#man is it nice to be home and drinking real cold water

[mag200]

i loveu water i lvoe youu HYDRATION

[baronessvonglitter]

Pretty Please

QZ!Joel Miller x f!bookworm!reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: your roommate Joel Miller is stressed out, and you offer a creative solution to ease that frustration

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, slight bullying (name calling - from Joel), reader is a bookworm and wears glasses, no age description for reader, Boston QZ, friends with benefits, oral sex (f receiving), soft!Joel, sub!Joel, dom/sub themes, edging, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, Joel loves nerdy girls, reader is *shaved*, no use of y/n

Author's Note: I know that we all love a good strong DOM Joel, but I wanted to wade in the waters of the Ocean of Possibilities and see what a more submissive Joel would be like. Just like those CEO/investment banker types who visit dominatrices at the end of a long workday just to be treated like lesser than and hand over the reins of power for a bit. Maybe there's a part of Joel that likes being put in his place 🤫

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

It's just past curfew in the QZ and you're curled up with a good book. The new (to you) apartment you live in came with a great collection of literary masterpieces and your only delight in this cold, cruel world is reading by flashlight, at least until your surly, sourpuss roommate Joel Miller comes home.

The front door opens and slams shut loudly, making the thin walls vibrate. You sigh. He's back.

Joel walks in, looking tired and cantankerous as usual. You quickly shut off your light but not before he sees it. "What have I told you about wastin' the batteries?" he puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

Not in a mood to argue, you mumble a quick "Sorry" and scurry past him, but he catches your shoulder. "Just 'cause I can get stuff doesn't mean I will. You need to be more careful with our supplies.. what's this stuff you're readin' anyway?" He makes a grab for your book which you quickly hide behind your back.

"Just some Shakespeare," you lie.

Joel narrows his eyes as if detecting your fib. Suddenly he pulls you toward him and takes the book you're hiding. Eyeing the cover, he visibly blushes and swallows hard. "What's a nice girl like you readin' trash like this for?"

You find it impossible to meet his eyes as your heart roars in your ears. He has your copy of romantic erotica, an old book written decades ago about a woman who trains her lover to be her sex slave. You think to yourself there's no way you can finish it now that he's judging you.

"All right, Bookworm. Out," Joel says, nodding towards the hall before he settles in with a stiff whiskey drink.

Sighing you go to your room. Ever since you moved in a couple months ago after your former QZ was abandoned, Joel has treated you like little more than an imposition. His seemingly affectionate nicknames of "Bookworm" or "Four Eyes" on account of your fondness for books and your need of eyeglasses, respectively, has you wondering if he even cares to remember your real name.

Putting your book away you contemplate another existence. In your story a young woman brings a powerful man to his knees. Had the world not changed so irrevocably, would you have had the fortune of living a life like the characters in your books?

A shower is in order. Once you wash your hair and shave your legs (with shampoo and razors that Joel begrudgingly smuggled for you when you'd politely asked) your spirits are lifted. Hair towel-dried, you put on an oversize tee and some panties and start down the hall where you bump into Joel. He takes a look at your sleepwear and you can see the blush creep up his neck. "Can you put somethin' else on? I can see right through your shirt."

You look down and see your nipples, two puckered points through the cotton of your tee. "I'm just going to bed. Besides, I can wear what I want," you say in an unusually defiant tone.

Joel gets quiet, his body language clearly showing he's getting annoyed. "I just don't want to see you half-naked, Four Eyes." His frustration comes through clear. "Don't you have anything else you can wear?"

You sigh and walk past him to your bedroom closet and pull out a thick flannel shirt. You change with your back to him, feeling his eyes on you like two burning holes in your flesh. His breath hitches, eyes glued to his old shirt he'd let you borrow a time or two. Something primal awakens in him, which he quickly squashes.

"I'm all out of clean pajama pants," you shrug.

"Find some," he says sternly. "That shirt's gonna ride up on you. It's inappropriate."

"No." You stand your ground. "I'm not changing again." You take a moment to look at him, really look at him. He looks stiff, the veins prominent in his neck and forehead. You imagine his warm flesh beneath your kiss, and part of you softens towards him. "You really need to relax. You look stressed."

"Yeah, like you really give a shit," he mutters, looking away.

Studying him more intensely you realize he's not frustrated because you're not obeying him. From the bulge in his jeans it's evident he's turned on by you. Joel Miller is a good-looking guy when he's not being a full-on jerk. Hell, he may even be good-looking then. You take the situation into your hands and approach him, your tongue gliding over your lips. "I could help you relax.. if you want."

Joel freezes and you notice his breathing quicken. "What.. what do you mean by that?"

"You're upset with my lack of 'decent' clothes because I'm a distraction to you. Even if you don't like me, you're still attracted to me."

He gets flustered and it gives you satisfaction to see how much power you have over him. "Maybe.. no. I don't want to. I mean it. I have no interest in anything like that with you."

"Really? Your jeans are having a different reaction."

He looks down quickly, embarrassed and a bit surprised. "It doesn't mean anything," he looks askance.

"Do you want to touch me, Joel?" You start to unbutton your flannel shirt.

"You're my roommate. It's wrong," he says, yet his large, strong hands are reaching into your shirt. His fingers are rough and calloused but damn they feel like heaven as he cups your breasts, runs his thumbs slowly over your nipples.

"Don't think anymore, Joel. Just feel. Just be here with me."

He's unused to following his purely bodily instincts, having to live on his survival instincts for so long. But your skin is so soft and you're so warm and clean from your shower. "God, I want you," he whispers.

You take the lead and kiss him, filling in the space between you. Joel doesn't hold back, cupping your ass in his hands and pressing you to his need, his bulge in direct contact with your clit. Your panties dampen in response. Realizing how far he's taken it, how far he wants to take it, he mumbles an apology. "S..sorry."

"No. No apologies. I want this. Don't you?"

"God yes," he growls, meeting your eyes. He watches, rapt, as you slowly unbutton your shirt and remove it. He's speechless as you go to sit on the edge of the bed, knees parted. You beckon him with one finger.

"I know you've always wanted this," you tell him. "You fantasize about eating me out, how good I taste on your tongue."

As he comes to you he wonders where the shy, docile woman has gone. But he likes this new version of you. "How do you know what I think about?" he asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of your panties. You lift your hips as he eases your panties off. What he sees makes him growl with yearning. "You shaved."

You rest on your elbows, satisfied with the look of sheer gluttony on his face. "A girl's gotta have some luxuries in these trying times.." you smirk and run your fingers delicately over your clit and your smooth folds. Joel moves your hand away. Keeping his eyes on you he laps his broad tongue over your delicate womanhood, then swipes his tongue side to side over your sweet little clit.

You moan loudly at the intimate contact, threading your fingers through his hair. Joel devours you, and the little moans he makes reverberate through you, fill you with vibrations. While he's sucking your clit he slides two fingers in, crooking them so they rub your G-spot, and this combination makes you squirm with delight until you're pushed over the edge. He doesn't stop there, lapping up your honey, holding your thighs as they quake around his head.

"I've wanted this for so long," he growls against your belly, kissing his way up, divesting himself of his clothes. He feels your body heat radiate against him and teases your opening with the tip of his cock, spreading your slick onto him. He kisses both breasts, nuzzles your neck before claiming your mouth again, lining himself up with you. Out of habit you remove your glasses but he stops you. "Leave them on," he whispers. "You look so damn hot, like a naughty schoolgirl.." He watches as you put them on again, your eyes big and bright behind the lenses. Keeping his eyes on you he lets himself sink into your heat, slowly, letting you get accustomed to his size.

"Fuck," you whisper in awe as he fills you, starts to move against you.

He revels in the feel of your soft body underneath his, the snugness of your cunt that dares to take every inch of him. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, taking in the clean scent of your freshly washed skin, the natural fragrance of your arousal. With each press forward he elicits moans, sighs, gasps. Your heart thunders within when you feel how deeply you're joined.

"I need more," you tell him. "Please.."

"More?" His voice is shaky with desire.

"Harder," you gasp.

A dark growl gathers in his throat as he sees this new side of you begin to reveal itself. "You sure you want that from me?"

You nod. "I want you to release all your stress out inside me. Just use me. Please." You look up at him with innocent eyes. "Just for tonight, Joel. Tonight I'm yours."

His body looms large over you. "That's a big request, y'know."

"And I can handle it. I'm a big girl."

He nods, excitement flowing through his veins. "If anything becomes too much, you tell me. Okay?"

Your heart flip flops when he tells you this. Despite this random hookup, he's proving to be a caring gentleman. "I'll tell you, I promise."

Joel can't help but smile and he kisses your forehead. "Good." With heavy breaths he uses all his strength to fuck you into oblivion. He takes out his frustrations on your willing, eager body, his thick, large cock plunging into your tight cunt. "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart," he mutters.

His rough way with you takes your breath away, makes you tremble. Joel doesn't hold back, ruts against you, mouth watering as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. "God, you're gorgeous," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you.

You whimper as your mouths meet again, tongues dancing against each other. "Joel.. you're so fucking good."

Grunting in response, he presses against you deeper, harder. You gasp, your body accepting every movement, stretching you more than you thought possible. "You feel too good," he moans.

"You're in.. so deep," you sigh. "Just a little more, I'm gonna--"

"Wait!" he groans, pulling himself away from you. "You're making me.. almost.. I can't hold back," he breathes heavily.

"Shh.." you climb onto his lap. "Let me help you. I'll do all the work," you promise. "All you have to do is grab my hips or touch my breasts," you instruct him, lining up his cock to fit into you again. Joel watches himself disappear between your swollen pussy lips.

"God.. slow.. please," he grunts, grabbing hold of your hips, moving his hands all over your body, exploring every inch of you.

"Yes," you agree, sighing sweetly. "You feel so good.. I like seeing what I can get out of you, Miller."

He lets out a short moan, gripping your hips tightly, running his fingers up the insides of your thighs. His touch is ubiquitous as you ride him slowly and thoroughly. "Please don't stop.. please don't stop." He tries to make it a command but he's so caught up in you that it comes off as begging. "God I want.. please, I need.." he can't even finish his sentences for how much his lust and need has taken over him.

"I know what you need," you moan, moving faster, slamming your hips down on his. The sounds of your colliding flesh fill the room.

"God damn it!" Joel grunts, unable to continue his line of thought. He starts to growl and groan, gritting his teeth.

You smile, biting your lip as you watch him coming apart, completely helpless beneath you. "I'm gonna tame this beast," you tell him boldly. "No one else can do it but me."

"I won't let anyone else handle me," he growls, trying to say something more meaningful, but his brain is overwhelmed. He's just handed over all control to you and it's making him crazy. "Just.. please.."

You stop moving altogether, staying still. "Please what?" you tease him from finishing.

He's about to blow but he can't even get a full sentence out. "Please," he repeats, shaking now just from the feel of you. "Don't stop.."

You remain still. "Say, 'pretty please.'"

"No," he groans. "You.. you won't get me like that." But there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh," you pout. "That's a shame. I was getting so close and I know you were, too." You start moving slowly and teasingly.

Joel's breath is faltering, pulse dangerously rapid. "Not like this.. wait.. I'm gonna.."

You stop again, a stern look on your face even though you're utterly enjoying dominating this big strong alpha male. "No. You're not," you command him.

Only able to communicate in grunts and groans, Joel thrusts upward, needing the relief that would make you both find release. You gasp, your cunt clenching around him. It would be so easy to just let him keep going, but you hold your hips firmly in place. "'Pretty please,'" you remind him.

"I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum," he whines, desperate now, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

You remove his grip and pin him down. "'Pretty. Please.'" Your lips are millimeters from his, and you can see tears start to well in his dark eyes.

He's losing it now. He's right on the precipice, pain and pleasure mixed as one while you edge him. "All right, okay, I'll say it.. pretty please," he grunts out, voice cracking.

"'Pretty please with sugar on top,'" you smirk. "Say it."

Joel shuts his eyes in frustration. "Pretty please with sugar on top."

You give his lips a tiny lick. "Good boy." Sitting up again you start riding him. You've won but you're both going to reap the benefits.

"God, keep goin'," he moans, eyes still shut, breath labored as he pushes against your hips.

"I'm gonna fucking break you, Miller," you growl, riding him at top speed, without mercy.

Joel is at a complete loss of self, having lost any semblance of control. "Do it.. please," are the only words he can manage among incoherent sounds and grunts as he rises up to hold you.

You feel the friction between you like lightning as you satisfy yourself on his generous cock. "Joel Miller, you're such a good boy for me!" You move against each other in desperation, seeking the moment that will bring you to cum together. You feel him start to twitch and just then your climax hits like a tidal wave. You scream his name as you feel his copious release inside you. All Joel can say is your name, your real name, uttered in an entreaty of gratitude as he buries his face in your neck.

"Sorry if I got a little rough with you before.." he mumbles into your skin.

"I like your roughness," you tell him as you ruffle his soft grey hair with your fingers. "You had a lot that you needed to let out."

He lifts his head and softly kisses the side of your mouth. "Just so you know, I don't intend on stoppin' at just tonight. I have a lot of stress that needs releasing."

"Stressful times we're living in.." You trace his beard with your fingertips and he quickly moves in to kiss your palm.

"Damn right. And it looks like you did tame this beast."

You grin. "Does that make me Beauty?"

"Maybe that's what I'll call you from now on.."

"It's a lot better than 'Bookworm' or 'Four Eyes'."

"I'll still call you those things, from time to time," he grins, and your entire body is warm from his smile.

You are delicate with him now, knowing this man will probably steal your heart just as you've already stolen his.

divider by @saradika 👑

[meowsuguru]

eyes on me

Dancer!Reader x Bartender!Geto

౨ৎ cont: suguru geto x fem! reader, unprotected, first time squirt, oral f!receiving, confessions.

౨ৎ word count: 4.5k

౨ৎ a/n: my life blood ty to whoever reads < 3

It’s been an awful night. Smoke clings to your skin, hair, teeth, and tongue as you come back into the club from the backdoor. Just a quick break, allowing nicotine to ease the tension in your brain. The head rush gives you just a moment’s respite, but it’s quickly overtaken the moment you step back into the club. The neon lights that adorn the walls flicker. It only serves to emphasize your mood, and it’s the most sour of moods. All thanks to the countless men who have touched despite the “no touching” rule and the incessant requests. 

“Let’s meet after you get off work.” 

“If I give you $1000 can we fuck?” 

“I’ll slide a little bit more your way if you take care of this problem.”

It’s gross. More than that, it makes you feel dirty. 

It’s the same every night. Same sleazy men, with the same revolting dispositions. You’re just here to dance, something you love doing, to make a little money for college. It’s simple. It should be easy. You’re great at it. 

But, as you have the bouncer throw out another handsy client, it doesn’t feel as easy as it once did.

You hate it. It burns in your chest. You’ve been dancing here for almost eight months, and it’s starting to wear on you. Your head is spinning, tunnel-visioned on getting out. Gotta get out. Gotta get-

“Somethin’ wrong?” Calls the bartender, perceptive as you shake your head, snapping out of the daze you were in. 

“Nothin’, just the usual. It’s been a lot of scum these past few weeks,” you sigh, relieved to be talking to a friend. 

“You seem pretty frazzled. Need some water?” He offers as he wipes down the bar. 

It’s 10 minutes to closing time and the only clients left are the filthy stragglers who frequent the club every night. The bouncers make their rounds, cleaning house as they urge the clients to leave.

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here,” you hear one of them say. 

You nod, sitting down across the bar. A tall glass is slid to you, ice cold with condensation already frosting the outside. You take big gulps, your anxiety from the night calming slightly the longer the liquid slides down your throat. 

Suguru Geto never offers you drinks on the clock. He knows to take care of his girls. But, with the way you’re feeling, a real drink sounds better than nice. 

“Suguru,” you say, and he turns his head to meet your gaze. 

“I need a drink.” 

He looks at you pointedly and sighs. 

“You’re still on, princess. You know I can't serve you.” 

“I’m off in 10. Let me have it just this once. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t serious.” 

Suguru is a principled man. He believes in what he believes, and it’s nearly impossible to sway him. So when he says “no alcohol,” he means it. You groan, finishing your water. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks after a beat of comfortable silence, taking your empty glass and setting it to the side. 

“Not really,” you admit, laying your head on your arms. “Seven minutes. Then I’ll take my drink.” 

Suguru frowns, but eventually relents, nodding.  You watch as he cleans the leftover glasses from the night, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, signature one lock falling in his left eye. Suguru is good-looking, you think, but you’d never sleep with a coworker. Your job is already dramatic enough, no need to add fuel to the fire. Nevertheless, you quietly admire him as you wait for the time to pass. 

“Five minutes gives me enough time for a dance,” you say, “Need to end this night on a good note.” 

Suguru hums, eyes never leaving the glass he’s drying.

“Watch me?” 

When you ask this, you don’t know why. Suguru is nice to you, sweet. He cares about all the girls at the club. Perhaps you want to share your love with your friend. You really do love dancing, you think, as you walk up the steps of the stage.

The DJ spots you and puts a song on, something unhurried, languid, smooth like silk. You bring yourself up around the pole, two arms locked on tight as you swing your legs up. Your legs twist in a familiar way as you spin, slowly, letting your body fall backward as you grab the metal with your hands. You hang upside down now, legs crossed above your head. The way you move is easy— intentional— like this is something you were made for. You kick off, one leg at a time, arms holding still against the metal as you spin, slowly, fluidly like water. A glance at the bar tells you Suguru is watching just as you’d asked. Eyes closing, you continue to dance. 

Your song ends and you walk back down the stairs, eyes gazing at your feet.

As you walk up to Suguru, you notice he’s returned to cleaning up the bar. You tap your nails on the bar, quirking an eyebrow up at him to get his attention. He looks up, with that damned crooked grin. 

“You watched me.”

“Beautiful as ever.” 

You give him a soft smile, but it’s quickly dropped as your lips are pulled into a tight line. He notices this and sighs. 

“Fine,” he starts, “what’ll you take?” 

You hum, pleased. He rolls his eyes.

“Vodka soda, pretty please.” 

Suguru makes the drink easily, setting it in front of you with a cocktail napkin underneath. You bring the glass to your lips, relishing in the feeling of the alcohol hitting your tongue. You don’t stop: tipping your head back, letting the drink fill your mouth and slide down your throat. A bit spills out of the corner of your lips and you stop, the heel of your hand tenderly wiping up the stream. The way your lipstick smudges is not lost in Suguru’s gaze, as his eyes flick between your lips and your hand. 

“Easy, princess,” he warns, handing you a fresh napkin. You take it graciously and dab down your chin and chest where the drink spilled. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you answer curtly. 

“I think you do.” 

You regard him for a moment, a nasty side eye as he looks at you with that same damned smile. His eyes are so soft, so inviting. You consider it, as he stands there, letting you drink instead of closing up. The way he calls you princess, only you, the way he is always always there to lend you a shoulder. It’s just so easy for Suguru to break down your walls. 

“I’m tired, Suguru.” 

You hang your head, drawing circles on the bar counter. 

“Tired?” He asks, giving you an opportunity to explain. 

“With- with everything. I can’t just sit here and be demeaned all night every night. It’s exhausting,” you start, pushing your drink away. He grabs it and puts it off to the side. You don’t need the liquid courage for this now, you’re in the safe company of a friend. 

The club has been emptied by now, most of the lights turned off as the dim bulb of the bar hangs above you. Your breath shakes, and you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“I know,” Suguru’s eyes soften, “I know.” 

“I love to dance, and I need the money– the money isn’t even that good, it just-” you trail off, unsure of how to voice your anxieties. 

“I can’t keep doing this.” 

“Then quit,” he says simply. 

“It’s not that easy, Suguru-”

“I know. Sorry, bad advice,” he supplies. 

You say it’s okay, that he’s not your therapist or your life coach or anything of the sort. He shakes his head and flicks the light switch, leaving you two in the dark of the closed club. 

“Want to go for a drive?” He asks, your eyes adjusting to the dark finally as you make out his form. 

“Yeah.” 

–

You find yourself, dressed back in your daytime clothes, in the passenger seat of Suguru’s Jeep. Black interior, black exterior. This guy really has a vibe, you think. You throw your duffel in the back seat when you sit down, and Suguru turns the key, engine roaring to life. You don’t question where you’re going; you don't care where you're going. You roll the window down, feeling the wind hit your face. You close your eyes, remembering easier times. Suguru glances at you, and rolls his own window down. 

He drives, out of the city, and neither of you speak. The dying night’s air kisses your cheeks and ruffles your hair, sparring a bit of hope in your chest. It blooms, like love, and you watch the moon be chased down into the day. You hope and hope, tossing your frustrations away as each leak of light peeks higher in the skyline behind you. 

“I don’t want to be tired anymore,” you say into the wind. If Suguru hears you, you don’t know. 

He just drives, out and up.

–

You arrive at a plateau, abandoned in the dawn. The clouds are down far below your feet, orange skies breaking through the fog. You hop out of the car, sneakers hitting the gravel with a crunch. It makes the breath leave your lungs, the view. You turn, facing Suguru, your hair blowing around your face. He pauses as he comes around the front of the car, looking at you. His eyes are soft, as they always are. You tear your gaze away and look down at the city, far beyond the clouds, as the sun comes up over the horizon. 

 “I like to come here sometimes, when I’ve got too much on my mind,” he says, breaking the silence.

“I can see why.”

Suguru comes to your side, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

There is a chill in the air and you wrap your arms around yourself, tucking your nose into the collar of your hoodie.The two of you fall into another comfortable silence, the air stilling around you two. You lean up against the hood of the car, feeling the heat radiate off of it, warming your bones.

Suguru inhales, and exhales. He inhales again. In a rare display of vulnerability, he speaks. 

“You can’t let them get to you,” he starts; your name leaves his lips in a whisper. “They don’t mean anything, all those guys. You can’t let them break you.”

You look at him, and he looks ahead. 

“It’s getting too hard to ignore,” you reply, frowning. 

You look forward again, tearing your gaze away from his profile, face illuminated in the orange glow of the sunrise. 

“I think I need to quit dancing.” 

“Don’t. That was bad advice,” Suguru says, chuckling.

“I’m serious.” 

He looks at you now, eyes softer than you’ve seen.

“You’re the most beautiful dancer.”  

You tear your eyes away, staring at the sun. You squint, pulling your hoodie up over your nose this time. It’s funny. You can still see the stars in the sky, even as the sun comes up. It chases the night away, and you feel a warmth in your chest. A once-spirited young girl, broken by the brutality of her field. You sigh, letting it go, chased away by the day just as the stars were. Letting the hoodie fall below your chin, you look back at Suguru and find him still looking at you. His eyes roam your face, not scrutinizing, memorizing. As you open your mouth to speak, he shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

– 

Suguru drives you home. The drive is quiet, save for the low music. You play the conversation in your head over and over, mulling over what you should do. When he pulls in front of your apartment complex, you turn, facing him. 

“I won’t quit,” you say, eyes fiery and newly determined.

“Good,” he smiles, “I’d miss you too much.” 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” you laugh, the first genuine one in a good while.

“You’re makin’ me soft, princess.” 

You shake your head. 

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” You ask, your stomach doing somersaults as he gazes at you with that stupid, dopey, lopsided grin and those half-lidded eyes.

“You’re my favorite girl,” he supplies simply, like it’s so obvious. 

“I bet you tell all the girls that,” you scoff.

“Nope. Only you,” he chuckles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your skin a little bit too long to just be a friendly gesture. It’s tender, and there’s this look in his eye you don’t want to acknowledge.

You swallow. Sure, Suguru is smoking fucking hot but he’s also your coworker, which could make things awkward. You really don’t want another reason to hate work. But, you decide to throw caution to the wind, and see what happens. He’s your friend. He could be more. You shiver.

“Promise?” You ask, blinking twice. You stick your pinky out for good measure.

He loops his pinky in yours, shaking his head and laughing softly, the sound making you smile.

“Promise.” He raises your hands, placing a kiss on your interlocked fingers. Your heart just about stops at that, the gesture so… unlike what you’d expect from him. It has your mind reeling, thinking about what Suguru would act like as a boyfriend. 

“Suguru…” you say, low as you hold each other’s gazes, the air suddenly charged with something. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” 

A response catches in your throat and you nod, helpless. He leans in, cupping your cheek with his hand, and you instinctively move forward, lips parting. He’s so close you can feel his breath. He hesitates, eyelids fluttering closed, before he finally, finally presses his lips to yours. You feel like your mouth molds to his, and in an instant, you’re clutching at the nape of his neck, threading your fingers through his hair. He hums, the sound low as it rumbles through you, and you squeeze your eyes closed tighter, scared it’ll be over soon. It seems as if Suguru has no intention of stopping, as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You gasp into the kiss, it feels so right to be kissing Suguru like this, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, prodding gently at your tongue. You about cry when he pulls away, a strangled sound leaving your lips. He just smiles, still leaned in close as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Come inside,” you exhale.

“I would’ve waited years to hear you say that. I’m so glad I didn’t have to.” 

–

It’s easy, with Suguru. He’s peeling your hoodie off, lips connecting to yours the moment your head is freed. He’s got one hand splayed out over the small of your back, pulling you closer, closer, closer. Your hands fiddle with the zipper on your skirt and he slips his free hand under it to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. His hand snakes up your spine, stopping at your bra to unhook it with nimble fingers and helping you shed it from your front. His hand slides around you, thumb grazing the underside of your breast. He cups it now, kneading at the soft flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. 

It’s just so easy. He kisses you like he’s taking care of you. The morning pours through the blinds in your room, dust trickling through the leaks of light. He lays you down, lips never separating from yours as your head hits the pillow. He pulls away to look at you, and he groans. His hair falls all around your face, framing both of you in inky black. 

“You. You can’t even see yourself,” he says, low and surprisingly breathless. 

You forego words for a shake of your head, and you inhale shakily. 

“You’re one to talk…” 

He chuckles, head dipping down to the crook of your neck, the sound reverberating throughout you. You always thought it was easier in the dark, but something about the soft light of the early morning feels just… so surreal. You tip your head to the side, letting his lips roam your neck, nipping at the soft skin. 

His hand comes up, rolling your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, while his lips travel down your neck, to your collarbone, to your opposite breast, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. You arch yourself into him, your moans only spurring him on. 

“That fuckin’ sound…” he groans against your breast. “Do it again…” he attaches his lips back to your nipple, teeth grazing it ever so gently and you whine. 

He must’ve liked that because he's slipping his hand in between your thighs. His fingers press against your clothed center, feeling how wet you are through your panties. He can’t help himself, it seems, as he kisses down your stomach, head finding its place between your thighs. He inhales deeply, nose pressed against your cunt just aching with need, and he curses. 

“Fuck, pretty girl. You smell amazing. You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind, want you so much,” he babbles into your underwear, and you’re slowly starting to realize this guy is fucking filthy. You moan, the realization hitting you as he’s pulling your panties off with his teeth and stuffing them in his pocket. He sits up, pulling his long hair out of his face and into a messy ponytail. You rub your thighs together at the sight, feeling the slick between your legs. He comes back down, pressing his face against your inner thigh, inhaling your scent deeply. 

“My favorite girl, look at this pretty pussy…” he drags a finger through your wet folds, prodding at your entrance with a thick finger. You’re panting now, expectant and wanting, and he slowly pushes one inside, his tongue lapping at your clit as his middle finger enters you. He moans against your cunt, continuing to work you with his mouth as you writhe underneath him. You clench your legs around his head, the feeling too much, but he pries your legs apart with his free hand, pulling away.

“Nuh, uh, baby. I gotta hear every fuckin’ sound you make. As much as I want those thighs as earmuffs,” he says, reattaching his lips and tongue to you. 

He’s practically making out with it, pussy drunk and grinding his hips against the mattress. You feel the tension build in your gut, and he adds a second finger. You have to bite your lip, and he bites the inside of your thigh. You yelp, but the jolt of pain makes you clench around his fingers.

“Gonna make you come so hard you’ll be cryin’ baby. You want that?” he groans, working you with his fingers, his tongue darting back out to swirl around your clit. He sucks on it, and you buck your hips up into his mouth. He moans into you as you ride his tongue, grinding your cunt on his face like you need it. Because, you do. You need it so bad you’re begging him. 

“Please, Suguru,” you slur, chasing your high. 

“Oh god,” you cry, hand finding his hair, messing it up as strands fall in his face as he eats you out. You’re too focused on your release now, and his head stops moving, just letting you ride his face. 

“C’mon pretty girl. Give it to me. Please,” he’s whimpering into your cunt, sucking on your clit and curling his fingers just right and- fuck.

Your vision goes white and you’re gasping, hot and heavy in your gut as your orgasm shreds the last of your resolve and you are crying, hot tears spilling from your eyes as you tell him to keep going, keep going. He laps at you, working you through your orgasm, as he grinds himself against the mattress again. 

“So good, baby, you taste so good, I wanna make you squirt,” he says. He’s pumping his fingers into you as you ride out your orgasm, slipping a third in and you’re clenching so hard around him. He pulls his fingers out and you gush, you’ve never done that before and he’s drinking you up, your head spinning as you cry, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. He comes up for air finally, pressing a soft kiss on your stomach. 

“Knew you could do it, princess,” he mumbles against your skin. He’s on his knees again, positioning your hips as he unzips his pants, his cock springing up as it's freed from the constraints of his trousers. He wastes no time sliding his cock between your folds and then pressing at your entrance, your pussy sucking him in greedily as you moan, unable to form words or any coherent sounds. He’s so fucking thick it’s making your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut to help you get through the feeling of him bottoming out. 

“Don’t close your eyes, baby,” he says as he moves, thrusting into you again, “look at me while I’m fucking you.” 

Your eyes fly open and you’re nodding, helpless as he throws your ankles over his shoulders and hits you just right. 

“Jesus, fuck, Suguru…” You’re chanting his name, spurring him on.

“Christ, this pussy is fucking killing me,” Suguru groans as his cock slides back into you, making you cry out, his name spilling off your lips in short gasps. You feel your walls clench slightly at the feeling of being so full again, and he sets a brutal pace. He wraps his arms around your thighs as he fucks you, pulling you impossibly closer, and you can hear how your skin slaps. You can’t even give a fuck how it’s seven in the morning, or how you’re going to quit your job after this so no other man can even think about touching you. Suguru must be a mind reader, because he’s bending you in half now, lips by your ear as he drives into you so deep.

“Quit your fucking job. Let me take care of you. I wanna take care of you baby, please,” he babbles, breath stuttering as you suck him in.

“Bad advice,” you murmur, jaw slack as your mouth hangs open in a gasp. 

“Fuck that, hnghh, want you all to myself. Gotta get you out of there, princess,” he hammers into you, cock so deep it’s brushing up against your cervix. 

“My pretty girl shouldn’t have to- fuckkkkk, baby- deal with all that bullshit,” he’s babbling into your neck, teeth clamping down on your pulse point. 

You clench around him at the need in his voice, the possessiveness eliciting a gasp from your lips. His girl? Your brain is mush at this point and you really like the sound of that. You feel the coil tightening in your gut as your second orgasm nears, and you're gripping at his hair, tugging on the strands, begging begging for your release. 

“You like that baby? Like when I call you my girl?” He groans, pace unrelenting. 

“You wanna be my girl, princess? Please. Please be my girl. Need you so bad. Always have.” He kisses you, not giving you a chance to answer. His need is felt as his tongue is shoved into your mouth, swallowing up your sounds. As he pulls away, you’re a mess. 

“Please, Suguru, Sugu… wanna be your girl, yes, yes,” you’re panting and he just whimpers into the crook of your neck again, breathy as he picks up his pace. The tip of his cock hits just right at this speed and you’re coming, eyes hitting the back of your skull as you shut them, rolled behind closed eyelids. He grips your chin in his hand, tapping on your cheek. 

“Look at me, baby.” 

And that’s how you are with Suguru. You look at him, because he asked you to. As your eyes meet, he knits his eyebrow together, groaning. You think, maybe, he needs you. 

You see stars around Suguru as you come, vision blurry from the wetness in your eyes and the intensity of your orgasm. Suguru groans as you spasm around his length, and his hips start to stutter. He is getting erratic with his movements, but takes it and fucks you through it just how you need it. 

“Shit, baby. Let me come inside you.” He’s begging you, hand on your cheek and his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you come down from your high, sensitive and spent. You let him prod his thumb into your mouth, slack-jawed and trusting. You don’t close it or suck, just let him do it. He groans at the sight, and you nod, finally. 

All it takes is that nod and the sight of your loose jaw. He thrusts, once, twice, and then he’s spilling into you, moaning in your ear, and you’re gasping, clutching at his back as he comes. 

“Fuck, baby, princess, love this, love your pussy, milking me for all I’m worth, fuck-“ he gasps, your hand sliding up to his hair as he babbles nonsense into your ear. 

“Fuckin’ love your pussy, love you so much, God,” he pants and you freeze, the words hitting you like a freight train. 

He stills, lips coming up to press a kiss to your forehead, the gesture tender and sweet in stark opposition to his filthier behaviors. Suguru freezes, his lips still on your forehead, before he pulls away. 

“What did you say?” You ask quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“I…” he starts, eyes mirroring yours. 

“I didn’t- I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.” 

“You don’t mean it?” You ask, a pang of disappointment aching in your chest. You’re not sure why. It must’ve just slipped out. He doesn’t have to mean it. You’re close, but nothing about your relationship insinuates he should feel that way. 

“No! I mean… I,” he fumbles with his words, exhaling sharply. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I just didn’t want you to think I was like everyone else.” He sighs, sitting up. The feeling of him pulling out of you has you feeling strangely empty emotionally. 

You’re not sure what to say. This is Suguru. Your closest friend as of recently, you work together. Though, you promised to quit your job for him, you think. 

Fuck it.

You smile, eyes bright and gleaming as your hands find his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you say. And you mean it. “For loving me.” 

That’s all you can offer him right now. Your thanks, and a promise as you hold your pinky up to him again, face flushed and hair sticking to your forehead. 

“I’ll be your girl.” 

“Promise?” He looks at you with that familiar lopsided grin. 

“Mhmm. I promise.” 

Softly, you kiss the junction of your fingers. 

[pedrospatch]

stay

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

[ashfacetblr]

AngelHusk angst/smut pt 2

Husk watched while Angel meticulously ran shampoo through his blood and cum soaked chest floof and hair. He offered to help him get his back, and offer that was kindly accepted.

Husk may have lingered a bit, rubbing circles in his back with the loofa calmingly. Angel clearly didn’t mind though, leaning into the impromptu massage. Given the night he had it certainly didn’t hurt. However Angel Dust was feeling himself enough to start cracking jokes by now, problematicly.

“Come on Whiskers, not even a little distracted at my nude body” He said, tilting his head back.

“Hadn’t crossed my mind, little worried with your safety right about now” Husk shot back, continuing over to Angel’s shoulders.

“Sure you don’t wanna carry me away?” Angel teased, lifting a leg out of the water.

“Nope, think you’ve had enough of that for tonight anyway.” Husk said, ruffling the spider’s hair with his free hand. “Besides, if I was gonna fuck you, it wouldn’t be like this.” He added, definitely sharing to much.

“Oh? And how would you fuck me?” Angel asked, blushing at the sudden change of tone.

“Well for one,” Husk started still rubbing around at Angel’s back and shoulders. “It wouldn’t be some stupid bathroom hookup.” He huffed. “Id be real romantic about it.” This shot a quiet heat through Angels bones he had not expected to feel after tonight.

“How so?” He asked, eager for him to continue.

“Well for starters I’d take you out to dinner. Someone nice. Id wear a suit and tie, you’d wear some sleek little red dress or something like that.” Husk’s tone was shifting somewhere it definitely shouldn’t be trekking by this point.

“This a whole little fantasy of yours ain’t it whiskers?” Angel dust asked, sliding his back up against Husk’s chest, leaving Husk’s hands hovering above the water aimlessly. The cat made quick work of moving them to Angel’s lower set of shoulders

“Tell me more~” Angel teased.

Seeing this as a point of no return, Husk continued on.

“After the restaurant we’d go on a nice walk. Real pretty. Starring up at the stars, I’d tell you how much I adored ya, kissed you under a full moon. You’d get cold and I’d give you my jacket for the ride home.”

Husks hands cautiously slithered forward, searching for any sign this wasn’t what Angel wanted, but given he leaned into him further, he slowed slid his fingers up and into his chest fluff, rubbing at his chest.

“Id keep a hand on your thigh on the ride home-“

“Do we do anything in the car” Angel dust nearly whined the interruption.

“No, but you want me to though. But I absolutely plan to take my time, be a proper gentleman and rail you on a bed.” Husk asserted. He noticed Angel had his own hand on himself, moving slowly.

“Wed drink wine for a bit when we get back, then I’d carry you off to my room.” Husk spoke into Angel’s ear in a soft, sultry voice. He slid a hand down Angels body as he continued.

“I lay you down on the bed real gentle, making sure to kiss you all over that pretty little face and neck.” With this is gently placed a hand on Angels jaw. “Then I’d slide off the pretty little dress you’re wearing-“

“What am I wearing underneath?” Angel breathed excitedly, moving his own hand out from under Husk’s.

“Black lingerie, the real classic lace kind. Held on by a couple loose bows” At this, Angel whimpered. “We don’t do it just yet though, it says on while I take the time to tease ya. Get ya all worked up”

“What do you d~do?” Angel moaned at Husks hand motions under the bath water, the original objective long forgotten.

“I kiss every last bit of your body first, tell you how beautiful you are. Then I go down on ya, but I don’t let you come. That’s to easy” Husk tighten his grip and Angel writhed back against him. “I just get you all worked up.” Husk added.

“I take my clothes off-“

“What are you wearing” the spider whined with ecstasy

“Nothing, I always planned on everything coming off anyway” The winged man mused and resumed. “I take my time getting ya ready to, all nice and gentle, one finger at a time” He kissed at Angel’s neck as he said it, thrilled by watching the taller man come undone.

“You sound about like this when I slide it in, helpless and needed. Lucky for you Im done with teasing ya.” Husk whispered, sure Angel was close by down. “I start slow at first, then I fuck you like a mad man.” He moved his hand faster. “In and out, kissing ya and biting ya, hands all over your body-“

“C-Choke me~” Angel begged. Husk obliged and squeezed his hold on Angel’s throat. Husk continued describing how this fantasy them went on. Details of choking and begging until Angel finished into the bathroom water with a loud whimper. Husk pulled his hands out of the water and dried off. He set out a towel and some extra bandages quietly much to the confusing of Angel Dust.

“Let me take you to dinner some time, wear a dress.” He added before promptly walking out.

-End-

[somefanficrecomendations]

January Monthly Roundup

BATFAMILY

Three’s a Crowd (But I’m Here if You Are) by JUBE514 (Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake/Conner Kent) 20k, Identity Reveal, Fluff      Bernard pops the top off his water bottle, a roll of his wrist at the perfect angle and it comes right off, and pops the faucet in Tim’s very nice kitchen to cold. Tim presses a kiss to the back of Bernard’s neck before Tim moves to the fridge to get his own water.      Bernard used to not drink as much water, but Tim drinks enough water for three people a day so Bernard naturally has followed- and now Bernard has no acne so he’s sort of mad about it actually. “The main character has two hands.” Bernard chimes easy and teasing. “Polygamy is the awnser here babe.”      Tim peaks over the door of the fridge. “Oh? Is this you telling me something?” —      Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd, and Kon-El have two hands each. They use them to hold onto each other.

My Evil Twin From Another Universe by FabulaRasa (Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne) 22k An interdimensional anomaly strands another version of Hal in this universe, and two Hal Jordans in one universe is several Hal Jordans too many.

this week in heroblr by UnidentifiedFroggy (multi) 22k, WIP, Social Media, okay im sorry y'all did SUPERBOY just say he's a tumblrina??? #SUPERBOY AS IN KON EL AS IN SUPERMANS CLONE #DIED IN THE CRISIS SUPERBOY #holy shit #superblr #heroblr - a viewpoint into tumblr as it might exist within my own exceedingly self-indulgent form of the dc universe, told through epistolary fashion in batfamily social media fic tradition. features heroes getting cancelled, takes of middling veracity, plenty of queerness both on heroblr and in the hero community, my self-indulgent ships, and something vaguely resembling plot and lore told obliquely through tumblr drama and outsider pov interpretations of superheroes

The Big Boss by Crowlows19 (gen) 4k, POV Outsider The story of Bruce Wayne and his family as told by his insane Wayne Enterprises calendar and the poor assistant that had to manage it all.

Batman for Dummies by Havendance (gen) 38k, No Man’s Land, Helena Bertinelli-centric In the aftermath of the quake that shook Gotham, Helena Bertinelli takes on the mantle of the Bat. (It isn’t like Batman’s using it.) If she’d known the cowl came with a certain moralizing little bird following her around — well, she probably still would’ve done it, but it would’ve been nice to know in advance. (Or: Tim and Helena team up 2: electric boogaloo. Now with more bats!)

Older Sibling Duty by Icestorm238 (gen) 2k, Batfam Names are important. The Bats tend to bypass their real names, however, in favour of increasingly dumb nicknames. The older sibling trio of Dick, Jason, and Cass are the primary instigators of this. After all, it is their duty.

AITAH For Tricking My Brother Into Drugging My Other Brother? by TaxiCabToSlowtown (gen) 1k, Social Media, Am I the Asshole? Okay, look, I know how that sounds, but hear me out. My (M, 19, "Fred") little brother (17, I’ll call him “Percy”) has problems. These problems stem a lot from the fact that his parents abandoned him for long periods of time as a kid and he didn’t have a proper upbringing. I should mention that Percy’s parents then are not the same as our parent(s) now. We’re both adopted, and I’m messed up too, I’ll admit it. Our Father (45, I’ll call him “Arthur”) had sort of turned his house into a home for kids with really traumatic families.

Welcome to the Family by ViiA01 (Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne) 67k, WIP, Batfam Bruce’s children want to meet the man that their father deemed worthy of a smile. So they do, in the only way they know how. By breaking into people's houses and lurking in dark places. Bruce just wants his children to stop stalking Earth’s Green Lantern, if only because they're ruining his plans. And Hal? Well, Hal is convinced that Bruce has concocted a plot to get around his ‘no killing’ rule, by having his children stalk him until his heart gives out from the stress.

A Series of Unfortunately Timed Coming Out's by Queerbutstillhere (multi), 7k, Coming Out The batfamily had this gift.  This wonderful skill. They are such talented, brilliant, capable individuals. But they are absolutely horrendous at wisely timing coming out to their family members. These are their stories . Aka: "I love you all but could we stop coming out to each other during the middle of battles?"

Call to a Lonely Earth by Drag0nst0rm (gen), 7k, Angst, AU-17776 Fusion There are no children left in Gotham. Not until the multiverse spits one out right in front of Batman, at least.

buy the ticket, take the ride by Anonymous (gen), 13k, Vegas Tim had always figured that if he ever woke up in Vegas sans-memory, it would be when he was older than fourteen. But there were some things he couldn’t control, and apparently whatever had happened last night that he didn’t remember was one of them.

CROSSOVER

Keystone by Kalinjdra (gen), 26k, WIP, HPxDC Harry Potter double-checked his lists before sending off the letter to an unknown cousin. He hoped for maybe some money at least, he didn't expect to get a scary bodyguard brother instead. Jason Todd has never stopped searching for his real parents so when Tim offers solid information in exchange of taking care of some kid, he really doesn't have anything else to do but take it. No one really could have foretold what followed.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 6

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |-| Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

AO3

Summary: After finally acknowledging the grief of losing her sister, Susie opens a door for her and DeMarco to grow closer

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy

Sunlight blinded her the moment her eyelids peeled open, spilling forth through the gap in the curtains and bathing her in a bright, warm glow. Susie groaned, a headache thrumming behind her eyes, an unbearable dryness coating the inside of her throat. Tossing an arm over her face to shield herself from the sun, it took her a long moment to realise she didn't know where she was.

This registered with a sudden panic, a jolt of electricity shocking her awake as she pushed herself to sit up, thick, comfortable bedsheets rustling with each sharp movement. She wasn't in her hut - for a moment her mind even wondered if she'd somehow ended up home, back in Manchester, until she realised her mother had never been able to afford blankets as nice as these.

An indiscernible mass weighed down her feet, and with a gentle kick, Meatball let out a tired whimper, peeking his head up from beneath the opposite end of the duvet. Susie would have laughed had she not been so dumbfounded by her surroundings, the huge double bed and floral wallpaper utterly unfamiliar to her. Turning her head, she noticed a crumpled scrap of paper on the nightstand, and reached across to seize it, resting uncomfortably on one elbow.

Out on a mission. Called in sick on your behalf.

Meatball's been fed. Coffee downstairs.

See you later

Benny

She'd had to squint to read his handwriting, chicken scratch letters almost indecipherable in her freshly conscious state. It took her a second to recall who 'Benny' even was, the nickname so foreign to her. He'd scribbled a smiley face next to his name, and Susie felt the corner of her lips curl upwards, oddly comforted by the gesture.

Memories of the night before began to return to her. Everything since the call with Beatrice had been a blur the moment she'd awoken, but the longer she sat there, watching Meatball roll back and forth across the mattress, things seemed to return to clarity. She was in one of the rooms above the pub - the owner had been reluctant to admit them so late at night, but she faintly recalled DeMarco slipping the man some extra cash. He'd been there when she'd fallen asleep. She'd woken up earlier that morning - at the time she thought she was dreaming, but now it grew apparent that it had been real. He'd been getting ready to leave, treading carefully so as not to make a sound. As he'd placed the note on the table beside her, he'd whispered something... but now she had no idea what on earth he had said.

Unceremoniously casting away the blankets, Susie rose from her bed groaning as she stretched her arms as high above her head as they could go. Beatrice's words from the night before remained etched clearly in her memory, the only thing she could truly recall with any lucidity. She'd forgotten how good it felt to cry. She had no idea how long it had been since the last time she let it happen - not since Ellie died, for certain. The combination of far too much wine and the sudden release of years of pent-up grief certainly had its way of making its effects felt the morning after. Susie staggered towards the bathroom, drinking cold water from her cupped palms with the fervour of someone dying of thirst, the relief to her throat immediate and heavenly.

Meatball darted back and forth between her feet as she dressed, and it was a constant fight not to trip as she pulled on her trousers. She'd awoken wearing what definitely was her sweater, but where it had come from she had no clue, as it had been tucked away in her drawers back at the hut the last time she remembered seeing it.

At least DeMarco had been right about the coffee. It felt strange to drink it sitting up at the bar, the rest of the pub lit with daylight and entirely deserted save for the barman, still cleaning pint glasses from the night before.

"You look like shit," He pointed out.

"Thank you," Susie nodded. There was a clock up on the wall behind the bar, its steady ticking piercing the veil of silence that lingered over the place. She stared at it for a while, watching the second hand rotate around and around as Meatball sniffed at her feet, nudging her toe with his nose. Tilting her cup, she felt a mouthful of hot coffee scald her throat as it worked its way down.

"Hey - d'you know what time the planes left?" She called to the barman as he wandered past, a keg of beer tucked under each arm.

He glanced up at the clock, blowing out a long breath. "Not sure, love. Think your fella left here about four hours ago, but I could be wrong."

"Oh, he's- ...Thanks." Susie gnawed at the inside of her lip, deciding the correction wasn't worth the energy it would take to make.

But there was something pecking away at her insides, something deep in her stomach that made her feel slightly ill the longer she stared up at the clock, watching the minutes tick by. Her heel began to tap incessantly against the leg of her barstool, heaving in one long sigh after the other, fingers drumming against the outside of her mug. There was a restlessness in her that was beginning to drive her mad, and it only worsened with each passing moment she spent just sitting there. Whatever this feeling was, she couldn't just wallow in it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Meatball let out a joyful bark as they left the pub, sprinting down to the end of the road and straight back up to her, tail wagging wildly, tongue dangling to the side. Susie had tugged her sweater back on over her uniform shirt from the night before, slightly-too-long sleeves hanging down past her palms, the wool fraying in places around the hems from years of wear and tear.

She'd never attempted to walk all the way to the airstrip from the village, and the further she trekked it was beginning to become clear why. The hike was far longer than she'd envisioned, and by the time they arrived at the runway, her feet ached for release, although Meatball remained as chipper as ever, the familiar surroundings exciting him as he began to sniff around for friendly faces.

"Oi!" Susie was ripped from her thoughts by the echo of Charlotte's voice as the woman approached. Crowds had already begun to assemble, ambulances and medics waiting nearby in preparation for the worst. It was a formation she'd seen countless times before, but for some reason this time it felt different, a bolt of nausea running through her before she forced herself to look away, turning towards her friend. "You look terrible."

"Yeah, I know. Morning to you too."

"They said you were off sick today," Charlotte frowned, brow arched in question. Of course, she had noticed Susie's absence the night before. Whatever had happened - however her sweater had made its way from the hut to her sleeping form - she was bound to have questions.

"Uh, yeah, I am. I just - I wanted to come up here... are they on their way back?"

"Any minute now," She nodded. Folding her arms tight across her chest, Charlotte moved to stand beside Susie, swaying slightly on the balls of her feet as they both stared up at the grey sky above.

"... Y'know," Charlotte began. "I don't mind if you don't tell me where you went. But you can."

Susie leant towards her, their shoulders pressing together. "I know."

Almost as if on cue, the steady hum of engines came into earshot, the dark shapes of returning planes just visible through the thin blanket of cloud. She hadn't realised that she'd begun picking at her nails in agitation until Charlotte reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her hands away from each other. Susie peered down at them, pink flesh raw and sore around the edges of her nails, then glanced across at her friend. Charlotte had noticed what she was doing without even having to look. She shoved her fists into her pockets.

The sounds of engines rose to a deafening roar as they swooped into land, propellers spinning to a slow halt as tyres skidded against concrete, coming to a slow stop one by one in various states of disrepair. Ground crews and medics were already springing into action from the moment the first bomber made touch-down, and all the two women could do was stand and watch, trying their best to make out the names scrawled across the noses of each passing fort.

She had long lost sight of Meatball, the dog skittering around the place and darting between legs in search of anyone familiar to him. Susie had begun to grow paranoid at her inability to locate 'Our Baby' when his bark split the air and he came bounding up to her from within the crowds, leaping up onto his hind legs as one of his claws caught on her sweater.

"Hey, hey, shhh," She cooed, stroking his head until he calmed down, stilling long enough for her to untangle his paw from the knots of wool. Meatball's tail wouldn't stop wagging, his head snapping back and forth between Susie and the crowds that covered the runway. When she glanced up, Charlotte was already walking away, a faint smirk creasing her cheek.

"Suze!" Her gaze darted towards the sudden voice, spotting DeMarco as he crossed the tarmac towards her, dark hair slick with sweat and plastered to his temples.

"Hey," She breathed, wide-eyed as he approached, a laugh escaping his throat as Meatball jumped up at him, barking with glee.

DeMarco stopped in front of her, lifting his hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Yesterday she would've flinched.

"You look nice," He said.

"Oh, shut up," Susie shook her head, breaking their moment of eye contact. He let out a low chuckle, clearly anticipating such a response. "...You alright?"

Nodding for a long moment, DeMarco took a deep breath. "Yeah. Could ask you the same."

"Right, well I was never at risk of getting blown up, but thanks," She huffed, squinting in the sunlight as she began to smile. As he began to shrug off his jacket, DeMarco let out a faint hiss of pain. Susie's eyes narrowed at him, folding her arms across her chest. "Uh-huh, right, so when you said you were fine you were full of shit?"

He batted a hand at her, shaking his head. "It's just a stiff back - woke up with it. 'S what happens when you sleep in a chair all night, y'know."

"You... Did you stay all night?"

DeMarco froze for a second, and from the way he was staring at her, she could tell he was trying to gauge her reaction, to predict her response.

"I... don't wanna answer that if it'll make you mad at me."

"I assumed you'd just come back in the morning. When I saw you leaving-"

"I thought you were asleep when I left."

"Mostly. I thought I was dreaming at the time."

A lopsided, boyish grin spread across his face. "Oh yeah? You dream about me a lot?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Susie rolled her eyes, whacking him across the shoulder and making him wince again. "... Sorry."

"It's cool. Hey, I gotta go debrief - I'll see you later, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, see you later," She nodded. As he began to walk away, she felt a question burning on the tip of her tongue, desperate to be asked. "Oh, hey - DeMarco?"

He stopped, turning back as he waited for her to speak. What had she wanted to say? Why did you stay? What did you say to me before you left? Why can't I think of anything but whether you're alright when you leave?

"Uh- it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Susie reached into the paper bag in her lap, passing a sandwich across to DeMarco as he poured a cup of coffee from the thermos, fending off Meatball to prevent him from snatching the meat out from between the bread. It had become a usual occurrence for him to join her on her lunch break, bringing with him food of his own to add to her meagre feast, and he came almost every day when he wasn't flying a mission. Charlotte and Maeve had joined them initially, but after returning to work the pair had been left alone, sitting in the grass beneath one of the trees at the edge of the airfield.

Lying back against the ground, she lifted her foot in the air, holding her toe to blot out the blinding afternoon sun. It was almost perfectly quiet here, the wall of trees muffling the constant noise of the ground crews, toiling away across the field.

"So," DeMarco began, propping himself up on his elbows. "If you weren't working here - if there wasn't a war and we didn't have to do all this - what d'you think you'd be doing right now?"

Susie frowned, letting out a faint huff. "God, I dunno. Probably still be in my old job."

"Which was-?"

"I was the projectionist at the Paramount in Manchester. Y'know - splicing the reels, switching them over, keeping the projectors running. Did that for five years before the war - got bloody good at it." When she looked over at him, he was smiling. "What?"

"Nothin', I just wouldn't have guessed it. You liked it?"

"Well, I got to sit around watching films on my own and no one talked to me."

"That tracks, actually."

Susie laughed, a deep chuckle vibrating from her chest. It had been a long time since she'd thought about that theatre, of the hours she'd spent sitting up in that tiny booth, only half paying attention to whatever book she had in her lap so that she was ready when the film ran its course. The constant clicking, rolling, scrolling sound of the reels of film had once occupied her mind almost permanently - she'd swear she could still hear it at dinner, or lying awake in bed at night, the noise etched into her very brain. But it had been years since she'd heard it now.

She lifted a hand to her mouth, biting nervously at her thumbnail for a moment as she built up the courage to speak again, feeling her heart rate begin to speed up inside her chest.

"I have a question, too."

"Oh yeah?" DeMarco shifted in the grass, propping himself up on one side so that he could face her properly. She wished he'd stop staring at her like that. It was awkward enough to ask what she needed to without those damn eyes on her, his expression always so open and forgiving no matter what venom seemed to lace her tongue.

Susie grunted, pushing herself up to stand as she paced back and forth in front of him for a while. He watched her go this way and that, over and over, beginning to frown. "You havin' a breakdown over there?"

"Will you come with me to Charlotte's wedding?" She blurted, rambling so quickly she was worried the words might have blurred together into a single, unintelligible slur.

"What?" DeMarco grinned, although there wasn't a hint of mockery in his smile.

"Charlotte said I could bring someone, I - I dunno, it's stupid, don't worry about it," Susie shook her head, a hint of red colouring her cheeks.

"No, no! I'll come. Not stupid," He hadn't moved from his spot, cheeks creasing with the weight of his grin.

She threw her hands up, refusing to meet his gaze. "It's just, I'm gonna be the only person showing up on my own otherwise, and it'll be weird and embarrassing and-"

"Hey, Susie! Susie. I already said I'll go. I'm just... I dunno, surprised to be your first choice."

Sitting back down again, Susie let out a long, deep breath, feeling a weight rise off her shoulders now that the question was out there in the open. The idea of showing up alone had been bugging her for weeks, but it wasn't until that morning, sitting alone in the bed he'd paid for, did she realise the answer had been in front of her all this time.

"Well, it's- ...Whatever, it's not like I had any old boyfriends to dig up for the occasion."

"You never had a boyfriend?" DeMarco scoffed in disbelief.

She narrowed her eyes at him, shrugging. "Don't act like it's so unbelievable. I mean, I've done the sex and the snoggin' and all that stuff but... no. Nothing serious. But I'm a bit bloody miserable and not very pretty so it adds up."

"Don't say that," He shook his head slightly, tone suddenly firm.

"Don't say what?"

"Don't say you're not pretty - you're very pretty, Suze."

"Oh, but I am miserable, eh?" Susie joked, attempting to hide how taken aback she'd been by his sudden seriousness.

"Hey, I'm sworn to honesty," DeMarco shrugged, laughing as she lashed out, smacking him on the chest with the back of her hand.

"Bastard."

They slipped into silence, watching Meatball attempt to chase a small group of geese across the field. She chuckled as the dog darted back and forth, the birds leaping to fly over his head whenever he got too close. DeMarco let his head loll to the side again, watching her face as she smiled. Who the hell had told her she wasn't pretty? He couldn't believe it - couldn't fathom how she could either. There was something effortless to her that he found wonderful - how she never bothered to curl or pin her hair, how her uniform was never quite up to regulation, how she never seemed able to tie her necktie the same way twice.

Susie let out a groan, her head tilting back. "What is it now?" He asked.

"Remembered I have a job."

"That's rough. You should probably go do that."

With a sigh, she took the last sip of her coffee and scrambled to her feet, brushing stray pieces of grass off her trousers, a faint patch of damp creeping up her back. There was a leaf stuck to the back of her hair, and as Susie scrambled to collect her things, DeMarco stood up, trying and failing to reach it through her constant movement. She turned, almost bumping into him, their faces only inches apart.

"Can I help you?" Susie asked quietly.

He reached around to the back of her head, plucking away the leaf and holding it up so she could see. "Got it."

Letting out a snort of amusement, she nodded, taking a step back and turning to leave. "Come 'round my hut sometime and I'll give you the wedding invitation," She called over her shoulder, the sunlight hitting her auburn hair and lighting the frizz around its edges a bright, flaming orange.

"Will do!" DeMarco shouted in reply, standing perfectly still as he watched her hike up the slope to the top of the field and disappear. Looking down, he realised he was still holding the leaf in his hand.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Darkness had begun to fall over Thorpe Abbotts by the time Susie returned from work, a cigarette burning away between her lips as she approached her hut, keys jangling in her palm as she flicked through to find the right one. Sliding it into the lock and opening the door with a click, the place was already almost full as she entered, her bunkmates reading and chatting and pinning their hair into curlers in preparation for the next day. In the centre of the room, Charlotte and Maeve were holding up a long, white wedding gown, each of them gripping one end, eyeing it closely as they talked amongst themselves. Charlotte had spent months preparing the thing, sewing it herself out of scraps of parachute silk, and it was now achingly close to completion with only two weeks to spare.

"How's it lookin'?" Susie asked, strolling past them to get to her bed, shrugging off her jacket as she went.

"Come over here and put it on," Charlotte ordered.

She sighed, kicking her shoes off. "Again?" She and Charlotte shared almost identical measurements, and in the absence of any sort of mannequin, Susie found herself modelling the dress far more often than she would've liked.

"I think this should be the last time - I just need to sew the lace on once it comes in the post. But I'm not sure about the cut of the sleeves."

"Why can't you just put it on yourself?"

"Fine! Fine, God," Shaking her head, Susie crossed the room towards them, stripping off her uniform as she went. Her friends helped her into the dress, feeling almost lost beneath the layers of identical silk. Charlotte was slightly taller than her, so the hem of the skirt crumpled itself against the floor, but it was otherwise an almost perfect fit.

Maeve sat on the end of her bed, watching as Charlotte surveyed the dress, muttering inaudibly to herself as she poked at the sleeves and the fit of the bodice. Susie refused to turn her head for fear that she'd catch sight of her reflection in one of the girls' mirrors. She'd seen Charlotte wear it enough times to know what it must have looked like on her, but something about the idea of seeing it made her intensely uncomfortable.

"See, I'm thinking of taking the sleeves up a bit," Charlotte explained, marking out with her finger where she wanted to raise the fabric. "Like this, see?"

"Yeah, I think that'd be nice," Mave nodded. She had been dragged into the project just as involuntarily as Susie had, but they played their parts diligently for Charlotte's sake.

A knock sounded at the front door to the hut, and one of the other women scrambled up off her bed to go and answer it. People came by all the time, so the interruption hadn't even caught Susie's attention until her name was called.

"Susie! It's for you."

Her brow furrowed. "Who is it?" She replied, already thinking up an excuse to avoid having to go to the door. The woman stuck her head around the door again, talking briefly to whoever was outside.

"Says his name's Benny."

Maeve's face seemed to light up, grinning over at her. "Fuck's sake," Susie muttered, hiking up her skirts with as much care for Charlotte's handiwork as she could as she marched towards the front door.

DeMarco stood out in the darkness, a nearby streetlight basking half of his face in a warm glow. He'd smiled the moment she'd appeared in the doorway, but it faded into confusion as he took a moment to process her appearance.

"... Oh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Charlotte's wedding dress. We're the same size, she's- ...I dunno what she's doing really."

He let out a chuckle, nodding. She hadn't had a chance to deal with her hair since getting back, and curls protruded at all angles from the bun on the back of her head, which had been steadily slipping out of place for hours. Paired with the wedding gown, it was a distinctly strange combination.

"Well, I just came by to get the invite, I didn't mean to interrupt... whatever this is."

"Ooh, right," Susie nodded, using one of the other girls' boots as a makeshift doorstop as she scurried back inside, skirt held up to her knees as she rummaged in the drawer of her nightstand until she found it.

"There you go," She declared, holding it out to him as she returned.

"Thanks," DeMarco nodded, slipping the invitation into his pocket. Looking back up at her, he couldn't help but stare for a moment. Despite the strangeness of the situation, he couldn't deny that it suited her. He cleared his throat, shaking his head before his mind was allowed to wander to places he wasn't ready for. "Ok, well. Have fun with this," He said, gesturing to her dress. "I'll see you around."

"Yes," Susie spoke slowly, flashing him an awkward smile. As she reached back to close the door, a forgotten pin hidden inside one of the seams poked through her flesh, eliciting a hiss of pain. "Fuck! Charlotte, you haven't taken all the pins out of this thing!"

From somewhere inside, Charlotte's voice echoed. "Take it off before you get blood on it!"

Benny cleared his throat, feeling heat rise to his face. "Oh, right, ok - I'll be on my way."

"Bye!" She yelped, practically slamming the door in his face in her desperation to get out of the dress. Through the door, he could hear muffled voices, fast and irritated, and he let out a chuckle, gravel crunching beneath his feet as he walked away.

[grave-z-boy]

Arthur Morgan x hunter!male!reader headcanons

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Male Reader

Summary: After a long day of hunting, you set up camp, only to nearly be trampled by a horse with an unconscious man as it’s rider.

Warning: Arthur got shot, blood, mild description of killing/skinning deer, you almost get trampled, mentions of a bar fight, and drinking, implications of prostitution and sex.

Masterlist

You were in the woods after a long hunt, resting against a tree, nearly asleep when you heard the familiar sound of a horse galloping.

You ignored it at first, but as the galloping kept drawing closer, you finally opened you eyes, only to see a horse running towards you with great haste.

You managed to move just in time for the horse to fly past you.

As you turned to yell at the rider, the horse slowed suddenly, before stopping just a few meters away. Then the rider fell off the saddle and landed in a heap on the floor.

The horse didn’t spook when you drew near, it didn’t even move when you kneeled down to check on its rider.

Turning him on his back, you could see a growing splotch of blood pooling at his side, you nearly considered him a dead man, but you saw his chest rise in a sudden gasp of air, and his breathing, which had previously been halted, continued at a mostly steady pace.

You dragged him back to your little camp and attempted to patch up his wound as best as you could. You were only used to patching yourself or animals up, but this wasn’t that different. Seems like he’d been grazed by a bullet, a deep graze, but nothing too harmful. You eventually found the real cause of his unconscious state, there was a gash on the side of his head, probably got hit by a rock or something- it looked nothing like a bullet wound or even a knife wound.

The sun eventually set, you tossed a spare blanket over the man and pulled him a bit closer to the fire as the cold night set in.

He came too as you were cooking, nothing special, just a bit of the meat from the deer you’d caught earlier that day.

You didn’t even realize he’d woken up until you heard the sound of a gun clicking.

Looking down at him, you weren’t really scared, you’ve been held at gunpoint before, and with the shape he was in, you doubted he could hit you if you were two feet in front of him.

So you kept on cooking, eventually, he decided you weren’t a threat, holstering his gun.

“Where am i?”

“Just west of Strawberry, a bit off the lake.”

He didn’t settle that night, not when you offered him food, or water, not when he eventually bled through his bandages, and not when he became light headed and needed to lie down.

You could only feel so bad for the man, sure, he’d been through a tussle, but at the moment you were taking care of him and you really didn’t appreciate the way he was looking at you.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

“I could ask you the same.”

A very stale first meeting, though, you did appreciate what it would later bring.

In the morning you went your separate ways, you headed deeper into the forest, and he headed into town.

You figured you wouldn’t be seeing him again, you’ve never seen him in or around town before so he was probably just passing through or something.

You finished your hunt and headed home, the deer you’d caught draped over your horse, it’s neck still leaking blood from where you arrow had punctured it.

You skinned it, sold the pelt and the meat, and even sold the antlers before heading home.

You didn’t live in town, you lived in a little cottage just outside of it, you used to live with your sisters, but they had all moved out at this point, moving onto bigger, better things than hunting.

You didn’t mind, they’d both found themselves rich husbands to move them somewhere nice. You couldn’t do that for a few reasons, but you wouldn’t complain- not frequently at least.

Night came faster than expected, you figured you’d either loitered in the town to long or you’d been taking too much of a stroll on your way.

You decided to head home, you rode out quickly but eventually settled at a nice slow pace.

You paused for a moment when you spotted a wagon, unmoving, right in the middle of the road, with a man was stationed right in front of it.

As you drew closer, you figured you were about to be robbed, you’d seen them and they had no doubt seen you, it was only a matter of time before a gang or something jumped out of the surrounding foliage and threatens to kill you.

Sighing as you continued on, drawing closer to the stationary wagon.

As the man outside became more clear, the cigarette in between his lips lighting his face a bit, you recognized him.

You almost laughed, it was the man you’d helped- he seemed to recognize you too, him face lighting up with surprise as he blew smoke out of his mouth.

“Don’t I know you.” He said once you were just a few feet away. You could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“What are you doing out here, you should be resting.”

“I rested enough.”

“Mmhm, how that head a’ yours?”

“Fine.”

You heard a sudden crash from inside the carriage, then bellowing laughter of one man and at least two women.

Glancing back at the man, he said,

“Just waiting for them to finish up in there.”

“How long you been out here?”

“‘Bout an hour.”

You don’t know why you asked, considering you were convinced that you were gonna get robbed a few moments ago.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

You didn’t except him to say yes

He unhitched one of the horses from the carriage, causing it to rock a bit, disturbing the people inside.

He rode without a saddle, off the main road and into the forrest.

“I’m y/n, by the way.”

“‘m Arthur.”

You rode in silence for a few minutes, just taking in the night and the nature around you.

“So- uh,” you started, “How’d you end up in the woods like that?”

He took a moment to respond, “‘ got caught in a bar brawl with some hunter, his friend ain't like watching his boy go down too much, shot me from across the damn room. I tried to make it back to camp before bleeding out... But the next thing I know I'm at your camp getting patched up.”

You almost laughed, “so you tried to shoot me.”

“I didn't.”

“Please, you would've if your ass could see straight.”

You ended up hitching your horses to a tree and walking along the lake.

It was surprisingly calm.

You talked with Arthur longer than you meant to, you don't know how much time passed, but you glanced up at the sky and saw that it had gone from deep blue, to a lighter purple.

“Shit,” you laughed, “we've been out here all night.”

“So we have.”

He chuckled and you laughed with him.

Pushing himself up off the ground, he offered a hand out to you. You took it, he hoisted you up, harder than you thought he would. You stood with less than a foot between you, face to face with Arthur. You didn’t move back, and neither did he. There was a small smile on his face, you realized he still held your hand in his. A part of you wanted to laugh and pull away but you didn’t.

The other part of you, which was much larger, and much louder, told you to kiss him. So you did, it was just a quick peck, but Arthur looked just as shocked as you did. Even though you were the one who initiated it, you didn’t fully expect yourself to.

Before you could turn and run, you were grabbed by your arm and pulled into a kiss, not as shy or quick as yours had been, maybe a bit nervous but you doubt the man in front of you would ever admit that.

After pulling away the two of you stared at each other for a moment, the other becoming clearer and clearer as the sun steadily rose.

“We should get back-“ you choked out, “your friends probably worried.”

He let out a low laugh, “you might be right.”

The ride back was uneventful, not in a bad way, you talked, riding slow and steady back to where the carriage had been.

When you finally got back, Arthur opened the carriage only to see the man he was with, as well as two women, passed out and presumably extremely hung over.

You said your goodbyes with a small hope of seeing each other again.

(Just wanted to write something quickly so my blog wouldn’t be empty lol. Let me know if you want more)

[strip4kaneshiro]

Cole Cassidy x Texan! reader domesticity headcanons

hiii it’s Kay again LOL. My first comeback piece and it’s Overwatch head canons LMAO. Felt some type of way about writing headcanons about real people so we’re moving on to fictional characters as the lord intended. As of rn, I’m fixated on Cassidy, Reaper, and Lifeweaver as my faves. So expect me to write about them TRUST

You and him defo live on a small ranch back in his home state of Texas together

this takes place in a universe where Overwatch is a lil more flexible with him than before, so don’t worry too much about the logistics ok???

Not close too his hometown though ( he’s still wanted there, rip), so you end up choosing a ranch set of land south enough to still be able to reach the coast if wanted. Cole was adamant about being able to take beach road trips

Let’s you do majority of the interior decorating, while he focuses on upkeeping the outdoors of your home

In the process of choosing yalls house and moving in, contrary to popular belief, Cassidy was the super picky one

I swear you had to change real estate agents twice because he wouldn’t stop nitpicking LMAO, but all for good reason, He just wants the best for his darling <3

He will NEVER wake you up earlier than 9 am for any reason unless it’s a doctors appointment or a road trip. Babes just wants to watch you sleep

“Cole! It’s 10:30! You weren’t gonna wake me up?!” You chastise, jumping out of bed and pulling stray hairs out your face

“Now why would I disturb your peace?” and he flashes that damn cowboy charming smile smh i hate him so bad

If your into skincare stuff, he simply watches you in amazement as you go through a multi step routine

Begins asking you to help him, not because he cares much about his skin, but he loves to see you yap about what you love

(Please free this man from the 14 in 1 in the shower)

Bro CANNOT keep his hands off of you for any reason and it makes everyone both envious and uncomfortable

If you’re in the kitchen, hands wrapped around your waist from the side. Doing laundry? He’s leaning on your shoulder and simply watching.

Depending on if Overwatch needs him, he will force them to give him a 14 hour notice so he can tell you. Cole never wants you to wake up confused and alone like how he did Ashe and Deadlock gang

Speaking of, expect to see the, very often in your house. They all just decided y’all’s house was the hangout spot like a bunch of high schoolers

He doesn’t appreciate how Ashe and you team up to tease him

Ended up getting two dogs and a cat with him.

The cat loves you but cannot stand being near Cole unless it’s bribed (male cat)

“Oh, did your wife give you those scratches Cass?” (Baptiste)

Cole begrudgingly acknowledges the scratches on his shoulders and back during a training session.

He forces you to trim his claws and get him a scratching post when he gets back home

If you drink coffee/tea/matcha, he leaves enough hot water in the coffee pot so you can make whatever you choose. Or if he knows, he just does it himself and leaves it for you warm cold (ik some of you r iced coffee fiends)

Cole takes you on shopping trips every couple of months because he loves to spoil you, he even carries all the bags without one single complaint! (He gets to flex his ranch muscles)

Don’t let it be a nice day over 70 degrees, this man will take any chance he gets to have as little clothing on as possible around you (Why he does this we don’t know)

Catch him in a tank top or no shirt at all doing yard work while you lay in a chaise , tanning or quietly reading.

He wouldn’t have it any other way though, he loves working hard for the ones he loves.

So as the day comes to the end, and you come outside with some iced tea for him, he wipes as much sweat as he can off of himself before leaning over and kidding the top of your head.

“I love you, darlin’.” He’ll mutter, before wrapping his toned arms around you and embracing you

[heavenlybackside]

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. Since they were starting to smell, however, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the Bath water!”

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, resulting in the idiom, “It’s raining cats and dogs.”

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed, therefore, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That’s how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, leading folks to coin the phrase “dirt poor.”

The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way, subsequently creating a “thresh hold.”

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while, and thus the rhyme, “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, “bring home the bacon.” They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust.”

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up, creating the custom of holding a wake.

They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were “piss poor.”

But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn’t even afford to buy a pot; they “didn’t have a pot to piss in” & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands & complain because the water temperature isn’t just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive, so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.

And that’s the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring?

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Grain of Salt "Facts"

I don't know if these are true or not but they come from a source I tend to trust. Still, take 'em with a grain of salt and please excuse the word used for urination. The fact just doesn't make sense without it.

People used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken and sold to the tannery…….if you had to do this to survive you were "P*ss Poor". But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot……they "didn't have a pot to p*ss in" & were the lowest of the low.

The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the old days…

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. However, since they were starting to smell … brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it … hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water!"

Houses had thatched roofs with thick straw piled high, with no solid roof. The cats and other small animals including mice, bugs lived in the roof to get warm. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes they would slip and fall off the roof … hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."

There was also nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and droppings could mess up their nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how our luxurious “canopy beds” came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, "Dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way. Hence: a “thresh hold”.

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire … every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and didn't get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme: “Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered “poisonous”.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the “upper crust”.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a “wake”.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive … so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the “graveyard shift”) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, “saved by the bell” or was considered a “dead ringer”.

[straightupsickfics]

another lovesick afternoon

literally genuinely 2.5k words of modern au ed and stede being the softest grossest saps you ever did see while ed gets a cold. and i, personally, love that for them. and me. <3

****

“God, fuck, this is good, are you sure you don’t want to… well, no, probably not a good idea,” Ed says, offering Stede a sip of his iced mocha coffee and pulling it away all in one fell swoop. 

Stede pouts, though Ed knows he had no real intention of drinking it. Ed likes his coffee sweet enough to give Stede a toothache, and while Stede enjoys the occasional sweet himself, the scone he has beside him is more than enough to do the job for him. 

“Think I’m catching a cold or something,” Ed explains. He’d woken up this morning with the first twinges of a sore throat, the start of a runny nose, but had powered through a shower and felt mostly fine after some water and orange juice.

Still, Stede gives a little squeak of protest.

“You should’ve said!” Stede tells him. “I could’ve brought coffee home for us.”

Ed rolls his eyes and smiles fondly. “S’nothing yet, a little sore throat, a few sniffles, that’s all. Didn’t you drag Lucius to a concert while he was sick a few weeks ago?” 

Stede’s eyes narrow. “He wasn’t sick, for one thing, Edward, he had a hangover, and that was his own fault. And besides, it’s different…” 

Different when it’s you.

Stede doesn’t finish the thought aloud, but Ed knows what he means, and his warm, fond smile is all the confirmation Ed needs that he’s right. 

Ed lets his hand rest on Stede’s hand while they drink their coffee and eat their croissants. They hadn’t had much hope of finding a spot in the park on a morning as nice as this one, but a bench had opened up just as they’d arrived, perfect timing, and Ed had all but sprinted over to it to stop it being taken. 

“You almost took out that old woman,” Stede had admonished him between fits of laughter. 

“I did not!” 

“You’re going to be on the news! Beautiful man takes down senior citizen,” Stede had narrated in his best newscaster impression. 

Ed had snorted a laugh at this, which only made Stede laugh harder, until they were two grown men dissolving into a helpless fit of laughter on a park bench on a weekend morning. It was, honestly, a perfect morning. 

“What’s next on your list?” Ed asks now, leaning over and brushing a crumb from the corner of Stede’s mouth. 

Stede seems to falter for a minute, unsure. “Well, we don’t need to go anywhere else if you’re not feeling up to it—” He says quickly. And while he’s right, they don’t need to be anywhere. They aren’t “running errands” so much as moseying around their little town, enjoying the warmth of the day and each other’s company.

“We can just as easily do that at home,” Stede insists. 

“I’m not on my deathbed, love, seriously. You said you wanted to look at books for six or seven hours, didn’t you?” 

Stede’s still sputtering a protest as Ed gets to his feet and offers Stede his hand, laughing. 

*

Stede Bonnet really could look at books for hours on end if he was left to his own devices, and it’s kind of fucking adorable. Ed turns a corner and finally finds his husband crouched down and reading the back of a hardback book, completely lost in his own, fictional world. 

“So, you come here often?” Ed asks, voice low, mouth close to Stede’s ear. He smiles when Stede’s neck and cheeks flush a pale shade of pink in surprise. 

“Ah! Every now and then,” Stede squeaks, struggling to his feet. Ed offers him his hand and tugs him to his feet, wrapping an arm around Stede’s waist to balance him. 

It’s Stede’s favorite store, full to bursting with books on shelves and stacked in piles, full of big windows that leave the whole store entirely drenched in sun on bright sunny mornings. Like this one, with the sun hitting the blond in Stede’s hair just so and making it look like it’s made of pure sunshine. 

Stede is pure sunshine, Ed thinks to himself. They come here just about as often as they can, Ed happy enough to trail behind Stede and listen to plot summaries and debates over when to buy the hardback and when to wait for the paperback. Their shelves at home were bursting, too, but they always managed to find room. 

“Y'good?” 

Stede’s still flushed as he nods, apparently happy enough to have Ed half hold him up in the back of the store. Which is more than fine with Ed, too. 

“Look at this,” Stede says finally, holding out a book for Ed to inspect, something about Greek mythology that he’s had his eye out for. He explains the story to Ed who really does listen as best as he can, but finds himself almost immediately distracted by the animated expressions that dance across Stede’s face, the way he talks with his hands and explains every last detail… 

“Sorry, went off on a bit of a tangent,” Stede says, finally winding himself down. “You didn’t need to know all that.” He’s stuck at a crossroads between embarrassed and apologetic and Ed shakes his head, stopping it in its tracks. 

“Sure I did, fucking fascinating,” he promises. 

Stede smiles, then leans in to kiss him. “I know that’s not true, but I love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Ed says. He lets Stede guide him through the rest of the store, lets himself be talked into another black leather notebook that he definitely doesn’t need, and Stede only fusses a little when Ed has to duck to the side and cough into his elbow. His nose has started to run here and there, enough that he has to say yes to the packet of tissues Stede offers him in the car. 

“Fucking hate this time of year,” Ed grouses. “Germs everywhere, always end up coming down with something…” 

“Poor Ed,” Stede coos at him, only a hint of teasing in his voice. He lays a hand on Ed’s knee and offers to drive, but Ed just shakes his head determined to continue their day out as planned. He rubs his nose into the handful of tissues a final time before pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road. 

There’s a craft store not far from the bookstore, and Stede insists it's only fair that they pop in for Ed since they did the bookstore for so long, and Ed doesn’t have the energy (or, really, the desire) to argue. 

If Stede can spend hours looking at books, Ed could just as easily spend hours browsing yarn and textiles and fabrics, running them through his fingers and dreaming up projects, matching them to patterns he has saved across a million tabs on his phone… 

“Oh! This is a nice one, I think,” Stede says, holding up a bright yellow skein of soft, expensive yarn. “Feel that!” He holds it out for Ed enthusiastically.

It really is nice, and extra soft, perfect for the upcoming fall season. Ed does like to make Stede a sweater every year, and he’d found the perfect sunflower pattern and bookmarked it the other day. 

“Love that,” Ed agrees, and tosses it into his hand basket — he hadn’t even bothered pretending that he wouldn’t be leaving the store without at least a few things, and now he has to find some complementary gold hues for the sweater he’d definitely be making for Stede. 

“You don’t have to…” Stede starts, but Ed quiets him with a look. 

“Well, now I’ve gone and germed it up, so… Had something in mind anyway,” Ed assures him when Stede gives him a worried little frown. “You’ll love it, trust me.” 

“That I do,” Stede smiles, and follows him through the aisle and helping him pick out a few more shades of yarn. 

Ed could browse all day, normally, but today he feels himself starting to drag a little. His head is starting to hurt, and the sore throat from this morning is coming back in full force, too. He stops to sneeze into his elbow when Stede wanders off down another aisle, just two quick, muffled hht’mpsh! Etshhh! sneezes, and still he hears Stede’s voice making its way to him, though Stede himself is still out of sight. 

“Bless you!” 

Ed smiles a little as he digs in his pocket for the last of the tissues Stede had given him earlier. They probably had to go home at this rate, what with his nose in rare fucking form and his head throbbing the way it is. 

With a sigh, Ed goes to find his husband. 

*

“hhh’ISCHih! h’sschUH!”

“Bless—”

“hd’ISCHuh! Eh’sschIEW! hh'iiishhh!”

“...you! Goodness, that’s a lot of sneezes, isn’t it? Are you sure you really need to work on that just now?” Stede asks. 

Ed sniffles, then sniffles again, then gives up and reaches for another tissue and rubs his nose into it. Blowing it doesn’t seem to do much of anything, just irritates things enough to make him sneeze again, which he’s already getting fucking tired of. 

He looks down at the granny square he’d been ignoring in favor of his cold for the last thirty minutes and realizes that Stede is probably right, he’s not going to make any more progress today. He can barely focus on anything with the sneezing or coughing or sniffling or some other cold symptom fighting for his attention. 

“I thought so,” Stede says gently, tucking his bookmark into his book and setting it, along with Ed’s crochet work, on the coffee table. “Why don’t you let me get you something for that cold, hm? Then we can just relax before we eat dinner. I’ll order from the deli you like. Soup’ll do wonders for you, I think.” 

Ed lets his head roll back against the couch cushions and nods. Stede really is the best when Ed’s sick, there’s never been any doubt about that, and this time is no different. Ed stays put in the living room, waiting while Stede putters around in their bedroom and bathroom, grabbing things. Knowing him, he’d come out with half the blankets in his collection, half the medicine cabinet, and insist on ordering almost the entire menu for dinner. 

And Ed… Ed wouldn’t have it any other way. All he could do was make it up to him when Stede inevitably came down with this in a week or so. 

“Here we are!” Stede says, announcing his return. Ed can’t help but laugh when he sees the armload of stuff he’s brought with him. 

“Are you kicking me out of our bedroom?” Ed teases. "Moving me out here permanently?"

“What! No,” Stede says, dumping the blankets onto Ed’s lap and arranging the array of medicines on the coffee table. “Never.”

“Oh, good, had me worried for a minute there, thought you’d packed up everything I own,” Ed laughs as Stede glares at him. 

“Y’know I love you, right?” 

“Yes, because I am an excellent husband with a wonderful bedside manner. Now, I’m going to make tea, you take two of these and one of these and I’ll be right back.” And with that, Stede's off again, Ed laughing quietly on the couch.

By the time the tea is cooled enough to drink, Ed is curled up around Stede on the couch in what can only be called a nest of blankets, doing more sniffling than anything else, but feeling better overall, thanks to the magical combination of medicine, tea, and Stede.

“This really hit you right out of nowhere, hm?” Stede murmurs, stroking a hand through Ed’s hair. It’s shorter and definitely grayer these days, but Ed’s pretty sure he’ll always react to Stede touching it the same way: melting into a pile of goo. God, he really is getting soft in his old age. 

“Yeah,” Ed sighs, leaning back into Stede’s touch. “Not so bad though, I guess…” Soon there would be way too much food arriving at their door, and cleaning up to do, and planning for the week ahead, but for now… 

Now, Ed would swear he can hear Stede’s gleeful little smile behind him. He decides to let him win this one, just before drifting off in a late-afternoon nap. 

*

“Stede, darling, I love you and your adorable, ridiculous, over the top nighttime routine but can you please just— Yes, good, that. Thank you very much,” Ed says, unable to stop the smile from taking over his face as Stede throws himself dramatically onto the bed and curls himself around Ed’s chest, face pressed right into the spot between his neck and shoulder, nose warm against his ear. 

Heaven. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Ed sighs. 

Stede laughs, giggles, really, and Ed can feel the sound warm right through him. “Y’laughing at me?” Ed asks through a yawn. 

“Never, my love,” Stede promises. “It’s just that we have been literally together all day now, and you were really quite demanding that I get in here right now,” he points out. “You slept on me for two hours just this afternoon!”

Ed pretends to consider this. “So? I wait all day for this, Stede,” he says, then pouts just a little. “Don’t you?” 

“Of course, yes,” Stede says, leaning over and brushing their noses together just gently before kissing him. Ed sniffles a little at the touch, his nose extra sensitive thanks to the monster cold he’s managed to pick up, but Stede doesn’t seem to mind that. 

“Good,” Ed says. “Feels good,” he repeats. 

Stede really can’t seem to stop himself from smiling now, as silly as it might seem. They really had spent the entire day together, and now here they are, giggling like children after lights out. “You feel good, too,” Stede tells him. “Though… Do you feel alright?” 

Ed twitches his nose like he’s testing something, sniffles a few times, then nods. “Think m’alright for now. Still doped up on everything you gave me earlier.” 

“Advil for your head and some cold medicine is hardly doped up,” Stede argues. He kisses Ed again, a distraction, but a welcome one. 

“You take good care of me,” Ed acquiesces, though it’s hard not to with Stede curled around him like this. 

Never one to turn down a compliment, Stede beams. 

“hh’itsSCH! hd’ISCHuh! Eh’sschIEW!”

The rush of sneezes manages to take Ed completely by surprise, and he knows he doesn’t completely manage to duck away from Stede in the process. 

“Fuck… sorry,” Ed mutters, fumbling for a tissue. 

“God bless you! Maybe not quite on the mend yet, then,” Stede says, smiling. 

Ed opens his mouth, ready to apologize again, or promise he’ll take extra good care of Stede in return for being patient zero in the span of a single day, but Stede stops him with another kiss. 

“There’s no way you’re escaping this, mate,” Ed tells him. “You’ve been all over me all day.”

“You’ve been all over me, too,” Stede points out. 

“Right, well, sorry in advance, is what I mean,” Ed says. "Never not going to be all over you, for what it's worth."

“Good. Me either. And it's bound to happen,” Stede shrugs. "If I get it, I get it."

And really, how did Ed get this lucky? Even if he had to wait years and years and make several wrong turns through relationshipland to get here, he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“Now,” Stede says, “you rushed me over here so... come here, please.” He holds out an arm for Ed to curl back into him, and Ed wastes no more time arguing as he settles into place, the two of them slotting around each other like two perfectly shaped spoon.

Yeah, he waits all day for this, and it’s fucking perfect. 

[ichijager13]

Teach me how to be loved

Chapter X

Cause there's a man that's in my past… there's a man that's still right here… he's real enough to touch in my darkest nights

Pairing : Eren Jäger x reader

Characters: Eren Jäger, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger.

Tags: Unhealthy coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships, childhood trauma, physical and verbal abuse, self-esteem and trust issues, domestic violence, implied/ referenced cheating, and a touch of sweet, lovable, and non fuckboy Eren Jäger

This fic is brought to you by Lana Del Rey’s songs

Masterlist, AO3,  Playlists: Reader’s POV, Eren’s POV

A/N: Hiiiiii lovelies, thank you for reading my story and for the reactions. this chapter is an angst with a sprinkle of sweet sweet Eren looking after reader.

Please make sure you read the content warning before you read this story and if you suffer from domestic violence or any form of abuse please seek help and know that I’m rooting for you.

Also, the fic is going to have its official playlist, I’m still working on it. It might be ready by the time I update the next chapters. Enjoy reading!!

Likes and reblogs are more than appreciated. Have a nice day/evening

At first, you contemplated not answering the door. Images from last night flashed in front of you. the bars tour, someone flirting with you, grinding against each other on the dancefloor, him screwing you in the parking lot in the backseat of his car, and the walk back home under the rain. You rolled to your side and pulled the cover over your head.

In addition to being sore, you woke up this morning with a nasty flu you caught from last night’s walk. Not having any plans for the day, you spent most of it in bed.

You were about to doze off when the ring bell went on again. Unable to ignore it further, you gathered your remaining force, wrapped your shuddering body in your blanket, and left your bedroom. The effort made the room spin around you. “Whoever is there better have a valid reason to disturb me”. you groaned dragging your feet across your apartment.

Your jaw dropped when you saw who was at your door. “Eren?” You mumbled; voice hoarse.

Dressed in a dark blue three-piece suit, with his hair neatly pushed back, revealing his emerald green eyes, he looked like he was going to a formal dinner. You took your time admiring him.

If you were surprised to see him at your door, Eren on the other hand was frowning. “Are you alright?” He inquired visibly worried.

If you didn’t have a fever and your head wasn’t throbbing, you would’ve felt ashamed of the way you look. Your hair was going in different directions, your face was pale, bloodshot eyes with bags under them, and dry lips and to complete the look you were wrapped in a blanket twice your size. “Just a little sick”. You responded, wondering why he was standing in front of your door dressed like he was going to the Oscars. But mostly, you were wondering how did he get your address.

“Here, I brought you these”. He handed you a beautiful bouquet of pink tulips watching the weak smile that spread across your lips.

“Oh, hm, Thank you”. Still smiling, you reached to take the flowers from him. “Wanna come in?” you hazarded stepping out of the way to let him in. “Want something to drink?” You followed leading him to the living room.

“No, please, don’t bother yourself, I’m alright”. He urged. “I should’ve called before coming over. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were feeling unwell”. He apologized. You waved his excuse walking into the kitchen when you started coughing.

Worried he followed you and made you lay on your couch. “Damn, your skin is burning”. He gasped when he touched your forehead.

“Don’t worry, it’s alright”. You attempted to get back on your feet.

“Please, relax. Let me handle it”. he smiled at you and made you sit back. Confused, you squinted your eyes trying to read his expression before he left the room. “Where do you keep your medics?” he asked minutes after coming back with a bowl filled with cold water and ice.

“There, second drawer”. You pointed at the corner cabinet. He nodded running the wet cloth across your face before leaving it on your forehead.

“Did you eat today?” He asked going through the content of the drawer.

“A piece of cake and some salad”. You responded.

“That won’t do”. he mused unlocking his phone and typing something. “You need to eat something warm”. Eyes still fixed on his phone, he handed you a glass of water and Ibuprofen. “Here, drink this”.

“There’s a soup left in the fridge. I’ll heat it and eat it when I start feeling the effect of the meds”. You downed the glass of water. “Please, you will be late for your appointment”.

“I’m already there”. He put back the cold fabric on top of your face.

It took you a while to understand what he meant. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I completely forgot it’s today”. panicked, you sat straight looking at him. three days ago, Eren sent you a message asking you to accompany him to a concert at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center and you accepted. “I’m really sorry, Eren. I didn’t mean to”.

“Don’t worry, it’s alright”. He spoke gently cupping your face. “Now, lay down and leave this on. We need to get your fever down”. His thumb caressed your reddish cheeks. “I’ll go heat the said soup and make you some tea so that you can take coughing meds”. He followed, helping you settle.

You laid there, listening to him moving around your kitchen questioning if this was real or if your fever made you imagine things.

You woke up to the feeling of being tucked in bed. you don’t recall when you drifted off, your last memory was of Eren disappearing into the kitchen. Though you were not quite sure if he was even here, you called out his name.

“I’m right here”. he spoke in a hushed tone. “You need to get some rest. Don’t worry I’ll remain by your side”. A feeble smile broke through your face. This must be a pleasant dream, I better not wake up, you told yourself. You felt his hand against your burning skin. “The medicines should start working any minute now”. He added caressing your hair.

“Why?” you mumbled but he didn’t hear you. “Jean never did this to me”. your words caught him by surprise.

You covered your face with your forearm trying to hide from the ghosts from your past.

you took off your glasses and massaged your temple. After two weeks of hard labor, you finally finished your project. You checked one last time if you correctly saved the files on both your drive and laptop before closing it. in order to avoid upsetting your boyfriend, you always work on projects and assignments alone, which makes it even harder to finish in time. “Finally,” you whispered laying on your bed.

an hour later, you stepped into your bedroom, face flushed and wrapped in a fluffy towel. You grabbed a pair of fresh panties and fished for a t-shirt and cotton shorts from a second drawer. It was 9 am, Jean should be home any minute now, you finished getting dressed.

You were drying your hair when you heard the door. “I’m home”. You heard his footsteps approaching.

“I’m in the bedroom, honey”. You called. “Welcome home”. You greeted your boyfriend with a warm smile and arms wide open when you caught a glimpse of him. “Guess who has just finished her project”. You sing sang looping your arms around him.

“My sweet girl”. He responded smiling before pressing a couple of chaste kisses on your lips. “Good job”. He whispered against your lips.

“I can’t believe I’m finally done”. You hummed, sinking into your lover’s embrace. “I’m exhausted”.

“Me neither”. His hand sneaked under your shirt molding your skin and buried his face in the crook of your neck. “I missed you”. he breathed against your skin. Your heart fluttered at the feeling of his teeth grazing your pulse point, biting softly. “It’s been a long week, baby”. He rambled sucking on your skin. “I need you”. he growled rotating his hips against your body.

You needed him too you were drained. Between school, your homework, and the shores, you didn’t have time to rest. Plus, you didn’t get enough sleep last night. Jean’s hands were slowly caressing your asscheeks when you gently pressed your palms against his chest. “Jean, dear, I’m a little tired tonight”. You mumbled. “Can…”. You released a sultry moan when he pressed two fingers to your clothed core. “Jean… Ah, Jean, please, baby, I need to…”. Knowing he was not listening; you stepped back getting away from his grasp.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He inquired frowning.

“Can we… Can we please leave this till tomorrow, I’m knocked out, honey”. You stared back at him with pleading and half-lidded eyes.

“But it’s been a week”. He remarked caging you in place. He tilted his face to kiss you again.

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry, but I only slept three hours last night”. You explained looking down. “I can barely stand on my feet”. You muttered still staring at your feet. “I promise, tomorrow,” you brought your eyes back to his face. “I’ll make it up for you”. you pleaded, noticing his facial expression.

“Get your filthy hands off me”. he slapped you when you reached to cup his face.

This is bad, you told yourself. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m truly sorry”. You breathed. “Tomorrow is Saturday, we can do whatever you want”. You let out trying to hold him back.

“I said get your fucking hands off me, whore”. He nudged you.

Your eyes widened in horror. “But Jean…” you hugged him from behind trying to calm him down. “Let’s get to bed, dear”. you spoke trying to sound as calm and soothing as possible. “I promise tomorrow we’ll…” you yelped when he reached for your hair and pulled you away from him ruffly.

“Are you deaf?” He screamed. “I fucking told you not to touch me”. he threw you against the wall. “A selfish bitch such as yourself has no right to touch me”. he gritted stepping closer. “You think that anyone would want someone as pathetic as you if I ever dump you?” he yanked you from your hair once again and made you get on your feet. “Where would you go if broke up with you? Back to your father’s house? You would stray if I leave you”. he hissed. It hurts, both the impact against the wall seconds earlier and him pulling your hair. But you know better than to make any noise. Just like with your father, it only gets him angrier and more violent if he hears you cry or utter the slightest sound. “No one wants you; you get it?” he waited for a response. “Do you understand?” He shouted, and you nodded frantically. “Didn’t you say you're tired?” He grabbed your jaw forcefully, staring down at you with hard eyes. “Or was it just a lie?” you desperately shook your head. “Then, fucking go to sleep”. He pressed his fingers further against your skin. “I’m going out”. he brought your face closer to his. “And don’t you dare ruin my night with your texts and calls”. He menaced. “I’ll do the world a favor and kill you if you do”. and he pushed you once again before slamming the door behind him.

“Jean would’ve snapped at me”. You whispered burying your face in your pillow. “He would’ve even hit me for forgetting about tonight”. Your voice was muffled by your pillow, so Eren didn’t hear the last part.

You winced at the contact of the ice bag with the bump on your forehead. You were facing the bathroom mirror inspecting your face and body. Jean didn’t come back home last night. He recently picked up the habit of spending the night out whenever you fought. The next morning, he comes home smelling like someone else or marked with either lipstick or hickeys, sometimes both. You left the bathroom wondering what is it going to be this time.

A tired sigh left your chest at the thought of seeing the man you love carrying the marks of another woman. At least, I don’t have any bruises on my face, you congratulated yourself, pressing the bag of frozen chickpeas against your forehead.

Minutes later, you were making coffee when you heard him entering the house. You tried to busy your mind with making breakfast, you did your best to ignore the way your body tensed when you heard his footsteps approaching and to pretend like you didn’t shiver when he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry for last night, darling”. He patted your shoulder apologizing. “I admit it, I kind of lost it”. he pecked your temple. Unable to look up at him and note the hints of the night he spent in the arms of another one, you continued setting the table. “I brought you some fresh pretzels from your favorite bakery”. He added in a joyful tone. He wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you against him. “I also bought you chocolate and the book you wanted”. He kissed your hair.

“Thank you”. you replied in a hushed tone.

“You know that I love you, right”. at this rate, his voice was desperate.

“I know”. You voiced trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “I love you too”. You took the paper bags from him and set them on the kitchen table.

Helpless, he followed you like a lost puppy. “I spent the night at Connie’s, I swear”. You only hummed in response putting the pretzels in the bread basket. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I do”. you faked a smile looking at him. your eyes inspected the bite marks behind his right ear and above his collarbone. You swallowed hard trying to block your tears. “Of course, I believe you”. you put all your efforts into trying to sound natural. “Do you want some coffee?” you inquired still smiling.

“Stay with me, please, don’t leave me”. You tucked at his shirt.

“I won’t”. Eren promised, caressing your hair. Your fever was persisting.

“You’re so nice”. You purred nuzzling his hand. “Why are you being nice to me?” you wrapped your arms around his body. “I wish he was as nice as you”. You closed your eyes letting Eren’s comforting warmth envelop you.

Eren dipped the clothe in the cold water and whipped your face and neck. “It’s alright, go to sleep now. I’m here”. he voiced, still overthinking your words. Who was this Jean, he wondered. And mostly, what did he do to you? but what was worrying him the most was your fever. He grabbed his phone and sent another message. A reply came seconds later.

Eren spent most of the night trying to take you down your fever. He didn’t get to sleep until dawn. Feeling his presence next to you, you scooted closer nuzzling his neck. “I’m sorry”. You mumbled half asleep. He pressed his lips to your temple.

Before falling into a deep slumber, he made the decision to not ask you about the guy you mentioned earlier and to not question you about your past. He decided to let you choose whether you want him to know or not.

[deluxewhump]

Martin Olson AU: I’m Not Yours

Cw: pet whump, drug mention, alcohol, violence, blood, cut finger and tongue, mild choking, threats, Stockholmy homesickness from Carlo, father/son arguments

Martin was in a mood on the ride back to his post-divorce Baltimore home. He was curt with his driver, and kept checking his phone, his watch.

Carlo’s mood wasn’t much better. They’d been at a cocktail party for longer than he’d have liked. Carlo spent it drifting from the foyer to the living room with a champagne flute in his hand. Every time he finished a glass someone showed up at his shoulder to pour him another so he’d stopped drinking it, but not before he’d become pink cheeked and dizzy with a sickly sweet buzz.

Martin spent half the evening upstairs with the host talking about god knows what, but had not invited him. Instead he’d left him to fend for himself with the other guests, most of which either already knew or guessed what he was. One man went so far as to touch the sleeve of his soft navy sweater to stop him and get a look at his face.

“Martin of all people,” he smirked to no one in particular. “With this coltish little racehorse. Who’dve thunk it. You were Holstrom’s, weren’t you? That verdict was a real shame.”

Carlo pulled away, knowing it was rude. He could feel the contempt on his face, too late to catch it. Luckily, the man only laughed, and moved on.

By the time they were in the car headed home, his buzz had worn off, leaving him hungry and with a slight headache behind his eyes. He wanted to crawl into bed. He wanted to call Erik and hear his voice on the other line. He wanted Martin to treat him with special consideration like he had the first month.

The house was dark and cold. Carlo knew to scrape his shoes on the mat and place them gently where they belonged, to hang his coat on the correct wooden rung.

He paused, coat halfway to the rack. Another coat was on his rung, a black peacoat. He heard a noise in the kitchen.

“My son,” Martin muttered. “How nice he drops by unannounced at all hours.”

Carlo followed him into the utilitarian kitchen, a cavernous display of stainless steel and cold lights and slate tile. Blake Olson was eating a sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in days, a prodigious mess spread all over the marble topped island.

Martin eyed it with distaste. “A little late, isn’t it?” he asked with little interest.

Blake smiled at Carlo around a mouthful of baloney and pickles. “You hungry, Carlo?” he asked brightly.

He was. He glanced at Martin, noticing the tightness around his mouth, those ice blue eyes flat and unamused.

“No thanks,” he answered. He made a wide berth around Blake when he got a glass and filled it with filtered water from the fridge.

“I noticed the transfer you made last week on your statement,” Martin said, laying his palms flat on the cool countertop.

Blake chewed overzealously, giving his father a sarcastic thumbs up. “Oh yeah?” he said when he swallowed. “That’s great, Dad. Really good detective work. As usual.”

“Thirty thousand dollars this time. Do I dare ask for what?”

“I dunno, do you? Go ahead. I’m surprised you haven’t tracked it down already, the way you’re on my ass about every fucking penny I spend. Checking my bank statements. What am I, fifteen?”

“I have access to them because I put money in them,” Martin said cooly. “On a regular basis, so you can make your mortgage payment and pay your child support. You are paying your child support, aren’t you? Or will she have to get a court order for even that level of commitment?”

“Commitment. Whenever that word comes up, I know what’s next.” Blake winked at Carlo like a game show host to the audience. “Next, we’re gonna talk about how I flunked out of Colby a million years ago. Yeah, let’s bring that up again. Just like every time I see you. Like I haven’t done anything with my life since that.”

“You haven’t.”

Blake set down his sandwich. His pupils were normal, Carlo realized. He’d never seen them normal before. A vein was becoming visible in his forehead, running down his temple. “I’m working all the fucking time, Dad. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Just because I don’t want to sit at a fucking desk all day. Rotting.”

“Right, because you’re doing so well staying out all night and shoveling drugs up your nose. You’re working so hard that I have to supplement your coke and whore habit like you’re on my payroll.”

Blake snorted. “Learned from the best.”

Carlo tucked his legs up on the chair, knees almost to his chin. His heart was thudding unpleasantly at this exchange.

Father and son stared at each other across the counter, Blake sporting a barely-repressed rage that seemed to emanate from his broad shoulders like a visible aura. Martin was cool to the point of coldness.

“Richer than God and you want to bully me over 30k,” Blake scoffed, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Regardless of what I have or don’t have, what makes you feel entitled to any of it? Delusional. You always have been.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Blake snapped.

There was a beat of silence like lead. Carlo pinched the spot between his thumb and forefinger to keep from crawling out of his skin.

“Get out,” Martin said flatly. “Don’t even bother with your mess. Just get out of my house, Blake.”

For a split second Blake looked surprised, a flash of hurt crossing his features and dropping back to smugness. He sighed, picking up his plate with half a sandwich left on it and rounding the island towards Carlo.

Carlo drew back into his chair another inch as Blake approached.

“I know you’re hungry, Carlo,” he said, and dropped the plate with a clatter onto the table. Carlo flinched. “Eat up, cupcake.”

He turned to his father. “Pretty fucking rich, saying I’m the one with the whores.”

Carlo dropped his eyes, praying Blake would just leave quietly.

He flinched when the front door slammed.

“I don’t know where he gets it,” Martin said.

Carlo unfolded his legs, picked up the plate and brought it to the kitchen sink. He began cleaning up Blake’s mess of open jars and ingredients, a dirty knife.

“His mother, for all her flaws, is neither lazy nor a goddam junkie.”

Carlo bumped the back of his hand into a wine glass, sending it toppling into the sink and shattering. He clenched his teeth, nerves like the serrated edge of a saw.

Erik had been sentenced last week. Three years, minimum. Martin had consoled him gently, talking about an appeal.

The homesickness came in waves, and often at the worst possible time. He tried to pick up the biggest shards of wine glass and hissed, pulling back his hand as his finger welled with blood.

“Hey now,” Martin said silkily, coming to stand behind him. “Easy. Let me see.”

Now that he knew Blake, he could see Martin in him. Martin was a much older man with a leaner build, but the set of the eyes was the same, the width of the jaw… even a fleeting expression here and there. Martin tsked at him and reached for a clean dish towel. Carlo almost protested. Everything in this house was pristine, carefully selected, minimalistic. Surely the dish towel was a matching set and now half would be ruined with his blood.

But Martin wrapped it quickly and added pressure, and Carlo remained silent.

“I want you to go with him for a weekend,” Martin said softly. For a moment Carlo thought he meant Erik, and he felt a pilot light of hope snap to life inside him.

“I think he’s in over his head in something but he won’t admit it to me because he’s embarrassed. I want to know what, before it causes another PR nightmare for me or the company. Pretend it’s your idea. Pretend you and I have fought.”

Carlo stared at him. He meant his son. Of course he did. Erik was in prison.

Blake was unpredictable, high or drunk at all hours and his friends were worse. Date Rape and Tax Fraud, Martin had nicknamed the two Blake hung out with the most.

“I—,”

“I know. But it’s important.”

Carlo huffed, whitehot anger rising in his throat like a scream. How could he ask this of him? Was he out of his mind? It went against everything he’d told Erik he’d do to watch out for him.

“Be my good boy,” Martin pressed.

“I’m not,” Carlo blurted. “I’m not even yours.”

Martin leveled with him. “Come again?”

“I— I don’t want to do that. It’s not… they’re a nightmare. No.”

“The other thing you said.”

Did Martin think he wouldn’t dare say it again? It was true. Even in federal prison— he belonged to Erik Holstrom.

“I’m not. Even. Yours,” he snapped.

Martin went from statue still to a blur of motion, grabbing hold of Carlo by both shoulders and wheeling him around, slamming him into the wall. His head snapped back and cracked into the drywall. An instant, deep ache rang from the center of his head outward and he tasted blood. He’d bitten his tongue.

Martin was close, his breath like warm merlot. “You don’t know how good you’ve got it,” he said in a voice so deceptively soft it made Carlo choke a sob.

“I’ve made this entire thing a fucking cakewalk for you. You’re so spoiled you don’t even know the position you’re in. You don’t even know what goes on in your world because I’ve made sure you’re so protected from it you don’t even know it exists. There’s fifty pets in this city alone who would gnaw off their right foot to have the life you have here.”

His heart was in his throat, his mind reeling with the possibilities of what exactly that meant. His head throbbed and he swallowed blood. He’d dropped the dish towel and his finger was now bleeding onto the gray slate tile in slow drips.

“Yes Sir,” he whispered.

He knew when to back down. He couldn’t believe he’d pushed as far as he had, now that he’d done it.

Martin took a hand off one of his shoulders to place it around his neck. He squeezed at the soft junctures of Carlo’s jaw beneath his ears so his head felt tight and dizzy.

“Say it again. Look at me.”

He locked eyes with his surrogate Master. “Yes, Sir.”

Martin loosed the grip on his throat, but left his hand there. He eyed Carlo’s bloody lower lip, raised a thumb to brush against it. He leaned in and pressed his lips there briefly, like he wanted to taste the blood more than kiss him.

He moved a strand of Carlo’s hair away from his forehead.

“I like you, Carlo. Don’t be another thorn in my side and I won’t have to treat you like one.”

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Snowball Attack

Picture from Pinterest | Divider from @firefly-graphics

Summary:  You ended up getting attacked in the middle of a snowball fight. Leading up to a cute meet with a not-so-stranger from your regular coffee shop. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader  Prompt: Meet Cute for @holylulusworld‘ Spin The Bottle Challenge Squares filled: Snowball fight for @spnchristmasbingo // Christmas for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo // Clothes Sharing for @spnfluffbingo //  Warnings: Fluff, meet cute, Christmas love, cuddling, first kiss Word Count: 770

A/N: Last day of 2022, last fic of the year. It took me 5 months to start writing again but I hope that 2023 is fill with more inspiration and less writer’s block. Happy New Year!

You woke up in Winter Wonderland. Everything was as white as it ever could be. You were in love. 

Christmas morning in Winter Wonderland, your dream came true. Getting up and changing real quick so you could enjoy this before the city woke up and became crazy. 

You had crossed the street to avoid some kids that were already playing in the snow, without realizing that there was a snowball fight going on, on the other sidewalk.

You were hit square in the face by not one but several snowballs, the sudden attack made you stumble and fall into a small water pond that was starting to freeze.

“Oh, crap!” someone yelled and came to your rescue

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said, your teeth chattering from the cold

A warm hand grabbed yours and helped you out of the freezing water. When you looked up, you met the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Are you okay?” this man asked, “Uh yeah, just freezing,” you chuckled but the man didn’t, he just gave you a side smile.

“Here,” he said, removing his jacket and putting it over your shoulders, “I’m Dean,” he added

“Y/N. Thanks” you said smiling. This man, Dean, had the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen, the white of the snow making them look even brighter than they already are. 

“This is my house, let me give you a change of clothes so you don’t get hypothermia” Dean offered, still holding your hands

“It’s okay, I’ll walk back home,” you told him

“I insist. I don’t want you to get sick” he added, squeezing your hand, you nodded

Dean intertwined his fingers with yours and took the both of you to his house. It was small, warm with a lit fire and it smelled like sandalwood. It really suited him

“This is a nice place” you commented, Dean directed you inside the house towards the living room where the fire was lit and it was the warmest. 

"Stay here, I'll bring you some clothes," he told you before leaving.

After changing into his clothes and putting yours to dry, Dean invited you to a cup of coffee.

 "I know you missed your morning coffee," he said and you looked at him surprised; it was a creepy comment but it didn't creep you out.

"I know I sounded like a creep, but I know that you drink coffee around this time because I'm at the coffee shop drinking mine before going to work," he explained and you nodded

You did a bit of research into your brain and you remembered him, he was always sitting two tables from yours, you checked him out a few times, but never had the courage to talk to him, you didn't know he lived a few blocks away from you.

"I kinda remember you. You are always sitting two tables away from mine" you mentioned and he chuckled, noticing a slight blush on his cheeks

"Never had the courage to talk to you" he admitted, "me neither"

The air between you two was tense, would you like to kiss him if he makes the move? Would you accept going out if he asks you out? You really wanted both things to happen, you haven't had this kind of connection with anyone ever, and it just felt right.

You hugged the flannel he gave you and leaned closer to him, you were mere inches away from him, he just needed to move his head to avoid the kiss, but instead, he pressed his lips against yours, pressing his body with yours. 

All the cold you were feeling banished away and now you were hot, the sparkles inside your body exploding. He broke the kiss and the both of you blushed profusely. 

You wanted to feel those sparkles again. You slowly cradled him and cuddled him. What a bold move, thinking he was going to reject you, you tried to move away, but instead, he tightened the embrace, kissing you again, this time slower, it seemed he wanted to enjoy the moment.

Once you broke apart, you grew shy. You haven't been this bald ever. Dean caressed your back, he was impressed by you; you wished he asked you out, you didn't want this to end here.

"I should go" you mumbled but Dean tightened the embrace even more if that was possible.

"Please, stay. It's freezing outside." You didn't answer, you just cuddled him, pressing your cheek into his chest. "You still owe me my coffee"

"I'll give you all the coffee you want sweetheart," he said, kissing your forehead.

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Megan thee Stallion x Nicki Minaj

PART TWO (sexual tension build up/climax)

Megan POV >> inner dialogue

Man, I love how much fun I’ve been able to have on tour. Can’t believe how many people love my craft. But i definitely need time to enjoy myself not just on stage.

Everyone loves to forget my bisexuality simply from my profiting of being a man dominator.

But, I’m not just myself with men. My experience with women ,everybody looks over. But they don’t know that I can atleast have true sexual pleasure + entertainment with women.

So I think I’ll go to this cute DL lesbian bar, and see what hottie gets lucky enough to have fun with me tonight.

*spots nicki while checking out other women

Is that Nicki? No fucking way.

And is she plastered? Just In public like that?

I mean she did just tweet about being single.

And last time I remember she was married to that nigga who touches kids.

Guess anyone after being dumped by a criminal would struggle with “healing”.

Let’s see if she remembers all of what she did with me. Not that I care, but I didn’t know Nicki like to have fun with women for real for real.

*walks up next to Nicki at the bar and orders a drink from the bartender that was clearing Nicki’s shot glasses

“Hey! You look beautiful tonight. Would you mind grabbing me a cup of ice water, small bottle of cranberry juice, with a cup of ice on the side? You don’t have to worry about the change, I enjoy tipping pretty women.”

Megan gently speaking with the female bartender while sliding two $100 bills, then winks cutely.

“Of course.” Flustered, by Megan’s silent dominance. She blushes while walking away to grab the cheap request, with the huge tip.

Megan softly grazes down Nicki’s slightly exposed spine, while pulling up a seat next to plastered Nicki.

“Hey Nicki, mind if we talk real quick ?” Megan asks.

Nicki POV >> inner dialogue

( 3 hours into shots. Miserable with life. Handling alcoholism. She intended to Uber back home, since she ubered there. Can’t leave fucked up if you’re ya own ride. And she came to escape and indulge in her guilty pleasures that you can’t while single parenting. Aka coping mechanisms ya know the vibes anywho.)

fuck I hate her.

fuck I hate her.

fuck I hate her.

fuck she looks good from that angle.

why does she fuckin look good with natural hair?

why is her pictures not overly edited?

Why doesn’t she have a flirter on?

Why isn’t she covering up?

Why is she showing off her ass?

Her ass is so nice.

And it’s natural.

My ass is fucking nice too.

But hers is better. Ugh…

Her tiddies look good too. Why do they sit like that? Doesn’t she go to the gym?

Is that her nipples? Ew why doesn’t she have a bra on…

Why doesn’t she not need one?

And it’s not edited fuck.

*chugs last drip of her previous shot glass

“Fuck, my head starting to feel the alcohol now. Perioddd finally.” Nicki fabricated while intoxicated.

*continues hour 3 of stalking Megan’s socials in envy and attraction

*feels a shock of warmth with a grazing of detailed acrylics while processing Megan talking

“Oh my fucking god Megan?!” Nicki hissed.

*Nicki frantically swiping from her instagram tab, turning off her phone, then messily flipping her phone face down on the bar table by her emptied shot glass

“Wh- huh?” Nicki stuttered.

“I like what you were looking at on your phone. Some of my angles just be looking tew good when I’m having fun. I’m glad you like them.” Megan sensually divulged.

“ Megan, what the fuck do you want. You aren’t the queen of rap. Fuck you.” Nicki drunkly spats.

Megan >>> inner dialogue

oh yeh, she’s drunk as hell. I’ll get some water in her system and hear what she really thinks of me. I must be on her mind a lot. Kinda cute that even the Queen of rap has her eyes on a stallion.

*megan passes cold water to Nicki while filling her cup with cranberry juice and taking three sips.

“ Nicki, we all know you’re the queen of rap. That never meant you were the only good queen of rapping. “ Megan calmly explains while keeping her eyes on Nicki mannerisms.

“ what the fuck do you want?” Hissed Nicki drunkenly.

*looks Nicki up and down after glancing to double check they are in enough privacy.

“I’d love to know what you truly want.”

Megan affirmed.

“I don’t want you here. I don’t want you at the top. I don’t want to be a single mother. I don’t want to be a fallen artist. I don’t want to only be seen for what I bring. Why aren’t you seen for what I’m seen for? Why are you better than me?

I want love.

I want to love myself the way you do.

I want love.

I want to stay at the top overly glorified even when I’m wrong.

I want love.

What can I do to get it when I gave everything away for the fake version of love.

He left me.

He left me.

He left fucking me.

How?

Am I that unlovable? Not even a pedophile wants my love. Or wants to love me.

So maybe, I’ll get with the bartender sometime so I can atleast get some physical love.

She’s cute. Maybe her beauty will distract me from my pain.

Maybe I’ll be able to orgasm the way I never did with him.

I’m so heartbroken that this happened to me. But maybe now I can rap about girls haha. “ Nicki vulnerably exposing her shadow.

*Nicki clearly slammed, she puts her head on the bar and deeply sulks in her situation.

Megan >>> inner dialogue

wow. pathetic grown women. I didn’t think tonight would be this fun.

obviously women to women, this is clearly traumatizing of an experience being with an abusive man.

but you were a BIG bad bully because of it.

hmph. guess we all get our karma when it’s time.

lemme warm her up a lil more since she’s feeling vulnerable with me.

the one she talk shit publicly about.

ironic.

*megan sighed, pushing the water infront of Nicki

“Come on now Nicki, drink some water baby.”

Nicki >>> inner dialogue

baby??

who the fuck is a baby??

who am I kidding. when was the last time someone called me baby.

was it him?

and then he just fucking left me?

But now Megan?? the girl who I put down is loving me when I’m in pain??? I guess dreams really do come true.

*Nicki’s eyes glistened at the pet name.

“okay.” Nicki whispered.

*nicki drinks water until emptied

“Good Job Baby.” Megan softly spoke while rubbing Nicki’s exposed part of her lower back.

“Thank You beautif-

I-

I mean thank you Megan.” Nicki sheepishly responded.

*nicki subconsciously rolled her hips against the chair while Megan rubs her back

“You can call me what you want tonight Nicki. I won’t judge you. can I do the same?” Megan prompted.

“Yessss, and thank you so much for listening to me and loving me right now. It’s been a while since I’ve been vulnerable. And I guess it’s meant to be that we are cool, even though I still have my envy. because I always admired you, just how I went about admiring wasn’t right.” Nicki shared.

*nicki grabs Megan’s hand and sloppily slides it to her ass that’s barely covered

“I’m sorry for not being mature. You’re just so perfect, and I’m so not. I’m a mess right now, but you’re the only person I’ve gone to. Actually, I think I’d like to talk more but, in a private setting so I can really express my feelings of how I’ve handled my feelings towards you.” Nicki solicited.

*nicki turns towards Megan, grabbing her hand, placing it near the divide of her ass, scooting closer to her.

*nicki takes Megan’s other hand, while seductively looking at her

“Are you okay with leaving with me to go to talk? I think I can show more of all that I feel if there’s no one around to judge me.” Nicki muttered.

“I’d love to Nicki, let’s head out.” Megan agreed.

*megan stands up, towering 8 inches over Nicki, she offers Nicki a hand. Nicki gently places her hand in Megan’s. Megan helps her up. Afterwards, Megan helps Nicki straighten up to be able to walk outside to the ordered Uber.

Megan gently rubs Nicki’s chin, lifts it up forcing her look up to her. She stares into the depth of Nicki’s eyes, that has I’m drunk + horny all in them. So Megan, takes up Nicki with her silent offer.

Megan stares about 10 seconds longer to silently establish the conversation they are about to have.

Nicki stares up with eyes pleading to continue.

Megan tightly grips Nicki’s jaw, changing the vibe of her stare. A soft stare of waiting for consent. Changing to a silent stare, to establish sexual tension is building up.

The only reason why Megan doesn’t give all the way into Nicki’s desires right here right now, is so she can respect Nicki’s need for privacy for the rest of their session.