on the pool of blood seeping inside the wound on Oscar's lower abdomen. He can't soften the blow. It's not that he wants to purposely be cruel, but there's no use lying to you. He scratches the side of his cheek and sighs heavily.

"It's deep," Joel clarifies softly. "Not sure if the bullet hit an organ, but it looks likely. Can't do nothin' for it."

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words, and then your eyes suddenly light up with childlike hope. "Let's go back to Jackson," you blurt out. "Dr. Amber can do it, we can go now."

Joel pins his gaze back to you, keeping his face impassive. He's never seen you like this before - so naive and deluded with optimism, denying the obvious reality of the situation. His heart unexpectedly aches for you.

"It's too far," Joel whispers, schooling his tone to be firm but not unkind. "By the time we get there...he won't make it."

"But we've got to try! Or, or maybe we can get the bullet out ourselves," you ramble in desperation.

He sighs, trying hard to not let his impatience overtake his already limited empathy for your feelings. He places his hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic attempt to ground you, for he takes no pleasure in your current state of misery. "Just told you, we can't do much. Where he got hit...it's too...it's just about impossible..."

Your brows saddle together in defeated despair and you shake your head, fresh tears pooling at your waterline. There's a hint of emotion in your face, dancing within your watery irises and on the curl of your mouth, something that he cannot quite place; amidst the clear pain and grief is something firey, almost wild. Like hatred. Resentment. Blame.

A croak comes from Oscar, prompting you to turn back and dip your head down to his. He's trying to talk but his voice is so muted that Joel cannot hear a word of what he's saying to you. You let out a small whimper and seem to whisper back a reply. The private moment between you two resumes, a confidential bubble that makes Joel feel like an outsider, pathetic and excluded. He clocks the way Oscar's hand clutches yours, the delicate brush of his thumb over yours, and he can't help the envious irritation that rears inside his chest once again, searing hot and bordering on painful.

Joel clears his throat and speaks your name to garner your attention. "Don't know where that gunshot came from. Could be more raiders just around the corner. We gotta go back inside."

You jerk your head back to face Joel again, your features twisted into a glare, distrust and scorn evident in your eyes. "I'm not leaving him," you state defiantly.

"It ain't safe here," Joel bites back. "That shot was close by and it ain't gonna take long for whoever it was to find us."

"I don't care!" You spit out harshly. "You go."

Joel feels as though he has been slapped. How dare you defy him like this? He's trying to protect you, to keep you safe from the potential threat of another raider, yet instead of obeying him you're openly challenging him.

No, there's no way he's leaving you behind with Estrada while the poor fuck bleeds out.

Joel scowls, jaw clenched tight, and leans his head close to yours so that you are forced to look at him. You reflexively flinch away but keep your stare locked on his, bold and obstinate.

"Get up." He orders, voice low and loaded with danger. "'Fore we get killed."

"No!" You argue. Joel glares back at you, harsh breaths huffing through his nostrils. His jaw ticks once, then in one sudden move he's grabbing your arm and roughly hoisting you up on your feet. You squeal and yell at him but he just drags you away from Oscar like a predatory animal lugging its prey toward death, overpowering and tyrannical.

He drags you several yards but stops abruptly when another gunshot suddenly blasts through the air, loud and resonant, unmistakeably closer this time. A mixture of other noises soon follow it, carried along the wind that rushes through the trees, sounds that quickly become more and more clear with each passing second.

Men's voices.

Horse hooves galloping.

Dogs barking.

And then a prominent voice calls out, masculine and commanding.

"Joel!"

Joel's blood runs cold. He knows that voice; he knows it better than anybody else still alive in this world, and to hear it right now makes his stomach churn with anxiety and resentment. He slowly twists his torso around, keeping his grip on your arm tight.

There, at the edge of the small clearing by the south-west woodland, is Tommy. Joel swears under his breath. He is pertrubed at the unexpected sight of his younger brother. Did he really travel all the way from Jackson to track you and Joel down? He's made it all this way out here, and by the sounds of it he has a fucking rescue team with him close by.

Tommy trudges through the snow with a gait almost identical to Joel's, his barrel chest heaving. The expression on his face is one of profound sadness and grave concern, a look that Joel knows well; Tommy was always the more self righteous brother, the bleeding heart, able to make Joel feel criticised and condemned with just a single look.

Joel stays standing where he is, his hand still tightly gripping yours while he keeps his eyes locked on his brother. Tommy closes the gap between you in a series of long, laboured strides, his warm breath conjuring puffs of visible cloud from his lips.

"Jesus, Joel, what did you do?" Tommy rasps in panicked disbelief when he catches sight of Oscar's prone form. "Oh fuck, please don't tell me you killed Oscar."

"I didn't touch him," Joel sneers. "And he ain't dead. We got ambushed by a raider but I took care'a him."

"Oscar's hurt, Tommy," you interject, taking a step forward to try join him. "We need to get him help."

Joel shoots you a disapprovingly glare before he clears his throat and gestures vaguely in Oscar's direction. "He got shot - by the raider, not by me."

Tommy drops down on one knee besides Oscar, hovering his hands over the man's body uncertainly. "Fuck," Tommy whispers as his doleful eyes survey the grievous state of Oscar's belly and the bullet wound. He leans down and brings his gloved hand up to carefully cup Oscar's cheek in his palm. "Hey, Oscar, buddy, can you hear me?"

Oscar blinks slowly up at Tommy and hums softly. "Hey, Tom," he manages to croak out. "Yeah....I can hear you."

"Got yourself in a bit of trouble, looks like," Tommy murmers, trying his best to sound light-hearted. "But don't worry, I'm gonna get you back to town and we'll get you fixed right up."

"I'm dying, Tom," Oscar whispers. Tommy sniffs sadly and shakes his head, melancholic denial swimming in his eyes as he stares down at his friend.

"No you ain't," Tommy whispers back, his voice faltering.

"It's okay...," Oscar coos, "just get her back...please, take her back home. Promise me you will."

You can't hear the hushed conversation between Tommy and Oscar, no matter how hard you strain to listen. You wish you could drop to your knees beside Tommy and be a part of what's going on, to hear Oscar's soothing voice assure you that he will be okay, that it isn't as bad as it looks.

But you can't. Your freezing hand is still enveloped in Joel's possessive clutch, anchoring you to the stop next to him. He isn't interested in watching the interaction between his brother and his rival. He keeps a vigilant watch on the woods around you all, slowly turning his head left and right to scan each direction, no doubt still on guard for any possible raiders or infected.

When Tommy eventually rises from the ground and drags his feet back to you and Joel, your heart skips a beat. You wish Tommy would smile at you and confirm that the wound actually isn't that deep, that your dear Oscar will be able to return to Jackson and get stitched up and everything will turn out alright. You peer up at him, expectant and hopeful, but Tommy's morose expression just about crushes any scrap of optimism left in your weary heart. He comes close to you and takes your free hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, totally ignoring Joel beside you.

"Sweetheart," Tommy sighs, "I ain't gonna lie to you. He isn't lookin' good...I don't know....you needa talk with him."

"Why?" Joel cuts in, pulling you back from Tommy and cutting the physical contact between you.

"For God's sake, Joel!" Tommy explodes with exasperation, curling his hands into fists. "You know why! Give her that atleast!"

"Bleedin' heart 'til the day you die, huh Tom?" Joel mocks bitterly, glaring at his brother. Tommy meets his gaze head on, unflinching and firm.

"Doin' what's right, Joel," Tommy replies tightly. "It's time you did, too."

You look between the two of them, too overcome with dizzying emotion and fatigue from the trauma you've endured to properly comprehend the gravity of what's being said. You're fighting to stand on your feet and all you want to do is lay down with Oscar.

"Fine, let's get this over and done with," Joel huffs, releasing your hand. Sensing how you're feeling, Tommy wraps his arm around your back and gently guides you to Oscar, carefully helping you to sit down in the snow.

Your hand automatically slips into Oscar's to give it a delicate and comforting squeeze. He looks even more pale and you notice the way his stomach barely rises and falls with his short, shallow breaths. You bring your other hand up to brush back a curled lock of his hair that sticks to his forehead.

His skin feels so cold.

"Honey," his silky voice husks from between his blue lips. There is a film of tears swimming within his eyes as he stares up at you but his gaze seems more sharp, more focused. You feel as though he's looking right into your soul, his love and adoration piercing directly through your heart, and in this moment you're completely overcome with the intensity of your own love for him.

Oscar is so beautiful, so pure. He came to save you. He risked his own life to rescue you, your own knight in shining armour, and now he lays here wounded and bleeding out. The guilt slices into you sharp and searing, you burst into a sob, lowering your head to his chest. "I'm sorry," you weep. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh, honey," Oscar rasps, slowly raising his hand up to stroke your hair. "It's okay."

Joel growls and moves to grab you and intervene but Tommy is quick to block him. Tommy stands inbetween you and Joel and grips his shoulders firmly. "Back off," he commands sternly.

Joel rips his little brother's hands off him and huffs angrily. "Go fuck yourself Tommy," he rumbles. Despite his hatred for what's happening, Joel turns away and retreats a few paces, unable to bear watching the scene. Tommy follows him, allowing you privacy; neither can hear what is whispered between you and Oscar.

Your nose drips from the cold, intermingling with the tears leaking from your eyes. Oscar's hand swipes the hair from your face as he continues to sshhh you gently.

"I love you," you hear his voice purr from within his sternum. "Always...have."

You lift your head to gaze at him, your face inches from his. His brown eyes project the same palpable sincerity that he has always embodied, even amidst the depth of his suffering. There is a tranquil kind of energy swirling within in his irises that you can't quite work out the reason for.

"Always will..." Oscar whispers, slowly tucking a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with an air of reverence.

"I love you too," you mumble through tears. And you do. You truly love him. "I want to go back with you, wanna go back home with you, Oscar." And you do, more than anything else in the world, so much so that your desperation blinds you to the painful reality of Oscar's predicament.

"I can't." Oscar admits in a breathless whisper. "Elvie is waiting for me..."

Elvie? You're confused for a second until your brain kicks into gear. Elvie. The realisation of what Oscar means lands a punch right in the middle of your guts and a strangle gasp falls from your lips. You bring your face to cradle Oscar's cheeks and you lean down to place a kiss on his soft, wind chapped lips.

"Please...." you whisper against his lips, a tear rolling down your cheek and falling to land onto the hollow of his throat. "Don't go..."

He breathes your name ever so delicately. "I love you...."

And then, like a flickering flame of a candle being extinguished in the breeze, the last breath within Oscar's lungs drifts from his mouth and his soul slips away from his body.

A ragged scream rips from your throat, full of anguish and sorrow. It startles Tommy and Joel and they both whirl around to where you kneel on the ground by Oscar. You are slumped over his dead body, forehead pressed to his chest and your balled fists clinging to his clothes.

Tommy hastily springs back to you and crouches down to bracket your shoulders with his hands. He understands the reason got your distress immediately. "Oh, sweetheart," he croons sympathetically. He slips his arm across your clavicle and carefully pulls you into him. "I'm sorry."

You lean back into his chest and let out a howl of anguish. Joel thinks it is just about the most tragic sound he has ever heard. He stands back and watches the scene with the the corners of his mouth downturned in somber silence.

The magnitude of sorrow you express spurns something inside of him that makes his stomach clench and his breath hitch in his throat. When the initial shock dissipates he is left with a severe ache in his chest cavity that threatens to bring him to his knees. The realisation of why comes

Your grief reflects his own.

It reminds him of the day when his world was torn apart, when he had lost the most important thing in his life.

Except the reason for your grief isn't an inescapable cordycep apocalypse; it is Joel himself. He may not have fired the bullet that fatally wounded Oscar but it was the consequences of his actions that led to the man's demise. Joel shakes his head to himself, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. No, he thinks, it isn't my fault. It isn't.

He bows his head and stares at his boots, unable to face the sight of your despair any longer. You wail and bawl for what seems like forever. Tommy keeps you close to him and murmers an occasional hushed I'm so sorry. It continues until you can produce no more your tears and your body lurches with exhausted dry retches. Your cheeks are puffy and splotchy, the rims of your eyes red and swollen.

A long time passes before Tommy manages to persuade you to stand up. He hauls you up and keeps you tightly supported you against his body. You cling blindly to his jacket and nuzzle your face into his chest, finding a small degree of comfort in his warmth and kind commiseration. Another blurred period of time elapses where you allow Tommy to hold you and a quiet falls over the three of you.

Joel doesn't look up until he hears your voice address him, hoarse yet full of venom. He lifts his head and sees you staring at him, your face twisted into a wretched mask of heartache and wrath.

"You," you hiss accusingly, "it's because of you!"

Joel frowns at you and shakes his head, unable to formulate words in a response. He's totally bewildered by your anger.

"You brought me out here! You forced me here and Oscar came to save me!" You snarl. "He would still be alive if you hadn't!"

You struggle against Tommy and he loosens his hold on you. You launch yourself at Joel, half stumbling into him, your fists beating against his chest with all the strength you can muster. Joel's hands cup your elbows so you don't fall over but he does nothing to stop you from unleashing your anger. He let's you punch his chest and slap his face, the impact of your hands leaving no more than a light sting on his cheeks.

He could easily subdue you with nothing more than a solid shove or a quick slap but he doesn't. He stands still, patiently accepting your punishment, waiting until you eventually tire and end up collapsing against his front. You heave and sob with despair, fragile body wracking with the force of your cries, and Joel carefully wraps his arms around you and presses you firmly into him.

"'M sorry," Joel whispers truthfully. And he is. He's sorry that you're heart broken.

"You aren't," you sputter, "you've never been sorry, you don't care!"

You struggle to escape his embrace but he holds you tighter. "I am," he asserts firmly.

You screech and thrash, incensed with anger at the way he seems to lie so easily. "He's dead because of you!"

Joel relinquishes his hold on you just enough to pull you back to look at your face. He is momentarily disturbed by the way your eyes smoulder with hatred and disgust, but he presses on, determined to make his point.

"He's dead because of that raider, not me," Joel argues, "and it was me who killed that son of a bitch."

You shake your head vehemently, detestation written clearly on your face. "That raider could have killed us all! He was going to hurt me and you did nothing! Oscar saved me from that raider, not you!"

Shame heats the back of Joel's neck. He cannot deny that the raider was going to do unspeakable things to you and that he had basically offered you up to the man while he tried to formulate a strategy. It both shames and emasculates him that it was infact Oscar who saved you both from the raider. Joel may have beaten Lyle to death, but it was only because of Oscar that he was able to do so.

He feels like he has failed you.

Just as he failed Sarah. Just as he failed Tess.

"I was gonna---"

"I don't care!" You yell, flinging yourself backward to escape his grasp, but Joel just tightens his hands on your shoulders to keep you close.

Joel has to battle the deeply ingrained instincts that urge him to slap the shit out of you to shut you up. He allows you to be angry and sad, to unleash the emotions you are rightfully experiencing right now, but his patience is wearing thin. He's also aware that Tommy still stands just a few yards away, so he needs to placate you enough to keep control of his temper and to somehow get you alone.

He narrows his eyes and rubs soothing circles over your shoulders with his thumbs. "Let's go back inside the cabin," he drops his voice low in an effort to mollify. "Talk about this when you've calmed down some."

"Talk about what, Joel?" You spit out, fresh angry tears trickling down your cold cheeks. "About how you got Oscar killed? About how you raped me and beat me and then kidnapped me?"

"Christ almighty, Joel!" Tommy exclaims, shaking his head and staring in disbelief at his brother. "Is....is that true? You...you did those things to her?"

Joel doesn't acknowledge his brother; he's so intently focused on you that he can hardly register Tommy's voice. All that matters is you and making you stay with here with him.

"I said I was sorry," Joel swallows the lump in his throat. "I tried, I tried so hard to do right by you. I brought us here so we could start a new life. So you could forgive me."

"What you did to me, Joel...," you whisper, your voice laced with embittered sadness. "That's different. But Oscar....he died because of what you did. And I won't ever forgive you for that."

"But I love you," he murmers, his voice becoming husky with emotion and his eyes blurring with tears. "I didn't...I love you."

"And I loved you once, too, Joel, but how could I after what you've done?" You shove at his chest to punctuate your point. "I hate you!"

The impassioned vigour in your tone and your words cuts through Joel's heart like a knife. It reminds him of Ellie, how angry and betrayed she looked just a few nights ago. He knows you're stupefied with emotion right now, too wrapped up in misery to properly think or follow his commands. But he also knows you aren't lying.

You do hate him.

Just as Ellie does.

The truth fucking crushes his heart into fragments.

Joel's face crumples and he stares at you with crestfallen dismay. His hands release you and he takes a staggering step backward. You stare him down like a feral cat ready to fight, your shoulders raised and your nostrils flared. Tommy steps forward to intervene in the face-off, standing half infront of you.

"Joel...It's over. Let her go," Tommy commands softly, almost pleadingly. "I'm takin' her back to Jackson. I gotta rescue team just over the clearing there."

Joel faces his brother with tears brimming at his lashline. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Joel hisses angrily. "This ain't any of your business, Tommy! I don't give a fuck who you got waitin' in the wings!"

"She doesn't wanna be with you," Tommy emphasises, his voice measured and stern. "And you're my brother, Joel, so this is my fuckin' business. I ain't about to let this girl or anybody else get hurt because of you."

"I love her, okay? I fuckin' love her, Tommy," Joel confesses brokenly. "I'll do anythin' to keep her."

"You hurt her, Joel. Jesus, you ra....you...," Tommy has to stop himself from choking on the weighted words that seem lodged inside his throat. He runs a hand through his black curls and shakes his head as he collects himself. "That ain't love."

Your fingertips curl around Tommy's bicep, prompting him to stop from saying anything more. Like a hawk, Joel observes the movement and watches with bated breath as you step out from behind Tommy. He sees that you are no longer crying and that you no longer look angry. Instead, you now look composed. Bold. You stand upright, your body radiating self assuredness, chin tilted upward to meet Joel's eyes head on.

The last time he had witnessed you like this was the time you confronted him about raping you. He sees the same stoicism in your face now - and he can see just how deadly serious you are.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me go," you speak up, your tone smooth and placid despite the challenging significance of your words.

"No," Joel croaks out. His brown eyes, large and glassy, swimming with tears as he gazes at you. "I need you. I need you with me, here."

"I can't stay here, Joel," you say softly. "I can't stay with you."

"I-I can't let you go," he rasps desperately. "You're mine, baby. I can't be without you."

"I've got nothing left to give you, Joel." You shrug with blunt weariness. "You've taken everything from me."

Warm rivulets of tears begin to trickle from Joel's eyes and he sniffs. "I'll give you whatever you need, I'll...I'll make it up to you. Just....please."

You watch him intently, your chin raised with stoic determination, unmoved by his show of emotion. "It's too late."

"No," he pleads, taking a step closer to you. "No, it ain't. It ain't too late."

"I spent too much time letting myself be hurt and unhappy. People like Oscar, like my parents...they don't have the chance to start over. They don't get to try. And I owe it to them to keep going. I owe it to them to be happy."

"You can be happy. You can be happy with me," Joel asserts, his voice wavering with heartache. He reaches out to touch you but you take a step backward. You shake your head gently, your gaze never leaving his.

"No, I can't. You need to control me, Joel - you need to hurt me. How can I be happy like that?"

Joel opens his mouth to speak but no words come. He is at a loss for what to say. He cannot argue against the points you make as they are true - he does need to control you, he does need to hurt you. As much as he could try justifying it as expressions of love and care, it is still the confronting truth of your relationship. He is defeated.

He stays silent for a minute, then forces out a quiet mumble, "give me another chance. Please."

"No, Joel. I won't let you take the chance of happiness away from me," you respond matter of factly. "I'm going back to Jackson with Tommy. Goodbye, Joel."

You turn back and walk over to Tommy, where he stands looking at his older brother with concerned sympathy. He knows Joel won't return to town, knows it would be impossible for him to integrate back into society in a place where his foster daughter and the woman he loves will be absent from his life.

Tommy slings his arm tightly around your shoulders and gingerly guides you away from where you stand. You give Joel once last fleeting look before you turn away and begin moving your feet to follow Tommy.

Joel watches you both trudge through the snow toward the clearing at the edge of the forest. He stands frozen in place, paralysed by the internal dialogue raging within his mind.

She's leaving.

I can't stop her.

She has to go.

She hates me.

She doesn't love me.

This is the right thing to do.

Joel shields his eyes with his hand, unable to bear the sight of you walking out of his life. He hangs his head and heaves out a weighted, heartbroken sigh. The constrain on his emotions quickly cracks and soon he begins to weep. Fat tears pour from his eyes and roll down the bridge of his nose. His weeping escalates into mournful cries that make his shoulders shake and his stomach churn, and he feels his heart squeeze so painfully that he thinks he's on the verge of a heart attack.

He cries now more than he has cried for the last 20 years. Not since the day Sarah died has he cried so much. The repressed emotion he has been habouring throughout all these years is set free and laid bare, and he allows himself to finally feel it all; the heartbreak for his daughter, Sarah, the undying unconditional love for Ellie, and the everlasting yearning for you.

Joel's legs buckle and he collapses onto the snow on his knees. The ice stings the sliced skin on his bare hands but he isn't even cognisant of the pain. All he can perceive is the devastating emptiness now residing within his soul; all that is left now are memories and nightmares, and the agonising regret and grief of losing you.

tag list- @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp-blog @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @oldenoughtoknowbetter @mandoloriancookie @missannfairy @bean-security @missannwinchester @mrszdjarin

[holylulusworld]

Tear you down

Summary: Dean is not amused having you around.

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 1 – Sunday, April 14 - Heat/Rut

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, heat/rut, enemies to lovers trope, nakedness, voyeurism, mentions of switching suppressants (not Dean)

Words: 600+

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

He will tear you down. For messing with him. For taunting him. For triggering his rut.

Dean Winchester is on a hunt. He’s hunting a dangerous enemy. The evil hiding behind a friendly smile and boobs.

“I will kill her,” he all but growls while storming toward the dungeon. Dean and his brother found you in the middle of a fight with three alphas. You were about to rip their clothes off their bodies to forcefully mate them. “She triggered my fucking rut.”

The hunter cups his aching crotch. He’s walking around with a raging hard-on since he saw you throw punches at three strong and tall alphas.

The alpha couldn’t help but admire your graceful fighting style, even while you were out of your mind, you looked like you performed only for him.

“Dean, what are you…” Sam stops in his tracks. He can smell the rut on his brother, and backpaddles. The hunter is by all means not a coward, but his brother in a rut is more than dangerous. It’s a death sentence. Especially with an omega in heat around. “I knew it was a mistake to bring her here.”

“Stay out of my way,” Dean grits his teeth. He flexes his muscles and snarls in his brother’s direction. “I’ll get rid of that omega.”

“I can see that,” Sam follows the motion of Dean’s hand. The alpha cups his crotch and rubs himself through his pants. “I think your alpha has other plans for her. You need to go back to your room and leave Y/N alone. It’s not her fault that some douchebag she trusted switched her suppressants with vitamins.”

“What?” Dean cocks his head.

“Before she passed out,” Sam sighs, “Y/N told me about the hunter she teamed up with, and that he switched her suppressants. He wanted an obedient and needy omega around. You know, someone to knot when he feels the need.”

Dean can barely think straight with his rut clawing its way to the front, but he makes a mental note to kill the hunter if he ever meets him again. Today, he won’t be able to do so. Not with your scent driving up the walls, and the problem in his pants.

“I’ll take care of him later,” he growls the words. “Stay away from the dungeon, and her.” Dean gives his brother a warning snarl.

“DEAN!”

Sam can only watch his brother storm toward the dungeon.

He always tried to get you and Dean together. You’re a perfect match. He just doesn’t want you to mate while being in a rut and heat…

“OMEGA!” Dean pants heavily when he finally walks inside the dungeon. You refused to sleep in one of the rooms and made a makeshift bed on the ground. You’re currently rubbing your aching sex against one of his pillows, humping it for dear life. “FUCK!”

Dean’s eyes darken while watching you pleasure yourself, using one of his pillows. “Go away!” You snarl and move even faster. “I need…I want…”

He dips his head, only watching you hump the pillow. Dean smells your slick, and your sweet scent.

“Stop that!” He orders, using his alpha voice. You’re a strong-willed omega, but even you cannot fight his alpha order. Dean is your true mate, and his call is even stronger.

You stiffen and stop moving at all. Your head tilts on its own to reveal your untouched mating gland to the angry alpha.

He grits his teeth and snarls, but you can’t do anything about it.

Dean steps closer, his eyes trained on your mating gland. He hums in appreciation, but a cocky grin tugs on the corners of his lips. “If only I knew I could make you shut up using my alpha voice.”

Your eyes follow Dean’s every move. He smirks when you try to growl at him.

“What do we do about that behavior,” he purrs, and steps closer to run his fingertips over your exposed back. “I love your submissive behavior but…” Dean crouches down next to you to whisper in your ear. “I want you to unleash the beast, sweetheart. Let go…”

Tear you down (2)

Tags in reblog.

[sturn3]

listen to these for a better experience.

leaf - a$ap rocky / monks - frank ocean

"Y/n, would you stop moving, please?" Chris asked, whining beneath you, as you tried to get comfortable in his lap whilst he showed you how to play a video game. Needless to say, neither of you was paying attention. Even with his brothers and your friends in the same room, it seemed like you two could not behave.

"I'm not even doing anything ,Chris." you argued, acting as if you could not feel what you were doing to him. Lowkey, proud of yourself, honestly. You grabbed the controller from his hands to continue playing the game while his hands dropped to your hips, trying to keep you still ,so he didn't get into any more trouble tonight. The grip he had on you and his delicious cologne combined with the whispering instructions in your ear on how to move your fingers in order to kill your opponents was driving you fucking insane. The wetness between your legs is growing more and more by the second.

His grip on your hips finally dropped as he began to draw circles on top of your thighs. What a fucking tease of a man, you thought. Trying so hard not to squirm nor clench your thighs. The two of you seemed so entranced in each other's touch that you didn't notice the confused yet amused faces of your friends around you. One by one, they started to leave. Sensing the tension in the room. Leaving you two to spend time alone.

Suddenly, the room fell into a comfortable silence. The lights were previously dimmed, and the atmosphere was just right. You decided on turning the game off and got to talking into the late hour of the night.

"So... let me get this straight. This guy had been begging you to go out with him, and when you finally do and get to the good part, he just leaves you hanging ??"

Chris held back a chuckle, wanting to laugh but also feeling bad for your horrible experience. He just wishes you could give him a chance. He thought he could do better. No, he knew he could do better. Thus, he consoles you by saying that maybe you just haven't found the right one yet, someone that would put your pleasure above their own and wasn't overall selfish in that department. Thankfully for him, you pick up on the hint. After all, you had been waiting for it.

"Oh, someone like you ,you mean?" you said as seductively as you could. Bringing your hand up to rub his bicep and looking him directly into his eyes with your big doe ones. Trying to read his emotions but finding it impossible as he turned his gaze to watch the movement of your hand on his bicep. Suddenly, he pulled his gaze up, looking into your eyes and then inevitably driving his gaze back to your full plump lips. The ones he would have such sinful thoughts about.

"Oh, no. I meant me ,sweetheart. " he said as a stupid wicked smirk pulled onto his lips. You couldn't help but debate in your mind if you wanted to slap it off or kiss it off. Well, you wouldn't have to ponder any longer since he took the initiative and kissed you before you could. As he was kissing you, he slowly laid you down on the couch as he got on top of you. His hands made their way all over every slope of your body, exploring it completely. Your own, stuck in his hair, pulling and playing with it.

The kiss quickly turned into a heated make-out session. Articles of clothing are thrown left and right in the air and onto the wooden floor beneath you. You were left in your matching bra and underwear. Silently thanking every higher power for possessing you to wear a cute set tonight.

You suddenly pulled away from him to catch a breath. Only to look up at him to see him pouting and staring at you through his fully blown out pupils. You laughed at his childlike behavior and quickly pulled him back into a kiss.

Both tongues fighting for dominance into the kiss. You finally gave up and let him have his little victory. A few moans and whimpers left your lips as he groped you everywhere he could. You couldn't help but become more and more impatient. "Chris ,please do something ,I need you." You whined, and well, he assisted. He finally left your lips and made his way down to your neck, leaving a few kisses there and gradually making his way further to your tits, kissing and biting at the flesh there, wanting to claim you in way that excited him. Lastly, he got to the place where you craved him the most. He pulled your panties to the side with his ring and middle finger. "Oh, baby. You've made such a mess for me." he said quite mockingly that if you didn't need him this bad right now ,you would've punched him in the face.

"Yes, hurry up, do something, please." You said exaggerating your moans even more to get him going. "Well, since you asked so nicely, baby." he said as he dipped a finger into your hole, which instantly had you bucking your hips upwards and clenching around him. He worked you up with that firstly and then decided it was time for another. Adding a second finger in, had you seeing stars. When you'd do it yourself in the darkness and comfort of your own room ,you didn't imagine it could feel even better when he'd do it to you.

Lost in the pleasure of his fingers pumping in and out of your sleek ,you let out a few stammered words, absolutely making no sense. "'m closeee, p-please." You managed to get out in one breath. He finally hit the spot that had you dizzy and brought you eventually to your high.

"That was insane." you said out of breath.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long." he said, and you looked at his disheveled hair and sweaty upper body. Honestly, he looked so attractive right now that you could take him for twenty rounds.

"Well...." you said as you started getting up and turning your positions around. You are on top ,him right beneath you. He looked up at you with his drunken gaze. He couldn't wait for you to do something.

"Yeah?"

You completely ignored him. You grabbed his neck and pulled him again into a heated kiss. Full of passion and so firey. Unlike any other kiss you've had. Making it such a new and an addicting experience for you. You slowly started to grind yourself on top of him ,your clothed clit rubbing on his clothed tip. Hitting just the right spots every time, making both of you pull away from each other to moan and throw your head backs. You were growing so addicted to his every touch. "'m gonna take these off, 's that alright ,baby?" he said, gripping the band of your small panties, and you couldn't help but nod uncontrollably.

As soon as your panties had made their way to the floor ,your hands made their way to his boxers, taking them off so eagerly. The sight of his dick so hard and leaking pre-cum made you go insane. Sitting against his stomach, a vein making a prominent appearance to the side. You couldn't help but take it into your hand. First, you gathered the pre-cum that leaked from his tip on your finger, instantly licking it off. Then, you spit onto his cock, the warm liquid making him let out a hiss ,turning you even more with the noises he was making. Your hand started making its way up and down his length, concentrating on his tip and applying pressure there.

"Baby, please." he begged as he continued to let out groans. "'m not gonna last if you keep doing that, beautiful." he said ,somewhat begging for mercy. As cruel as you were, you kept going ,wanting him to feel as good as you did. This was turning you on so much that your arousal had leaked on his thighs. If you weren't so into the moment, you would've been embarrassed. Not that you had anything to be embarrassed about with Chris.

Soon enough, his cum started leaking out him. You didn't stop, though, not until he was completely spent. You were so high on adrenaline and how good you made each other feel that you instantly jumped on his cock. Not giving him time to come down from his last orgasm.

You started with steady moves, fistly going back and forth, then up and down, and just doing what felt good in the moment. You two letting out a series of profanities and curse words in between your moans. So lost in the pleasure drowning you both, that you didn't care that everyone could listen to you guys jumping each other's bones. You felt so good ,you weren't gonna apologize for it. Needless to say, Chris felt the exact same way. Getting to finally experience this was life-changing for him. He would constantly dream about having you. About this exact moment. You were haunting both his conscious and unconscious mind. This felt better than any dream he'd ever had, though, just cause he was actually experiencing it and not waking up sweaty with a boner to take care of in the shower ,first thing in the morning.

Your legs started to finally get tired from all the movement you were doing ,Chris took this as his cue to step up. He thrusted up into you a few times before gripping the back of your thighs and turning you around to lay down. Your ass up and your face lost in the cushions of his large couch, he started pounding into you from behind relentlessly. "Touch your clit for me, ma." you heard him say from behind and instantly complied. You were both getting closer and closer as he continued going in and out of you. Watching how your wet tight cunt took in his large cock. Getting mesmerized by the sight and not being able to hold it back anymore. You couldn't either, as soon as you felt his dick twitch inside you, you let go of your orgasm and he reached his just in time. Pulling out of you gently ,he reached down to grab his shirt so he could wipe off both of your juices. When he finally got you cleaned up and dressed, he cuddled you into his chest.

"That was-"

"-amazing." You finished for him.

in honor of 100+ followers cause that's fucking insane 😭🩷 thank you so much, and a possible r-rated video tonight.

[selyeji]

amoeba

pedri gonzalez x reader

summary : lovers resting to their own corner in the woods, taking a break from social interactions.

warnings : none

you sat on the opposite side of the table from pedri in the party, loud music playing in the background, chatter filled the building since it was a team celebration. you were done eating your food, occasionally taking a sip from the juice you ordered. you started getting uncomfortable from the amount of people.

you crossed your arms on the table, your eyes darting below. everything was so loud, needing to just shut it out. staying here too long being an introvert was definitely a bad idea. your heart races from new faces entering and walking around. you pulled your leg up to touch pedris. looking up to his face waiting for him to notice. of course, he immediately stops talking to others, bringing his attention to you. once he saw your eyes, he understood.

smiling, he grabbed your hand with his, excusing yourselves from the conversation. bringing you outside to the balcony, to get fresh air. you breathe in, taking a break from the smell of drinks. pedri still staring at you with admiration with a smile on his face. “thank you pedri, it’s like you’re the only one who understands me. you’re the only person i need” you said, blushing. “im glad, i’ll always be here, im yours.” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear, kissing your temple. “c’mon y/n. let’s leave this place.”

…

you and pedri entered a local convenience store. grabbing snacks off the shelves, quietly making jokes and laughing at this late hour. you check out the items, grabbing the plastic bag and going back in the car. pedri started driving, turning on music as he drove to a special spot up in the mountains. he parks his car before you both get out, walking up since you weren’t allowed to drive any further.

“race you up there!” you yelled as you ran before him. you knew pedri would outrun you, obviously he’s a footballer, definitely way more fit than you. before you knew it, he was right beside you running, effortlessly going past until he pulled his hand out, turning his head waiting for you to grab it. you reached out, running along side with him. it was hard keeping up but you grinned happily anyways.

out of breath, you arrive. it was simply just a bench on top of the mountain, but it overlooked the city. dim yellow lights that stretched throughout streets, people living their daily lives, going home from work, the palm trees softly waving. it never failed to amaze you.

you and pedri sat down, opening the snacks you bought earlier. you bring out some pieces, bringing it to pedris face, feeding him. you couldn’t give him as much due to his diet, but he was fine with it.

this spot was truly special to the both of you. deep conversations, truthful thoughts and any sort of laughter was safe. whatever was said stayed there, it helped you get away from people. sometimes we just need a break from life, not completely shutting people out. all it needs it someone you can talk to, you had each other. being introverts, your social battery going out often, you two fitted perfectly like two jigsaw pieces.

no matter how tired you are, your heart would never be exhausted of pedri. you take your earphones out, connecting it to your phone as you open spotify. placing and earbud on your ear, the other on pedris as you scroll through your shared playlist. you both share your love for music, being diverse in almost ang genre. quietly watching people on the streets below working, children going home after playing the whole day, street musicians bringing life into the night sky. birds chirped in the trees nearby, squirrels rustling through the bushes. sometimes throwing nuts for them to eat.

quickly finishing the snack you opened, placing the wrapper back into the plastic bag since there wasn’t a trash bin nearby. as you both sat there in silence, the music still playing. pedri laid his head on your shoulder, you adjusted your position so he could be comfortable. resting yours on his, pulling out your hand to play with his hair. massaging his scalp as you softly smile at the beautiful city with your lover.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : lowkey rushed,,,

[redcoralpot]

Hey!

May I request a Sally x male reader?

The reader has some ugly scars over his body, mainly thanks to self harm(you can change this part if it makes you uncomfortable!) and when Sal found out, he opened up about HIS own scars.

Some fluff, a bit of comfort if ur okay with that! ;)

Before the Wave Hits - Sal Fisher x M! Reader

Summary: You didn’t want to go too overboard with clothes on your first date with Sal. Even through your curtains, you could see the sun beating down on anything below it, birds singing from their nests. The plan was to go to the dollar store, get some snacks to bring back to your place, watch a half-butchered slasher film, and maybe kiss. To give yourself some credit, this day was nothing short of perfect, so why didn’t you feel perfect?

Warnings: Mentions of scars due to s/h and other accidents.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: This is just a warm up before I get back on Smudged! I did tweak it a bit to make the reader a burn survivor, but I did mention s/h in it as well. Tread with caution!

-

A hiss escapes your mouth as you apply gel to your shoulder, feeling the raised tissue ripple unevenly against your fingertips. You close the cap with a click and wind an elastic bandage around your torso, covering your collarbone, before taping it firmly on your bicep. Pink flesh peeked from underneath the fabric and your eyebrows pinched, turning away from the mirror to put a shirt on. 

You didn’t want to go too overboard with clothes on your first date with Sal. Even through your curtains, you could see the sun beating down on anything below it, birds singing from their nests. The plan was to go to the dollar store, get some snacks to bring back to your place, watch a half-butchered slasher film, and maybe kiss. To give yourself some credit, this day was nothing short of perfect, so why didn’t you feel perfect? You sighed, tugging jeans past your boxers. The gel and remaining bandages were carelessly thrown into your bedside drawers as you sprayed cologne on your neck. Not too much; you had known Sal long enough to know he had some breathing sensitivities. The memory of when Neil had tried a new perfume in order to impress Todd in their shared apartment brought shivers down your spine. 

Keys jingled in your hand as you locked the door behind you. Your neighbor waved as you passed by, water spraying everywhere as they dipped a sponge in a bucket of water. Somehow, their back was still in great shape despite driving a Dodge Caravan, and you respected that. You returned their gesture, unlocking your similarly uncomfortable car. Your father had absolutely zero taste when it came to buying automobiles and you’d rather take anything else on a date, but you were broke. A little less broke than before, thanks to your summer job, but if someone were to shake you upside down, only a few pennies would fall out. The engine hummed as you took the wheel, chip crumbs biting your ass. 

Pulling into the parking lot of the shopping plaza practically made your heart beat out of your chest; Sal was sitting on a bench by the store’s main entrance, bangs covering most of his face. A portion of his hair was tugged back into a ponytail while the rest flowed down his shoulders, and fuck, he was handsome. College had changed both of you for better or for worse, but with junior year out of the way, you had some time to be curious. The slam of your car door broke his focus, the silhouette of his snake blinking, and Sal looked up at you. Sometimes, it was hard to discern his expressions through his mask, but you could guess he was quite unimpressed.

“Hey,” you grinned.

“Hi,” Sal said, raspy and muffled.

Gum was stuck on the ground beside his foot, so you offered him a hand, “Ready to go?”

“Sure. Though, you owe me something extra for ruining my high score.”

When Sal grasped your hand in his, you shook it, leading him inside the store. Newspapers were stacked by the counter, each detailing the latest trends and gossip with bright yellow font splattered all over. A grainy photo of the winter olympics, held in Japan this year, caught your eye. You held it up, “I remember when my parents dragged me to every ice skating rink they could find. Which, around here, there was only one.”

“You like ice skating?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, placing it back, “I kinda went for the food trucks.”

Sal ran his fingers over a cheap, small, plastic guitar on one of the shelves, “That’s pretty relatable. I was never into sports when I was a kid.”

You bumped your shoulder into his, wincing, “That’s ‘cause you were cool. Are cool. So, tell me, what kind of snacks do cool kids like?”

“Real smooth, man. I like applesauce and fries, but nothing chewy or coffee flavored,” he stated. 

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t eat dill pickle taffy?”

He watched as you shook a suspiciously bright green bag, “Ew– what?”

“Maybe not as cool as I thought.” Your tone was playful while placing the bag back on the shelf, eyes immediately drawn farther down. Glass clinked against metal as you reached for an applesauce jar, hidden in the depths of the store, hopefully not expired. You passed it over to Sal. Your other hand grabbed a generic snack, hell, you didn’t even know what it was. You were too busy looking at Sal. He tilted his head when he caught you staring, rolling his flannel sleeves up to his elbows. 

The cashier had his nose stuck in a newspaper as the two of you approached, and when you interrupted his reading, he glared at you as if you had thrown his children out a window. He certainly looked old enough. Regardless, his eyes lingered a bit longer on Sal’s prosthetic and the cashier carefully took the money from your fingers. Three dollars; one-fifty each. Kind of hypocritical of the dollar store, you chuckled. You almost said as much to Sal before the cashier interrupted you, “It’s a little early for Halloween, don’t you think?”

His breath smelled like weed and the bones in your neck popped as you turned to look at him, “What?”

“It’s a prosthetic,” Sal corrected, calm, much to your astoundment.

“Oh,” the cashier said, “close enough.”

Sal tucked the snacks underneath his arm and went on his way. You glanced at the cashier, already back in his reading, and then ran after your date. His one eye looked at you, while the other stared straight ahead. You unlocked your car door and Sal placed both snacks on a towel, then slid into the shotgun seat, fingers already toying with the radio knob. He switched through plenty of channels before settling on one that satisfied him; grunge with occasional death metal. You thought back to his electric guitar, always perched by his bed at his shared apartment. Sal was a funky guy. His fingers were moving once again, never still, wiggling as he hummed. You grinned, adding your own voice to join him. At some point, your voice cracked in a way that it hadn’t since you first started puberty, and Sal laughed. Laughed, with his full chest and his head cocked back to bounce against the headrest, eyes squeezed tightly shut. It wasn’t rare, per say, but definitely more scarce than in high school. 

After a few seconds, Sal allowed himself to breathe again, taking firm inhales through his mouth. The image of the cashier was far in the back of your mind. Now, there were more serious matters to discuss. 

“So, what movie do you wanna watch? I have Scream, IT, even Clueless and Interview With a Vampire if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

He paused, “Those are pretty random. Scream’s a hit but IT’s a total classic, so I can’t choose. Why do you have those last two?”

“Meh, I got them while fishing through the thrift movie pile. I thought Larry would appreciate, uh, vamp-ified Brad Pitt.” You pulled your keys back into your pocket, rushing to open the door for Sal.

“Jeez, now I gotta watch it,” Sal rolled his eyes, trailing behind you, watching in interest as he stepped into your home.

You raised your eyebrows, “You like Brad Pitt?”

“No, of course not! I like to get informed before I trash on something so I can trash on it expertly.”

You waved your hand in his direction, and then gestured towards the kitchen, “My mistake. Say, go get yourself a bowl of applesauce in the kitchen and I’ll get the movie set up, yeah? Vampire Brad Pitt it is!”

Sal’s footsteps grew fainter, slapping against tile as he entered the kitchen. You heard a thump and soft cursing, then cabinets opening. You shook your head, turning your attention to the tapes stored underneath the television, squinting at the messily written labels on faded cases. The Outsiders, E.T– you actually forgot you had that one– and many more from across the last two decades. Interview With a Vampire was in the very back, rarely touched, since your parents thought Lestat and Louis were a little too close throughout it. You snickered at the memory and slipped it out of its casing. When the television roared to life, it displayed a menu detailing a range of options, such as credits, extras, and playing the actual movie. With two clicks of the remote and an uncomfortable twist of your arm, the latter was chosen. 

The carpet was soft under your feet as you waited, staring at a frozen, black screen. You shifted your arm back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position for it. Sal swerved the corner with a bowl, seeming to lean extra far to avoid the wall, and returned to your side. He placed it on the table, sinking into the floral fabric of your couch. Tension leaked from his body, practically making a puddle at his feet, before he reached his hands towards his prosthetic. You looked away, the feeling of intruding on something so private gnawing at your stomach, especially on the first date. Sal only loosened the bottom straps, slipping the spoon in the space he created. You released a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding.

Finally, the movie played, and the fun started. Sal made comments throughout, but stayed almost eerily silent during what he deemed was important. Those times, you could only hear tragic music and the sound of his breathing. You tried to relax with him, you truly did, but the hot air had dried you out in more ways than one. Your bandages became itchy and dragged against your scars with every movement; you had to subtly try to adjust them every time the issue came back with roaring vengeance. You needed to change them, but the bathroom excuse wouldn’t suffice– Sal knew where the bathroom was, and it wasn’t your bedroom. Sal was anything if not observant. You could feel his eyes, or eye, trailing your every move when you attempted to be sneaky.

“You okay?” Sal asked, plainly. 

You laughed, but it was humorless, your hand holding the collar of your shirt away from your body, “Sure, yeah, I’m just kind of uncomfortable, you know?”

“Obviously not with the movie,” he said, putting down his bowl, “but even that would be pretty understandable.”

“An old injury’s just acting up.”

He clipped his straps back on fully, “Scarring? Yeah, it can get sensitive sometimes.”

Does Sal know how on the dot he gets shit sometimes? You felt your cheeks, shoulder, and even self-made scars that you had all but forgotten about burning in the embarrassing spotlight placed on you. Too similar to the vampires you had witnessed on television. However, there was no judgment in his eyes; no malice nor pity. Sal just simply pressed the ‘pause’ button on the remote and spoke, “Do you have any ointment? I can help reapply if you need it.” 

You really wanted to kiss him later. 

-

@hexthemushroom @skitzomutt

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

Toxic ex-husband!txt

Warnings: toxic, possessive, erratic behaviour, do not try this at home

Note: I feel diabolical for writing this

Soobin

Soobin is ushered out of a different exit of the courthouse than you, but his long legs make quick work of rounding the building—he’d seen your lawyer steering you out a back door. He finds you just as you reach your car, in such a passion that he doesn't notice the way you jump at the sound of his voice. You just sat through an hour of feeling his eyes on you as your divorce was finalised, kept your nerve and avoided looking his way, and you didn't have the nerve to face him now. His mind flashes with glimpses of the past, before you went through this silly charade of separation. All the happy times you’d had, all those years of love. His heart felt sour in his chest.

"You don't mean it, I know you don't," he calls out to you as he approaches. You're quick to shut yourself inside your car and lock the doors, scrambling to put the key in the ignition as his hands press against the window. "I know you'll miss me," he insists, somehow still not understanding the reality of the situation even after the year-long divorce process. "You won't last a day in that house without me." He walks mindlessly in the wake of the car as you drive away, anger flaring. He won't give you up.

Yeonjun

He dons a hoodie and sits in the back of the dark bar you're having a first date in. It wasn't hard to get access to the time and location of this little rendezvous, since the password for your new dating profile is the same one you use for everything else. He watches you flirt and make small talk, smile stupidly at this new love interest, who in Yeonjun's opinion is definitely trying way too hard. And yes, he's noticed that you're wearing his favourite dress, the one that he bought for you, that you would wear to every date night the two of you shared. He grits his teeth so hard he can hear the strain on them, downing the last of the drink he ordered to keep his table and slipping out. When you finally make it back to the parking lot, he's leant up against your car, hood off and face smug in the dim artificial light.

"Hey, baby," he says smugly, causing you to shiver. You haven't heard his voice in so long, and the pet name...

"What are you doing here? You know it's over," you keep your tone confident while looking around nervously. "You should be moving on, like I have."

He takes a few steps closer to you. "You know why you like that guy so much?" Yeonjun asks, leaning his face close to your ear and taking a whiff of an in-breath before whispering, "he's wearing my cologne."

Beomgyu

You're about to turn out the light and go to sleep when a loud knocking startles you, bringing you back downstairs. Carefully you look out the peep hole and see Beomgyu, cursing to yourself before opening the door with the plan to give him an earful. But when the door swings open, his eyes look frantic, and he lets out a sigh, shoulders sagging as if relieved. "Oh thank god," he says, before stepping around you into the house and looking around the room.

"Beomgyu, no. You have to go," you say sternly. He turns to face you and his distressed look is still at play. "I saw- There was someone creeping around out there," he explains excitedly, eyes wide. "They were right on the lawn!”

Panicked, you turn your gaze to the window. Before you know it he's grabbing you, pulling you against his chest. "I was so worried." You can feel his heart hammering against you, no evidence to be suspicious of his story. Your own heart rate picks up, and you almost feel comforted that Beomgyu is here, that someone was looking out for you. "I'll keep you safe. Let me stay, just for tonight."

Taehyun

Taehyun never thought he would stoop to this level, but hey, the tracking program was on sale—it was as if the universe was telling him he was meant to do it. He doesn't know how long he's been awake, staring at his computer screen, at the red dot that represents your phone's location. He did wash a few dishes earlier, but he had intermittently looked over at his phone where the same red dot shone unblinking back at him. It hasn't moved for hours, and he begins to wonder if he's been scammed, if maybe he should have gone for the device that he could attach to your car... Taehyun feels like the little red dot is mocking him, and he almost wants it to move from the square that depicts your house. Antsy and frustrated, he turns on the TV. But even while he distractedly watches some sporting match, he sees red.

Huening Kai

You hear your mother talking as you let yourself in to her house, your childhood home, for one of your weekly dinners together. There were no cars parked on the street, so you figure she's on the phone with one of her friends as she laughs heartily. You can't help but smile at how happy she sounds as you leave your shoes at the door. When you round the corner into the kitchen, the smile dies on your face. Standing there, oven mitts in hand, chuckling along with your mother, is your ex husband. It's as if the last eight months never happened and all is nice and peachy, just another Tuesday night and not the twilight zone.

Huening Kai spots you in the doorway and gives you a smile, your mother turning around looking bubbly and bright. "Here she is! Look who stopped in," she says, as if you haven't noticed the big elephant in the room.

"Why?" you ask with no semblance of friendliness.

She flicks the tea towel your way as if scolding you, looking simply incredulous. "Be nice to our guest! He brought dessert."

You feel like you're being pranked. She's always been on your side of things, though she would never speak badly of her ex son-in-law, and suddenly she's wrapped around his little finger? Have you missed something, you wonder.

The oven dings and the two exchange excited looks, seemingly ignoring your presence. Kai slips his hands into the mitts and opens the door, retrieving a sweet smelling pie. Your mother claps her hands, childlike, and moves off to find cutlery. Surely you must be dreaming, because this is too much. Kai holds the dessert out for you to see, smiling down at you with bright innocent eyes, tilting his head the way he used to when he addressed you. "Would you like to taste, honey?"

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | twenty one. (final)

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.4k

—chapter content/warnings: not much, really just wrapping everything up mainly for these three, some crying, overwhelming feelings of nostalgia and missing someone, two cute flashback scenes

☁︎ on rotation: magic hour - jhene aiko

—a/n: thank you again for coming along on this journey <33 i appreciate you, and the support always means so, so much to me 🩵 i'll be back with chan's fic soon. 🥰

As the days go by, you find yourself feeling better in your own skin than you were a year ago. Despite the troubles you had endured, you feel like you're finally where you need to be. Things feel settled, time seems to be moving slower, your relationships traversing on calm waters. Because the flower shop had been booming with more customers and clients, Mrs. Pak made you lead florist while she hired another part-timer, Bora, who helped in between her classes. You're mainly at the shop, preparing pre-ordered bouquets and setting some aside for grabs at the store; while the other half of your time is now spent traveling to venues to set up for special events. You've greatly appreciated the bump in responsibilities, enjoying that most of your time is spent doing what you love. During nights or weekends that you are free, you occasionally head to the pottery studio to continue creating pieces to add to your collection or sell.

As for Minho, the time felt like it did you well. But in a sense where you were able to say your peace to the past, where you were able to process the highs and the lows in that chapter with Minho. Though things changed the trajectory of everything, Minho has never left your side. He continued to create enough distance until you were ready to bring him closer, always ready to support you in any way that he could. But, there was never any pressure to be more, to be less. Minho let you be and that's because he loved you;

And he loved you enough to let you go.

Loved you enough to let you properly conquer this world without him holding you back.

In the end, you will always love Minho, but you're realizing that loving him as who you are now, as where you are now, as his bestfriend, will always be more than enough. So you let it sit the way it is now, afraid to force something that wasn't meant for the next chapter of your life.

In the end, you will have Minho the way the universe allows you to, and vice versa. 

In the end, you'd rather have a part of him than lose him at all. 

"Hey." You pick up the call, gathering some last minute items and tossing them into your bag.

"Hey, I'm out front." Minho says on the other line while he shuffles around in his car.

"Okay, I'll be right there."

"Take your time." You purse your lips together before ending the call. You run your chapstick across your lips once more before grabbing your bag and heading out of the door. You walk through the side door seeing Minho relaxing in the driver's seat— scrolling through his phone. Since it's been a good amount of time, your stomach no longer drops when you see him, heart no longer feels like it's beating out of your chest, palms no longer wet and sweaty from anxiety. 

And it feels nice. 

Refreshing.

Peaceful.

"Hey." He says, turning to you as soon as you swing the door open and settle into the passenger's seat. You give him a tiny smile before buckling in your seatbelt. "All good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Is it too warm?" Minho adjusts the heat slightly.

"No, it's good. It's perfect." He nods, driving off to your childhood neighborhood. "Cafe is okay? Surprised you were able to run off." 

"Mhm. Yeah well, JJ's got it, plus we hired another person to help out. It's been pretty smooth lately."

"That's good. Then, you're able to do more for your dance group and the studio, right? Just like you wanted?" He nods.

"Yeah, I am. We're finishing up for our competition next weekend."

"I'm glad you have more time for that now. I'm sure it'll go great."

"How's the shop and Mrs. Pak? Still busy, I'm assuming?" You sigh and let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, it's booming lately. But, Bora's been a lot of help when I can't be around so I'm grateful for her. I was just afraid of Mrs. Pak having to handle a lot on her own again."

"I'm sure she appreciates everything you do for her and the shop." You nod.

"I have to travel next weekend. The client that hired us for the event is about 2 hours away."

"You'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay. I know I can call you guys if anything comes up."

"Okay." He looks at you, content with your answer. And when Minho looks at you, he still sees love, feels love. 

He always will. 

But, he's also gotten to understand what it truly means to put you first, to put your needs above his own, to be your bestfriend. For a moment, he felt lost when you distanced yourself; no longer by his side like you used to be. He wondered how he could salvage everything and fix the problems overnight to bring you close again. He wondered what he could do differently this time, wondered how he should act, how he should talk, how he could paint himself in a different picture. He felt exhausted from trying to control every single aspect of life, micromanaging every little detail he could. 

Then, he realized the answer was in front of him this entire time. He realized how much he was holding you back when you started to smile more, when you started to laugh and move with grace more comfortably; dancing along with the wind, while your eyes held more life than they used to. He realized you needed to shape your own life outside of him, outside of Jisung and your friends, outside of Uncle Adrian.

Create your own version of the greenest grass, the bluest skies, the starriest nights.

This is the unconditional love you needed, even if it was from a distance.

As he continues to drive, he peeks over from time to time, watching as you keep your eyes glued to the surroundings as it passes by. He can't really tell if things are starting to feel familiar, or if you are trying to dig deep within yourself to find that familiar feeling. Overall, you seem to be content, and you don't seem to be regretting your decision of asking Minho to take you here.

When Minho finally drives down a familiar street, he slows his speed a bit; pointing towards certain places while telling you as much as he remembers from his own memory. Although Minho wasn't a part of your life during this point of your childhood, you and Jisung used to take him to this neighborhood pretty often— bringing you to the convenience store you always hung out at, the grocery store your families frequented, the park that had the monkey bars you and Jisung used to fight over. Even though he wasn't there, he felt included. Always.

"You guys took me here quite a few times." Minho points at the convenience store. "We'd go in there and spend our spare change because they had $1 surprise gifts." Minho chuckles a bit. "We'd get a range of things, like random sticker books. Bracelets. Keychains. You even got lucky once and got your favorite pink pencil case out of that." You giggle.

"I still have that sitting on my desk." He nods.

"Yup. We'd spend so much visiting there. They always had our favorite snacks. Sometimes, there would be a hotteok cart nearby. It stopped coming after awhile though." He turns down a road that leads into a residential area. Most of the houses were designed similarly, probably having the same layouts and just enough rooms for families to live comfortably. It's a quiet street, barely any kids playing out front or around on the block. Minho parks his car along the curb, pointing at the park that's a bit of a walk down a path into the middle of the area. "Wanna talk a walk to the park with me?" He looks at you as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Sure." He gives you a small smile before heading out of the car, finding his place next to you as you stand and breathe in the crisp fresh air. He digs his hands into his jacket pockets, careful to not walk too quickly. You finally catch wind of a few kids playing around at the park while their parents hang around. Minho chuckles a bit when he hears a child screaming and laughing while their father spins them around on the roundabout; pleading for their dad to go faster.

"Jisungie hated that thing. Even when we'd come here in high school."

"Let me guess, he almost fell off of it." 

"Yup." He lets out a breath. "Anyway, you and Jisung grew up at this park. When we came here all together, we'd play around on the monkey bars and wait for the ice cream truck to come. That ice cream truck sold the specific brand of strawberry shortcake ice cream you loved so much. You refused to buy anything else."

"You know, now that you mention it, I haven't had that in awhile." You giggle and kick at the leaves beneath your feet, eyes now darting to the kids chasing each other around the park.

"You loved that ice cream." He walks over to the tree on the opposite side. "We used to play the dumbest games here, like tag. Hopping from bridge to bridge, trying not to step on the ground or else we'd be out." You laugh.

"Everything sounded so fun."

"And chaotic." You watch as he looks at the tree bark, running his fingers across the surface before calling you to his side. "Come look at this."

"Hm?" You hum, walking around to stand next to him. You let out a small gasp seeing your names carved messily onto the bark, the 'o' shape on your mouth slowly forming into a tiny smile. "This was in high school?"

"Yup. We spent a lot of good times here." You look at him. "Ready to walk to your house? It's just down this way." He points towards the ongoing path behind him.

"Mhm." You nod. 

The walk is quiet, but it's a comfortable silence that falls between you and Minho. It's quick anyways, especially being that you thoroughly enjoy taking in the fresh air while observing your surroundings. You can hear the birds chirping amongst the trees that line the pathway, the dirt beneath your feet with every step. You follow Minho as he turns down the corner and stops, pointing at a dark brown, ranch-style family home. It's not small, but not the biggest; obvious that the maintenance wasn't a high priority over the years, the paint chipping off in certain areas.

"That's it." You stand and stare, taking in the small, quaint house sitting by itself— a good distance separating it from the next house over. 

"Hm." You hum. "It does feel like home." You say, unable to explain the huge wave of nostalgia that suddenly overcame your senses. "I can't put my finger on it, but it certainly feels like home." Minho nods. "I can't believe we were here. This is where I grew up."

"Yeah."

"Wish I could remember it." At this point, an elderly lady comes out— walking onto the small porch with her cane. She notices you two and gently smiles, heading towards the flowers planted along the walkway into the house.

"I don't usually see pretty faces like yours come around. Are you from here?" She asks with a sweet smile, tending to her growing rose bush.

"I, um, grew up in this home when I was really young. I just wanted to come by and see it. I hope you don't mind that we're standing here looking at the house." She chuckles.

"Nonsense. My son bought this house but eventually moved out of the country, then had us move in here."

"That's nice."

"Does it look the same as you remember it?" Minho looks at you, but before he could intervene, you respond simply with a :

"I think so. Feels like it."

"I'm glad." She looks at her door then back at you two. "Do you, maybe, wanna come in?" You shake your head, afraid of it being too overwhelming, too much. Especially for someone like you, who is still learning life and the world.

"Oh, no. Thank you, though. We're going to leave soon. Seeing it from here is enough."

"You sure?" Minho asks quietly. You look at him and nod.

"Okay, sweetheart. If you ever change your mind, please knock. My husband and I are just around in the house."

"Thank you." You give her a small, curt bow before turning to Minho. "Let's go."

"Okay." Is all he says before following you down the path, creating enough distance between you and the house before chiming in again. "You sure you don’t wanna go in, Y/N?"

"Mhm. I'm just afraid it'll be too overwhelming for me, and I won't even know why. I'll have nothing to compare the feeling to.” You pause. “I promise. I'm okay seeing it that way. I think—" You sigh. "I think that feeling of seeing it and having it feel like home is enough. I don't want anything else to take over that."

"Okay." He pops his arm out for you to take and hold onto it. "That sounds good to me. We can make our way to the cemetery at a good time."

"Thanks, Minho."

"Course." The two of you continue to the car, laughing and smiling at the kids that are still playing in the park. You plop into the passenger's seat and buckle your seatbelt, rubbing your hands together to get rid of the morning cold. Minho checks on the flowers in the backseat, making sure they're still sitting prettily before hopping into the driver's seat.

"Good?" You nod. "Ready to go see your mom?"

"I am."

"Mmkay." Is all Minho responds with before pulling away from the curb. The cemetery is close to an hour drive in the opposite direction, and Minho makes sure you're comfortable for the ride over. He keeps it rather lowkey, playing soft music in the background while keeping the heat on. He doesn't really try to make small conversation not only because he's not much of a person for it, but because he can also tell your mind is already occupied. He does ask you from time to time if you're hungry and if you'd like to eat first, but you respond with a soft 'no;' reassuring him that all is well through a smile before leaning your head against the window.

Uncle Adrian was caught up at work, but he lets you know he'll meet you at the cemetery as soon as he's able to slip away and pack it up for the day, telling you to take your time and sit with her for as long as you'd like. You aren't really sure what you're gonna do when you get there though, to be honest. You're not even sure how long you plan to stick around. But, thankfully, Minho doesn't mind. He knows you need this right now, and he'll do whatever he can to help ease this.

To ease the transition in closing this chapter, in moving forward.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | EARLY COLLEGE

Minho is woken up in the middle of the night when he hears you giving off small whimpers. You're still snuggled against him, enveloped in his arms; though, he feels you twitch every now and then. He looks down at you, brushing the hair away from your face when he realizes you're still asleep and probably having a bad dream.

"Y/N." He says softly with a gentle shake at the shoulder. "Baby." He says a bit louder when you don't budge. He's a little bit rougher with his shake, finally getting you to slowly pry an eye open before the other follows suit.

"Hm?" You sleepily ask, rubbing at your face.

"You were having a bad dream."

"No."

"No?"

"My mom visited me in my dream. I was crying for her."

"I'm sorry, love."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"Do you remember if she said anything to you?" You nod and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly as you recall the best parts of your dream. Although it was a happy, beautiful dream, you found yourself tearing up at the thought of how angelic and peaceful your mom looked. At least, you could confirm that she was okay and that she was happy— wherever she was at.

"Mhm. She said she missed me, and that she was really happy to see me. She said she thinks about me all the time and that she's always by my side no matter what." You sniffle. Minho lifts your chin with his finger, wiping away at the tears that manage to slip down your bottom lid and down your cheeks. 

"I'm glad she visited you."

"I am, too." You begin to cry a bit harder as reality hits you, the thought of not actually being able to physically hug your mom feeling incredibly painful tonight. "I miss her so much, Min. I wish I could hug her."

"I know you do, baby. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I just got scared. I wish I could do more to help."

"No, it's okay. Just really miss her. But I'm glad she seems to be happy."

"And I'm sure she's very happy because she can see you doing well and being so strong."

"I hope so."

"I know so." Minho gives off a tiny chuckle before pulling you close and hugging you tightly. "Let's get back to sleep, yeah? We've got a couple of more hours before we need to be up."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." You whisper against his chest, shutting your eyes in hopes of finding sleep again.

☁︎ END

It's a bit past lunch time when you arrive at the cemetery, and you still don't feel hungry. You do feel nervous for whatever reason, somewhat anxious, even. Minho parks in a free space, shutting off the car while letting out a breath.

"You okay?" He looks at you while you stare out of the window. All you can do is look at him and nod once more before unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of the car. You grab the bouquet of flowers from the back seat, hoping to rearrange them at her grave. Minho takes lead down the grassy field, stopping a few feet away from the car. He stands above a grave, looking down at the flat headstone before laying down a blanket and turning to you. You slowly approach him, letting him throw an arm around you and give it a soft squeeze.

"It's her." Is all he hears you say before you kneel to the ground and place the flowers down. It takes a moment before you register what's happening, before you realize that you're finally meeting her after all this time. 

Again.

You take another moment just to observe, to sit and be still. Then, you look at her picture, and you just cry. You cry, and cry. Because you miss her, because all you feel is overwhelming love for her.

You shakily run your finger down the picture, her smile so beautiful, so calming.

So peaceful.

You wish you could hug her tightly.

"I wish I could hug her." You say softly, and Minho can't help but gently rub your back to help ease your crying. Though, it's nice to know that you aren't alone, and you know you never will be. You do believe that your mom has been here with you, never leaving your side— especially throughout everything that's happened.

"We can stay here for as long as you need to." Minho adds. You quietly begin to arrange her flowers, Minho sitting back after he's added the bowl of oranges to the headstone. He watches as you delicately fix each stem, each flower, helping them stand tall and long. 

"Do they look okay?"

"They're beautiful." You give him a small smile.

"Mrs. Pak just got these in a couple of days ago. The baby blue Baby's Breath? They're so pretty."

"They are." 

"I hope she likes them."

"I'm sure she does." You sit back contently, hands falling to your lap. 

"Minho, I really wish I could remember the moments I've had with her. I think that's been the most upsetting part about everything. Not remembering the times I've had with my mom. Cause I can't get those back, and I can't necessarily make new ones with her."

"I'm sorry, I know. But, I know Uncle Adrian would be more than happy to walk down memory lane with you whenever you're ready. And I know she'd be happy to see you making new ones with him. She's with you everywhere you go, and she's in everything you do. You know that, right?"

"Mm, yeah. I just.. I don't know. I wish I could have a pass to go back in time to talk to her, or see her in my dreams." You sigh. "At least I can talk to her here, though. I hope she hears me."

"She does." Minho responds softly, watching as you stare at your mom's photo. He doesn't interrupt, gives you a moment to let your thoughts be.

To let you hold space. For you, for your mom.

And it's like this for awhile. Minho doesn't mind, especially since the weather has cleared up a bit and gotten warmer.

"Yo!" Jisung suddenly comes up the path, hands dug deep into his jacket. "Sorry I'm a bit late, I got caught up with some work stuff even though I told them I was taking off early today." He lets out a sigh as he sits next to you on the blanket. "You guys okay?"

"Mm yeah. I think so." You murmur.

"You sure, cielo?"

"Mhm. I just miss her, is all." Jisung pulls you into a hug and rubs at your arm while looking down at her headstone.

"Whenever we went on trips, your mom would always buy me bags of my favorite gummies. She'd always take us to get ice cream, or to the local convenience store to buy whatever snacks we wanted. Sometimes, she'd sit outside with us just to get some air and people watch." Jisung chuckles. "Your mom was really like my second mom. She was the nicest person. Always smiling. Kinda like you, I guess?" You laugh.

"Wow, you guess?" He shrugs. 

"Twins, for real." Jisung continues to tell you stories about the trips your families have taken together— how she would never let you two be unhappy, always willing to take you two to the places you wanted to visit even if everyone else was tired. She'd patiently wait for you two to finish playing, swimming, whatever it was— as long as you two were happy.

Then, the three of you find yourselves sitting quietly in front of her grave, looking out at the hills beyond it. The sky is bright and blue with no clouds in sight, weather warm with a very gentle breeze. The trees around you are full, showing off their healthy green leaves.

You sit, you breathe, you feel.

You turn to Jisung who is quietly dusting off your mom's grave, picking at the old, tiny, brown leaves that have accumulated in the corner. A small smile grows at your lips when you notice how focused he is on the small, tiny details; finger tracing the edges of the flat headstone. Then, you turn to Minho, who quietly sits by your side, looking out at the distant city view ahead. He suddenly meets your gaze, a smile growing at the corners of his lips. He pulls you into his arm, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

No words being exchanged, no words needed to be said. 

Nothing.

You've come to know what the blue side of the sky truly means, what it truly feels like. Because there is so much pain, anguish, hurt in this world, so many grey skies and loud, aggressive storms. 

But not in this moment.

In this moment, there is only happiness, comfort, peace. Blue skies and warmth. 

In this moment, there is only love.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | EARLY CHILDHOOD

"Y/N." Your mom says as she holds your hand as you attempt to walk in a straight line on the curb. You giggle when you almost lose balance, your grip around her fingers tightening as you regain it. "Y/N love, are you listening to mommy?"

"I am, I am." You giggle and look up at her, flashing her that million-watt smile she adores.

"Okay, good. I just want you to listen to me for a second."

"Okay, mommy."

"You know, the world isn't a scary place, but it isn't perfect either, love." You continue to walk silently along the curb, listening to your mom. "You know mommy is always doing her best to raise you well, right?"

"Mhm, mhm!"

"I don't want you to grow up fearing new places, new adventures, new people. But, I also want you to protect yourself and save yourself for those that really deserve you. Every bit of you. Okay? I'm trying my hardest to raise you to be brave and strong, and I know you will be. But sometimes, you can't be. And that's okay. That's why it's so important to have good people around you. Good friends. People that care about you and love you no matter what. Always surround yourself with love."

"I have friends." You smile at her and she smiles back. "Like Jisungie."

"I know. And Jisungie is a perfect example of a good friend who will never leave your side. But sometimes, Jisungie might not always be there. What are you going to do?"

"Be strong! Because I am strong!" She laughs when you raise your arms to show off your muscles.

"Right, be strong. You're my brave girl. You will always be my brave and strong girl. Life may not always be that kind to you, but I know you'll be able to overcome anything. You deserve the very best, always. Never let yourself believe otherwise."

"Is it because I'm like you, mommy?"

"Yes." She giggles. "Yes it is. You're just like me." She scoops you into her arms before planting a kiss on your cheek and pointing upwards. "You know, if you ever have bad days, or if you ever need a reminder. Just look up at the blue sky." She pauses and taps the tip of your nose. "Because no matter what, that blue sky will always come back after the rain. It'll never let those grey skies completely take over no matter how hard the rain comes down. It will always come back and be there for you."

☁︎ END

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintificreads @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie @reiheis @mellowmentalitydragon @vixensss

[dbnightingale24]

You Didn't Have To Say Yes...

A Pete Brenner Love Story

~~

My first Patreon story!! I decided that Pete needs a love story, cause I feel like he gets shit on a lot. He's not a bad guy, he just has some...bad habits.

Thank you to everyone for your patience (once again), and I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for my amazing moldboard! I love it and I love you! I wrote this in a week (I don't know what's going on with my brain as of late), and I'm really excited for it!

Word Count: 49,380

Warnings: Pete Brenner, Smut, MINORS DNI 18+, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Smoking, Drug Use, Angst, Self Hate, Semi-Public Sex (fingering), Open Marriage (Toxic Relationship), Abuse, Fluff, Family Drama, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abortion ...I think that's it? I'm pretty sure I covered all the bases...yeah

Songs That Inspired This Chapter: If You're Feeling Down, I Just Wanna Make You Happier Baby

Summary: Pete Brenner is perfectly fine with everyone continuing he's a selfish piece of shit. That is, until you walked into his life, and turned everything upside down.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

“C’mon, give me a smile,” Pete beams, his words tailing a slight slur as you make someone else’s Manhattan.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Brenner,” you giggle dismissively, flipping your hair and shaking up the cocktail mixer.

“I wonder how much sweeter my name would sound if you were underneath me,” he grins and lifts his eyes at you. You ignore the heat in the pit of your stomach, not wanting to surrender to his smarmy charm.

Pete Brenner doesn’t give up easily, you’ll give him that. 

“I’m sure your wife is happy that you’re always here, trying to bring me home instead of spending time with her,” you nod with a glance towards his left hand. A waitress comes over, picking up the next round of drinks.

“I’ve told ya, she has her fun and I have mine.”

“Cause that’s what every woman loves to hear. Woo me even more, Brenner,” you laugh, turning around and getting started on the next drink.

“Your ass looks amazing in those shorts.”

You laugh as you call over your shoulder, “I’m ordering you a cab.”

“I can take myself,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh. You know he’s pulling out his wallet, frustrated that you’re not leaving with him again.

“We go through the same motions every time, Pete. I don’t want you driving home drunk.”

“You refuse to sleep with me, but you care about my well being? I think you’re finally startin’ to warm up to me.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Pete. Find a new dream to chase. You know the drill, the cab will be here in ten.”

Pete Brenner came stumbling into your life about a year and a half ago, and he’s been a character since day one. He was down on his luck, drinking until he could barely stand, refusing help from anyone, always ending with the same mantra every night:

“I’ve made this fucking far on my own, I can make it to my own fucking house!”

No matter how much you pushed, he wouldn’t accept help from you. He always refused service from everyone except you. At first he didn’t say anything, he just watched you and let his eyes roam over your body. He never said out loud that he wanted you, but he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it either. He was so obvious he never needed to say it explicitly. The glint of his gold wedding band always caught your attention under the sparkling lights of the nightclub, but seeing as he spent every night there until closing, you didn’t think it made much of a difference.

Until one night, eight months ago.

“There she is! My favorite girl!” he beamed, a cocky smile cemented on his lips.

The woman sauntering next to him didn’t seem to think too highly of the nickname he called you. 

“I’ll take a bourbon, and this sweet little thing next to me will have a Strawberry Daiquiri,” he told you, though his eyes never left your chest.

“Oh? Wedding anniversary?” you half smiled as you tried to put on your workplace happy face even though you mentally thought to yourself ‘he can’t be that sleazy to bring her to this dump on their wedding anniversary.’

“Got a new job, sweetheart,” he smirked. You didn’t miss the mischievous shine in his eyes in the club’s half light.

He was a bold mother fucker to bring his wife along just to flirt with you in plain view of her. Not many men had that much audacity when it came to you. 

“I’m Y/N,” you offered with a smile.

You genuinely pitied the woman.

“Tina,” she responded with a plastic smile.

Big boobs, micro-waist, big fake blonde hair, and Pete had ordered her a strawberry daiquiri. She fit the description of most “Tina’s” that came into the club. However, the large rock on her ring finger was nothing to scoff at.

“Oh, don’t pout, honey,” Pete taunted her. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to get a brand new important job and show you off? That’s what you’ve been bitchin about for months, isn’t it? So smile, would ya? You got ya wish.”

Someone was feeling prickly that night.

“First round of drinks are on the house. Congrats, Pete,” you smiled as you set both drinks down.

“Keep ‘em comin’, sweetheart,” he winked at you, handing you a hundred.

While it may have not been anything new to you (Pete always tipped generously), Tina’s eyes went wide and you didn’t miss the way her cheeks burned and blushed with anger.

You wanted to stay as far away from them as the night allowed.

You happily took shots with some of your regulars as the night went on and evened out. Your friends started showing up for their shifts, which helped your sour mood from earlier in the day (even though your ex-fiancee showed up outside of your apartment to harass you yet again). The more you drank, the more you started to dance along with the music; which meant Pete couldn’t keep his gaze off you.

“Why are you single?” Pete asked once his wife got up to go to the bathroom.

“You don’t strike me as the cruel type, Mr. Brenner,” you grinned as you made him another drink.

“Curiosity doesn’t equate to cruelty.”“You’re still here with your wife.”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’d you bring her tonight?”

“You heard me, this is what she wanted,” he cynically scoffed.

“They’re a lot nicer clubs than this one.”

“Can’t all be that nice if you don’t work there, sweetie.”

You both looked at each other for a moment before you heard, “Darlin’!” coming from the other end of the bar.

“Comin’ Charlie,” you laughed, breaking the stare with him, and shook your head. You used the bar to push yourself off away, down to it’s other end while Pete sipped the last of his remaining drink.

You didn’t need glasses to see that Pete Brenner was an attractive man, and he was important...well, he did his best to imply his importance (as if it would get him far with you). You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about going a few rounds with him in the bedroom, but you didn’t sleep with married men. 

No matter how hard they tried, you had a set of both personal and professional rules that you abided by.

For the rest of the night, you stayed away from Pete and his wife unless they needed a refill. It was almost as if Tina was trying to make him regret his choice of celebration because she was throwing back her drinks like they were water. The night went smoothly enough, nevertheless, until you went outside for a smoke break.

“You should really quit those things,” came the voice of the last man you wanted to see or hear from.

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I come in peace, Sweet Thing,” he laughed, putting his hands up.

You’d always hated the nickname.

“Didn’t get enough arguing this morning? What else could you possibly have to say?” you questioned while you exhaled your frustration.

“You know you miss me, baby.”

“I miss the peace I had in my life before I met you.”

“You’re still working at this dump?”

“I have bills to pay.”

“You know I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”“Don’t want it. Nor do I want anything from you,” you snapped with a growl.

“Yet you drove yourself here in the car I bought for you,” he sneered, nodding in the direction of where the car was parked.

“Take the fucking car back then, Mark. If it means you’ll leave me the fuck alone, take back every single thing you ever gave me.”

Snickering, he made his way to you and grabbed your arm saying,“don’t be bitter when I know just how sweet you’re capable of being.”

With a scoff, you threw down your cigarette and bludgeoned it, “fuck this.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Enough with the goddamn attitude, Sweet Thing-”

“Let me go!”

“You’re coming with me-”

“Let her go!” you heard Pete yell as he quickly made his way over to you, leaving his wife to stumble to their car all alone.

She looked slack jawed from Pete to you, before her stare turned venomous and settled on you. It’s just what you needed on top of everything else; his prized Barbie play-toy thinking you were fucking her husband. 

Great.

~~

Read the rest of the story here

[bg3-bitching]

Re the same 2 conversations happening over and over, I want to submit another recurring theme that comes up so frequently it’s nearly impossible to avoid: the idea that an “imperfect survivor” like Astarion really needs compassion and patience from others—except in the context of this game, this innocuous-on-its-own idea is overwhelmingly framed as “therefore a good person would stick with Astarion through his cruelty and sexual manipulations because he needs to be cruel and sexually manipulate you in order to feel safe, but give him time and he’ll get better!” And anyone who expresses basic dislike for Astarion’s early behavior is told “but stick with him and he has the best development” at best, and at worst, “you must hate stories of survivors who aren’t ‘perfect.’” Where to begin with the conflations and assumptions? As though it’s impossible to be a survivor or care about survivors and not love this cruel, manipulative, abusive character. As though it is never valid for anyone worthy of respect to find Astarion’s early behavior a dealbreaker. As though finding Astarion’s actual cruelty and sexual manipulations too high a price to pay for whatever development he has later is a sign of an inferior moral character in real life. And don’t get me started on the tendency to call holding Astarion accountable for his cruel words and actions “victim-blaming.” In a word, yikes?

Which brings me to another point about this character being less than groundbreaking: “you owe it to a cruel man to stay with him and endure him treating you badly because he’s only cruel as a result of his past suffering and he will get better through your love” is not a new message at ALL. Especially not to women. And while I will give it to the game that this wasn’t necessarily intended in the writing, too often this is exactly what a lot of the gushing about Astarion’s character falls into and regurgitates. It can be a bad time to run into that over and over again, especially combined with other characters being vilified in comparison with Astarion. It can feel as though the efforts to drive home that “you never owe someone who is cruel to you a relationship, it is not your moral obligation to fix them through your love, you are not a bad or unkind person for leaving to protect yourself” is being directly combatted. Even though I know it’s just a game, when the rhetoric about “why Astarion matters so much” takes this form, it can feel really hostile. Rather than expanding awareness and empathy for all survivors, it often feels like another game of “this cruel white man’s pain matters more than other people’s safety.”

(Disclaimer about “not every Astarion fan says these things, just enough to be a disturbing pattern and impact one’s experience in general fan spaces,” etc.)

I have a response to this, but I'm gonna do a separate reblog for it.

This ask by itself needs to stand alone and be seen.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Did anyone do the character ask game for Price?

Ha, Anon, I didn't. I had a few sporadic individual ones. I think people went: ahh, he's a Price guy, someone else will ask the Price guy about Price. But no. No.

Favourite thing about him

His disregard for bullshit rules. His frustration with the bureaucracy in the way of achieving just goals. I think he has a strong sense of justice (dictated by his own moral compass), and perceived injustice cannot stand. If you slight him, or the people he cares for, he's coming for you, and nothing on this earth or the next will save you from him. We share the frustration and the strong sense of justice in common. Mine gets me in trouble a lot, because I will absolutely tell people when I think they're being cunts or what they're asking me to do isn't right. I've landed on my feet most times, but not always. So, I guess I can relate.

What else? He's an overachiever and I love exploring where that drive comes from. I think I project a lot in coming up with the cause; disappointing your parents by being queer, so you work yourself down to the bone to prove yourself worthy of a love that will only destroy you in the end, because it's conditional on your soul bending in a way it's not meant to.

I love his fiery temper. Love it when he snarls and snaps. He's not the emotionless commander, blank slate protagonist who is perfect so we can project ourselves onto him thoughtlessly. Kind of linked to the rest of him: asymmetrical face, thinning hair at the crown, receding hairline, scruffy facial hair, strong build but not Hollywood ripped. He's an every man; flaws, freckles, n' everything in between.

Least favourite thing about him

He's intelligent and manipulative. He finds the broken boys, he tells them they can make a difference and all they've got to do is what he says, he puts the gun in their hands, points and gives the kill order. I think Price cares for them in his own way, but I also think he knows when someone is vulnerable to his particular brand of maverick justice. Price knows he inspires loyalty and devotion to an almost unhealthy degree, and he uses that to his advantage.

I say "least", again, but I think it makes him interesting. I think Soap throwing himself between him and a bullet would have profoundly affected him. Soap throwing his life away for Price - not the mission, for Price - was never part of the plan.

Favourite line(s):

"Haha, you think of ev'ryfin'."

"Ahh, sing it a lullaby, we gotta go!"

"Let's get evil."

"We fight not so that the world will remember us, but so that there will be a world to remember."

"This is for Soap."

Basically every time he opens his mouth, to be honest.

BrOTP

Price & Laswell; gay-lesbian solidarity. Price & Farah is also sweet.

OTP

Nik/Price, now and forever. Ghost/Price a very close second.

NOTP

Price/abuse. So, Makarov, Shepherd. Anyone who's gonna hurt him. Can't do it.

Random headcanon

I mean... I'm constantly writing them. But the one that comes up now and then is his accent. I think he trained himself out of it at Sandhurst because he wanted to be taken seriously. There's still a lot of snobbery in the British military at that level. Scouser Price is still very fun to write.

Unpopular opinion

That man has absolutely internalised a truckload of toxic masculinity that he needs to work through to heal.

Song I associate with them

Favour picture of him

Every artist that draws Price ever. But also...

QUOKKA PRICE!