#like. when i'm dreaming i'll be in a place and in my dream i'll recognize it as a specific place that i've been to in real life

[lucy-sky]

Homecoming (Grady Travis)

Bernthirst Movie Madness by @bernthirst-events

Wednesday: Second Chance

Well shit, my friends, looks like it's fanfiction. Yes, I didn't expect it either. I haven't written anything since December 2023, so I'll admit - this drabble or whatever it is probably sucks xD I don't think I've ever felt this rusty, it's like I forgot how to express my thoughts in words... Well, in English words in particular. The struggle is real. Posting it is also a struggle because I'm a perfectionist, but let it be.

I haven't rewatched Fury before writing, so Grady might not be quite in character.

713 words; AO3 link

The way home was long, but it has finally reached its finish line. Looking out of the window, he already recognizes the landscape - the outskirts of his little hometown. It feels strange to be here - everything is so familiar, but at the same time it's like images from another life, as it was ages ago. 

Home… something every soldier is dreaming about… It’s so close now, and Grady can hardly believe it's happening. And even though his heart is fluttering with joy and anticipation, he feels slightly anxious at the same time. He's got so used to the soldier's life, darkness and crampedness of the heavy war machine that became his home, blood, sweat and dirt, and death too - at war it's inevitable. It's becoming your routine. He's got so used to it he's not sure he remembers how to live a peaceful life again. The war is over, but it still stays within him. 

He's trying to shake off this feeling of uncertainty. He's here, he's alive after all. Free to move on, to build something new. No one says it’s going to be easy, but isn't it what they all have been fighting for? 

The train arrives at the station and he grabs his backpack. An older man who’s walking past him towards the exit pats him on the shoulder and thanks him for his service. Grady nods and mutters something under his breath - he's still unsure how to react to this. He doesn't feel like he's a hero or something. He's just one of the many. No better than any of his comrades in arms, those who survived and those who didn't.

The homecoming is bittersweet.

He steps out of the train and takes a moment to look around. Seems like nothing has changed since the day he left. His town has always been like that, stuck in time.

And then he sees her. 

He sees her, and his heart skips a beat because she looks like a dream, like a mirage in a desert - a blink and she’ll be gone. She’s wearing that yellow dress, the one that makes her look so bright and shiny, the one he used to imagine her in every time he thought of her.

Back then, in another lifetime, he was way too young and dumb. She wanted to get married, start a family, and he… Well, he simply refused to take their relationship on a more serious level. They had a fight. A really bad one. He acted like a jerk, now he admits that.

One of the things Grady regretted the most is that he didn’t say a proper goodbye to her. He thinks he saw her at the station the day he was leaving. A bright yellow spot in the crowd of mothers, sisters, wives. Or maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him.

What kind of freedom was he afraid to lose? Ridiculous. She’s clearly the best thing that happened to him. Back then he didn’t understand it, and now it might be too late… Or not? Because if it’s too late, then what is she doing here? There's no doubt that she is looking for someone, anxiously biting her lips, fingers fumbling with a little silver pendant she got from her grandma - something she always does when she is nervous. 

When she catches his glance, she freezes in place.

She just stands there as he’s making his way to her, as if she’s also afraid he’d vanish into thin air the second she looks away. 

“Hey, sunshine.”

Grady’s voice comes out hoarse. He’s got so many things to tell her, to confess, but his throat gets dry and he’s lost for words completely.

And then she suddenly hugs him. No, she practically throws herself into his arms with so much desperation, longing and relief it almost kicks the air out of his lungs. He nuzzles into her hair, inhales her scent; he feels her tears on his neck when she’s clinging to him, her heart beating so fast it’s about to jump out of her ribcage.

“I missed you so much, you idiot.”

He chuckles through sudden tears and holds her even closer, promising himself to never ever let her go.

“It’s over, baby. I’m home. I’m home.”

Thank you for reading!

[shotmrmiller]

Multiverse part 3

You sat in a small room on a padded chair, with equipment set up around your arm, chest, and fingertips. A polygraph test. That's what you were being forced to take. And to your chagrin, Ghost is in the room with you and Captain Price.

"Try to relax, yeah?" Price commented. He must've noticed your restless leg.

"I'll do that, shall I? I've done nothing wrong, other than exist and I'm being interrogated. Because that's what this is— an interrogation." You finally turn your attention from Ghost to look at Price, who's sitting at the desk by your side. "Tell me, Captain. Did you get this same treatment when you came back after spending all that time locked up in the gulag?"

His dark eyebrows furrow in confusion. A sigh escapes your bitten lips. That's only in your...world, for lack of a better term. Dimension? Universe?

"I haven't been to the gulag here." Yeah, obviously.

With an impatient wave of the hand that doesn't have cables strapped to it, you mutter, "Let's get on with this circus act, then. Ask your questions."

Ghost steps forward, his arms unfolding as if he's about to speak to you, but Price swiftly intervenes, halting him with a raised hand.

"Alright then. Baseline questions first. Name." Ghost gives away nothing when you say your last name is Riley.

It goes like this for a few, then he switches to the control questions, until finally moving on to the relevant ones.

"How did you get here?" I don't know.

"Do you know why you're here?" No.

He pulls up a photograph. "Recognize him?" Captain MacTavish.

Another photo. "Him?" I don't know.

"What do you mean by that?" If that's Roach, I've never seen his face unmasked.

"You're sure you don't know him?" Unless that man's name is Gary Sanderson, no. I do not know him.

Price acknowledges your response with a nod, then shifts his gaze towards Ghost, whose head slightly tilts forward. Returning his attention to you, he retrieves a final photograph. "What about him?"

As you look at the picture, your eyes begin to well with tears, lip trembling violently. A new fracture reverberated through your tender heart, intensifying the ache in your chest. Yes.

"Who is he?" Price softly asks.

"That's my Simon," your voice broke on the last syllable. It was hard to not use a possessive adjective when the face of your husband was in that picture.

Blinking the tears away, you clear your throat. "Anything else, Captain?"

Price purses his lips under his hefty facial hair and responds, "Just a few more questions."

Once finished, you sat unabashedly staring at Ghost in the tiny room. "I wear Roach's tags alongside yours, in honor. He was with you until the very end, and for that, I couldn't be more grateful."

Ghost is completely silent, but you continue talking anyway. "I've been married to you since a bit after you came home on leave that one time. You know the one."

His eyes are emotionless, blank, as he stares at you. But you know him like the back of your hand. You've got his full attention.

"I accompanied you to your brother's wedding. He married a woman, Beth. She was good for him. They had a baby, your nephew, named Joseph. The love you had for him was one of a kind. I had told you later that evening that I dreamed of the day you'd look at our children like that."

With a shuddery breath, you tell him how none of those matters. Because your husband is dead, and you're stuck here. With his counterpart that hates you.

With a hushed click, the door closes shut behind him as he leaves, yet its resounding noise fills the compact room you're in.

You begin to fidget with the sizeable ring that hangs on a thin necklace beneath your shirt— the metal is warm under your touch as if it had never gone cold in the first place.

As if Simon had never taken it off his finger to go find Makarov.

ah theyre short but hurt. much pain.

taglist: @1mawh0re @sae1kie @darkravenqueen98 @chinuneko @thestartitaness @bowtruckleninja @hawsx3 @uyudunmuyavru @prettyoatmeal @arael-asuka @spencerreidisbae123 @beau-min @lovefks @maliakealoha @kit-williams @clear-your-mind-and-dream @theloneshadow24 @wolfieisacat @littlebunie @bloobewy @kkaaaagt @sadsackssss @hypernovaxx @halobaby @lildemon475 @animarix @just-pure-trash @catatemyslideshow @hayleybarnesx @sasagehoes @thigh-o-saur @youdontknowe @destroyer-of-za-warudo @maxisqq @k4marina @onlineoutcast

[scarletemeterio]

Hello!! Can i request for ekko with an reader who likes to draw him a lot and he finds her Sketches on accident? Thank you!!

Secret Sketches (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: slightly suggestive, like just a tiny little bit

Genre: fluff i guess

Word Count: 1k

Reader has no set pronouns

You loved sharing your art with people, especially with the Firelights' leader, but there was a secret sketchbook no one had ever seen, and you wanted to keep it that way. The fact that it was a secret wasn't a secret, pretty much everyone knew it, but no one dared touch it, mostly out of respect but also out of fear for your reaction.

However, every now and then Ekko insisted on seeing it, filled with curiosity.

"Come on, I'm sure that whatever's in it is amazing," he said.

"It's not that, it's just that it's a private thing, Ekko," you reminded him. "No matter how much you insist, I won't show you," you said, giggling.

"Well, it was worth trying," he messed with your hair and you let out a grumpy grunt.

Your relationship with him was the nicest thing you had, and even though you always teased and even flirted with one another, you didn't want to mess things. Things were good, there was no reason to change them. Nothing had actually ever happened between the two of you, but the tension was there all the time. With everything going on in Zaun, you both had other things to worry about.

Still, it was nice to dream sometimes. Nice to dream about you lying on his arms at night, legs wrapped around each other while he played with your hair. Or nice to dream about the mundane things, like cooking together and giving each other massages at the end of a long and tiring day.

Sometimes you shared small moments of peace. This was one of them, both of you in his office just talking about whatever, forgetting about all the horrible things for a while. You enjoyed being with him while he worked, not needing to fill the silence every single time and just took pleasure in his company. It was a good deal too, he worked on whatever it was that got his attention lately, and you could draw in peace. Draw him, specifically. Occasionally, Ekko would ask you what you were working on, but you simply brushed him off.

It was late now, every one else was asleep, but you two were still up, and it was beginning to get a bit chilly.

"I think I'm gonna go find a jacket or something," you told him. "I'll be back in a minute, don't set the place on fire," you teased.

"No promises."

He decided to clean up his desk a bit while you were gone because it was a mess, and in doing so he accidentally spilled some water when he hit a glass. Panic filled him quickly, because some of the water had reached your sketchbook. He grabbed it so it wouldn't keep getting wet and in doing so, some sheets of paper fell to the ground. The boy cursed himself for making such a mess in a matter of seconds and went to pick up the papers. Once he actually saw what he was holding, he paused. It was him in different settings, different angles but always him. He should've stopped himself but couldn't fight his curiosity and actually opened the book, seeing that every single page was filled with his features. Before he could continue going through it, you came back and you saw him.

"What the hell are you doing with that?" You instantly recognized your sketchbook and soon had a mix of emotions inside of you, anger and fear being the most prominent ones.

"I'm sorry I- It was an accident."

"How could going through my private things be an accident?"

"I spilled some water and then some sheets fell on the floor and I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself," he blabbered. The silence was awkward for the first time between you two until he broke it again. "Why me?"

You immediately knew what he was talking about, and there was no way you could evade the question or lie to him. "Ekko...," you said and looked at him. "Please, I don't want to embarrass myself again."

It was like you'd said everything without actually saying anything at all. He knew, and you knew he knew, and there was no going back now.

"So what, you think I'm that good-looking?" He teased and chuckled before getting closer to you. "Can't get me off your head?"

You looked into his eyes and then nervously swallowed. "To be honest, no, I can't," you said, "but only because you're a big dumbass."

He smirked and cut the distance between the both of you, placing his lips against yours. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck while his were on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. "You wanna draw me naked next?" He said against your lips. You chuckled and lightly hit his shoulder before kissing him again, thinking that the jacket you'd brought minutes before was completely useless by now, Ekko could keep you warm for now.

[cineatros]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁only star ✮ manon bannerman

She may be the reason I survive

pairing.ᐟ actress!manon bannerman x reader

about.ᐟ when actress Manon Bannerman walks into your record store searching for a rare vinyl, she doesn’t expect you to be clueless about her fame. the brief encounter turns intriguing when a fan outs Manon’s identity, leading you to chase after her and get her number, but the connection is quickly tested—paparazzi ambush the both of you, forcing an escape to your apartment, where you bond in private. As you get a glimpse of Manon’s chaotic world, the reality of dating someone famous becomes overwhelming and just when things start to feel real, Manon’s girlfriend returns from L.A., ready to reclaim her place.

genre.ᐟ fluff, kind of angsty

wc.ᐟ 1094 words

a/n.ᐟ the song isn't really necessary, but i just want to appreciate this song cuz it just make me feel something, also i might not post or i'll try to post another angst today (thesis been biting me in the fuckin ass). anyways, happy valentines, my lovely peepz!

The why and wherefore I'm alive

The bell above the door chimed as Manon Bannerman stepped into the vinyl shop, the scent of old records and dust filling her senses. She wasn’t sure why she chose this particular store—maybe it was instinct, or just blind luck—but she was searching for something rare. Something special.

Rows upon rows of vinyl stretched before her, a collector’s dream. As she made her way to the rare collections section, she was greeted by the shop’s owner, a charming individual with a welcoming smile.

“Looking for something special?” a warm voice called out.

She looked up to see the owner behind the counter. You had an easy confidence about you, a quiet charm. Not someone who immediately recognized her, and that was refreshing.

“Yes, actually,” Manon replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you happen to have The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, signed by all four Beatles?”

You frowned, tapping your fingers against the counter. “That’s a deep cut. Let me check.”

As you sifted through your catalog, Manon watched you. There was something about the way you moved—calm, deliberate, unaffected. She could tell you weren’t used to dealing with celebrities, and for some reason, she liked that.

“No luck,” you finally said, glancing up. “But I can put out feelers.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

You shrugged. “Should I?”

Before she could respond, a high-pitched squeal rang through the shop. “Oh my God, Manon Bannerman?” A young woman clutching a stack of records gawked at her. “I love Uncharted! Your performance was unreal!”

Manon stiffened slightly, her expression flickering between amusement and frustration. That was when it hit you—she was famous. Like, really famous.

A beat of silence stretched between you before she sighed, muttering, “Well, that answers that.” Then, with an apologetic half-smile, she turned and slipped out the door

You hesitated only a second before following. “Hey, Manon!” you called, jogging after her.

She glanced back, surprised.

“At least let me get your number for when I find that record.”

She studied you, lips quirking. Then, as if making a decision, she plucked the pen from behind your ear, grabbed your wrist, and scrawled a number across your skin.

“Good luck,” she said before disappearing into the city.

A week later, you were sitting in your apartment, sipping whiskey with Manon while hiding from a pack of paparazzi who had caught you outside a café. What started as a casual text about the record had spiraled into something else entirely.

She sat cross-legged on your worn-out couch, flipping through your vinyl collection with a lazy smile. “You really don’t care about all this, do you?”

“The flashing cameras? The tabloid buzz?” you mused. “Not really. I mean, it’s a little surreal, but you’re just… you.”

She exhaled, relaxing. “I like that.”

And for a while, it was good. Until reality crept in.

So it went, an unusual romance blooming between a quiet vinyl shop owner and a Hollywood star, but dating someone famous wasn’t all stolen moments and whispered secrets. It was dodging paparazzi in alleyways, waking up to your face in gossip columns, strangers dissecting your relationship online.

Just last night, you had booked a secluded part of a restaurant—minimal windows, barely any people. Yet somehow, the paparazzi still got in and if that wasn’t enough, a waiter had kept pestering Manon for a picture, completely ignoring the fact that you were trying to have a normal evening.

The night was ruined.

Afterward, you hadn’t spoken much. She tried to explain, insisting this was inevitable, that she couldn’t escape the spotlight.

“I just want a goddamn normal life and a non-showbiz girlfriend,” you had snapped in frustration.

Her face fell, the words cutting deeper than you had intended. Without another word, she walked out, leaving you alone with your regret.

The next day, armed with a bouquet, you knocked on her hotel door, ready to apologize. But instead of Manon, another woman answered—wearing Manon’s shirt.

Your heart clenched. “Hi, is Manon here?”

Before the woman could respond, Manon appeared, eyes widening when she saw you. She quickly pulled the other woman back inside and stepped into the hallway with you.

“Who the hell was that?” you demanded.

She hesitated. “That was my ex. She showed up causing a scene, and I let her in to calm her down.”

You didn’t believe it. “Really? Wearing your shirt?”

She sighed, exasperated. “It’s not what you think.”

You exhaled sharply and shoved the bouquet into her hands. “You know what? I give up.”

“No!” She grabbed your wrist. “Please, can we just talk?”

You contemplated, then shook your head. “I need to think this through. Can we take a break?”

She swallowed hard but nodded, stepping back into her room.

That night, you found yourself at your sister’s house, breaking down in her arms.

“Oh, darling, everything’s going to be fine,” she soothed.

You sniffled. “It doesn’t feel fine.”

She sighed. “You either accept her for who she is or find someone who fits your idea of normal.”

The words lingered in your mind.

The next day, you dragged yourself to work. It was quiet, save for the occasional customer. As you searched for Manon’s record, someone cleared their throat.

Looking up, you found her standing there—natural hair, no makeup, a soft, hopeful smile.

“Hi,” she said. “Can we talk?”

You led her to the back office.

“So, how was your weekend?” you asked lightly.

“Spent it in my hotel,” she admitted. “Thinking about how I messed up.”

Silence stretched between you before she continued, “I’m leaving today, but I wanted to see you—maybe to remind you that I still like you. A lot.”

You stared at her, heart pounding. “Manon…”

She bit her lip. “I know I come with baggage, but I don’t want to lose you. Maybe we can find a way to make this work?”

You hesitated, but then you thought of her smile, her laugh, the way she felt like home despite the chaos. Maybe your sister was right—you either accept someone for who they are or you walk away.

You reached into the drawer, pulling out a package. “I found something.”

Her brows lifted as she unwrapped it—The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, not signed, but still pristine.

She laughed, teary-eyed. “It’s perfect.”

You grinned. “So, should we give this another shot?”

She nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah. Let’s try.”

And as she kissed you, soft and slow, you knew—you were all in.

[odairmultiverse]

This is my first fanfic here, yeyyyyy!!! I'm so excited.

I must say that english isn't my first language so you might find misspellings, anyway, enjoy and let me know your thoughts, mwaaa!

About you - The 1975

➜ Baku (park humin) x reader

" What happens when two best friends return to each other's lives when they least expect it ? "

The soft hum of the city created the perfect atmosphere for the small group of friends who had been walking around all day.

"Guys, I know a place that makes the best fried chicken—I think in the whole world," one of your friends said, taking a few steps ahead of the group. "I promise, it's like kissing heaven. Follow me," he said, taking the lead.

You only groaned, exhausted—your feet aching from walking the entire day.

"Do we really have to walk? I'm sure there's a bus that can take us."

"Nuh-uh, food tastes extra better when you're starving."

You looked down in defeat.

After 30 minutes of walking, the group finally reached the restaurant. Something in the back of your mind recognized this place, like one of those déjà vu moments, but you couldn’t figure out why it felt so familiar.

As the group entered, an old man gestured toward a large table for the five of you.

"Can I take your order now, or should I come back later?" he asked, holding a notepad in his hand.

"I'll order for them," said your friend—the one who had insisted on coming—grabbing the menu and pointing to the order.

You got lost scanning the place. It wasn’t fancy. It looked cozy. Apart from your group of friends, there was only a couple and what seemed like a work celebration.

"How did you find this place?" you asked, resting your face on your hand.

"This has been my secret for so long," your friend said, extending his arms dramatically. "A friend of mine recommended it to me," he continued, a wide smile on his face.

While waiting for your order, you chatted with your friends about school, upcoming exams, and a little bit of everything.

"Are you okay?" asked the friend sitting next to you. "Since we walked in, you've been scanning this place like crazy."

You let out a slight laugh. "This place feels familiar to me, but I can't remember why," you frowned slightly. "I'm sure it's nothing. I bet it's just because my tummy is screaming for food." You brushed it off.

"Here's your order," the waiter said, arriving with the food.

You turned your head toward the waiter, and in that instant, everything made sense.

You had been here before. You remembered it. You remembered him. How could you have ever forgotten him?

"Park Humin?" you whispered in surprise.

He turned his head toward you, his eyes widening in shock.

"You—you… Are you really here? Or am I dreaming again?" He pointed at you, his voice trembling as if he had just seen a ghost.

You stood up from your seat and took a few steps toward him.

"It's good to see you, Baku," you said with a wide smile, embracing him in a hug.

He tensed for a moment. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was really you—hugging him like you used to, calling him by that familiar name with your voice. Then, he hugged you back, tightly.

Your friends exchanged confused glances, trying to understand what was happening. You had never told them about Humin before.

You pulled away from the hug and turned to them.

"Guys, this is my childhood friend," you said, your smile growing wider. "Park Humin."

He looked at you with big puppy eyes, tracing every feature of your face before turning to your friends.

"I'm Park Humin. It's my pleasure," he greeted them.

The rest of the night was filled with questions from your friends about Humin. You answered them, trying not to sound too excited.

After finishing your meal, it was time to pay and leave.

One of your friends paid the bill, and as you were preparing to go, you felt a soft hand grab your wrist.

It was him.

"Can we talk for a moment?" You noticed the nervousness in his voice, but his eyes never left yours.

You only nodded, letting him take you outside the restaurant, separating you from your group of friends.

Looking at him felt like nothing had changed. You had to leave the city because of your parents' jobs, and at the age of seven, that had felt like the end of the world.

Mostly because you hadn't wanted to leave him—scared he might forget you one day.

That fear had made the move even harder than it already was. But with a painful ache in your heart, you had said your goodbyes to him.

"Humin… I'm leaving," you had confessed, fidgeting with your fingers, too scared to meet his eyes.

He had looked at you in confusion, sensing that something was wrong.

"My dad got promoted, so we're moving to Japan next week," your voice was filled with sadness and regret. You felt guilty, even though it wasn’t something you could control.

He hadn’t said anything—just stared at you, which only made you feel worse.

"Baku, can you ple—" you had stopped talking when you felt his arms wrap around you—hugging you tightly, afraid to let go.

Now, outside the restaurant, his grip on your wrist never loosened.

Your eyes locked. Neither of you spoke—just staring at each other.

"I thought you had forgotten about me," you confessed, whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?" His voice matched yours in softness. He continued, "How could I ever forget you?"

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He hadn’t changed.

"That’s good to hear."

"Let’s meet up again—just us," he asked, finally releasing your wrist. "I’m sure we both have a lot to say."

You nodded and handed him your phone. "Put your number here. I’ll call you later."

He took your phone, entered his number, and saved his contact as "My Baku, mine."

You laughed. He was still your Humin—the same as you had remembered.

As you turned on your heel and walked back to your friends, you glanced over your shoulder at him.

"You better pick up when I call you, Park Humin."

He smiled, watching you go—maybe staring longer than he should have.

[devochive]

Egress

Jax/Reader [Fem Reader.]

Explicit sexual content. | Also found on my Ao3

tags: sexual coercion, voyeurism, blow jobs, wall sex.

minors dni.

"Listen, just between us two, I believe ya about the.. exit— thing." Jax spoke behind his hand in hurried and hushed flurry of words, eyes mimicking crescents as he blatantly lied to the newcomer. You. 

Being naive and hopeful, your eyes lit up.

Ragatha noticed the mischievous bunny whispering to you and placed her hands on her hips. "Jax! Don't be mean!" The doll recognized that look in his eye and squinted at him. " Y/N, don't listen to Jax. W-Whatever he's saying to you." She scolds.

"Whaaaat?" He threw up his hands in defense but turned back to wink at you before walking away. 

 You were promised an exit, an actual exit. So why did you feel like you were being lied to? Or maybe tricked..? 

"I.. have to find out , even if it is just a trick.. this all a dream anyways so.. it doesn't matter."

You reassured yourself quietly. Footsteps echoing throughed the large and empty corridor that seemed to be leading to a strange , secluded area in the tent. You certainly don't remember this area during Caine's tour. 

 

"Oh, look. You actually made it." Jax was there, and leaning against a wall. His cheshire grin playing on his face. And his sly eyes seemed to linger on your body too long. "Was startin' to think you got lost." He tilted his head a little. 

"Well.. heh, I made it. So.. where's the exit? Did it happen to be a red door? Or was a different color for you? Did it disappear when you looked at it because—" You were rambling, not even aware of the space between you and him closing. He towered over you and your words died in your throat. 

"You done?" Jax stares down at you, he doesn't seem annoyed. Just amused, he knew exactly what he was planning and your naivety was adorable. "Yeah, yeah I'll tell you about the.. exit. But first you have to do somethin' for me sweetness." 

"Like what..?" 

"I think you know what, doll face." His hands rested on his hips, almost to pull your attention to his lower body. And that it did, your eyes fell to his crotch and you caught a glimpse of his bulge outlining his overalls. "You were talkin' so much earlier what happened, huh?" He teased, eyes following yours as you tried to avoid eye contact. 

"I—I .. didn't think, we could do that here." You finally stuttered out, and yet you felt heat pooling at the pit of your stomach. Even in these digital avatars Jax somehow managed to ooze with charisma and charm. Not to mention that shit eating grin that was oddly attractive. 

"Oh, us either. Don't get me wrong we were surprised to find out about.. this too." He gestured and began moving in closer, you instinctively moved back until your back hit the wall. His hand was placed on the wall beside your head. "You scared or somethin'? Look I won't force ya to do anything, actually I'm gettin' pretty bored." His smile dropped in faux disappointment. 

Words seemed to escape you for a moment as you weighed your options and Jax sighed , seeming to back off due to your hesitation. "Well, I guess you don't care about that exit as much as I thought ya did. See ya kid." And just like that he spun around on his heel and started off in the opposite direction. His faux disappointment returning to a smile only when his back faced you. After all, it was only a matter of time before— 

"Wait!" 

Jax's grin only got bigger, "And here I thought you were gonna chicken out." He chuckled and turned around, "Don't worry new stuff, I'll be.. gentle." More or less.

"Wait , wait! Are we— here? What if someone.. sees?" Your eyes darted around, but fortunately it was silent, and not a soul was in sight. Only the echo of your voices were heard, "Nah. Everyones in the main hall, digital feast remember?" 

"Oh, right—" His hand fell onto your shoulder, it was clear he was becoming impatient. "On your knees toots, we don't exactly have a lotta time before they come lookin' for us so let's get to it, yeah?" You fell to your knees and now being face to face with his crotch made your stomach twist in knots. He was big, and he knew it. Your mind was slowly becoming clouded with lust, a feeling that seemed foreign here quickly flooded back into your senses.

"Heh." Jax watched as your eyes seemed to cloud over, he knew that look better than anyone. So he took the initiative and removed him self from his overalls, his thick cock was heavy his in hand. He moved his hips forward and nudged your cheek with the tip. "Best not to keep me waiting sweetheart," His veiny purple shaft seemed to twitch as your lips brushed against the tip. "Nnh. Best not to tease, either." Your lips swallowed up the head, tongue darting against the tip. Inch by inch you were slowly taking him into your hot mouth.. but he was too big, you were barely around the halfway point and you could feel your gag reflex threatening to trigger. 

"Need some help dollface? I know I said I'd be gentle buuutt.. heh, why would I do that?" His hands were on the back of your head now and he slammed his hips toward. Pulling you closer at the same time and auickly bottoming out in your throat.

"Gghck..!!" Your squirmed and gagged on his cock as it filled your throat, your nose was nuzzling his lower stomach. 

"Just like that... there ya go.." His head tilted back a little as he held you in place. 

You could hardly breathe, but damn it. His sudden man handling made your legs press together in need. 

He pulled back, hooded eyes staring down at you. "Hold tight." He smirked before thrusting his hips back and forth, a lewd noise echoed through the hall as he used your mouth like a toy. Grunting and moaning in pleasure softly, all while keeping eye contact. 

For a moment you glanced past him and swore you saw one of Caine's 'all seeing eyes' up in the corner, stationary and staring exactly in your direction. Surely he wasn't.. watching right? "Eyes up, here." His hand suddenly yanked at your hair, before returning to bobbing your head back and forth. "Look at me when I cum, you can do that can't ya?" He spoke in a breathy voice, clearly getting close. You nodded your head as best you could. 

The look of you with drool rolling down your chin and mouthful of his cock was enough to send him over the edge, he held your head in place as he grinded against your face. Ropes of cum filling your mouth.

Desperately you tapped his leg, unable to hold it all in your mouth without nearly choking. He finally back off and slipped out of your mouth with a pop. "Ah-ah." His finger tipped your jaw close and head back a little, "Swallow." 

And you did. 

Even though he seemed nonchalant, standing with his arms crossed he... was still hard. And your core was aching after that, you could feel your garb sticking to your cunt uncomfortably. "Jax.. I.." 

He knew it was coming, he could see it from a mile away. The look in your eye and the way you squirmed was telling enough, "Thought you didn't wanna do this out in the open toots. We should head out, towards the 'exit' you know. This could be your only chance." He taunted, "I.. I know but..! Please can we.. you just.. I.." He couldn't leave you high and dry it wasn't fair. 

"Can I what? Fuck you? You got all hot and bothered after suckin me off sweetness?" He said in a low voice, taking full advantage of your horny state, "Let me hear you say it." 

"I.. want you inside of me, Jax." 

"Heh, and who am I to say no that? Stand up," He demanded and his usually playful voice seemed to drop an octave at the end there. 

You stood up and his hands immediately lifted you from your underarms, holding you up against the wall,  "Wrap those pretty legs around me doll, don't be shy." While in the process of wrapping your legs around him, he reached down to push aside your under clothes and nudge his fat tip at your entrance. and when he was balanced enough he held you up by the plush of your thighs.. angled just right agsinst your core.

"Looks like it'll be a tight fit. But you can take it right?" It wasn't really a question, because his hips began to push forward and the tip bullied its way past your walls, "Hha.. its.. big.. Jax—" 

"I gotcha, relaaxx.. look at that, the way you're, nngh.. sucking me in.. startin' to think this pussy was made me for me." He sighed, and jutted his hips forward forcing a few more inches inside before finally slamming his hips forward and fully bottoming out. You yelped and held him tighter, insides clenching army's him desperately. 

"Sh, sh— you can take it." He coos and moves his hips around while buried so deeply inside of you, nudging at places at that made your head spin. "Please.. move Jax, need to feel you.." You whined and he chuckled in you ear, his grip on your thighs tightening. Finally his hips started to move, in a slow pace at first but he clearly couldn't hold back. 

*Slap, slap, slap.* Your skin colliding echoed in the halls, and the embarrassing sound made you hyper aware of your surroundings for a moment, you held onto to Jax while he pounded into you but your eyes looked past him again. Just for a moment. 

Caine's eyes.. there were three of them now! 

Your core tightened around him at the thought of being watched. Unfortunately for you Jax was a little too aware of your eyes when they weren't on him. Not to mention how tight you just got. 

Without stopping he spun around, holding you and faced the opposite way now, "No wonder you got so tight just now," He laughed looking at the floating eyes in amusement. "You really are somethin'..  get off to be watched." And here he thought this couldn't get any better.  

"No.. nnh.. that's not..!" He slowed his thrusting, then stopped all together. "Oh yeah? Ya gonna keep lyin to me, how about we just stop here— wouldn't want the man himself to see us .. right~?" He cooed and you cursed silently. "T.. That's not fair Jax! Please.." Your cunt clenched around him in need, and he was close to giving in but not yet..

"Then let's hear it, you wanna put on a show don't ya?" His thrusts were slow, tantalizing.. fuck he was doing this on purpose. "Y.. Yes.." You mutteted under your breathe, "Louder." 

"Yes yes!!" 

"See, was that so hard?" And just like that he picked up the pace , thrusting up into you like a jack hammer while hardly breaking a sweat. But he panted and moaned in your ear all the same, "Ngh.." Your legs were tight around his waist and you felt the knot in your stomach about to come unloose, "Yeah, there we go cum on my dick..." You thought he couldn't move faster but he did. Balls slapping your ass he fucked you fast and hard.

"J.. Jax! Jax!" you threw your head back in pleasure as your body finally succumbed to his harsh thrusts, walls clamping down on him violently as you came hard. "Nnh.. yeah, that's it.. take it." He muttered as his he came in near sync with you, his warm seed filling up your cunt. "Hha.. I needed that , thanks toots." He said and chuckled lightly, pulling out of your sopping cunt and lowering your trembling body to the ground so you could collect yourself. 

"The exit..Jax.." You panted out.

"Ohh.. riiight that." He spoke while adjusting his clothes. "I lied." 

"But, you won't hold it against me though, will ya?" 

[slimybeth69]

Hungry Man

Chapter 3- I Know The End 6.7k

Chapter Summary- Close my eyes, fantasize Three clicks and I'm home When I get back I'll lay around Then I'll get up and lay back down Romanticize a quiet life There's no place like my room

warnings/tags: dark&sneaky!Joel/crazy&unhinged!reader, DDDNE (this chapter may be hard to read for some- please be mindful of the content you consume), dubious ethics, Joel being protective, slightly mean!Joel if you squint but mostly gentle!Joel, reader goes through it again in this chapter (get used to it, sorry) brief mentions of blood.

a/n: hi. I hope you like this chapter :)

The house is so quiet compared to the mall. There was always something making sound– animals or insects, the structure itself shifting and settling after years of decomposing. There wasn’t a completely silent night in the last eight months and now Joel doesn’t know how to fall asleep anymore. 

Even with you fast asleep beside him, he can’t seem to calm his racing mind. 

How’re you gonna keep her safe? 

Joel looks down at you, watching your eyes move behind the lids while you sleep. Your breathing is slow and steady. He wonders if instead of your usual nightmares that maybe tonight you’re dreaming good things. 

While he’s lost in thought, you make a soft, sleepy sighing sound and wiggle your body closer to him, snuggling against him as tightly as you can. Joel wipes a stray eyelash off your cheek carefully, and then ghosts his index finger across your forehead. 

You sigh again, but don’t wake up. 

Why doesn’t he hate you? You took from him– took his time. Took the precious, unpromised time he had with Ellie and JJ, with Tommy and his nephew Ben. 

He should hate you for that. Should hate you for the way you treated him– kept him tied up and chained like a dog. He mindlessly rubs at his neck while the thoughts race– while his feelings swirl around like a tornado inside him. 

You don’t hate her though– you understand her. 

He does. He understands you more than he would like to admit. He’s had so much time to think about the things he’s done, and the kind of man he is– and he understands why you did what you did. 

Joel has done things he wouldn’t have normally done for the sake of caring about someone. The hospital plays in his head over, and over again. The night he lost Sarah. 

He thinks about the person he helped shape Ellie into– and he wonders if it’s a good thing. Joel thinks about the things Ellie did with Tommy after the attack. Joel wonders where she would have ended up without him around. What kind of person she might have turned out to be if he hadn’t ever agreed to take her to Salt Lake. 

She’d be dead– no doubt about that. 

Ellie had been a kid– she is just barely not a kid anymore in his eyes. 

You’re grown– set in your ways and clearly traumatized. Joel wonders if he’s doing the right thing by bringing you here. 

He wrinkles his nose at the scent of you– he hadn’t noticed it much before with everything going on, all the emotions. Now that everything is settled, and he has a little time to think, let things register, the smell of his brother and his brother's house and the soap his family uses wafts through his nostrils and it makes him angry.

Joel wants you to smell like you. 

No, you want her to smell like you. 

Something wicked grows inside Joel because that voice inside him is right; he does want you to smell like him. He wants everyone who comes close to you to recognize you as his because you are– he meant what he said and he hopes you know that. 

There is too much thinking happening. Too much noise inside his head and too much silence around him for his body and mind to relax. He wants to get up and go look for something to drink, something to settle the storm and ease him into rest. 

He knows that if he leaves and you wake up to an empty bed, all hell is going to break loose, so he stays next to you and lets you sleep. Lets you get your much needed rest because he knows that you’re capable of going an ungodly amount of time without sleep. It used to scare him how long you would be awake before crashing out for eighteen to twenty hours at a time. 

This next week is for you– getting you used to being in a house and a schedule. Getting you used to being around people. Then he’s going to get you working– he’s already thought about how you’ll like working in the barn. You like animals, seem to be good with them and know more about them than he does– and there is a whole building full of them. 

Silently, he boasts about how smart he is for thinking about it. He isn’t going to stick you in the kitchen where he knows you’ll be miserable. And he isn’t going to get you on patrol duty until he knows you won’t run away. 

She’s gonna try. 

Yeah, you will try. You’re scared now– won’t admit it– but you’re scared. The second you get an ounce of courage– which you will– you’ll try and take off. Joel will come look for you, and he will find you– and you will not like how he makes sure you don’t run off again. 

He might never let you leave. He hasn’t really decided yet, but he’s thinking about it. 

Joel settles down beside you again, and this time you stir, sleep clinging to your panicked voice as you ask where he’s going. He nuzzles his nose into the side of your face and splays one of his hands across your stomach, resting it there innocently. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he reassures with his lips pressing softly against the corner of your mouth. 

You hum quietly with your eyes still closed and place your hand on top of Joel’s and hold him there– lightly encourage him to keep touching you. “Good,” you yawn quietly and melt back into the bed. 

With his eyes closed, he thinks maybe getting you acclimated won’t be as hard as he thought it was going to be. You’re here in his bed, sleeping like you have no worries in the world while he sits up awake, fearful and anxious of the future. 

----

“Mister!”

Joel’s eyes shoot open, heart already racing because he can hear the fear in your voice. He doesn’t have time to ask you what’s wrong when a loud, heavy pounding on the front door makes you flinch. 

Joel sighs loudly. He shouldn’t be annoyed at people coming to visit, but it feels like it’s too early in the morning for company. The thudding doesn’t cease, and Joel looks at you regretfully, “Gotta go see who–” 

Your hand darts to his, gripping it tightly. “Please don’t let’em take me,” you plead with him, eyes wet with tears before he has time to ease your worry. “I’ll be good! I promise! I’ll be g-good, just don’t make me go with’em.” 

The bangning on the front door wont stop– that paired with the sound of your begging and the fact that Joel only three, maybe fours of sleep is making his head spin. 

Joel shakes your hand off of his and climbs out of the bed, waving your worries away with a flick of his wrist as he heads to his dresser. “No one's gonna take you,” he has much less patience for all of this today than he did yesterday. 

You’re out of bed, following close behind to the dresser with your fingers worrying at the hem of his t-shirt. “Like I ain’t heard that before,” you tug desperately at the fabric as he pulls on a pair of jeans. 

Joel swats your hand away, the annoyance seeping in while the front door nearly gets knocked off its hinges downstairs. “Would you cut it out,” Joel swats at your hand once again and tucks his shirt into his jeans. 

“Who is knockin’ like that this early!?” You exclaim, holding your right hand towards the bedroom door. “Someone who sounds like they want somethin’!” 

Joel shakes his head at you and combs his fingers through his hair to look somewhat presentable. “You comin’ down like that or do you wanna get dressed?” He looks you up and down, still wearing all of his boxers and t-shirt from last night. 

Your eyes go wider than Joel thought possible and now he has to hold back a smirk. “Comin’ down!?” 

“Could stay here…’n wait for me–” Joel reaches out to run his index finger between your slit, to tease you for a moment through his boxers, but you’re pushing his hand away, closing the distance between you and grasping at his shirt again in desperation. 

“Joel!” The muffled, female voice coming from out front sounds angry. “I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door!” 

Your head whips around and you look at the door that leads out into the hallway. “Who is that?” You ask, the fear replaced with new piqued curiosity. “That don’t sound like Maria– who is that lady?” You turn to look at him again, brows pinched together tight. 

Joel can’t hide the smirk, he can barely hold back the chuckle you force out of him. “‘Cause it ain’t Maria,” he gently grabs you by the scruff of your neck and places a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Who is that woman tryin’ to barge in here so early in the–” 

Joel grips the back of your neck a little tighter and you scowl up at him but go silent. “Sounds like y’might be a little jealous–” 

With your right hand, you ball your fist into Joel’s shirt and pull yourself closer to him. “Don’t like other ladies knockin’ on your door like that,” you growl at him, the fear from your voice and plastered all over your face is gone. 

There she is.

Joel snorts softly to himself, shaking his head from side to side. “You’re somethin’ else,” he massages the side of your neck with his index finger and thumb gently. You soften slightly against him and he kisses your forehead again and lingers. “Go shower– you smell like my brother's house,” he grumbles against your skin. 

“Who is–”

“It’s just Ellie,” Joel lets his hand slide down your spine and over the curve of your ass. “No one you need t’be jealous of,” he teases as he palms and squeezes your ass playfully. 

You look him up and down suspiciously, eyebrows still furrowed, lips in a tight line, “You sayin’ there are ones I should be jealous of?” 

Joel laughs and gives your ass a good smack, pushing past you gently. “Take a shower ‘n you can come down after. There is stuff for you in the dresser,” he points to his dresser and then leaves the room to attend to the constant knocking downstairs. 

----

“The fuck have you been?” Ellie pushes the door open before Joel can even greet her. “Been knocking for almost ten minutes.” 

“I’m fully aware how long you been makin’ that racket,” Joel shuts the door behind her as she barges into the house like she still lives here. “S’nice to see you too, I guess.” Joel scoffs softly and shakes his head. 

He hadn’t expected a welcome back party, Joel hadn’t even received one smile since he’s been back. Not from Tommy– he never expected one from Maria– and now Ellie. 

“What the fuck do you expect me to say, Joel?” Ellie’s headed into the kitchen and Joel follows close behind. “Been gone for eight months and then you come back and don’t even bother coming to see me?” 

Joel grabs the glass jar of coffee beans he put in the cupboard after Tommy left last night. “Got in pretty late– didn’t wanna wake you and Dina and J.J.” 

Joel goes about making coffee while Ellie softens, changing her tone quickly. “You okay? Look like you been through some shit.” 

Joel nods his head, staying quiet. He’s listening for the shower upstairs but he doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t hear any noise and he wonders what you’re doing. 

“Thought you were done gettin’ yourself into shit,” Ellie chuckles but Joel doesn’t really hear her. He’s too busy thinking about how there is a pistol tucked into the pocket of a jacket he has hanging up in his closet. He wonders if you’re looking for something like that to use on him. Come down here blasting– taking everyone in the room out so you and Puddin’ can make your great escape. 

“Joel?” 

His train of thought is derailed, and so he turns to look at Ellie, “Sorry kiddo.” He’s greeted with a look of worry- like something bad could happen to him at any minute. Like he’s fragile and could break. He doesn’t like that. “I’m fine,” he sighs. “Just did a lot of walkin’ yesterday and didn’t get a lot of sleep.” 

Ellie sighs loudly and leans back in the chair she had taken a seat in. “Shit, and I come over banging your door down first thing in the morning,” she’s shaking her head. “I’m sorry– Tommy came over this morning and told me that you were back–”

“What else did Tommy tell you?”

Joel’s bathroom is different from Maria’s. Less welcoming– more plain and sterile looking– but your soaps are here. The little bottles and bars of the things that make you clean and smell good. Some of them make you feel soft after you use them. 

You’re warm from the inside and the tips of fingers tingle as you run them along the worn and water damaged label of one of the bottles. You notice that he brought his soap from the mall- the one you found for him shortly after he came to stay with you. 

You don’t shower. You choose to stay in his clothes instead and inspect what he has for you in his dresser. You start at the bottom drawer, but it’s only his things. The next drawer is the same– only Mister’s clothes. 

The next drawer, the one second from the top has significantly less clothes in it– but they’re yours. The ones you had at the mall, folded and tucked away neatly under the cash register in the mattress store– they’re here in Mister-man’s dresser, in a drawer just for you. 

The tingles creep up your hands and wrists and into your forearms as you shut the drawer and turn around, taking in the bedroom that you slept in last night. 

Felt good to sleep– it’s been a while. 

Miss out on things when you sleep and you’re at risk– it’s dangerous. 

It did feel good though. It felt good to sleep with a door between you and the outside world, and to have a roof over your head that didn’t have holes in it. There was something nice about being in a house again– but it still made you feel so uneasy, and your stomach was tied so tightly into a knot that it made you feel like you could be sick. 

A pink snout peeks out from under Mister’s bed, and sniffs rapidly. Then a gray and white furry face follows and his beady little eyes stare up at you. 

It shouldn’t be as dramatic as it is, but you drop to your knees with a thud and Puddin’ runs out from his hiding place and jumps into your lap. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you press your face into his fur as his little scratchy nails dig into your shoulder and cheek. “Mister took real good care of you?” 

The small marsupial doesn’t respond, he just continues trying to burrow into the neck of your shirt so he can curl up and go to sleep. You bring him into Mister-man’s bed and curl up with him under your shirt. 

Safe. He’s downstairs with his daughter, probably making his horrible coffee. Nothing bad is going to happen. 

He’s tellin’ her what you did– he’s gonna tell everyone what you did. They’re all gonna hate you. Gonna talk ‘bout you ‘n laugh at you. Judge you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had to worry about what anyone thought about you. You didn’t worry about doing things the normal way, or being normal, or anything other than what made you happy and feel good. 

Last night you had no time to think about anything before sleep overcame you. There were no worries when Mister and his endless, perfect body heat kept you warm and comfortable. 

Now you’re alone because he’s downstairs with his daughter. You think about how lucky Ellie is that she gets her dad and didn’t lose him. A different kind of jealousy pangs deep inside you. Another reason being alone was so easy was because you weren’t constantly reminded that everyone you had once known is dead. The one person from your past had turned on you, treated you like a tradeable form of currency that he could pass around to keep the people who fueled his addictions happy. 

You miss your dad and your mom. You miss the home you knew and the room you had with your books and things in it. You miss life the way it used to be. 

Wouldn’t have Mister-Joel though. 

Meeting that liar is the worst thing that ever happened to you. 

That’s not true. There had been worse things to happen to you– worse people like Christoper and Theo. The worst of them all had been Elias. 

With every ounce of mental strength you have left, you pull yourself out of your head and settle back into Mister-man’s warm, safe bed. You press your face into his pillow and inhale deeply, taking in the intoxicating smell of his sleepy, musky scent. 

The image of your clothes in his dresser flashes into your head again. Your face gets warm, and your insides feel like they’re vibrating. 

He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to make space for you in his life like this. You wonder what the plan is, or if he even has a plan to begin with. 

He just wanted you here. Just wanted you close to him. 

He’s going to chew you up until there ain’t nothin’ left.

The voices go back and forth with each other for a while; you stay quiet and listen to them bicker about knowing what Mister wants. How they know best. 

You think you might not know anything anymore. You had been so smart and so independent out in the woods because there had been no one else around to tell you that how you did things was wrong, or stupid, or that you could do it better this way or that way. Now– thinking about doing anything without Mister-man around makes you want to cry. 

----

“S’just me,” he whispers into your ear as he slips into bed beside you. His voice calms you before you have time to panic. “Y’never showered,” he rubs his hand up and down your upper arm. “Still smell like Tommy and Maria’s house.” 

“I found someone,” you yawn, lifting your shift a smidge to expose Puddin’, who makes his own sleepy sound, peers around the room with tired eyes, and then curls himself into a ball, wrapping his paws around his tail. 

Joel groans quietly in displeasure, “Not in my bed– critters don’t sleep in my bed.” He doesn’t force Puddin’ out, or make you put him on the floor. He wraps his arm around you, careful of the opossum, and settles in, sighing contently. 

You smirk, eyes still closed and sass him playfully. “Ya’ didn’t have a problem with it when it was my bed.” 

Mister snorts softly against the side of your face and pulls you closer. “Shut up and go back t’sleep. We ain’t doin’ this again tomorrow.” 

“Doin’ what?” 

Bein’ free.

“Bein’ lazy,” Mister-man yawns tiredly. “We’re all gettin’ up early ‘n doin’ chores,” he very gently and playfully jostles the sleeping animal under your shirt. “You too.” 

Puddin’ lets out a squeak, and shifts away from Mister to continue snoozing under the dark fabric. 

The next time you wake up you’re cold, and alone. Even Puddin’ is gone. 

The room looks different. It’s the same room but everything looks… gray and dull. 

Maybe it isn’t the same room. 

How terrible would it be if it had all been a dream? All of it– the mall, the Mister-man, Puddin’! What if none of it was real, and you’re back in the bad house, with the bad men who hurt you. 

Hide. 

The door in the corner of the room looks like it leads to a bathroom– it feels familiar. There is a lock on the door you can see from here, and there might be a small window that you should be able to squeeze out of if you try hard enough. 

Smart girl. 

Joel will be right back! He’s coming back! Don’t panic! 

The dark voice is too late– the anxiety has set in and now you need to move, need to be somewhere where no one can get you, because Joel isn’t here. He’s probably not even real!

Your brain and body aren’t in sync yet, and your legs move swiftly, but nowhere near gracefully. You fall out of bed and land on your chest. Pain shoots through your shoulder and up your neck, down your spine. You whimper, and start to crawl towards the door only a few feet away. 

There is a sound downstairs, a clattering, and then footsteps. Fast, heavy footsteps that you can follow by their thudding through the house until they’re racing up the stairs, possibly taking them two at a time. 

Comin’ to get you. Gonna take everything from you. 

It's as if you get to the bathroom at the same time the footsteps enter the bedroom. You slam the door shut, and turn the lock.

The door begins rattling violently in its frame. The voice on the other side sounds angry, but you can’t even make out what it’s saying over your own hysterics. 

“Go away, go away, go away,” you sob softly, covering your ears with your hands despite the searing pain in your shoulder. “Please go away.” 

The banging on the door doesn’t stop, it doesn’t soften or slow. It gets louder, and faster. More demanding. The door handle turns from left to right uselessly.

You close your eyes, and press your palms against your ears as hard as you can, trying to drown out the overwhelming loudness. This room is going to close in on you, the walls get closer and the space itself gets smaller and smaller. 

Whoever is on the other side of the door is mad at you. The tone of their voice tells you that they’re angry but you still aren’t listening to what they’re saying. 

“I’m sorry!” You wail loudly, hoping the person trying to get you can hear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, but you must have done something wrong for the person to be so upset. 

The door stops rattling, and for a moment you think your apologies worked, the angry entity on the other side of the door must have gone away. For a moment, you think you can breathe. 

Then there is one, loud thud against the door. The frame shifts slightly. 

“No! No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You scream and shuffle backwards on the floor, jumping when your back touches the outside of the tub. 

The person either kicks, or slams their shoulder into the door once again, and you can see the wooden door bow inwards towards you ever-so slightly. 

This time the frame around the door splinters. 

Wonder what they’re gonna do to you when they get in here. 

You’re whimpering, praying, hoping that something will intervene, that something will save you. As you climb into the tub, trying to hide, wondering if the drain would open you up and swallow you whole if you wished hard enough– the wooden frame that keeps the door shut finally gives out as the person forces themselves into the bathroom, and pieces of wood go flying through the air. 

You scream in terror, the debris landing in your hair, and on your back. You grip the shower curtain in your right hand and tear it down off the bar above you accidentally as you pull yourself further away from whoever is behind you. 

The curtain falls down on top of you, cloaking you in darkness. This makes everything worse. The dark makes it all too familiar. 

You try to rip the fabric off of you, try and get yourself free but now there is another set of hands on you, groping at you– touching you. Getting ready to take things from you and hurt you. 

Gonna take all you got to offer, Sug.

You shriek loudly and kick out with your feet at your attacker. “Get off me!” 

A strong, calloused hand wraps around the entirety of your ankle and squeezes. Skin on skin, you can feel how hot and alive the other person is, and it makes you want to implode on yourself. 

“Pl-Plea–Please don’t,” you sob, already feeling defeated, already knowing what’s about to happen to you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

The hand slides up your shin and thigh, under the shower curtain, closer to your core– but it bypasses it completely and continues traveling up your torso. Fingertips graze your chin, then your lips and before you can stop yourself, you open your mouth. The thick digits slide between your lips, and then across your tongue. 

They start to pull away, but you bite down hard before they leave your mouth completely. 

Good fuckin’ girl, Sug!

The person howls in pain and you try to push yourself backwards, away from the sound but there isn’t anywhere to go. You’re in the tub, in a giant bowl and your back is pressed against the side of it. 

“Go away, go away, go away, go away,” You plug your ears with your index fingers, close your eyes. 

Honey, it’s okay. It’s alright. You just forgot where you were. You’re safe. 

It doesn’t matter. You’re nowhere, now. 

It’s just light. It’s just white, and bright light surrounds you. It feels warm, it feels comfortable and safe, and it feels like home. It also feels entirely like nothing at all. There is a voice repeating the same phrase over and over. It’s a soft, sweet voice that reminds you of good and love. It reminds you of hugs, and sweet things, and the feeling of your chest being full. 

You can’t make out the words, they’re all jumbled together, or sound like they’re being said backwards. It doesn’t matter, the voice is what feels good. The consolation of the voice alone is enough for some reason. 

In your heart, the one that’s beating so fast in your chest it feels like it could explode or give out at any second, longs to tell the voice you miss it. You wish you could hear it more. 

Then real light, not bright, warm, white light, but the soft yellow glow of the lightbulbs encompasses you, and someone tall and broad is standing above you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You shake your head, and hold your hands up to protect your face and neck. “I’m sorry!” 

You need to breathe, honey.

Don’t. Pass out. It’ll make it easier. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you can’t stop. You want to, you want to stop and take a breath, gather your thoughts– but why think when bad things are about to happen?

There is a sputtering, wet sound from above you and then you are being soaked with ice cold water. 

You gasp loudly– a long, deep breath in– and your lungs expand and your head stops spinning. Water gets in your mouth and you spit it out. It’s washing over your face and down your neck and chest. It’s already seeping into your clothes. 

A large mass is in front of you, and then kneeling– pinning your legs between theirs. A hand, calloused and strong, grabs your face, pinching your cheeks together. 

“Jesus-fuckin’-Christ, look’it me!” It’s Mister-man’s voice, it’s his hand on your face, it’s his knees on either side of yours. 

You open your eyes, and he’s glaring at you, his brows stitched together angrily. All you can do is whimper. 

“What th’fuck is wrong with you!?” He releases your face, but mashes his fingers against your lips and then holds them up for you to see. “Fuckin’ bit me!”

They’re red, stained with blood. His middle and ring finger are bleeding. Now you can taste the metallic tang of it still lingering on your tongue.

“I- I d-didn’t mean to,” your eyes flash between his bloody fingers, and angry eyes. “I didn’t mean t’bite you. I really didn’t,” you can feel your sinuses starting to tingle, and your eyes burn. “I jus’ woke up all alone and– and it looked different,” you try to explain, but the words don’t make sense, not even to you. “I got scared.” 

Mister’s face softens and his shoulders slump forward slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. This time, when he reaches for your lips, he wipes them gently, cleaning off any blood that still remains. “Didn’t think you’d wake up ‘fore I got back,” he murmurs softly. 

The water cascades through his hair, soaking it and matting it to his forehead. There is a steady stream dripping off the tip of his nose, and his clothes are completely wet now, too. You pulse at the sight of him, wet and hovering over you this way. You feel guilty for hurting him, for biting him so hard he bled. 

“Where did ya’ go?” You ask mindlessly, not even really thinking before the words come out. Your brain feels like mush, like it’s been chewed up and spit out and then stepped on. 

Joel turns at the waist, and adjusts the knob for the water, and then turns back to face you. “Was gonna go get us somethin’ to eat,” he explains cooly.

Now the water is warm and getting hotter, and feels good on your skin. “You was gonna leave me here all alone?” You whisper in disbelief, mouthing hanging open slightly.

Mister-man helps you undress silently, and discards all your wet clothes outside of the tub; then follows suit. He stands behind you, pressing himself against you so you can feel the slight swell of his belly against your back. His hands snake around your midsection, and pull you close to him. 

“Ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of here, babydoll.” He whispers into your ear. “S’only scary up here,” he punctuates the last word with a gentle kiss to your temple. “Gotta stay outta there.” 

He’s right.

You lean back against him, try and relax your tense body. “I dunno how,” you sigh, and with that confession it feels like weight has been taken off of you. Like Mister-man is lifting you off of your feet, but he isn’t. He’s still just holding you, swaying you discreetly; it’s so soothing. You are small in his arms, he makes you feel tiny and fragile even though that isn’t always the case– you love it. 

Mister lets out a low hum from deep in his chest, “Have ya’ ever tried?” 

The honest answer is no, you’ve never really tried. These things don’t normally happen, you don’t normally get stuck in your head like this. That’s not what you tell Mister though. “It’s hard. Just get caught up in it all– sometimes so fast I don’t even know it’s happenin’.” 

Mister nods like he understands, and sighs. “S’long as I’m around, you’re safe. Remember what we talked ‘bout in the woods?” 

“But you weren’t around,” you snap at him, frustrated with his useless words. “You weren’t here.” 

“I was just downstairs,” he explains gently as he starts to work his fingers into your hair. The faint smell of your soap wafts through the air, and it makes things seem less scary. Just a little. He scratches at your scalp with his nails and doesn’t miss a spot. 

“Feels good,” you moan softly, leaning against him again for support while he massages all your fears and worries away. 

He turns you around slowly so you’re facing him. “I ain’t always gonna be right by your side,” he whispers, and keeps his index finger under your chin, shielding your eyes with his other hand while the water washes the shampoo away. “But if I’m breathin’...” he pauses to make sure you’re listening. “You’re safe. Promise you that.” 

You wrinkle your nose at his words. “How’re you gon’ keep me safe if you aren’t right here?” You hold your right hand out at your side. 

Joel raises one eyebrow as he continues to rinse the soap out of your hair. “Same way you did,” he shrugs his shoulders. He’s satisfied that all the shampoo is gone, and he reaches for the bar of his soap sitting on the side of the tub. 

You watch, expecting him to start washing himself, but instead he drags the soap across your skin, washing away all the sweat and sleep from the last several hours. It smells unmistakably like Mister. You’re perplexed, studying the lines in his face as he concentrates on making sure he doesn’t miss an inch of you. 

“I have my own,” you motion to your other bottles and containers of soaps and shampoos. 

Joel glances in their direction and shrugs, sliding the bar of soap along your lower stomach, and then down between your legs. He’s thorough, but gentle. His touch is innocent, moving from your core, down your thighs. He kneels in front of you, washing your shins and calves, then finally your feet. He holds your ankle, lifting each one a couple of inches, cleaning the soles and between your toes. 

When he goes to stand, he’s slow, and winces, sucking air between his teeth harshly. 

“You hurtin’?” You reach for him with your right arm, and let him use you to stand up fully.

Joel grimaces the entire way to his feet, and begins to wash himself with the same bar of soap, ignoring your question completely. “I know gettin’ used to this place ain’t gonna be easy for you,” he starts to explain again. 

For some reason, what says embarasses you. You want to crawl inside your own skin and hide from the rest of his words. 

Mister-man doesn’t seem to notice as you pull your chin into your chest, and stare at the bottom of the tub, watching the suds and water race down the drain. “M’ gonna help ya’ as much as I can, but we can’t be together every second of every day– we weren’t together like that at the mall.” 

You roll your eyes, thankful that he can’t see. “Wasn’t no one else ‘round at the mall,” you grumble quietly. 

Joel snatches your chin in his hand and tilts your head to look up at him. “What’d you say?” He growls, eyes narrowed directly onto yours. 

The muscles in your jaw tense, and you tear your chin from between his fingers. “I said there wasn’t no one else around at the mall.” 

Mister snorts, and shakes his head from side to side. He smirks as he goes back to washing under his arms, and then his shoulders and chest. “Think I’d let someone do something to you?” 

“How are you gonna stop’em if you ain’t around, huh?” 

Joel leans in so his face is only an inch from yours. “Ain’t nobody even gonna try,” he’s still smirking. “Wanna know how I know?” 

You don’t respond, you just continue to stare at him.

“‘Cause everyone here knows that I’d hunt’em down and fucking kill them if they did,” he continues, just barely a whisper. “You forget what I did for you in the mall?” He adds, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he stands upright. 

Part of you had forgotten in the tangled mess that was coming to Jackson. You don’t really remember what he had said– not exactly. 

Little scenes from the trip to Jackson play over and over again in your head, being shocked to the point of tears, Mister-man having to put the choke collar back on you when you wouldn’t stop trying to run. 

Finally, once you had exhausted yourself to the point of falling over, Joel told you the truth. Told you that it was a larger settlement, and that you would be expected to work, and have to talk to people. 

You do remember him whispering in your ear when he slipped his cock into you out in the woods, “Nobody’s gonna hurt my crazy lil puppy. Ain’t that right, baby?” 

You sobbed into his neck, “I ain’t crazy.” Clinging to him like you could be sucked into the center of the earth. You remember your clothes and hair being soaked, and clinging to your skin with a fresh layer of still wet mud; Mister’s hands were dirty with it when he tried to wipe your tears away. 

You remember that it suddenly sounded like thunder, and the ground was vibrating under your back. You remember the snorting of horses, and the authoritarian voice that shouted at Mister-man to get off of you. 

You remember that he didn’t get off of you, he actually thrust a couple more times until someone pulled and cocked a gun. Only then did he leave you with a sickeningly wet squelch, keeping you pinned underneath him while he situated himself back into his jeans.

You don't remember much else after that, really, not until you got to Maria's house.

Mister-man rinses his body and then reaches around you to shut the water off, and then he carefully dries you. He tuts quietly when he reaches your shoulder, bruised and swollen, but doesn’t say anything. 

Mister wraps the towel around you, and then wraps one around his waist and guides you into his bedroom. He goes into your one drawer, barely half-filled with your things, and picks out a shirt. He pulls it over your head, and is smirking down at you when you reemerge. 

“You up for a walk to the mess hall?” He asks, wiping a stray drop of water that is running down the side of your face. 

You blink up at him, wrinkling your nose slightly. 

He cups your face and rubs his thumb across your cheek, “S’where we can get somethin’ to eat.”

As if on cue, your stomach lets out a deep, loud rumbling sound. You are hungry– possibly starving. You can’t remember the last time you had anything besides a handful of raspberries and crackers. It’s been a while since you sat down and ate with Mister. 

He helps you into a pair of jeans, and then puts a clean pair of socks on for you, and helps you into one of his long-sleeve flannels. He rolls up the sleeves so they don’t overhang your hands. 

“Are there gonna be other people there?” You try to sound nonchalant, like you don’t care if other people were there. Inside, your heart feels like it isn’t moving at all, and your mouth is fuzzy and dry. 

Mister-man is tucking his shirt into his jeans when he looks at you, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Does it matter?” He sees right through you, and shakes his head as he zips and buttons his jeans. 

You shrug and sit down on the edge of his bed. “I was just askin’,” you mumble under your breath. 

He doesn’t hear, or chooses to ignore you as he finishes getting dressed. He walks back into the bathroom, and when he returns, his hair is combed back, away from his face. Mister-man’s face looks endlessly tired, like it’s been etched into his being. 

He stands in front of you with his hands on his hips, furrowing his brow at you. “What’s the matter? Y’still worried ‘bout them?” He tips head towards the door. 

You shrug again, looking everywhere but his eyes as he takes a step closer. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to avoid it, he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and makes you look up at him. You force a closed lip smile at him, and shake your head from side to side. “Nah…” You blink up at him, the small, strained grin still on your face. “I know you’ll take care of me.” 

tag list- @probablyreadinsmut @lilac-boo @pedrospookie @ghoulettesinspace @itwasntimethatdidit40 @itsokbbygrlbutworsethistime @baronessvonglitter @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @joelmillerisapunk @pastelpinkflowerlife @tateypots @toxicrecs @the-orange-tabby-cat @gothcsz @almostempty @cubiclehoe @codenamekitten @shivispunk @shortandderanged @oliveksmoked @evolnoomym

(if you didn't want to be tagged tell me to fuck right off, but if you'd like to be added, let me know <3 )

[moonlitrogue]

Channeled love note ~ from a special source of love + Ask Game ↓

Dear beloved, seeker of romance. Yes, that timeless, luminous, beautifully ridiculous thing. It arrives with meaning, knocking at your door to deliver a message from someone who's keeping you close in their heart. So reach within, let the soft glow of love, pink and unimposing, flow from your heart all the way to your head and toes. Do you feel it yet? Now let's take a breath and exhale slowly through the mouth. It helps to close your eyes when you do this. Take your time. When you feel centered and the pink light glows soft and steady, choose a picture you're drawn to, below. You'll find a corresponding letter, from a special source of love in your life. They could be present in your current life - a partner, a lover... or maybe you'll meet them in a different place in time? Love is a great adventure afterall.

Let me know how your pile made you feel!

Scroll to the bottom for the ask game details

pile 1 → 2 → 3

Letter #1

How did I not fall for you at first sight? It is true, with time and familiarity, I've peeled back the layers you've cloaked yourself with. The more time goes by, the more I fall in love with your details. I'm glad we're past our early days. You loved to challenge and I loved a challenge. You were so flighty and mysterious, but you could never resist expressing yourself. You were so defiant and sharp, slicing and moulding the frontiers of my mind. I guess we can call it a form of intellectual courtship? Even in our ego clashes, we were so compatible! As much as you loved unraveling my mind and giving me sleepless nights (mostly your words... fine your voice... and your eyes?), it was also what drew us closer. Our differences were vast, our edges and history shaped by the forces of life. I like the grit and raw beauty of your soul. You leaned into my story, like moonlight falling on water, illuminating the spaces, no. Beautifying those parts of myself I was so afraid to show you. How did you manage to unravel me like so? When our voices softened to understanding, like we recognized somehow a bridge had formed with the conversations we threw like stones. Tentative and wary, we made our way across, meeting in the middle. We were like puzzle pieces, coming together. Our contrasting outlines falling into place, from which a picture of our love emerged. Now, this love that feels so natural, like an alternative possibility, of a life where you didn't exist just seems absurd to me. I want to say I love you, but this feels like more. What's more than love?

Loving you is as innate and necessary as breathing, and I know it sounds hella cheesy, but - loving you is paradoxical. I think even my breath spells your name but you make me breathless. Did you eat well? Food is food, other things are other things - not sustenance (you are mine). So eat well and rest well. I'll always be finnicky and fussing over you. Am I annoying? Good. It's payback for how annoying you are, with your annoying wit and annoying beauty. Can't have a moment's peace with that bright mind of yours. Come, torment me some more.

Letter #2 :

There are few things I'm certain of and on top of that list is how I'll love you, through our ever evolving ways. Maybe the days of our youth will pass by like this. Questioning the world and the feeling of uncertainty beating in our hearts. And I may even be reckless to think this but what do they matter? When all's said and done, only love is left in this world. Let me master you, let me learn about you the way the earth knows the roots that press deep into it. How do your days and nights sit on your shoulder, the dreams you carry beneath your ribs. The taste of your quiet, the weight of your want. Let me press kisses against the places you think I cannot, should not see, let me love you there too.

Does your chest tremble like mine does, when you say my name? Soft, sometimes teasing; always like it belongs to you.

I'll let you hold my joys, and you need not fear them slipping by. Not when my joy is you. And let me hold your sadness, for they're mine too.

I don't blame you for fearing that love is fleeting. I'm afraid of it too. No, let me show you that the world is wrong to ask that of you. It is not to be earned or bargained for, and let me be the proof that it's not. Yet, I will savour falling on my knees for you. Like the sun meets the horizon, I'll be patient to be let in when you need it the most. Sink into me. I'll hold your sorrows and joys. The way love carries us even when we do not know how to ask for it. For beyond the first desire, beyond the first moments of our passion and meeting, I find myself still consumed by you. The world will take and time will take too, only love remains. And if love is all that remains when the world is done with us, I'll give mine to you until nothing of me remains untouched by the knowing of you.

Letter #3 :

I need to be honest with you. The times we spend together, long days, longer evenings. Hearts spent and happy when we get home. Can't I get some more of you? I swing between humility and arrogance. All I ever want is to exist beside you, quietly. Dare I impose this upon you? It's ridiculous really. I'll just be sitting there minding my own business and suddenly, I'll think of you and feel this overwhelming rush of warmth in my chest. Your voice in the morning, when you kiss me goodbye, like the softness of the morning sun, slipping through my fingers.

You're my accomplice, in all things ridiculous and real. I can't believe you're stuck with me. Because I will be right here, with you. In every way a person can be, through every terrible day, through every ordinary Tuesday.

I will be here to hear your grumpy and tired sighs, when you're really hangry but you decide it's the perfect time to develop really strong feelings for that thing that doesn't really matter. And you forget it the next day. It's so cute that you're often torn between the meadow's hush and a neon-lit club, because as the end of the night rolls in ... we forget where we are.

Our shadows move in a drunken haze. The breeze becomes a poet. And your hand in mine is a song I hum forever. These moments I take in carefully. When I'm alone, in my mind, I trace your face and the sound of your voice. Us keeping each other humble. I'll never let you know how crazy I am about you. Do you still not know it yet? Is that why you let me hold you a little longer? I know you watch me and know me, learning my habits and the way I speak by heart. (And my voice definitely doesn't sound like that, but you do you.)

So, here we are, picking each others' habits. Like the way you eat fruit or place your feet up on the chair like that or chew on the poor, poor chewable objects. You're so clever, you are. I can never be subtle with you, you break the damn doors when I sulk. And it makes me smile and bite my lips, really it does. You know it when I'm too stubborn to ask for help, because you do that too, you know? And when I make a fool of myself, who's going to roll their eyes and make fun of me before I'm told, "I knew this was going to happen." You're so helpful like that. How lucky I am that our paths crossed. That I have the honour of loving you and sharing this life with you.

💌 ASK GAME : LOVE NOTE DELIVERY

• each emoji stands for a different source of love in your life. pick an emoji you're drawn to :

🍊 | X | 🥂 | 🐢 | 🥃 | 🌺 | X | 🎠 | 🦋 | ���

• comment the chosen emoji + a word in your native tongue or foreign language that you find beautiful.

• a corresponding note for the emoji will be shared (in the form of a short channeled message for you)

• open for the first 15 slots

Hope you enjoyed the reading ! 💕

[svetamillss]

I will be the guardian of your dreams💤

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f)

Warnings: This is my first fanfic! Also, English is not my native language, so sorry for the mistakes! I just want to express my love for this beautiful woman!!

💕💕💕

It was a deep night. All players slept, tired after the first game. Still, there were too many shocks on the first day. Only Young-Hee still couldn't sleep, turning to the right side or left. All because the girl was afraid of the dark and since childhood could not fall asleep without her favorite plush rabbit and a small night light in the shape of a star. Here, unfortunately, she was absolutely alone. It even began to seem to her that someone was watching her from the other world, but it was just her fantasies out of fear.

- Hey, are you all right? - a quiet voice sounded nearby. Young-hee immediately realized who he belonged to. It was her new friend, whom they met at the first game, because if it wasn't for Hyun-ju, Young-Hee would have died. Hyun-Joo was brave and damn beautiful. Even though the girl was transgender, she was very attracted to Young-hee without realizing it.

- Yes, everything is fine. - she lied, she really didn't want her friend to worry about her. - Why aren't you sleeping?

- Thanks to the training, which took place for many years, I got a very sharp hearing. - the girl said with a grin. - And I also trained to recognize lies. So I feel like you're lying me. And it's very offensive.- she added too theatrically.

- It's just... I'm embarrassed to talk about it, because I not a small one.

- Do you mean you really want to go to the toilet?

- GOD, NO! - Young-Hee shouted with embarrassment, so much so that several people seemed to have woken up.

- Why shout like that? I was just kidding. Don't be afraid to tell me, I'll understand everything. - she comforted her with her tender voice.

- Good. I can't sleep because I'm scared. - the girl paused for a while, and then continued.

- Since early childhood, I have been afraid of the darkness, especially those who live in it. That's why I always slept with my plush rabbit and the night light on. I was so calm. And there is no such thing here and I can't do it any other way. It seems to me that monsters will attack me and kill me. - as soon as the girl finished the story, she looked at the next bed where Hyun-ju was lying, although she still won't be able to see the reaction, because there was nothing but darkness.

Hyun-Joo listened carefully and did not interrupt her friend, and when she finished, she smiled warmly saying:

- You could have told me earlier, silly.

- What do you mean? - she asked with incomprehension.

- I mean, you should have told me earlier what you're afraid of. This situation is easy to solve.

- And how? Those triangles would not give a night light. - but instead of an answer, she heard only a quiet laugh and some movement, as it turned out, her friend got out of bed and quietly approached her.

- Move, I'll lie down next to you. - Young-Hee couldn't answer anything, so she silently fulfilled the girl's request and was very embarrassed by what was happening.

As soon as Hyun-Joo lay down and covered herself with a blanket, she carefully hugged the girl's waist and put she head on chest.

- Now, I hope you'll sleep well. - she whispered.

- Yes..thank you, but why did you do it?

- Why? So that my Young-Hee could sleep peacefully and gain strength before tomorrow. Don't worry, from now on I will be the guardian of your dreams and I will not sleep until I am convinced that you have gone to the kingdom of morphine. And now good night to you. - After that, the girl gently kissed Young-Hee on the forehead.

- Good night to you too. - she answered softly. Her cheeks were decorated with a strong blush with embarrassment.

Thank God it was dark and Hyun-Joo didn't notice how her friend blushed. Although, maybe she felt everything and realized right away?

💕💕💕

[whump-imagines]

Don't Leave Me

Buck x reader

WC: 975

For @whumpcember day 13 Trauma

--

You opened your eyes, blinking to clear the fuzziness. Looking around, you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Steering wheel, broken windshield, and was that grass? Were you upside down?

Next, you heard sirens somewhere far away. They slowly got louder and louder before cutting off with a loud hiss of air. You closed your eyes hoping you would wake up and this would all just be a weird dream.

“Hey, hey, uh, miss?” A voice sounded to your left. “Can you hear me?”

Cracking your eyes open again, you took in the same sight as before. Turning your head slowly, you caught sight of gorgeous blue eyes. He smiled when his gaze locked on yours. “What’s going on?” your words came out slurred.

“Try not to move,” he said. “My name is Buck. You were in an accident. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?”

“Mmkay,” you mumbled, letting your eyes fall closed once more.

“Hey, no, keep your eyes open for me.” Buck gently grasped your shoulder. “Can you tell me your name?”

You introduced yourself as you heard the groan of metal and the car was jostled slightly.

“It's okay, they’re just stabilizing your car so we can get you out safely,” he explained. “Can you tell me if you have any pain?”

You took a moment to consider his question. “Uh, my head and my side a bit. But not that bad.”

“Okay, that's good.” The passenger side door was yanked open and another firefighter crawled into the car. “This is Eddie. He's going to help me get you down from there as carefully as we can.”

“Hey, sweetheart. I'm just going to put this around your neck to keep your head stable while we move you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I'm going to cut your seatbelt and we're going to lower you down as carefully as we can,” Buck explained. “Just try not to move.”

As they moved you, you suddenly felt like someone was stabbing you in the side. Sharp, white hot pain causing you to cry out. They quickly had you on a backboard and out of the car.

Once you were set onto the stretcher, Buck took your hand. “Okay, we're done. Can you tell me what hurts?”

You gasped, trying to catch your breath. “My s-side.”

“We will get you something for the pain in a second.” He tried to take a step back as the medics started to check you over.

You squeezed his hand harder so he couldn't move away. “No, please don't leave me.”

“Uh, o-okay. Not going anywhere.”

Next, they loaded you into the ambulance and Buck, Eddie, and a female medic all joined you. Buck sat beside you and held your hand as the other two checked vitals and started an IV.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you realized you were wheezing and breathing was slowly getting harder and harder.

You squeezed Buck’s hand as you started to panic. “I can't breathe.”

An oxygen mask was placed over your face a moment before you felt a sharp pinch near your collarbone. Breathing became easier almost immediately.

Soon after the ambulance stopped and the doors were opened. You were rolled into the hospital while Eddie explained the accident and what had happened in the ambulance.

When you made it to a room, Buck leaned over to look at you. “You're in really good hands here, okay? I have to get back to work now. They'll take care of you.”

You tried not to whine at the realization that you'd have to let him go. Finally, you forced yourself to release his hand. “Okay. Uh, bye.”

He gave you an adorable smirk. “Feel better soon.”

One week later

You wandered into the fire station looking around awkwardly. You quickly spotted someone you recognized from the accident.

Making your way over to him, you cleared your throat. “Excuse me?”

He turned around and greeted you. “How can I– Oh, Y/N. Hey.”

You waved. “Hi. Um, is Buck here?”

“He is. I think he was in the kitchen,” he pointed towards the stairs. “Come on, I'll show you.”

You followed him up the stairs. When you made it to the top you heard Buck ask, “Hey, Chim, come try this.”

“Buck, you have a visitor.”

He looked up from the pot he was stirring. “Y/N. Hey, how are you?”

He came around the island and opened his arms to offer you a hug while you quickly accepted. “I'm okay, healing.”

“That's good to hear.” He rubbed his neck and you couldn't help but to stare as his arm flexed with the motion. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to thank you.” You turned to Chim. “Well all of you.. for helping me. But also you for holding my hand the whole time.”

“Of course. I'm glad I could be there for you.”

“I also wanted to ask if, maybe, you'd want to hang out? Maybe get coffee or something some time?” You twisted your fingers awkwardly.

He smiled brightly. “Absolutely.”

“Cool. I'm, I can give you my number,” you offered.

He pulled out his phone and handed it over. “Do you want to stay for lunch? It's almost ready and we have plenty.”

“I would,” you started. “But I can't. I actually have a follow up doctor's appointment.”

“Okay, let me walk you out at least.” He turned to Chim, “Can you keep an eye on that?” He gestured to the stove and then led you back down the stairs without waiting for a response.

He walked you all the way to your car and pulled your door open for you. “I'll call you.”

“I'll be waiting.” You lifted onto your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you again.”

“You're welcome.”

[mintytealfox]

Norton lvl: Intimate

Alice....why are you asking questions that you already know the answer to orz You've only got three and this is what you choose orz Maybe she is just trying to freak him out a little with her 'I know you did it' I feel like we took 5 steps forward and then 500 steps back oh my gosh lol

----- but he EMOTED AGAAAIINNN:

His chat dialogue is pretty darn open and says a ton though 👀🙏 So maybe he wasn't too bent out of shape about this last 'mining accident' question pff

-----

The new Chat Dialogue: (He says a BOAT LOAD YALL!! LOCK INNN)

-Let's see, One, two...great, I've got four damn pennies left to my name. -How do I see the mine? It's just a grave we all dig for ourselves, 'cause we gotta survive. -You ever hear that old nursery rhyme? Two kids went to get water, one tripped and the other rolled down the hill... -Everyone's got a past they don't want anyone to know about. -If I came from your world, I'd want clean clothes too, sitting in a bright house listening to some teacher prattle on. But I ain't got nothing, so I work my ass off just to eat. -The hardest part of the job? Winter. The damn uniform's cumbersome and heavy, and the wind keeps blowing right through it. -People fear losing their wealth, but what really scares 'em is seeing a miner break free from fate. -My dream? Just to get the hell out of this miserable life. -That's enough. We've talked long enough, go find something else to do. (LOOOL) -Hmm, hey. (CUTE) -Lazy bastards just lie around drinking cat piss and eating coal dust. End up choking on it, or drunk and falling off the edge. (wait, you telling me he hates BEER?? and doesn't get DRUNK cause you ain't about to find him fumbling around and dying on accident?!) -Who the hell wants to live forever in this cold, damp, dark hole? -When I'm down in the mine, I always think every day as my last day. -I gotta climb, a little higher, just a little higher. -I can recognize a few words, but I can't stand all that whining nonsense. Folks who write stories don't know a damn thing. -Family? Don't remember much about 'em anymore. -A little sweetness can make a desperate man lose his damn mind. -Poverty, pain, lungs full of dust--yeah, that's my whole damn life. -Good weather? Hell, as long as the mine ain't caved in, that's the best weather you'll get. -If you can take the pain, pain's got no damn end. -Those rich pricks? Always making the poor suffer while they act like they're sprinkling love. -We climb in when the sun rises, crawl out when it's dark... Hell, even rats need a little sunlight. -One day, maybe I'll get myself a place with a roof, somewhere quiet, where I can sleep without worrying. (😭) -A miner's son's a miner, a poor man's son stays poor. Fate's like a damn curse that never lets up. -The bosses I've worked for? They all want to squeeze every last drop outta you, like a damn orange. -It ain't poverty that scares me, it's ending up like those old miners---dead in the mine, no roof over your head, and a squeaky old bed. -I don't expect much from the future, just getting through one day at a time is enough. -The sunset? It's like gunpowder going off in the mine. Boom! (too soon bruh LOL) -What do I like to eat? Bread, milk, tea....Uh, what the hell is foie gras? (HE LIKES TEEEEAAAAAA ;w; <3<3<3<3 and I wanted to know too lol its a "a French culinary delicacy consisting of the fattened liver of ducks or geese") -Tomorrow's another day. More work. More tiredness. More loneliness. Same old grind. ( ;A; ) -People always gotta pay for what they've done -My life? Can't say it's much different from a sewer rat's.

[nakedbibi333]

The Art of Returning: Coming Back to the Law

Well, it sure has been a while! The thing about me and this blog is that it's more of an archive for you guys (and myself as well) and I just log in when I feel like there is something new or relevant I want to share.

Anyway! Today I felt the urge to make a post about the idea of "falling off." I mostly want to address these kinds of questions/predicaments: "What do I do when I stop practicing the law?" and "What do I do when I stop believing in the law?"

It's happened more times than I'd care to admit in these past two years since I stopped posting regularly. I find that I'll have a lot of success and then I get comfortable there and stop being responsible with my routine. Then, by losing my routine, I slowly allow my senses and the outer world to dictate my state, and then you know how that goes...

Either way, it doesn't exactly matter how it happens, it only matters that we can get back on it and return to the place where we were before.

It's crazy how much reacting to (and living primarily in) the physical world affects your mental state. In my experience, it gets more and more negative if you're not aware of it, and soon enough, you become a pessimist, and you're constantly manifesting unlucky and negative aspects into your life. The great thing about this, though, is that you can change it. You are never stuck in a state. Whether the state is negative or positive, it is not immovable or unchangeable. Whatever you are experiencing, hearing, or seeing in your physical world is just a reflection of your state. So, since you have lost your belief in the law, you'll start to see more people criticizing and belittling people who do believe in the law. Maybe you will see more "failure" stories, and you may see more negativity in general surrounding the law. This does not mean that those things are true. They are simply what your self is reflecting onto your outer reality based on your self-concept. It may feel difficult to leave this state, but it's as simple as deciding you believe in the law again. You can just as easily return to that state of faith, trust, and power you had occupied before you stopped practicing. And I know this because I have done it myself. You will always have another excuse, another reason, and another fear that will keep you in this limited state. Just let go and return to that feeling.

For some people, I'm sure it's just as easy as intending to return to your desired state. That isn't my own personal experience, though. It can take some convincing. I approach this by re-learning everything I knew before. I need to first place myself in a calm mindful state (which is easier than immediately placing myself in a state of full, confident belief in the law) and start to consume my favorite content. I read Neville Goddard's Lectures and books, listen to Edward Art's YouTube channel, and read his main series, and then I begin to test the law. This is the best way to build belief in the law. Just test it with things that don't matter. Most people like to manifest seeing a specific color insect, getting free food, or finding a dollar on the street, but I approach testing differently before I do that. Instead of saying that I want to see a green car and then waiting to see it in my life, I just start to notice my surroundings. I'll begin to see that the thing I dreamed about the night before ended up happening, that something I was thinking about was brought up in conversation without my initiation, or that something I wanted to do is now planned by someone in my life. These things, which are not deliberately manifested by me, increase my belief in the law because I recognized that I did not even have to try to make things happen for my imagination to show me the truth in the law of assumption. Only then will I start deliberately manifesting because I feel much more confident that it will happen.

With this process, I have been able to go from a negative, unlucky, unfaithful person, to a fulfilled, lucky, and positive person within days (or sometimes hours depending on my own willingness to change). Just know that even the best of us struggle to stay on top of this way of life all the time. Remember there is very little effort in this process. It's really a letting go of your old self and allowing yourself to be open and receptive to the law again.

Hope you guys are doing well! See you again soon ♡

[marvelishmanda]

Our Ghosts Are Present Tense

Prague's morning folds like an old letter, its edges softened by time and loss, a city of survived silences, trams tracking scars across cobbled skin.

I'm foreign here again, with passport permission. They say this makes me safe, but a stamp is thin asylum— history teaches quiet suspicion, doorways know how shadows wait.

Across an ocean, my birthplace breaks the bones of promises: ICE vans as dark as cattle cars, due process rerouted online, while children whisper unanswered in doorways left empty.

Legal residents are now erased, mouths gagged and wrists zipped tight, lives excised by red ink and signatures— justice, a closed-court spectacle, is shipped to private rented cells The bitter weight of paper mutes screams like snowfall— “Temporary”

I walk Prague counting brass plaques, tracing ghost names worn smooth, my tongue twisted by the consonants of families once disappeared— do we still call it history when it never ceased its haunting?

My queer body moves slow, bones wary, trembling under the threat of erasure— the state's gaze finds difference, defines it, tracks it, files it away, waiting to rewrite the conditions of our right to exist.

I fold mourning like the laundry, ache for fathers deported mid-dinner, plates still steaming, shoes untied, images of childhood sliced sudden, cleaved from belonging like limbs— and wonder how countries learn so well to carve apart families like meat.

Written in bloodlines and borders, a thousand laws deceive, deliberate: safety nets turned to snares, visas revoked between clock-ticks— homelands dissolved under our feet— there are no warning shots when law is the weapon.

I no longer recognize my homeland, but I’ve always known it this way even when I didn't see how often its stars were burned with gasoline, its eagle was strangled by violence. This is the freedom that has always dragged humans from factories, hospitals, dreams to prisons built of forgotten files, quietly shredded before dawn.

This mourning is an inheritance: watching families become headlines, yet again, catalogued casualties in archives I'll never live to read.

Each dawn my shadow greets me, asks timidly if today is the day someone writes my obituary in newsprint, misspells my name in quick ink— foreign body, collateral damage, legal at the wrong time, wrong place, erased by a footnote, voice hushed like ash, falling quietly on freshly rewritten borders.

I hold memories warm inside my lungs, say their names slow in solidarity with the erased, the disappeared. I remember here, now, openly, we must sharpen outrage into a blade, that blade into truth, truth into resistance.

Let us bare that blade against oppression, glinting sunlight into dark corners, slicing through iron bars. Let their captive birds escape, carrying in their tongues the names of all else who disappeared.

Let us hold onto each other fiercely, no matter the weight of history, no matter the shadows of borders. We will carve space for our breath, for our bodies to exist, to be known.

Let us be evidence, openly, beautifully here— our complicated names, our stubborn survival.

Our voices will rise together, woven from the threads of those lost, never to be silenced again.

History must not silence us again.

[yuri-is-online]

Criminally Smooth (Floyd Leech x Yuu)

Floyd might have a concussion, but that doesn't mean he can't recognize true love when he sees it, and that halo the bisexual lighting of this cop car is giving you makes him think he might have a chance.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, based off a meme I saw and the song Bonnie and Clyde by Dutch Melrose. Vaguely modern au, hints of a mafia au? Yuu and Floyd are implied to be adults and full of bad decisions. More fic can be found on my masterlist.

“Hey baby, what's your name?” Floyd's teeth are sharp and his smile is weirdly wide, like he's trying to display his mouth for you. “You come here often? I swear I've seen ya somewhere before…” You take a deep breath trying to ground yourself, the metal of the handcuffs should be painful enough to do the trick but the ridiculousness of Floyd asking that question when you're both going to jail is overriding the discomfort.

“We've met before, yeah.” You grumble trying to shift to get a bit more comfortable as Floyd's eyes get wide as saucers in a way that would be cute if that meeting hadn't been him shaking you down for “interfering” with Azul’s business model.

“Really?” He sounds so happy, and tries to move his hands to do who knows what but gets stopped by the cuffs, which wipes away the facade of kindness as he glares down at them. “Well I must have introduced myself-”

“You did yeah.” You try to cut off whatever it is he has to say and try not to die of embarrassment when it doesn't stop him from babbling.

“I've got your number then right?” Floyd begins wiggling to reach for his back pocket and glares when Officer Clover tells him to knock it off. “You're just so fucking pretty please tell me that wasn't just a dream and I got your number.” Are you even talking to the same person?

“I don't think so?” He whines, whines! When you say that and looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “We uh. We weren't. Didn't get much of a chance to talk.” You shouldn't be flustered by this. Shouldn't be thinking that it's sort of cute how he presses up against the bars separating you in the back of the cruiser to try and get as close to you as possible.

“Aww well let me do it again please?” You nod and try not to fluster when he brings back the dreamy smile places his cuffed hands against the bars. “I'm Floyd, sorry I totaled your car, baby.” It wasn't your car but you know better to say that in something rigged for audio. “You free this Saturday? I wanna make it up to you and I know a real great place-”

“I don't think either of you are going to be free this weekend,” Officer Clover isn't even hiding how much he's enjoying this you really wish you could get away with punching him “sorry Floyd.”

“Ignore Sea Turtle, oh hey I don't know your name do I?” Surprisingly Floyd isn't annoyed at all, he's still keeping his mouth wide and gets even more excited when you begin to subconsciously mimic him. “C'mon what's your name pretty?”

“It's Yuu but you kept calling me-”

“LITTLE SHRIMPY!!!” He shouts so loud Officer Clover slams on the brakes out of shock, Floyd laughs as he tumbles around and you try to brace against the wall. “Dawww ya should have just led with that baby, I wouldn't have rammed ya. Not with a car anyway.” The police cruiser lurches again as you feel the tires hit something, slamming Floyd against the door and tumbling you towards the floor. He bites down on the metal of his cuffs making sure to keep eye contact with you as he chews through the metal, winking like he's putting on some sort of show and not at all surprised or afraid that your ride is spiraling out of control. “Remember, Saturday ok? And don't worry about dressing nice I'll take care of it ♡” His door flies open as Officer Clover scrambles for his radio and Floyd jumps out of the tank into an awaiting vehicle laughing the entire time, yelling a few choice expletives at the police commissioner as he goes. You curl yourself into a tiny ball and chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to process what just happened over the angry squaking you hear on the radio.

There's no way a judge is letting you make bail after this.

[charlie-shmarlie]

▪︎Sweet & Low (David 8 x shy! fem reader)

-Super short little fic in which David finds a distracted Y/n humbly singing along to the tune in her head as she works in the repair shop.-

Song name: Lida Rose/Will I Ever Tell You?

Word count: 1,002

Warnings: none

I'm currently taking headcanon requests for David and Walter :)

____________🪐🎼♡

"Dream of now, dream of then..."

The Prometheus' assigned synthetic walked through the brightly lit corridors with purposeful strides, the soles of his sandals surprisingly silent against the floor. His hair, as usual, was styled to perfection; his clothes smoothed out and containing not a single wrinkle. The LED lights that lined the halls bounced off of his glassy, silver-blue pools, giving them an almost mirror like quality as they passed overhead.

​​​​​He was currently heading for a likely displeasurable meeting with Ms. Vickers,  who had called for him from her quarters not long ago. He was neither looking forward to it, nor dreading it.

"Dream of a love song that might have been..."

But it was only then when he stopped, coming to a complete hault seemingly out of nowhere. Somewhere, somebody was singing. Their voice gentle and sweet, a refreshing but surprising sound to hear in such a place. The muffled tune echoed quietly throughout, and David's system immediately recognized it as Will I Ever Tell You? Originally sung by Shirley Jones in the 1962 film adaptation of The Music Man. A timeless musical love story.

A sudden spark of curiosity flared within him, and he swiftly set off to find the source of the pleasant song. Yes, his little conference with Ms. Vickers would just have to be put on hold for longer than planned. She would be pissed, but her fury wasn't his main concern.

"Do I love you? Oh yes, I love you..."

After coming around a corner or two, it was then that he happened upon the ship's repair room; the place where everyone dropped off their faulty equipment or any other malfunctioning things to be fixed. The only light sources for the space were the ones pouring in from the open doorway, along with a single dim desk lamp that shone onto the surface of a table riddled with metallic parts and wires. David's eyes then landed upon a young woman who sat there, working hard at a flickering circuit board, her lips parted just slightly as that same familiar tune flowed out.

"And I'll bravely tell you, but only when we dream again..."

He took note of the way she sang the piece. Her voice was softer and not nearly as powerful as the original vocalist's, and the tempo was slower than it should be, which actually brought about a rather soothing melody. He stood still for some time studying her, his stoic expression unchanging. She was quite an attractive creature, he thought anyway; even though his programming prohibited him from feeling anything real towards people.

"Sweet and low, sweet and low..."

He stepped into the doorway, causing a tall shadow to fall over the mechanic's work from the side.

"Please, forgive my intrusion, Ms. L/n--"

"SHIT! Oh--dammit David, you scared me to death!" she breathed out, relieved that it was only him, yet at the same time, horrified that it was him.

"My apologies again, Ms. L/n," he smiled politely, unfazed by Y/n's violent reaction to his presence that had sent one of her tools clanging to the floor.

She sighed and bent down from her chair, swiftly picking it back up, "what's up? Need something fixed?" she questioned causally, her e/c eyes flickering back and forth from her project to him.

David stepped further inside and continued to observe her movements, "thank you, but I do believe all of my systems are in proper functioning order," he explained, "I rather came here following an impulsive curiosity upon hearing your voice."

"How sweet that memory from long ago..."

Y/n's cheeks heated up at the thought, and she kept her gaze locked on the work in front of her, silently cursing herself for being so careless.

David took note of her sudden awkward demeanor and quickly recognized it as one of the many symptoms of human embarrassment.

"Forgive my rash statement, but I found it to be quite pleasant. I haven't heard that tune in some time," he continued, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, thanks.." she muttered a little quieter, attempting to hold back a flattered smile, "it's always been one of my favorites."

The android nodded in understanding, "I was hoping you might be inclined to continue with it."

Y/n paused for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. Such an odd request, especially coming from him, but where would the harm be in complying? It's not like she could get much more embarrassed..

Slowly, she took a shaky breath into her lungs.

"Forever? Oh yes, forever..."

The first few notes that fell from her lips were noticeably off due to her being nervous under David's unwavering, but not harsh, gaze. Although that feeling soon began to melt away and her voice progressively steadied itself. After some time, she resumed tinkering with the circuit board in her hands, an absentminded smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

David found his way to a second chair not far away and sat down to quietly admire the beautiful melody. It seemed even gentler yet this time, almost intimate; as if it was meant for him and him only. His eyes trailed over her features once more. A content expression appeared on his face as he listened intently, eventually closing his lids to fully appreciate this sense of peace that he didn't come by very often.

In time, Y/n noticed and softened at the sight. She didn't have the heart to do anything but keep going, even repeating the entire song a few times.

What a strange thing he was.

​​"Will I ever tell you? Oh, no..."

[thisisntmyrightera]

She's Home -Nikki Sixx (Douglas Booth x fem reader) Part 1

Plot: Story of an alternate universe where Nikki meets a young waitress at the cafe he goes to every day without knowing that she would become his everything until death do them part.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx (Douglas Booth) and Female Reader

Warning: Hard Language, drug mention, adult content.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

1980, the year where all dreams went to hell, where I had realized that chasing ghosts would be useless, how could I go on if my own father had denied my existence?, I had worked too hard to get his number, I had spent sleepless nights thinking about what to say when I called him and he sent me to hell with his contempt, this was fucking hell bro.

Hi, have you been here for a while, would you like to order something? - What the hell is with that voice? Normally Dottie was the one who served me daily at the same table where I always sat and it was not at all what I was used to, my jaw tensed a little more while my eyes traveled quickly to the figure that was standing next to me - Hi, would you like a coffee? - her smile made me take a breath after all the time I was waiting for my lungs to collapse

Yeah, why not - I nodded a little while my eyes returned to the crumpled paper in my hands with the number of the bastard who had brought me into this world

Fine, I'll go get a cup - her smile could be heard on her voice as she walked away giving little jumps that made me look at her again curious, who was she? I had been coming here daily for weeks and I had never noticed her presence and that was impossible, she was so pretty, her dark hair so well combed and her skin clean as porcelain, I was used to seeing girls with tons of hairspray and makeup in industrial quantities that it was almost impossible to recognize them once they took it off, but she looked different, so unique and pretty that made me forget the moment that was happening, it was so stupidly obvious that when I noticed her return my eyes quickly returned to their original position trying not to look like an idiot - would you like something else? - She placed the cup so delicately on the table and while she was pouring the coffee I could feel her gaze on me that I just quickly shook my head hiding my face in the brown strands of my hair - okay, if you need anything you can call me, my name is y/n

I could notice her silhouette dancing around me, not specifically that, but she went from one table to another serving and taking orders, always with a kind tone in her voice and a smile, I could notice how the drunken bastards that recently leave Whisky A Go Go watch her passing by making obscene comments about her body and the disgusting things they could do to her in her bed, I don't know why I took it so personally, I didn't even know her and I had my own problems.

You still haven't finished your coffee - her voice made me raise my head again, finally looking into her eyes, those beautiful eyes that I had never seen before - we're almost done - her gaze went to the clock on the wall making me notice that it was almost 11 pm

Oh… I'm sorry, time flew by - I sighed sadly taking the cup drinking the last sip feeling the bitter cold taste run down my throat

Don't worry, are you okay? - her hands moved in the pockets of her pink apron looking at me curiously, what did she care if a drunk was okay? Nobody ever cared if I was okay or not

I… can I ask you something? - I looked at her curiously wetting my lips watching her nod - What would you do if someone rejected you?

Well… that depends - she looked at me curiously smiling - reject in what sense?

Something like… - my hands rested on the table thinking about how to say things without looking like a helpless child but I couldn't find anything else that could justify what had just happened to me - as if your own father had rejected you and asked you not to appear in his life again?

Oh..-her chubby cheeks disappeared when she erased her smile- well I..-a sigh came out of her chest as she sat in front of me- well I don't have a dad so I couldn't tell you…but if that happened to you, I think you shouldn't feel any guilt about his decisions, it's him who failed you not you

-I see..-I sighed looking at the table biting my lip curiously not knowing what to say while my hands crumpled the paper I held all night

Not all people are born to have a great responsibility like raising a child and they also don't have the courage to take responsibility for their mistakes made on them so they blame someone else to feel less guilty, I don't know what happened but I think you should show him that what he expects to happen won't happen, you should show him that you can be a better person than him and you don't need his presence to be a great human being- her smile returned to her face making me feel a rush of air again, she was right, she have all the damn reason, I didn't need a damn bastard to know what my dreams were and of course I could be better than he was without his support

Shortly after the head waitress kicked me out of the place without being able to thank her for her great advice so I went to my car staying in it looking at the steering wheel for a couple of minutes, was this the time to start my big dream? Of course I would be a great rock star and I would show everyone that they can go to hell.

I started the engine and accelerated quickly taking the main avenue and then turning into an almost lonely street towards my apartment.

And there she was again, walking quickly with her hands in the pockets of her coat with her gaze on the pavement, I could recognize that hair bouncing after seeing it come and go all night, so I honked the horn making her turn quickly while she jumped scared

You're not walking home at this time of night, right? - I smiled at her, leaning my arm out of the window as I threw the cigarette onto the pavement

It's not that far anyway - she smiled at me, adjusting the strap of his bag over her shoulder

Yeah, well, damn, I don't know how to ask someone up… do you want me to give you a ride? - I was such a fucking idiot, what was wrong with me?

Well…- her gaze returned to the road and then to me nodding nervously as she walked quickly to get in the passenger side- Thanks for the ride… um…

Fran… Nikki my name is Nikki - I smiled at her offering her my hand to shake and when she did I could feel a electricity run to the tips of my hair

Nice to meet you Nikki - she smiled at me putting on her seat belt as i drive with REO Speedwagon playing on the radio

I tend to go to that place a lot lately and I've never seen anyone like you - I looked at her barely returning my gaze to the road as I drove as slowly as possible without looking like an idiot

It's my first day working at that coffee shop - she seemed to be the happiest person in the world, every sentence that came out of her mouth was accompanied by a childish but adorable smile - What do you mean by someone like me?

Someone, I don't know…pretty and pretty…- I cleared my throat feeling like an idiot trying to avoid his gaze

Yeah well, thanks for the compliment it was the nicest thing I heard all night - she laughed looking at her legs while her hands played with the clasp of her bag

So you did hear them? Why were you so nice to all those idiots, if I were you I would have thrown the hot coffee on their damn faces

Because I need the job, I need to pay for nursing school so I can graduate next summer and my mother can't do it anymore

I see, do you live with your mother? - I looked at her interested in her conversation stopping at a red light

Yes, with my mother and my younger sister, well she is my half sister but she is my sister, mom has had difficult months after my stepfather abandoned her so now we only live with one salary and I need to earn something to help her - her gaze did not return to look at me after her confession and her fingers played slower than normal clearly saddened

I understand you, unlike you my mother is shit, she did not abandon me like my father did but she always preferred her boyfriends who abused me, so when I had the chance I sent her to prison and left home - the green light reflected on the car window making me return my gaze to the road and accelerate hard remembering that damn woman

Oh I… I'm sorry about that Nikki

You don't have to feel it, after all you said it, I don't need anyone to prove that I can be better than them - i look at her giving her a smile and she did the same to me

The conversation was too good to end that night and to my surprise the night ended very differently than what usually happens whenever I hitch a ride with a girl, tonight there was no sex or unbridled alcohol until we were unconscious, she just limited herself to thanking me and saying goodbye to enter her home, it felt so strange, as if I had met a real woman, so every day I came back at the same time and to the same table so that she would serve me like every night, little by little she became my best friend, she listened to all the ideas I had and how London came to life, it was my first baby and she was in our first show it was great how everything started to get better until that night went to shit.

Our vocalist, as usual, screwed up on stage and a pitched fight broke out where my nose was the main target of an idiot's beer bottle. An hour later I was entering the cafeteria with a napkin on my still bleeding nose.

Oh my God Nikki, what did they do to you? - she quickly left the coffee jar on the nearest table and ran to me, helping me get to the same table as always.

I'm fine, I'm… shit, I'm fine - I sighed, sitting down, looking at her, tired of so much shit.

You guys fought again, right? - She looked at me disappointed, taking a couple of napkins from the table, carefully removing my hands from my face and gently tapping them on my nose

It's all that damn idiot's fault, he's always do som...ouch - I looked at her annoyed but her look quickly made me lower my tone of voice

I know Nikki but why do you always have to end up fighting, your fans go to see you play, not to see how you hit each other like animals on stage - She continued cleaning carefully until she stopped the bleeding and gave me a new napkin - You should seriously think about what to do because if things continue like this then the only thing that will happen is that all your fans will stop going to see you play because you're problematic

I know… I know - I sighed looking at her holding the napkin on my nose

I'll go get you some ice, don't cause trouble - She looked at me seriously as she walked away and disappeared behind the kitchen door

Damn, she had me trapped in her hand, it was Something so strange to explain as if I belonged to her completely but at the same time we were nothing at all

It was as if she was my good luck charm, when she was near me everything went perfect and just as I had always dreamed but when she left everything went to hell, even the lack of her presence made situations go wrong

How that same night a skinny and hyperactive boy was going to approach me to tell me that he was my biggest fan and support me in creating a band? right after she told me, it was such a strange but necessary coincidence.

Sorry Nikki I got busy a little, here's your ice - I looked at her with a small smile taking the ice from her hand- Sweetness I want you to meet someone, this is Tommy he will play drums in my new band

Nice to meet you - the boy drummer smiled at her moving his drumsticks making her laugh

Nice to meet you Tommy - she smiled at him greeting him the same way - I'll be a little busy but I'll find you in the parking lot when I finish my shift

Sure sweetie I'll wait for you - I smiled at her watching her walk away to serve the other tables placing the ice on my nose

She's very pretty man - the boy followed her with his gaze until I hit his arm making him look at me again - I'm sorry it's just that… she is - he laughed rubbing his arm- is she your girlfriend?

No… but she will be the owner of everything someday so keep your damn hands on your drumsticks got it?

Ok fuck i get it man - the drummer smiled raising his hands holding both drumsticks laughing

She had been there from the beginning and knew for a fact that she would be there until the end but not just as a spectator, she would be the owner of the whole damn empire that i was going to create.

Part 2

Tag to the ones who like the idea post

@thatoneawesomechicka @frieddreamtoadhound @oskea93 @lustxforxlife