#open. meet you at the graveyard

[gravemet]

" it’s a little early in the morning to be salty, don’t you think? " and in front of her coffee too. " what’s got you upset? "

[morning-star-joy]

half asleep, half awake

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Every time Joel Miller realizes he loves you. Every time he wants to tell you, and the time he does.

Warnings: Brief smut (unprotected p in v, possessiveness, creampie), brief reference to canon-typical violence, longing, Joel can’t communicate his feelings until he can, lots and lots of love. Multiple specific references to the main series. Joel's POV.

A/N: I’ve gotten asked a few times when Joel realizes he loves Reader in this series, and the inspiration hit me the other day to write out my answer to it. Because it could be one scene, but so many before, and so many after when he wants to say it. I miss these two and I love these two and I hope that this little companion piece to the fic makes somebody as happy as I was to write them again!

Wordcount: 1.8k

gorgeous dividers by @saradika

Important: Please read this post and how to help Palestine.

The first time Joel feels it—really feels it, settled into his bones with an undeniable weight, tugging at his heart with an unimaginable lightness—is the night of his 57th birthday.

Months of staying out of his bedroom, of keeping you off his bed, dissolve into a forgotten time the moment you tug the glass of whiskey from his hand.

Move over, you’d said, making room for yourself amongst the place where he laid his head every night. You finish off the drink, take the rest of the poison he’d been diluting his veins with to drown out the pain of all he’d lost, and settle next to him.

He thinks he wants to see you there every night.

You ask him things like his favorite fucking color, things that don’t matter. Not to him, not to you—but you ask anyway. You meet his eyes readily, open and honest and searching his soul for the same old breaks in your own, and he feels it.

You hold his hand, and it fits there. You would fit into his side too, he muses, if he pulled you in.

He wants to pull you in. He wants you in ways nobody’s ever had you—he knows they haven’t, can feel the trepidation in your soul when he looks at you for too long, or lets his touches linger.

You’ll fuck him like there’s no tomorrow, because maybe there isn’t, but you won’t let him hold you tender. Not that he’s tried, but he knows you. Not everything about you, but enough.

And that night, there’s more. More to you, wounds open and pain spilling out, and it looks like his own. It is his own.

I should probably go, you say when it’s become too much, and he feels the urge to ask you to stay.

Joel asks if you want a drink instead, because he’s an idiot, and you say he’s had too much, because you’re right.

He watches from his window as you walk home under the streetlights for once instead of sticking to the darkness, and though he won’t call it what it is, he knows it’s love.

Joel’s loved you longer than that, though. Somehow he knows it, but he can’t place when.

In front of his fireplace, maybe. You’re shivering from god knows how long you had spent in the rain, in the graveyard, in your own mourning. Broken, and he wants to find each piece of you that you’ve lost and put you back together.

Or at least hold you tight enough that you feel okay again. He just knows that he misses your damn smirk, your fucking laugh, and maybe that was love too.

Or maybe it’s when he wants you to be his, his, his only. When he wants to erase the image of that man’s hand on your back with his own on your skin, fingertips digging into your hips and pulling them back to slap against his.

Maybe it’s the skirt of a temptress bunched up around your waist, each desperate thrust of his cock into your needy cunt, dripping and squeezing as you say, moan, scream his name, his, his.

Maybe it’s when you’re half-naked after, admitting you don’t know what the fuck this is, don’t understand what it’s become, and he doesn’t know either. But it’s something delicate. Maybe it’s love then.

Maybe it’s love on the bathroom floor when he realizes you’re the first friend he’s made in years.

Maybe it’s love when he wants to kill every single bastard raider who took you from him, wants to tear them apart with his bare hands and make them bleed and bleed for how much blood they’d taken from you. Precious blood, blood that kept you alive, kept you snarky and angry and wrapped around him each time he took as much pleasure from you as he gave back.

Or it’s Halloween, the bright lights, loud music, and clothes of a bygone era. None of it real until Maria shoves the truth of the matter into his face. She tells him he’s an idiot and just what it all means, what you mean to everyone, and to him, and he finally accepts it.

That’s the first night he has you in his bed. The first night he sees all of you, feels all of you, skin against skin, and you come again, and again, and again. It’s not enough, he needs to keep feeling it, needs you to fall apart in his hands so he can put you back together. A single thread he weaves through you and tugs with each ripple of pleasure, pulling you apart again with each clench of your cunt around his cock, until you pull it from him too.

You fall asleep in a matter of minutes after. Lips parted, and he wished he could watch them swell after a kiss, but you were still holding back.

So he settles for his palm on your cheek, stroking the scar that he still doesn’t know how you got, and feels so much longing, so much love when you sink into his sheets, wrapped up in his favorite color that you knew because you cared to ask. Settled by just the touch of him.

Joel thinks you tried to say something that night, but he’ll never know what. He does know what he wants to say, but he holds back. He’d wait for you, even if you never wanted this too. He’d be whatever you did want him to be.

Time passes in a blur after that, as you tangle yourselves together in ways he never would’ve once thought possible. He doesn’t move, and you lean into him. He doesn’t move, just lets you come to him, too scared you’ll run away again if he holds you too tight, or at all.

Then that night. A meal shared with the family you’d found. He tries to go home alone after, and you chase after him, hold him tight, and he knows. He knows what he feels, and he knows you feel it too.

He doesn’t have to say it, but he wants to. Night after night he wants to, the more that you settle and the more that you’re his. The more that he is yours.

You kiss him, finally—or he kisses you, he can’t remember which. And it says it all.

Still, the words are trapped in his throat as his home truly becomes yours.

His body had already been your home for a year.

His heart, for longer than he would ever know.

But his house. Four walls that didn’t mean anything, not really, not until you lived within them and your sister’s art was on the mantle, your photograph of your parents was in your room that was his room, all your mugs in the kitchen and his coffee was your coffee—he needs to tell you.

He tries to every morning, in his kitchen with your cups of coffee—or tea, with complaints falling from both his mouth and yours if you were out of your preferred beverage. He doesn’t, but he knows you can taste it in the drink he brews for you, perfected to your liking.

He tries to before every patrol, in case somebody takes you from him again. He doesn’t, but he knows you can see it when his eyes seek yours, when he gives you a nod and a lingering gaze before you’re out of the gates and on your way. He knows you can feel it when you both get home, his arms wrapped around you tight and the tension seeping from his body when you’re pressed to him.

He tries to every night, but it’s lost on his tongue every time it slides into your mouth. He knows you know with every kiss, every thrust of his hips from where he’d found a home nestled between your thighs, spilling himself into you as you welcomed him in and made the most beautiful music every time.

You’re comfortable in bed months after the holidays, after that first kiss. Winter is warming into spring, the air feels like starting again, and he tries to tell you.

You’d been reading when he crawled into bed behind you after a shower. His face buried into your neck, each drop of water onto your skin so cold it makes you shiver. But your nails dig into his forearm when it wraps around your waist, the book tumbling from your fingers as you grasp at the nightstand with each drag of his pulsing cock inside your tight heat.

The lamp on the nightstand rattles with each thrust, sending waves of warm light flashing across the room. He’s mesmerized each time it washes across your face, pinched in the familiar climb for pleasure you trusted him to guide you through. He mouths at the scar on your cheek, caressing with lips and tongue as you gasp his name.

You’re so beautiful. His moon, his heart, his home, his everything.

Joel wants to tell you when you come, your eyes fluttering open and seeking his. Seeking that connection between you, as hungry as you are reverent, and he doesn’t deserve it, that undying loyalty. But you think the same for yourself, so what did either of you know, besides what this was.

Love, and he wants to say it. Wants to say he loves you when each flutter of your pussy around him sends him spiraling into an orgasm, a blissful moment of release he now only ever associated with you.

Half asleep after, you’re content, the warm light of the steadied lamp caressing your skin as he cleans it. You know what he wants to say, he thinks. Your eyes are heavy and lazily watching as he kisses the inside of your thigh, peppers his love up your body to your lips.

Half awake, Joel watches you reach for him, pulling him down into a soft caress of your lips against his, with more tenderness either of you ever thought you were capable of.

He won’t say it. You know he won’t.

But you know he will. Someday.

And that one morning amongst many that belong to just you and him, when you ask about other lives, when he realizes you’d want him in more than just this one—in every one—he says it.

You say it back, and everything is right.

When you ask him when he first felt it, he tells you the truth; that he hadn’t felt it just yet on that snowy street a year ago, but a part of him always knew he would love you.

And now, Joel knew he always would.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Escapism

Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 5,733

Summary: The grumpy Joel, one bed, who did that to you trope fic no one asked for/ Ellie matchmaking for Joel

Warnings: 18+, smut, joels a grump, ellie's there, reader experiences a tiny bit of ptsd from being captured prior to meeting joel and ellie.

Notes: Ty to @evolnoomym for the moodboard and beta reading and @syd-djarin & @joelslegalwhre for the beta read. and @saradika-graphics for the divider.

The world changed in the blink of an eye. Civilization, with all its comforts and securities, crumbled under the weight of a relentless pandemic. The infected roam the earth, their minds and bodies ravaged by a virus that turns them into mindless, ravenous creatures. Humanity, once the masters of their domain, is now just another prey in a landscape that has turned savagely against them.

You are on your own for months, ever since the virus claimed your sister and the raiders took everything else. Your husband and son, Ethan, are lost to the chaos, leaving you with nothing but the clothes on your back, a backpack filled with meager supplies, and a book - "No Pun Intended: Volume 1" - a cherished memento of a life that once was.

The days blur into a testament to your will to live. You scavenge for food, avoid the infected, and keep moving, always moving. The world is a graveyard of memories, and you are just another ghost haunting its ruins.

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you find yourself in the remnants of a once-bustling town. The buildings stand like skeletons, their windows shattered, their doors hanging off their hinges. It is here, in this desolate place, that you decide to make camp for the night.

You choose a spot behind an overturned bus, its rusted shell providing a modicum of shelter. You gather what little dry wood you can find and build a small fire. The can of beans you scavenged earlier in the day heats slowly, the metallic smell mingling with the scent of smoke and decay that seems to permeate everything.

As you wait for your meal, you allow yourself a rare moment of stillness. The book lies open in your lap, its pages a portal to a time when puns and laughter were the greatest concerns of the day. You are so lost in the world of words that you almost don't hear the low growl that signals the approach of danger.

It happens in a heartbeat. One moment you are alone, the next an infected lunges at you from the shadows, its bloodshot eyes and snarling mouth a terrifying vision of death. You have no time to react, no time to defend yourself. The creature pins you to the ground, its fetid breath hot against your face.

Panic surges through your veins, a scream lodges in your throat. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you brace yourself for the end. But then, the deafening crack of a gunshot splits the air. The weight of the infected creature collapses onto you, its lifeless body trapping you beneath its bulk.

For a moment, time stands still. You lie there, stunned and gasping for breath, the world around you reduced to the pounding of your heart and the ringing in your ears. Then, as quickly as the nightmare has descended, the weight is lifted from your body. You scramble backward, your hands and knees scraping against the rough ground, until you reach the sanctuary of your sleeping bag.

Looking up, you are met with the imposing figure of a large, rugged man. His rifle is still smoking from the shot that has saved your life. His eyes, hard and suspicious, bore into you as he demands, "You bit?”

Your hands shoot up in surrender, tears threatening to spill as you vehemently shake your head. "Please don't shoot, I- I wasn't bit," you plead, your voice quivering with fear.

The man nudges his gun towards you, his voice gruff as he commands, "Get up slowly."

You rise to your feet, hands still raised, and perform a slow pirouette to prove your uninfected state. Satisfied, he lowers his weapon.

"I totally could have done that," a smaller, younger girl boasts as she steps out from behind him. His daughter, you presume, exudes a mix of bravado and youthful naivety. 

"I told you to stay in the woods," He chides her.

The girl ignores her father's reprimand, instead, bounding over to your belongings. "No fucking way!" she exclaims, holding up a book that clearly means something to you. "No Pun Intended - the first volume." She chuckles, turning to the burly man. "Can you believe it?"

You rush over, snatching the book from her hands. "That was my -" Emotion chokes your words as you clutch the book, a tangible piece of your past. "It was my sister's," you manage to say, hastily stowing the book in your bag.

The man surveys your camp, his expression a mix of concern and disapproval. "Ya know it ain't safe to be camping out in the open like this," he remarks. You follow his gaze, taking in the vulnerability of your setup, and release a heavy sigh. "I - I know. There used to be more of us - a group. We traveled together, always finding safer places to go. But now - now I'm on my own, alone and..." Your voice trails off as you turn away, taking a seat by the dwindling fire. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not gonna survive too long out here alone. It's only a matter of time. If you weren't here, I'd have been dead already. But thank you for your help. Help yourselves to some food, I don't have much else to offer you."

Abruptly, the girl's head bobs up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come with us, oh yeah, it's going to be a blast. Finally, another girl around here!" Her voice rings out with a mix of eagerness and camaraderie.

"Ellie, quiet!" the man snaps, then pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, a clear sign of mounting frustration. "We don't have the space for anyone else."

You stand by, a silent observer, as the man and his daughter, Ellie, butt heads over the possibility of taking you with them.

"You're just going to leave her here alone," Ellie emphasizes, her voice sharp as a knife, "to die? Come on, Joel." Her plea hangs in the air, reminiscent of someone who's just found a stray puppy and can't bear to leave it behind.

Joel's gaze flickers to you as if searching for a reason to abandon you. He heaves a sigh so heavy it seems to carry the weight of the world. He turns back to Ellie, frustration etched on his face, then looks at you once more. "You have five minutes to pack your things, and then we're leavin’. With or without you." With that, he strides off into the thicket of trees, leaving Ellie behind with a look that speaks volumes of his exasperation.

"Sorry, he's not always so grumpy... well, actually, he is," Ellie admits with a sheepish grin. "Don't mind Joel; he's just set in his ways. I'm Ellie, by the way."

You can't help but giggle, kneeling down to gather your belongings. "It's nice to meet you, Ellie," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of relief and curiosity. "But why do you call your dad by his name?"

"I ain't her dad," Joel's voice cuts in, as he reemerges leading a horse by the reins.

"He's not my dad," they echo each other, their voices intertwining in a strange harmony.

"Oh," you reply, hurriedly stuffing your meager possessions into your sister's old backpack—a white and black checkered bag adorned with random sunflowers. You hoist the thick black straps over your shoulders and roll up your sleeping bag, tucking it under your arm. Rising to your feet, you dust off your flared blue jeans. "Sorry, I could have sworn you two were related, the way you bicker like that."

Ellie nudges Joel with her elbow, a playful smirk on her face. "It's just Joel. He's old and cranky."

Joel stands there, stoic and unamused, the reins held firmly in his grip. "Need to find shelter before nightfall," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Why can't we just stay here?" You ask, genuine curiosity lacing your words.

"The fact that you almost got killed by one of those things, and you couldn't even hear it creeping up on you, should make it pretty damn clear why not," Joel retorts, his voice rising as he gesticulates wildly, emphasizing the danger lurking in the shadows.

"Be fucking nice, Joel!" Ellie interjects, smacking his arm with back of her hand.

"I am being very nice by lettin’ her come with us. Now why ain’t we movin’?" he asks.

"I have no idea where we're going, lead the way, cowboy." 

"Actually, Joel was a contractor before this, super cool, right?"

You can't help but laugh. "Yeah, totally."

"What's so funny?" Joel asks, his brow furrowing as the three of you begin to navigate the rugged terrain.

"You actually managed to make being a contractor sound like the epitome of cool to young Ellie here?"

Joel's patience wears thin. "Can we all just keep quiet until we find a place to hole up for the night?"

Ellie clears her throat, her curiosity piqued. "So, what's the story with your group?"

"Ellie, you don't go asking people you just met that stuff." Joel snapped. 

You let out a soft chuckle, the memory of your past still vivid. "It's alright. My sister got bitten. I had to...you know, in the middle of the night." The weight of that memory tugs at your heartstrings. "My husband and son, Ethan, they were killed by raiders who tried to overrun our camp. They took me captive, but I managed to escape. And now, here I am." You pause, the chilling recollection making you shudder. You shake off the dark thoughts, not wanting to dwell on them now.

Ellie offers a sympathetic smile, and you catch the hint of one on Joel's face too. "That's rough. I'm really sorry that happened to you," Ellie says, her voice gentle.

"Thanks, Ellie," you murmur, your gaze falling to your boots, a mix of gratitude and embarrassment washing over you.

You look up at Joel, who seems to be wrestling with his own thoughts. "So, where are we actually heading?"

He takes a moment, staring off into the distance before heaving a sigh and meeting your eyes. "My brother and his wife are part of a large group just north of here. We can make it there. It's not far—a couple of days' travel at most."

"We should find a spot to camp soon. It's getting dark," Joel suggests, scanning the surroundings.

With the three of you working in unison, the camp comes together quickly in the shelter of the woods, hidden from any unwelcome eyes.

"Wanna get the fire going?" Joel asks, kneeling on the ground and rummaging through his bag. He extends his hand to you, offering a small amount of kindling and a pack of matches.

"Uh, sure," you reply, your voice tinged with uncertainty. The truth is, you're still pretty green in this post-apocalyptic world, and tasks like starting a fire are always more challenging than they seem.

You step forward and accept the kindling and matches from Joel, then set to work. Carefully, you arrange the kindling, trying to remember the techniques you've been taught. You strike the first match, the flame flickering to life. With trembling hands, you bring it close to the kindling, only for the wind to snuff it out.

"Shit," you mutter, hoping no one noticed. You try again, but the result is the same. On the third attempt, you realize Joel has been observing you all along. Each failed attempt makes him wince. Finally, on the fourth match, he's seen enough.

Joel stands abruptly and strides over to you. He takes the matches and kindling from your hands and, in one swift motion, ignites the fire. "Just go set up your sleeping bag," he says, a sigh of exasperation escaping him as he avoids your gaze. The sting of being a burden weighs heavily on you.

You rise slowly and move toward your sleeping bag and backpack, which are nestled beside a tree just off to the side of where Joel and Ellie are sitting. You drag your things closer to the newly lit fire and spread out your sleeping bag. As you search through your bag, you pull out a small handgun and begin to load it.

"Whoa, cool!" Ellie exclaims, bounding over to you and eyeing the gun with interest.

"It was my husband's," you tell her as you finish loading the weapon. "I'm going to get us something to eat." With your bag slung over your shoulder, you head toward the edge of the camp. But before you can leave, a hand grips your upper arm, halting your progress.

You turn to face Joel's frustrated expression. "No, absolutely not. You can't even start a damn fire. How are you going to shoot us something to eat?" he challenges.

You pull your arm free, determination flashing in your eyes. "I can handle it myself. I did fine before you came along, and I'll do fine after you're gone." You resume your course, but Joel isn't done yet.

"I'm not letting you go out there alone. I saved you once; you don't get another chance," he calls after you.

You turn back, extracting your arm from his grasp for the last time. "I didn't ask for your saving or help. You have no obligations to me. Thank you for saving me once, but I don't need it again." With that, you continue into the dense woods, leaving Joel standing there, conflicted. He returns to the camp, muttering to himself, "Fuck sakes. You stay here. Don't fucking move. I'm not in the mood to save two of you today." He grabs his rifle and follows you into the woods, the setting sun casting long shadows across the forest floor.

A few moments later, he hears your gun go off, and panic starts to seize him.

After about five minutes, he finds you huddled over something, "What the hell? You can't just go shooting your gun off like that. Raiders, fucking infected, someone's gonna find us." His voice is laced with urgency.

As he approaches, he sees you covered in blood, and fear races through him. But then he realizes it's not your blood. You've actually killed a deer.

You turn around to see Joel standing near you, his expression a mix of relief and irritation.

"So now what? You even know how to skin it?" Joel challenges.

You shake your head, "No."

"What was your plan then? To just try and drag it by yourself back to camp?" He's exasperated, but there's a hint of concern beneath his gruff exterior.

You shrug, admitting your inexperience. You've always known you're not very good at hunting, but the desire to contribute, to ensure a decent meal tonight, drove you to try.

"Come on, I'll teach you," Joel says, resignation in his voice. He shows you how to skin and butcher the deer, his frustration still evident. It's clear he resents the extra burden you represent. 

After you've all eaten your fill and packed away the rest for tomorrow, you and Ellie crawl into your sleeping bags, while Joel takes the first watch.

—

In the dead of night, a sound pierces through the silence, and you jolt awake. You see Joel leaning against a tree, his vigilance unwavering. As you approach, you offer, "Here, let me take over. Get some rest."

He turns to meet your gaze, "No. I don't know you, can't trust you."

"I don't know you either, and I trusted you to keep me safe," you rebut. 

"I think saving you before I even knew you is proof enough of my trustworthiness. You've done nothing but add extra work for me since I've been here. I'm not lettin’ you keep watch. You couldn't even hear the damn thing when it was close." Joel's frustration is palpable.

Your eyes narrow as you step into Joel's space, "Fuck you, Joel. I never asked for your help. If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and I'll go." Despite barely knowing the man, his words sting.

Joel rolls his eyes, a silent admission of the care he feels for you, a care he'd never voice. His tough exterior belies a growing attachment, one that complicates his solitary existence. He avoids looking at you, his gaze skittering away whenever your eyes meet. "Go to bed, please. I've got this," he says, his voice a low rumble. Joel doesn't turn his attention to you until you retreat to your sleeping bag, where you curl up, seeking warmth and comfort. As you drift off to sleep, he watches over you, a silent sentinel in the quiet night. There's a palpable sense of relief that washes over him when you finally succumb to sleep.

The next morning, the sound of footsteps rouses you from your slumber. You blink against the bright morning light, using your arm as a shield. Rolling over, you're greeted by the sight of Joel's back; he's crouched, presumably packing his bag for the journey ahead. The remnants of sleep slowly clear from your mind as you extricate yourself from the sleeping bag and roll it up. To your right, Ellie lies fast asleep, her soft snores a gentle backdrop to the morning.

You leave Ellie to her dreams and approach Joel. He's focused on his pack, his shirt inching up to reveal the taut skin of his lower back. You catch yourself staring and quickly bite your lip, a futile attempt to redirect your thoughts.

Attraction? No, that's not it. He's infuriating, self-centered, and yet here you are, sharing this strange journey with him and Ellie, who might as well be his daughter.

Joel looks up, his eyes betraying a deep exhaustion that seems to have settled into his very bones. "We're leaving once the sun's up. Make sure you're ready. We'll cover more than half the distance by nightfall," he informs you, rising to his feet and hoisting his pack over his shoulder.

You find yourself captivated by his deep brown eyes, noticing for the first time the kindness hidden beneath his gruff exterior. A silent exchange passes between you, a moment of unspoken understanding, before Joel clears his throat and breaks the connection, turning his attention to the horse.

The tension in the air is almost tangible as you both look away. Once Joel has secured everything onto the horse except for Ellie, he gently wakes her.

The three of you fall into a rhythm, traversing the desolate landscape. The day stretches on, filled with endless walking. As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the land, fatigue sets in. But Joel, ever perceptive, anticipates your need for rest.

"There should be a town up this road," he says. "We can find an old house to spend the night. No need for watches tonight; we all could use some proper sleep."

As night falls, Joel guides the horse with practiced ease over the unforgiving terrain. Before long, a small farmhouse emerges from the twilight, its isolation suggesting it's been long abandoned.

Ellie's voice cuts through the stillness. "Is this the town you were talking about? It's tiny, Joel. There's barely a house here."

Joel just chuckles, a soft sound that carries the weight of countless stories and experiences. "Sometimes, the best places are the ones that are hardest to find."

The three of you brace yourselves for the night, the assurance of safety and rest offering a much-needed refuge from the relentless challenges of your travels.

"This isn't the town, but it's likely safer to camp here. Raiders might be patrolling near the town. Now go inside and get settled, Ellie, help me with the horse."

You move silently into the house, scouting for a suitable spot to bed down for the night.

Ellie and Joel lead the horse towards the barn at the back.

"So, you planning to make a move, lover boy?" Ellie abruptly inquires, her voice laced with playful mischief.

Joel's eyes narrow in confusion, "What?"

"Ugh, it's so clear you two are head over heels for each other. It's adorable how you bicker." She giggles, mimicking air kisses.

Joel dismisses her with a shake of his head, "Mind your own business, would you?"

"So it is true! You like her... ha! I knew it. Can't wait to spill the beans."

Joel's eyes widen with a hint of panic as he secures the horse to a post, "Ellie! Cut it out, this isn't the time for matchmaking. I'm not in love. I wouldn't bat an eye if she left."

Ellie smirks, her eyes gleaming with a devious spark. "Oh Joel, dumb dumb Joel. Don't worry, I'll help you out." 

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, "Ellie, please, just drop it, head inside. I'll be there shortly. And don't say a word to her!"

By the time he finishes, Ellie is already darting back to the house.

Upon entering, you're arranging an old, grimy mattress when Ellie bursts in.

"Hey, lucky for us, there's another mattress upstairs. I figured we could each -"

Before you can finish, Ellie dashes up the stairs, calling out, "I'll take this one!" She pauses at the top, looking back, "And tell Joel I'm really upset with him and I don't want to talk."

Perplexed, you try to stop her, but she's already disappeared, the door shut behind her.

As the door closes, Joel steps in, and you turn to face him, "What happened with Ellie?"

Joel looks up, puzzled, as he sets his gear aside, "What do you mean?"

"She just bolted upstairs, saying she's upset and doesn't want to talk to you."

"She's a kid, I don't know. So this is the only bed then?" 

"Well, you must have done something to upset her. She dashed upstairs and staked her claim on the other mattress."

The realization dawns on Joel. "Goddammit, Ellie! Get down here now!" he yells, but his call is met with silence. He races up the staircase to the closed door, pounding on it. "Ellie, come out here. We need to talk."

"No! I'm not talking to you. I locked the door, you can't come in," her voice is muffled but defiant. Joel continues to pound on the door. "Ellie, get out here."

"I can't hear you..." Ellie's voice trails off, barely audible.

Frustrated, Joel descends the stairs, his gaze shifting between the bed and you. "You can have the bed. I'll just crash on the floor in one of the sleeping bags."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by his offer. "Just get in the damn bed, Joel. We're two grown adults; we can share a bed for one night, can't we?"

He looks like he's about to argue but then relents. "Fine... whatever." He grabs a sleeping bag from his pack and tosses it onto the bed. You slip under the covers, turning away from him. As Joel settles down to sleep, the room falls silent.

After a few minutes, you hear him chuckle softly to himself.

"What's so funny?" You turn to face him, a hint of irritation in your voice.

"Nothin’, just thinkin’," he replies, the chuckle turning into a full-blown laugh.

You sigh and turn back around, but his laughter is infectious. "Seriously, Joel, if you don't stop, I'm going to punch you in the face." You turn to face him again, trying to suppress a smile.

"It's Ellie," he says, the laughter subsiding. "I know why she's upset."

"Then why aren't you talking to her about it?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

He studies you for a moment, his gaze intense. "It ain't that simple. She thinks she's doin’ us a favor by making us share a bed."

Your cheeks flush with warmth. "Oh."

"So I guess that means it's your fault," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips. The atmosphere shifts, becoming both more relaxed and more charged at the same time.

"How is it my fault?" you challenge, playing along with his playful tone.

"If I didn't have to keep saving your ass, we wouldn't be in this situation," he jabs, his tone light and teasing.

"I think you owe me, if anything, for that deer I killed," you retort, a small smile tugging at your lips. The tension that's been building over the past day begins to dissipate.

"Oh yeah?" he says, inching closer to you on the bed.

You swallow hard, your heart rate picking up. "Mhm, you sure owe me big time."

His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes. Suddenly, he leans in and kisses you, his hand cradling the back of your neck while the other pulls you tightly against him. The kiss is gentle and sweet, causing your thoughts to scatter as you surrender to the moment, pressing closer to him. 

 In the quiet hush of the room, you pull back slightly, your gaze meeting his. Joel's face is mere inches from yours, his eyes brimming with unspoken desire.

Nervously, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, whispering his name like a secret, "Joel..."

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he slowly leans in, closing the distance between you. His forehead gently meets yours, a tender gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"God, I've wanted this since the moment I saw you," he confesses, his voice a low rumble that resonates deep within you.

Without warning, his hand shoots out, capturing your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip. He pulls you towards him, your bodies aligning, pressing tightly against each other.

Your lips find his again, this kiss more urgent than the last, fueled by a hunger that has been building since your first encounter. Joel's lips move against yours with a newfound intensity, his tongue exploring, claiming every inch of your mouth.

You surrender to the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours. His hands begin to roam, tracing the curves of your body, eliciting a soft moan from you. The sound seems to spur him on, and he deepens the kiss even further.

You can feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles beneath your hands. His grip on you is firm, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He breaks away from your mouth, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. His hot breath against your skin causes goosebumps to rise in its wake.

His hands slide lower, gripping your hips with a possessive intensity. Joel lifts himself off the bed, pressing his body against yours, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable.

A gasp escapes you as he grinds against you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, while his hands explore the softness of your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. A whimper slips past your lips as he teases you with a gentle squeeze.

You can feel his smirk against your neck as he continues his descent, leaving a trail of kisses and small love bites in his wake. The sensation of being consumed by him is intoxicating, and you find yourself yearning for more, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

"Joel...please..." you beg, tugging at his shirt, eager to remove the last barrier between you.

He chuckles at the desperation in your voice, a sound that only fans the flames of your desire. His lips return to yours, and he begins to move his hips in a rhythm that matches the urgency of your kisses. Your body responds instinctively, arching against him, seeking friction.

"Ahh..." you groan as his bulge hits just the right spot, causing your body to tremble with anticipation.

"Shh... just relax. I'm going to make you feel so good," Joel whispers, his voice a promise against your ear. He quickly strips you of your shirt, tossing it aside, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

You bite your lip, your eyes fluttering closed as the sensation of his hands on your skin sends you reeling. His touch is electric, igniting a fire within you that only he can quench.

"Look at me," he commands, and your eyes snap open to meet his intense gaze. His face is a portrait of desire, his eyes dark with need, his hair tousled from your eager hands. His fingers find the hem of your pants, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation as he peels them off your legs.

He plants a gentle kiss on your belly, causing you to sigh with contentment. His lips continue their journey downward, and you can't help but arch your back, moaning softly as his fingertips graze your sensitive flesh. His tongue darts out, teasing you, tasting you, driving you wild with need.

The years of longing, the pent-up desire, it all comes crashing down as his tongue delves into your core. You can't hold back the moans that escape your lips, each one a testament to the pleasure he's bringing you. He continues to tease you, his hands tracing a path back up to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples into hard peaks.

The sensation of his mouth on you is almost too much to bear. You come undone, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Joel's mouth is relentless, his lips and tongue working in unison to draw out every last ounce of your pleasure.

As you come back down to earth, your breathing slowly returning to normal, Joel pulls away, his lips glistening with the evidence of your desire. He wastes no time in shedding his own clothes, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

He positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his shaft teasing you, promising you the release you so desperately crave. And then, with one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely.

The world around you fades away as Joel sets a punishing pace, his hands gripping your hair, pulling just enough to send shivers of pleasure down your spine. You match his rhythm, your bodies moving together as one, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Sweat beads on your foreheads, your chests rising and falling in sync with each other's breaths. All you can see is Joel's face above you, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a passion that takes your breath away.

"Joel..." you whisper his name, a benediction, a plea, a promise. Your fingers thread through his hair, caressing his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips.

With a final, powerful thrust, Joel reaches his climax, his body shuddering against yours. You hold him close, feeling the aftershocks of his release mingle with your own.

For a moment, the only sounds are the ragged breaths filling the room and the pounding of your hearts. In this moment, there is nothing else—just you and Joel, two souls intertwined in the most intimate of dances.

You lie there, your breaths heavy as they echo in the quiet room, your gaze fixed on the ceiling above. In the stillness, the sound of your own ragged breathing mingles with Joel's intense scrutiny of your body. It's then that he notices the jagged scar marring your torso. His fingers trace its length, a silent question hanging in the air. "What happened?" he asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

The question yanks you from the serenity you'd found, hurling you into a tumultuous sea of memories. "Uh - it's nothing, just a battle wound," you reply, your voice trembling despite your attempt at nonchalance.

He looks at you, his eyes probing, seeing right through your facade. "Who did this to you?" he presses, his tone insistent.

Tears well up as you feel the rough pads of his fingers grazing your scar. You pull his hand away, sitting up on the bed's edge, turning away from him. A heavy sigh escapes you before you begin to unravel the story.

"When the raiders took over our camp, they brought me to some abandoned warehouse a few cities over. They held me there for weeks, torturing me, starving me. They left bruises everywhere. Every night before they would sleep, they would have their way with me." you confess, your voice wavering. "One night I guess I fought them a little too hard and I was awarded this fucking thing as a lovely reminder."  You gesture to the scar on your abdomen with a trembling hand.

Joel moves closer, his cool hands unexpectedly cradling your face, turning you to meet his gaze. He wipes away your tears, his eyes locked onto yours. "I'm here now, baby girl," he assures you, his voice firm with conviction. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to you like that ever again, you hear me?"

A small, sad smile tugs at your lips as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. He then reclines on the bed, drawing you into the sanctuary of his arms. Your head finds the rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby that resonates against your cheek. In this moment of vulnerability, you allow yourself to trust in his promises, your defenses crumbling as sleep claims you, cocooned in his embrace.

—

"I knew it!"

Suddenly, a sharp whisper slices through the silence, "I knew it!"

Joel startles awake, his heart pounding in his chest. There, at the foot of the stairs, stands Ellie, her eyes wide with the realization of the scene before her. He glances down at you, still nestled against him, and for a moment, time stands still. With a quick gesture, he signals Ellie to be quiet, his finger pressed to his lips. "Go back to bed," he commands softly.

"But I'm not tired -" Ellie protests, her voice a whisper in the dark.

"Now," Joel repeats, his whisper now a stern command. Ellie sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, but she complies, her footsteps retreating up the stairs. "Jeez, okay, lover boy," she mutters under her breath.

Relief washes over Joel as he watches Ellie disappear from view. He turns back to you, your peaceful slumber a stark contrast to the tension that just gripped the room. He gently kisses your forehead, his whisper barely audible, "I got you, baby girl."

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Spooktober Prompts Masterlist 2023

"They are calling us…" "Don't listen to them. Do you hear me? Don't listen to a word they promise you!"

The cameras show five people enter an elevator, but only four of them leaving it. Those four never remembered a fifth passenger.

"Aww, are you so afraid of the dark that you need me to hold your hand?" "I'm not holding your hand." "Then whose..."

At first, they believe it to be a bad joke, but when more and more graves of people who haven't died yet appear in the graveyard, they start to panic.

The camera she bought at a flea market already has photos on it. Since the people are wearing clothes from centuries ago, they believe them to be from a play. But they soon realize that those photos and events were real.

A child actress turned cult leader feels her power slipping and she needs to gain control over her following again.

When they started building the new school, they had expected to maybe find unexploded WWII bombs, but what they found instead was nothing they could have expected.

She heard footsteps behind her coming closer, but when she turned around, holding her breath, she could only see the dark and empty alley.

"Why did you choose the cemetary as our meeting place for tonight?" "Because only the dead can keep our secrets."

Going to your own funeral and see who would cry - it sounded almost fun. If it wasn’t for the fact that they could hear and see everything, but could not make a sound to stop them from closing up the grave around them.

A medium without a voice of her own, can only speak when a ghost speaks through her.

They had always felt that shadows seemed to beckon to them. But this time, when the shadows beckoned, they wore a sinister grin. (Submitted by: tumblebumblebee-63)

"I'm not haunting a filthy public bathroom, I'm a ghost with class."

A fun survival game TV show on a remote island becomes a reality when one contestant after the other turns up brutally killed. Right in front of hundreds of cameras and millions of watchful eyes.

Waking up to a child that you've never seen before, but that everyone assures you is your own that you've raised for years, is terrifying.

"Did you see that?" "Did I see what?" "That man... he touched the leaves and they immediately blackened and fell off. Please, let us go back before he sees us!" "Too late." The man in the dark cloak suddenly stood right in front of them and slowly reached out his hands to them.

What started as a fun midnight activity suddenly turned into one of them missing and the others running for their lives, trying to escape freaking zombies.

He always dreamed about being in a kdrama. He didn't imagine it to have a horror side plotline that feels way too real.

They said that when you die, you return to earth as your one true self. Why then, when he opened his eyes after being killed, were his teeth long and he hungered for blood? (Submitted by: ouilah)

She didn't think it would come to this point. She felt the cold stone of the gravestone in her back and before her the red glowing eyes of the creature crept slowly closer.

There are perks of being a ghost. Walking through walls was fun. Or haunting annoying people. But nothing was quite as nice as being able to just fade out of a conversation that you didn’t want to be a part of.

"I dare you! Come on, stop being a coward. There is no such thing as ghosts."

Someone wakes up to a text saying 'It's your lucky day!' and it turns out to be the worst day ever.

A family of vampires that lives unidentified in human communities, becomes paranoid and starts to believe all their neighbors are also supernatural creatures.

There are stories and superstitions abound about the seaside bluffs, but that's to be expected in a town of fishermen. One night, from the bluffs' direction, you hear someone singing, softly. (Submitted by: someoneoffthestreet)

Astronauts coming back to earth keep talking about hearing songs from outside the space shuttle. What they don't say, is that those songs followed them home.

Someone stared at her through the window. She had always felt safe in her own home, shutting out the scary, real world. But a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily…

A plane disappears from the radar and then reappears multiple hours later at the exact same location in the middle of the ocean with no place to land and not enough fuel to just fly around for hours.

"We shouldn't enter! This place was abandoned for a reason!" "Come on, don't be a coward. We will be the only ones here!" "Okay, okay... I'll follow you. You don't have to push me!" "I... I didn't push you..."

A session of reading tea leaves ends in chaos when every single participant reveals a bad omen.

Something tells the home owner that the kids trick-or-treating in front of his house are not wearing costumes - and are not human at all.

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[imauthicktic]

❤️‍🔥10

Sorry if this is a bit long, but maybe it could start something like this?

Y/N visits Sam at college with Optimus, who might've came with to harass Sam about helping like an alternative to the scene where they meet at the graveyard. Leo follows Sam out, probably harassing him about the website or whatnot, and basically just kinda stops like "You didn't tell me your sister was hot!" before running up ahead to hit on her, with Sam having his fifth mental breakdown of the day. Optimus isn't happy with Sam's dormmate, to say the least.

First request for the 1000+ follower event!!! Yippie!!!

Bayverse! Optimus Prime x fem!AFAB!human! Reader

OP in love with Sam's friend who is like an older sister of Sam is my favorite trope 😌💅🏻

Smut smut smut!!!

Warnings: size-difference! tried to keep this realistic so no penetrative sex. cock humping, clit stimulation. messy cum 🥴 Also cheesy flirtations from Leo

You were sitting inside Optimus who was in his semi-trailer form as you both waited for Sam to come out of his dorm building so you could surprise him. “You think he’ll be excited to see me, Optimus?” you ask softly, “I know it’s only been one day since he’s been here, but I was so upset I couldn’t help him move in,” you say with a small hint of guilt in your voice. 

“My dear sweet spark, Sam would be happy to see you,” Optimus said in his soothing deep voice in reassurance through his radio. You smile before affectionately rubbing your hand over his steering wheel. You open your mouth to say something when you see Sam walking out of the building with his roommate in tow. “Oh, look! He’s coming out!” you say happily as you scramble out of Optimus. 

“Sam!” You call out to him, effectively grabbing his attention. “Y/N?” Sam says happily as he sees you waving over to him with Optimus chilling behind you with his engine revving. Sam rushes over to pull you into a big hug as he lifts you slightly in his tight embrace. You can't help but giggle brightly as you wrap my arms around his neck tightly. “God, I’m the worst big sister ever-,” you start before you get rudely interrupted by Leo’s low wolf whistle making you pull back from the hug and look at him with a raised brow. “Damn, Sam! You didn’t tell me your sister was a babe,” Leo says as he pushes Sam to the side a bit as Leo grabs your hand to kiss your knuckles, “I’m Leo, Sam’s roommate, and hopefully your future husband,” Leo winks. Sam watches the scene unfold as he tries not to burst out laughing at the clear disgust on your face. Optimus is fuming at the scene knowing you're not exactly enjoying the flirt. Your brows raise in shock as you pull your hand away from him. “Charmed,” you say sarcastically as you wipe your knuckles on Sam’s shirt. You turn back to Sam, “Anyways, hon. My husband,” you pause to look at Leo as you lift your hand with your wedding band on it that you wear to fend off creepy men then look back at Sam, “wanted to talk to you. He said it was urgent. So, go get Bee and meet up with us,” you say in a more relaxed tone as you look at Sam. Sam can't help but chuckle lightly before realizing you're talking about Optimus and he let out a sigh. “Really? I can’t have one day?” Sam asks exasperated. “Nope!” you say as you pop the ‘p’, “And you know you can’t really say no to me and I’m not exactly asking,” you finish with a cheeky smile before walking over to Optimus and getting inside. “See you soon!” you say sweetly. 

“Wait! Here’s my number in case your husband doesn’t work out or if you want some spice in your life,” Leo says as he hands you a folded-up piece of paper and he blows you a kiss. Optimus’ engine revs loudly in annoyance at Leo’s insistence. You look at him incredulously and can’t help the laugh that comes out of you, “I genuinely don’t know where you get this confidence to go after a married woman, but I’m very much not interested, kid,” you scoff. “Leo, buddy. Trust me. Her husband is a god compared to you,” Sam adds as his hand pats Leo’s back as he guides him away from you. 

You crumple up the number and toss it aside as Optimus peels out of the parking lot. After a few minutes of driving at a fast speed and Optimus being oddly quiet, you decide to speak up. “My love?” you ask softly only to hear nothing but silence. You sigh softly, “You know you’re the best thing to happen to me right? That I’ll never get tired of you and that it’s always you on my mind right? The only one who gets me all hot and bothered,” you say reassuringly with a small giggle at your last statement as your hand caresses the dashboard in a soothing manner. “I know that. I’m not upset with you. Never with you, my sweet spark,” Optimus says with a soft sigh before pulling off to the side of the road and into a small forested area as he transformed into his humanoid form with you in his servos. 

He finds a tree and sits down with his back against it as he lifts you up to his face and carefully places kisses on your face and lips. “No one else could ever have you,” Optimus says as his spike is released and his other hand reaches under your dress to take off your panties only to realize you weren’t wearing any and he lets out a low rumbling growl. You smirk slightly, “I have to keep things interesting, Optimus,” you say teasingly. “My wife,” he says possessively and places you against his warmed-up spike making a shiver run down your spine. His voice and possessiveness were something you’d never dealt with before with him. Optimus was always so gentle and loving, but this… this was primal and rough. You begin to rock your hips lightly as your slick covers his spike making it easy for you to feel the ridges of his spike against your clit making you let out breathy moans. His servo wraps around your torso in a firm grip. “Primus, you’re mine,” Optimus groans out as he gently rocks his hips lightly to create more friction as you grind against his large spike. Your hands grip his spike as you let out a whine at the feeling of him, “I’m yours. N-no one else’s. I love you, I love you,” you whimper out desperately as your orgasm approaches. Transfluids start to leak from his tip and he pushes your hips down as he starts to apply more pressure to his length as he let out a deep moan from the feeling. Your juices have coated his spike as your thighs tighten and they become lubed up from your essence dripping down the sides of his spike. “‘M close, my love,” you gasp out as you continue to moan and whimper from the pleasure. “Optimus!” you cry out as your orgasm wracks through your body and your thighs squeeze around him. Optimus hasn’t stopped moving you against his spike as his hand moves down to hold your lower back and ass to continue the grinding. “Y-Y/N,” he groans loudly as he twitches and the transfluids shoot out from his spike in large spurts against his abdomen and breastplates. 

You watch the liquid shine against him and you bite your lip softly. “I… don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing that,” you say lovingly before looking into his blue optics. “Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you… it’s quite sexy seeing you so- what’s the word,” you pause, “so deliciously possessive,” you finish with a smile and a small giggle. Optimus lets out a small chuckle as he raises his other servo to caress your cheek with the back of his finger. “I wasn’t too rough?” he asks softly with slight concern. “Your grip may have been too tight, but would I change that? Absolutely not. In fact, I like this rough side a bit,” you smile cutely, “it’s kinda, super, mega sexy,” you giggle brightly making Optimus laugh softly with you. “I love you with all of my spark and every inch of my being, Y/N,” Optimus says lovingly as he leans down a bit to rest his forehead against yours gently. Your hands go on either side of his face as you place soft kisses on his lips, nose, and forehead before resting your forehead back against his as you both close your eyes to breathe in the moment. “I adore you and every bit of me forever belongs to you. Mind, body, and soul. I love you,” you say in a soft whisper.

Bonus:

Sam turns to Bee at the place they were supposed to meet you and Optimus at. "Where are they?" Sam asks confused. Bee shrugs his shoulders and lifts his servos slightly, "Hell if I know," he says through multiple channel changes through his radio.

A/N: lmk what y'all thought about it!! comments appreciated 🫶🏻 tips are also appreciated, no matter how small 💞 much love and kisses to you all

[see-arcane]

Jonathan is escaping just as the beginnings of brain fever and far worse things are roiling in him. Making him more ill and haggard as he traverses the Carpathians in search of a train. Running, burning, withering. Dying.

The closer he gets to death, the more he can feel Dracula's poison trying to overtake him. It's a trap waiting to spring. He knows it. Dracula knows it. Just as the Count knows the Brides let him slip away--

Ah, well, their loss. It seems you are to be mine alone after all, my friend.

--and dreams little visions his way when Jonathan dares to sleep.

Flashes of dark water and mist. Men screaming like sheep before the butcher. Slaughtered with less mercy than any farmer ever showed his livestock before being discarded like trash.

What loss are they, my friend? I have tasted the finer things. A sweet English vintage; I shall savor more of the same in time. But these? Bah! I have seen a thousand of their paltry kind come and go. I would no sooner cherish their meal than you would swoon over a cut of shoe leather. What difference is it if I play with this coarse fare? You shall learn the same habits in time.

"No. No, no, I won't, I can't. I have to go home. I have to get to her. My life is there. My life is her."

What home is that, my friend? Who is she?

He does not answer. He cannot answer. His head is all fire, burning holes through mind and memory. No, God, he must know! He must remember! He has come all this way, he must know where he's going and who is there! His nightmares fill with as much saccharine sympathy as cutting laughter. The most sincere comment he receives in the mire of it is a single reassurance:

You will recall it all, my friend. Sickness makes no mark upon us. You will know. You will be well. Some night, in this year or the next, perhaps we can go and meet her together. In the meantime, cease your struggling. I can feel your fatigue, poor boy. Put down your head. Stop running. Let it take you. Let it help you. Rest.

"No."

Rest.

"No!"

Rest.

"No, no, no--,"

He stuffs himself with berries and a hare and handfuls from a river. A ferryman takes pity--he thinks? a river, he remembers a River, the Ferryman telling him where to go, how soon the sun will rise, he doesn't know, his head, his chest, everything burning, dying--and a blur passes between himself and the train station. He was loud there. Did he scream? Sob? Bare his teeth? They shoo him away with a ticket.

(Sharp. Why do his teeth feel so sharp? Why is he so thirsty when the fluttering shapes of the nuns keep forcing water down his throat?)

(Quiet now. He cannot get through the walls here. Ha. Could not even open his journal if he tried! The crucifix is wrapped around it! Ha!)

(Stings to hold. Why? God, God, please, not now, don't don't don't, please do not do this, the nuns, they think him mad! They are of faith, but they do not believe! They do not know! They won't understand what he is when they put him in the cemetery they won't know what they invited in unawares they won't know until he is up and out of the dirt and oh O God the Cross and the Son will not save them not entirely not when he feasted on an entire mountain range of the faithful whose prayer saved no one and soon he will not need their necks only whatever meat his teeth can reach and no no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO--)

Something is different.

A white light twinkling in the red inferno. He knows it. It has brushed him more than once. She found him in the graveyard, weeping over the stones of his parents. How did she know then that he was there? He'd never told her.

Her.

Her who?

(Love. Darling. Soul. I know this. I know...)

Even if he cannot pierce the veil of a holy place, her presence can. It fires through his eyes--he is caught mid-kiss, the girl's head is hanging down, familiar sunny locks, who..?--and into Jonathan Harker's.

Jonathan Harker. Yes. Yes, that sounds right. And she is...

Running to him, to the nodding girl, a wisp under the moonlight coming to throw herself into danger for the sake of another, as ever and ever amen, she is--

"Mina."

"Pardon?" asks the attendant refilling his pitcher. She watches him carefully. "Did you say something young herr?"

"Mina. Mina Murray." His bloodshot eyes roll to the window. It faces the west. It faces her. Within him, something blessedly cool turns over, quelling an irate blaze. "I should like to write to her."

"I can speak with Sister Agatha about this. Who is Mina Murray, if I may ask?"

"My fiancee. And my name is Jonathan Harker. We live in Exeter." He offers a weak smile. One without sharp teeth. "My apologies for taking so long to remember it."

[soup-spoonn]

The weight of the world

Pt. 2

Pt. 1

kind of a long part 😭 mb yall

@boohoobeach @medusas-graveyard @catostrofiqu @dandey-lion

“B has been saying that the GIW might come to Gotham.”

Danny didn’t say a word, but just stared at Dick with a terrified look on his face.

“He told me not to tell you, that’s why he called a JL meeting, but I can’t just leave you out of the loop.”

“When?” He choked out, still terrified.

“We don’t know, but…” Dick paused, “they really want-“

“It’s my parents… they’re the ones leading the GIW to me.”

Dick looked startled at that confession, then just asked, “why?”

“I- I don’t know… I didn’t know- I-“ he started hyperventilating, and Dick didn’t say anything, and just wrapped him up in a hug as Danny cried.

“I don’t wanna see them again…” he said between sobs.

“You won’t.” Dick promised kindly

-

“You told him?!” Bruce said angrily, “I told you not to!”

“I wasn’t gonna leave him out of the loop! Do you want him to get hurt? He deserves to know, he’s family! If you were left unaware of something important about your safety, that would break your trust wouldn’t it?!” Dick ranted, angry at his father for asking him to lie to his little brother.

“Yes, but he’s too young, and he already has too much on his plate, we can’t worry him more!”

“He’s almost sixteen! We don’t need to baby him! We just need to be here for him! Help him with his responsibilities, not act like he's a baby, he’s so mature!”

Bruce sat for a moment, thinking, “you’re right, Dick, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

-

Danny sat on the edge of his bed, pondering his next move, tapping his foot nervously.

If they find me, they find my family.

I can’t let them find my family.

Am I gonna have to run away again? I haven’t been legally adopted, so it should be easy enough.

Danny figured that if he could escape at night, he’d be able to go to Metropolis to ask Superman for help.

-

Poor Danny, he’s probably so scared right now. I knows I would be.

Clark let out a sigh, and stood up from his chair, shutting off his computer and closing his office door softly.

I should go above Gotham again, maybe Danny will be there.

-

It was dark out, and Danny decided he would go stargazing again, see if he could have a conversation with Superman.

He opened his window, leaving his phone on his bed, and went ghost, then flew above Gotham to his usual spot.

He sat for five minutes, until he felt a sudden presence to his right.

“Hey Danny, I heard about what happened.”

“I’m gonna run away.” Danny replied abruptly.

“What- why?” Superman asked, panicked

“You know…” Danny paused, “they’re gonna find me. I was thinking about leaving… possibly going to Metropolis.”

“That sounds like a smart plan, but you do know that Batman isn’t gonna be okay with that, right?”

“Uhm, yeah… I’m not telling anyone about it, except you. I trust you, more than anyone I ever have. I just feel a connection to you, maybe it’s that you’re Kryptonian, but I don’t know. My core feels… safe around you. Like a father.”

Superman felt flattered, happy he made Danny feel safe, “you shouldn’t leave your family. They’ll worry. They love you, you know.”

“I know, and I love them too, that’s why I have to leave. The GIW could cause them trouble if they find me. I don’t want them getting hurt.”

“Danny-“

“I know, I know, it’s not my fault or something.” Danny interrupted, “it is my fault though, if I only hadn’t told my p- them about my… condition, none of this would have happened… I’m gonna go now.”

“Bye, Danny.”

“Bye.”

-

“Danny!”

He jumped as Dick slammed open the door, looking rushed.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Danny asked, looking up from the book Jason gave him.

“You need to start answering your phone!”

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied awkwardly.

Danny picked up his phone, scrolling through the notifications from Dick.

Geeze.

“I called you like ten times!” Dick said dramatically, “you scared me!”

“I’m sorry, I went on a walk again, I just got back.”

“Danny, I don’t know if you should do that anymore.” Dick said seriously.

“But-“

“No buts.”

“I can protect myself-“

“I know that, but you should only go on walks if someone’s with you, for your safety. I’ll go with you-“

“I’m not actually going on walks.”

“What? Danny, what do you do then?”

“I go to look at the stars.”

“Wh- why would you lie about that?”

“I don’t know, the stars are like my sanctuary, you know? Or like, uhm.” He paused, pondering his next words, “when you have a long day, you like to lay in bed and fall asleep, right?” Dick nodded, “well for me, I still do need sleep, but the stars are rejuvenating for me. It’s my ghostly obsession, so I need this, you know? And anyway, Superman joins me most of the time, so if anything happens I’ll have some help.”

“Superman?” Dick asked, perplexed.

“Yeah… he listens, and gives advice. He’s helped me a lot.” Danny replied with a smile.

“Well, I didn’t expect that friendship to exist, alright then. But you still need to be careful, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

“You’re fine, I don’t mind.” He said, returning to his book.

-

THATS A WRAP FOR PART TWO!!

seriously this took me way longer than it should’ve, sorry about that 😅

lmk how yall feel about it please :D

also i’m probably not gonna tag more than four people, I don’t wanna take up too much space with it

Edit: i came up with a name :D

[gojos-fr-bae]

Missing you

Pairing: Megumi x gn!reader

Warnings: A tad bit of angst here, a wee bit of fluff there

Word Count: 301

A/N: OKOKOK, so ik I said I would write for Gojo, but as I was halfway through writing that this idea hit and I HAD to write it down, Gojo is also coming soon, I promise. ALSO, BRING BACK EUROPAPA, HOW COULD THEY ELIMINATE JOOST!!! I'M HEARTBROKEN

(Requests open)

It had been a long week and Megumi was feeling completely dead. Those rusty old farts at the Zenin clan had managed to push every single button he had and he was literally on the verge of imploding.

He needs you.

All he wants to do is bury his face into your neck, wrap his hands around you and never let go.

He slowly walked through the streets, imagining how you would react to seeing him so early in the day. Usually, he could only get back to you at the end of the day, after he’d finished the preposterous load of missions that he would be assigned to. But not today.

He had promised you to get back so that he could spend the rest of the day with you.

It was your anniversary and ever since you started dating he promised that he would never miss you two’s special day.

He stopped by a flower shop and hand-picked the flowers he wanted to give you into one big, beautiful  bouquet. He made his way to your regular meeting spot and sat beside you, placing the bouquet in front of you. 

He laid his head against you. He could feel you smiling down at him as the sun’s beams gently kissed your faces.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered in contempt, happy to finally be with you. He can finally be at rest.

~

The old lady slowly walked through the graveyard and her eyes landed on the boy leaning against a tombstone.

Poor boy, he came here often, mostly at night, and her heart hurt as she saw a tear trickle down his face. 

It must have hurt immensely, to lose your lover at such a young age, but what more could she do but stare at him, in worry and pity.

Guys help, is this a oneshot or a drabble, idk where to put it in the masterlist 😭😔

© gojos-fr-bae

[tsyvia48]

Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

[cryobabyy]

Cooper Adams x Fem!Reader

PART(3/5)

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

OR

You work the graveyard shift at a hardware store with extended hours to put you through pre-med. You meet a DILF who is definitely not The Butcher.

AN: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had a final, saw Trap again (I almost died), and then I kind of re-wrote like half of it lol, but here we are! Enjoy!

The last time you talked about your Father to anyone was when you discussed what his headstone would say with the Funeral home office lady. You hadn’t uttered a word about him since. Not to a therapist, not to a friend, not even your roommate. You used his life insurance policy to hire an estate clean-up company to empty the house, and you watched from the curb as men in hazmat suits brought out pile after pile of newspaper clippings, empty medication bottles, and old electronics. After that, the house was unrecognizable- an empty shell, save for the marks on the door of your childhood bedroom. Thin pencil lines climb toward the frame with your name, date, and height nestled next to each other. You threw the deed to the house and your keys in your car’s glove compartment, but you haven’t been inside since. If it was out of sight, it was out of mind. If you didn’t talk about it, it couldn’t hurt you.

A floodgate was opened that night the truth came flying out of your mouth. You were okay with never speaking about it again, but now you couldn’t stop. It was exhilarating to release even the tiniest fraction of what you had bottled up for two years, and Cooper's validation was intoxicating. It was so different than the suffocating sympathy and condolences from Dad’s neighbors, who watched from their porches as you struggled to talk him out of confronting the mailman about wiretapping his mailbox. You felt the stares in line at the grocery store. You heard the passing whispers about the suicide on Bleaker Ave. This town wouldn’t let you forget that you were tethered to tragedy.

Cooper was the first person to say something other than ‘Poor thing. What a shame’. A random man you barely knew was the first person to afford you the luxury of dignity. You weren’t aware you could be anything other than a victim until Cooper Adams started treating you like a normal person. Against your better judgment, you began to look forward to the smiles, corny jokes, and his tendency to overshare. 

You knew it was weird and wrong to befriend a married man like this. You couldn’t help but think about his wife, how she would feel if she knew her husband was using his lunch breaks to bring you food and ask about your day. The thought of his family used to be a comforting reminder that he wasn’t dangerous, but now it makes your stomach hurt. You tell yourself you aren’t doing anything wrong. It was just an unlikely friendship- nothing more. 

You get butterflies when he comes waltzing in with a muffin and a coffee.

Goddamit.

“Oat milk, three sugars, three creams. And somebody dropped these off for the guys today, so I snagged you one. It’s blueberry. Did you eat dinner today?” He sets down a steaming cup of coffee and a neatly saran-wrapped muffin. You meet his hazel eyes, and he stares back. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Cooper furrows his brow, a smirk curling his lips.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t like blueberry.”

“You’re weird.” You scoff, unwrapping the confection and taking a bite.

“So you do like blueberry.” He mumbles pensively,  crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

“You know I’m at work, right? Like I’m supposed to be working?” You say through a mouthful of muffin. Cooper glances around the empty store before landing on you.

“Looks like I’m the only paying customer here, kid.” A sly smile spreads across his face, and your heart stutters like the engine of your shitty car. 

And just like that, he lulls you into another conversation. Cooper speaks in a way that makes you forget you’re telling him details about your life you’ve never told anyone before. He knows that you have a roommate you barely speak to and that you moved out when you were twenty. He's aware of how you took care of your Father during those final years and how he secretly stopped taking his medication. He knows about the guilt that consumed you for never noticing, for being too busy trying to build a life outside his chaos. You even told him you sometimes visit the house to check the mail. You'd sit on the curb across the street just to stare and remember when it was just a house and not a landmark for your grief.

“Why don’t you just sell it and use the money to buy your own place? The property value has probably skyrocketed since.” At this point in the conversation, Cooper has a stool pulled up to the counter, brows knitted together in concentration. He’s always asking you questions nobody’s ever cared to ask.

“I don’t know. I guess… If I get rid of it, it feels like I’m getting rid of him. He accused me of that all the time. He was convinced I turned against him.” You shrug, swirling around the last bit of coffee in your cup.

“I get it. My independence was like an insult to my mother. She hated my wife—said that she was taking me away from her. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I told her we were getting married.” He looks off into the distance as if he’s watching the memory unfold in front of him.

You see an opportunity, so you take it.

“How did you two meet?” You say slowly, cautiously testing the waters.

“Me and Rachel? I did a fire safety demo for the kids at the school where she was working. God, that was—what? Fifteen years ago? Things were so different then.” He trails off. There was something different in the timber of his voice—regret? You hold in a breath as he continues.

“A lot changes when you have kids. Years can pass, and you won’t notice how much you’ve grown apart. And then pretty soon, the kids are the only thing you have in common.” He stares for a moment longer before suddenly snapping out of his daze. 

“Sorry, am I oversharing?” He drags a big hand down his tired face, and you roll your eyes.

“I mean, I’m the one with the dead dad, so I think I have you one-upped on that.”

“You got me there.” He chuckles. You’re glad he’s not bothered by your inherent morbidity. It makes you feel normal.

There’s a thick pause. You glance upward to find Cooper staring at you, a strange expression on his face. No one’s ever looked at you like that before, and for a split second, you feel exposed. Like it was his first time really seeing you.

“What?”

“I just hope you know you’ll be okay.” 

You’re gearing up to brush it off with something witty, but Cooper beats you to it.

“No, seriously. You made it to the other side of all this— you made it out. And you’re still good. You didn’t turn it into something worse. You’re incredible—and I mean that. It’s inspiring.”

There’s no charming smile or trace of playfulness in his voice. You feel frozen, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. 

And then his gaze flickers to your mouth and lingers there for a moment too long. You watch him watch you, chest rising and falling, his expression tight. Like he’s holding something back. Your hands tingle with the desire to touch something. You feel the urge to reach out and grab something of his– his hand, the lapels of his jacket, the slope of his neck - and pull him into you. It still wouldn’t be close enough. If you could reach into his chest and hold his beating heart in your palm, you would.

And that terrifies you. 

Cooper clears his throat, swiftly standing from the stool. 

“Well, would you ook at that— lost track of time. I have to head back.” He mumbles, patting his jacket pockets to find his keys. Before you can even respond, he’s striding towards the door.

“Right. See you later, Cooper.” You busy yourself by throwing the empty coffee cup and the remains of the muffin in the trash.

He calls your name, snapping your attention to him again.

“You’ll be okay.” He repeats.

“I know.” 

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

You don’t see Cooper for an entire month after that. The entirety of October passes. You spend nights preparing for your midterm and ringing up PVC pipes, hammers, and plumbing snakes. You debate texting him, going back and forth between writing a paragraph apologizing for potentially crossing a line or a paragraph telling him off for disappearing. Both options never make it out of the notes app.

A definitive emotion hasn’t settled in your mind yet. Anger doesn’t feel justified. Rejection feels too assuming, and dejection hurts your pride. Every fleeting emotion feels blown out of proportion, so you try to feel nothing at all– because anything else would be fucking ridiculous.

Cooper was married. He had children. He had a life. And all you had were the moments of his spare time in between. You had nothing. You didn’t even have a reason to call him– until you did.

On the way home from the night shift, your car battery dies on a dark and empty backroad. Other than your roommate, you have only one other person to call.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you consider what you'll do if he doesn’t answer. Your racing heart makes your thumb shake.

It rings two times before he picks up.

After a month of radio silence, he pulls up in 30 minutes.

Seeing him exit the driver’s side door like nothing had changed is odd. The complicated feelings you’ve been fending off die in an instant and leave you feeling numb. He looked the same; maybe his hair was longer, just long enough for him to push behind his ears. When he walks toward you, you finally begin to feel something again– panic. Inside your mind, you’re frantically flipping through appropriate things to say. I missed you. Where the fuck have you been? Why?

He’s standing in front of you before you can decide.

“You alright?” He asks, his brow furrowed with concern. He looks to your old beat-up car, then to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s been stalling recently. I should have gotten it checked out sooner. Thanks for coming. I hate to bother you like this.” You can’t help but sound embarrassed. You had built this moment up in your imagination to be a staunch confrontation, but reality made you feel dumb. This was a grown man that had grown man shit to do other than play therapist with you. You felt small next to him like this. You regret not calling your roommate first.

“I’m happy to help. It’s cold—why don’t you wait in my car? It’s open.”

You wordlessly hand him your keys, grab your bag, and walk towards his car, leaning against the front hood instead. It was stupid, but the small act of defiance made you feel like you were still in control of the situation and, therefore, your feelings. Cooper takes a long look under the hood of your car before leaning into the driver's side and cranking the keys. The ignition clicks and whines but refuses to start. He sighs, trying a couple more times before shutting your car door and locking it.

“I brought jumping cables, but I don’t think I can do much to get it started. It could be more than your battery so It’s probably best to tow it. You’ll have to call your insurance and tell them to get it covered, but I can do the talking if you- ” 

For a moment, you’re possessed by the most jaded version of yourself. The words tumble from your mouth before you can understand them.

“Where have you been?” 

You regret it immediately.

Cooper sighs, closing his eyes and pushing his hair back. He pauses momentarily, thinking about how he'll handle the situation before returning to meet your gaze.

“I don’t think talking about that here is a good idea.” His tone is gentle but stern. It’s parentish and ignites the anger accumulating in you over the past month.

“That’s fucked up, Cooper. I’ve told you things I haven’t even said out loud, and now you get to decide when it is or isn’t a good idea for us to talk? It’s not fair—” 

“I know.”

“—It wasn’t even my idea! You softened me up! You kept coming back—“

“I know.”

“—You made me think I could trust you! You gave me something, and then you fucking took it away—who fucking does that?!”

He’s saying your name now. You were too worked up to notice that your cheeks were wet or that Cooper’s thumbs were wiping the tears away. You hadn’t cried in a year.

“It was wrong. I was wrong. I thought I could manage, but it was getting too close. What was happening between us, and who I am outside of that can never touch. I’m sorry.”

Your breathing slows. Cooper’s voice sounds distant, the warmth of his hands being the only thing grounding you. He’s so close now; you can see the flecks of green and brown along his iris. Your gaze drops to his mouth, lingering in the same way his eye lingered about a month ago. You can see the words forming around his lips. He repeats himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You feel a familiar urge again– the pull. This time, you almost give in. But something stops you. Cooper resists your pull.

“Don’t. You’ll regret it.” He warns.

You come to your senses, noticing the stinging sensation from the back of your thighs pressing against the hood of his car. It’s not enough to stop you from being at your weakest. 

“Please.” is all you can say. Your hands grip the collar of his sweater. He lets you, his resistance gradually softening until your mouth ghosts over his. 

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

It all happens so fast, his lips finally covering yours, his hands lifting you by the thighs and setting you down on the hood of his truck, your legs wrapping around him. Everything is brand new and intoxicating. The feeling of his hair between your fingers. Your arms around his neck, the hardness of his body against yours. It doesn’t take much for you to get lost in it. You feel Cooper lift you off the hood and walk around the side of his car. He flings open the passenger door and sets you on the leather seat.

“Tell me to stop.” He says in between the feverish back and forth of your lips, his hands sliding under your sweater to rest on the curve of your stomach. Heat pools between your thighs. You say nothing.

Cooper pulls away, leaving his hand underneath your shirt.

“This is what you want?” He’s looking down at you, hair in his eyes and mouth red and wet. You feel ashamed, but you nod anyway. Cooper’s hand gently pushes against your belly, beckoning you to lie down. Your chest heaves up and down, and your eyes flutter close. Cooper’s hands push up the sides of your waist, bringing your shirt with it. They travel over your ribs, his thumbs brush over your nipples through your thin bra. His warm breath ghosts just under your navel, lips peppering kisses right above your waistband. 

“I’ve been thinking about this. What you would look like under me. You look so pretty.” He smirks against your skin and uses a hand to undo a button on your jeans. Your eyes flutter back open.

The first thing you see is a splatter of dark red on the cloth ceiling of his car. You squint a bit, trying to pull your focus from what was going on below your waist. The little drops glisten in the dim glow of the interior cabin light. It looks wet.

Your blood runs cold. Your Father’s voice returns to you.

White picket fence motherfucker.

AO3

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[gravemet]

" i don’t speak old english. you’re going to have to translate for me. "

[wannaeatramyeon]

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 1 | Part 2

The customers can usually be separated into 3 categories.

Drunks, students, and weirdos.

Unfortunately for you, lately the weirdos have turned into regulars. But fortunately the weirdos aren't so weird.

The one that made it a habit to check in on you, with the scars and the cheesy wink wasn't so bad. Jack, was it? You can't remember and it's been too long for you to ask. You awkwardly address him as 'you' and avoid any situation where you need to use his name.

He likes to ask how you are, tell a few jokes. Spirit undeterred even when you look at him with a blank face because bless his soul, he's not funny at all but at least he tries and he's a lot less weird than first impression.

He hangs around at odd times, then again you do only work at odd times. Telling you stories about this and that. Something about Big Deal, something about a guy called Sinu and something about another guy called Samuel.

It's difficult to keep track. It's like he wants to talk but he's cryptic and god, it's 4am who can blame you if your eyes are glazing over.

John, or is it Jerry, is waffling again. He seems to always be talking about Samuel. Who he apparently misses and wonders where it's gone wrong and hang on, he's never been explicit but you just had to know.

When he takes a breath to munch on a cookie, you ask, "Hold on, is Samuel your ex?"

Wait no his name is Jason, definitely Jason- freezes mid-chew, "Why would you say that? He's my friend!"

Joshua sprays crumbs all over you but you note how he doesn't say no.

(You think you see this Samuel one early morning. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before and man, he really looks like shit.

Looks like the breakup is getting to him too.

Poor Samuel and Poor Jim.)

.

.

But sometimes weirdos are just weirdos. 

It's ok. It comes with the territory so long as they're not in the habit of hurling abuse or whatever, you can deal with it.

In recent memory, there's only been two people that you have had to almost chase out with a broomstick.

You should have known they would be weirdos when one of them walks in in surprisingly teeny tiny purple camo shorts. Not that you're a pearl clutcher, but you're worried that one wrong move and he could be dangling out.

Besides. Purple. Camo. Shorts. Those words should never follow one after the other, and you repress a shudder at this guy's hideous dress sense when he comes up to you.

You thought the other one was alright, at least there's no hideous purple camo shorts in sight and his hair is nice (huh, this style must be popular, you’ve seen a lot of guys with this hair)-

But then he opens his mouth and asks for snakes and you think it's karma for judging camo-guy for his appearance when his friend is equally odd.

"We usually keep the snakes next to the ramen," you deadpan and the two men actually go to seek out the supposed snake (meat or pet purposes?) only to return moments later, empty-handed and looking confused.

"I think the snake is all sold out," Non-camo guy says as camo-guy glances around as if you might have hidden your snake stock elsewhere.

They must have thought you were stupid as you stood there opening and closing your mouth like a fish (or maybe a snake, do snake do these things), because come on, how are you even supposed to formulate a response to that?

Then you look at their eyes and also notice them looking snakey and surmise it must be some weird fetish thing. Pretending to be snakes and eating snakes and having pet snakes.

You want no part of this and tell them to get out.

.

.

"I'm Baek Hangyeol," a new face says, pointing to his ID badge pinned to the white coat. 

"Doctor Baek Hangyeol." He stresses Doctor and Hangyeol and you wonder if he is waiting for a round of applause.

You don't say anything but you do notice he looks like a teenager and what idiot would let a teenager operate on them. (Drunk, student, weirdo. He could be all three.) Doctor Baek Hangyeol must be bluffing.

You decide not to call him on his bullshit. 

"Cool," is all you respond with because you don't want another complaint for being too mouthy. You are half tempted to tell him you're not a doctor, that you just work here but that seemed kinda redundant so you keep your mouth shut.

"Do you believe in true beauty?" he asks when you finish bagging up his goods (a plain water with added minerals, a bottle of multivitamins and a protein shake) and you think what sort of question is that.

You give a halfhearted shrug and say "Sure" and he hands his business card over.

"If you're ever considering it," he tells you with a wild smile. After he has left you look down at the lettering, eyes zeroing in on ‘Plastic Surgery’.

Excuse me?! What is he trying to say?

You thought he was a weirdo but now he has firmly shifted over to asshole. You regret not telling him to go fuck himself while you had the chance. The complaint would 100% be worth it. Zero regrets.

On your break, you burn the card and feel a small sense of satisfaction.

.

.

A tall blonde guy with a creepy vibe (hold on, have you seen him before, he seems familiar. Then again, creepy blonde guys seem to be quite common around here-) walks in with the most billowing coat you have ever seen.

The entrance is kinda cool but the actual coat is kinda tragic with the cheesy red lettering and you wonder if you can pull it off any better than him.

You're still wondering about his coat when he's paying you, and hang on you have definitely seen him before because he says arigatou and hands over yen and you tell him no. Won only.

The idea of the coat, which has evolved into you fantasising about having a full blown cape, quickly loses its charm however, when the blonde gets caught in the automatic doors and you have to wrestle them open to free him.

Afterwards, you ask if he's ok, if he is harmed and can’t resist asking if the coat is ok too. You really don't want a lawsuit on your watch especially when the malfunctioning doors are not your fault.

Your kindness is repaid by him telling you he's not interested (what the fuck) and that his heart will not stray (again, what the fuck).

.

.

You accidentally eavesdrop on a couple of students lamenting about missing out on school work. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop ok, the aisles are tight and cramped, it’s a small space. 

You peek over, and the one with big ears (seriously, they are huge) is telling the one with his back to you (goodness, his back is huge too) that school is important and he’s got notes the other one can use. 

It’s sweet, you think. School is important and it’s good they recognise that. Nice of them to help each other out too.

When they both come to pay (holy shit, that’s a fuckton of chocolate milk), you’re surprised to find Big Ear’s friend, Big Back, looks anywhere between late 20s and early 40s but it’s never too late to catch up on education, you suppose.

You spend the rest of your shift feeling motivated.

.

.

“Going camping?” you ask the guy with the sandy blonde hair, chuckling nervously and ringing his items through. 

Either he’s going camping or he’s gonna kill and hide a dead body in the forest.

He’s pretty stoic, only giving you a curt nod. You can’t help but probe him a bit more. You’ve got a feeling that if or when the dead body turns up, you want to at least clear your conscience that you’ve tried your best so you make some more idle small talk.

You mention how you haven’t been camping for ages, not since you nearly burned your tent down and singed your hair after you tried to cook some marshmallows over a fire that turned out to be more of a raging bonfire (and might have awoken your pyromaniac streak, but you keep that to yourself).

The blonde guy actually pipes up and says “Master Taesoo would never do that.” 

You almost apologise out of principle due to how earnest he sounds, then he mentions something about how good this Master Taesoo is at catching and cooking snake and you wonder what the fuck is up with people and the snake obsession.

Either way, it doesn’t sound like someone is getting murdered. Only a snake (poor snake) so at least you can sleep easy later that day.

.

.

“Oh hi DG,” you say, “Sorry about your cryptocurrency falling through. Diegocoin was it?”

He blinks at you a few times in surprise and heavens above. What’s that saying, fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you? This guy has fooled you exactly no times with his shitty disguises and his effort has substantially dwindled too. 

He has only put his hood up and you did think you might get mugged at one point-

It’s an empty store, for crying out loud. Who comes into an empty store in the asscrack of night with their hood up, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Then you notice the pink hair and shifty glance and duh.

“Is it the-?” he asks, putting his hood down and signalling to his hair.

“Yeah, it’s the-” you signal to your own head of hair. “Dude you really need to dye it if you’re going for subtle.” You pause, consider something, “Hold on.”

You walk over to the beauty aisle and grab the black hair dye.

“On the house,” you tell DG because this guy really has no self awareness.

.

.

“What do you mean no?”

“No." Your boyfriend peers down at you, arms crossed and at the end of his patience with you.

You open your mouth to argue- 

“No. You know nothing about Taekwondo. How can you work here?”

You look around helplessly at the studio. He’s not exactly wrong but you’re sick of dealing with the weirdos and the snakes and the creepy blondes. “But your dad-”

“I don’t care what that stupid old man says,”

“Taehoon!” Hansu scolds from the other side of the room, and Hansu's class of toddlers all whirl their head around to stare.

“I can learn?” you offer and Taehoon raises one skeptical brow.

“So you’re going to be a student?” You nod enthusiastically, “And we’re going to pay you for that?”

Oh. Damn. 

He’s got you there.

[mylifesjustacarousel]

sleeping beauty

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: you and book have kept your relationship a secret for quite some time, or at least you think… what happens when a certain someone finds out?

type: fluff, then angst, then fluff

CW: suggestive moments

WC: 1.9K

requests are open!

“What if someone sees us, James?”

“Don’t worry, no one ever comes over here this late at night, my love.” he whispered, leading you over to a small patch of grass to sit down. The Enchanted Lake was your not-so-secret, secret meeting spot. It was busy during the day with students swimming and lounging around, but it was like a graveyard at night. Hook sat down on the ground, grabbing your hand and pulling you down onto his lap.

You grinned, resting your arms on his shoulders. “Okay, but if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

He put his hand to his heart, a dramatically pained look on his face. “Ouch, hurtful. I thought you loved me.” You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you beyond words, J.”

Hook rest his forehead against yours, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

The two of you had been dating for a few months, but nobody knew about it. He was a villain, you were a royal. Your relationship was the definition of a bad idea. So, it was safer, mostly for you, if the two of you kept your relationship a secret. If the rest of the VKs found out, they would make your life absolutely miserable. You didn’t mind keeping a secret, but there were definitely days where you wished that you could be with him in public.

“I missed you today, darling.”

“You wouldn’t have to miss me if we didn’t have to keep hiding around. We could be together, whenever we wanted…” You pressed gentle kisses to his neck, trying to be convincing. It worked… sometimes.

“And let Uli make your life awful? I don’t think so. I love my friends, but I love you more.”

You huffed, pulling away from him. “She doesn’t scare me, James. Her bark is much worse than her bite.”

“Listen, y/n.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough to him that your chests were pressed together. “You know how much I love you, and I would love nothing more than to show my girl off. But, she would kill you if she had the choice, and I would not be able to forgive myself if something bad happened to you. Okay?”

Unfortunately, he did have a point. No matter how frustrated or upset you got, you knew that he was trying to be protective. “Okay, okay. Fine.” you mumbled, “But, someone is going to find out eventually.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, my beauty.”

“Uli is going to love this.” Maleficent smirked, looking at the two boys, Hades and Morgie, standing behind her. They had followed Hook to the Enchanted Lake after noticing that Hook disappeared at the same time almost every single night for the past few months. “Do we have to tell Uliana? I have Honors Enchanting with y/n, she’s really nice-”

“Morgie, honey, shut up.” she growled, nudging him with her shoulder. “We’ve seen enough. Let’s go, boys.” She snapped her fingers, walking away with the two boys following behind her.

Uliana was sat in her lair when the group of three walked in. She sat up, “So? What did you find out?”

“He’s dating y/n! That one royal who hangs out with the nice cupcake girl!” Morgie exclaimed, earning a shove from Maleficent. “They go to the Enchanted Lake. It’s sickening, seeing them be all… lovey dovey.”

“Hey!” Hades grumbled.

“I didn’t say that we’re sickening. Why do you always have to-”

“Shut up!” Uliana got up, going over to them. “Thank you, Morgie. You.” She pointed to Maleficent. “Do you still have that spell book? I need you to conjure up something for Hook’s little beauty.”

“Like what? Turn her into a monster? Make birds peck her eyes out? Ooh, prick her with a thousand thorns?”

Uliana’s eyes lit up. “That’s it. Hook wants a beauty? We’ll give him one. A sleeping beauty.”

“I’ve got just the thing. She won’t know what hit her.”

“Bye, Bridget! Let’s get together tomorrow to study, yeah?” you asked. “You’ve got it. Hey! Do you wanna come over tonight and help me bake?”

“I would love to, B, but I have a date-” you froze. No one can know. “I have a date with my textbooks! You know how hard those Enchanting exams are.” you laughed nervously, hoping she wouldn’t catch your fault.

Bridget just gave you a smile, unaware of your slip up. “Yeah, of course! I’ll see you tomorrow then!” She gave you a tight squeeze before parting ways.

You started to walk to your dorm building to get ready for your date with Hook that was later that evening. When you arrived to your room, there was a note waiting for you on your bed, along with a single red rose. You picked up the note to read it.

For you, my beauty. I can’t wait to see you tonight - J

You picked up the rose, cursing to yourself as you pricked your finger on one of the many thorns. Within seconds, your body felt heavy and your eyelids were begging for you to shut them. You hesitated before laying down on your bed, and within seconds you were sound asleep, unaware of anything happening around you.

Hook was waiting for you at the Enchanted Lake. Ten minutes went by, then half an hour. He started to get worried, pacing around nervously. It wasn’t like you to be late, in fact, you were the type to always arrive early because “being on time is being late.”

When an hour went by and you still weren’t there, Hook went off to go find you. Thoughts were racing through his head, and they weren’t good ones. He made his way to your dorm room and banged on your door. “Y/n? Are you there?”

No response.

He huffed, looking around to make sure that no one saw him before going into your room. Hook let out a sigh of relief when he saw you peacefully sleeping on your bed. You must’ve been tired and just… fell asleep.

“Baby girl?” He whispered. Sitting on the edge of your bed, he gently shook your shoulder. “You know I’m not upset, right?”

No response.

Hook shook your shoulder harder. “Darling, this isn’t funny anymore.” He looked around, seeing a piece of paper at the end of your bed. He picked it up, and suddenly all of the puzzle pieces came together.

Uliana.

He tossed the note aside, storming out of your room. How did she find out? You two had been beyond careful. “I’m going to kill her.” Hook grumbled.

“You think this is some silly little joke, Uli?” Hook shouted as he stormed into the lair. Uliana cackled. “Oh, Hook, did you think I wouldn’t find out? Who do you think you are? Sneaking off with a royal every night? You’re pathetic!”

“I’m pathetic? You put a spell on my girlfriend because you don’t like when other people are happy!”

“Actually the spell was me.” Maleficent said, joining the two. “Yeah, I caught you two on one of your little dates. How about next time, you pick somewhere a little more secretive, genius?”

He lunged at Maleficent. “I’m going to kill you, you witch!”

Uliana rolled her eyes, pushing him back easily with her tentacle. “Come on, James-y, we’re just having some fun. You used to love terrorizing people. She ruined you.”

“No, I think she actually changed me, and for the better. I love her, more than your cold heart could ever comprehend. Why are you so afraid of love?” he asked.

“Afraid of love? Oh please,” she scoffed, “I don’t need love when everyone fears me, Hook.”

“How do I fix it? How? How do I break the spell?” he asked, almost begging.

Maleficent snickered. “You love her sooo much, you’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

“Now, shoo. You’re no longer needed here. Oh, by the way, this isn’t over.” Uliana said.

Hook made his way back to your dorm, silently racking his brain on how to break the spell. He wasn’t the smartest, but he had to figure out something. “Stupid Uliana, stupid Mali…” he grumbled.

“Hook? James Hook? What’re you doing here?” a voice asked. He turned around, locking eyes with Bridget. “What do you want?” he sneered.

“Um, I went to y/n’s room to see how her studying was doing? She said she had a date with…” She trailed off, mentally putting the pieces together. “She had a date with you! You two are together? That’s sweet!”

Hook rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay! Yes, we are together. Yes, it is sweet. But, it doesn’t really matter, because she was put under a sleeping spell and I don’t know how to break it-” he rambled on. Bridget giggled a bit, watching him pace around.

“Do you think this is funny, you prissy pink princess?” he snapped, getting in her face.

“No, no! You don’t know how to break a sleeping spell?” she asked.

“You don’t know how to break a sleeping spell?” he mocked, “Of course I don’t know how to break a sleeping spell! Who do I look like?”

Bridget giggled again, taking his arm and leading him back to your room, where you were still peacefully asleep. “True loves kiss. Everybody knows that. Okay, um, I’ll leave you to it. Tell her to meet up with me tomorrow.” She gave him a wave before skipping off.

He sighed, sitting down next to you. “If this doesn’t work, I’m killing that girl,” he mumbled, referring to Bridget. He moved your hair out of your face, just admiring your soft features for a few seconds. He truly thought that you were the most perfect girl ever.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a wave of nervousness hitting him as he pulled away. What if it didn’t work? What if he wasn’t your one true love? He sat there, his heart dropping into his stomach when you still were asleep after a few seconds.

You suddenly sat up, your eyes shooting open. “What happened?” you asked, looking around with confusion. Hook tackled you in a hug, peppering kisses all over your face. “Oh my god, I missed you! I missed you so much!”

“Where did I go?” You leaned into his touch, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s a long story. I’m just… I love you so much, darling, and I don’t want to hide you anymore. I love you. I love you. I love you. You are my true love, and I am so sorry for ever taking you for granted.”

“Did I die or something?” you joked, looking up at him. There was nothing but sincerity in his deep brown eyes. “I love you too, J… Does this mean that you’ll finally wear the sweater that I made for you?”

“No, but I’ll tell people that you made a sweater for me.”

“I’ll take it!” You kissed him sweetly, running your fingers through his hair.

“By the way, Bridget told me to tell you to meet up with her tomorrow.” he mumbled against your lips. You pulled away, your brow raised. “You talked to Bridget? Are you okay? Do you have a fever?” You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead.

Hook rolled his eyes, slapping your hand away. “Like I said, it’s a long story. Now, where were we?” He pulled you into another kiss, reaching over to turn your lamp off that was sitting on your nightstand.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i’m sorry if it seemed really rushed, i was racking my brain trying to figure out the plot

[pretty-red-garnet]

Brothers Part 2

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry/CDC • Fluff/Angst

Part one can be read here! I hope you all enjoy part two. Oh, and surprise! There will be another part. I went a little overboard so there will be a third and maybe forth(?) part, haven’t decided yet.

✭TW✭ This chapter takes place during the episode where Shane does that to Lori and this chapter puts some emphasis on it. If SA is a subject that bothers you to read about, maybe check out something else I’ve written. My Masterlist can be found here. :)

The drive to the CDC is long. It's filled with some light conversation, but after Jim decided he wanted to be left on the side of the rode, unable to take the pain anymore, you and Daryl quieted. Even then, it was a mostly comfortable silence. Daryl was never very talkative, so quiet wasn't unusual even normally.

Once you and the group arrive at the compound, it's almost dark. It's surrounded by a few walkers, but mostly dead military people, there's even a tank sitting in front. It seemed they tried to fight them off, but failed miserably.

     You follow Daryl out of the truck and meet up with the rest of the group. The group is careful to stick together, Shane tells them to keep quiet and close and they do. Carol and Lori keep their kids held tightly to them, muttering encouragements.

     Shane and Rick try banging on the large, metal doors of the building. No answer.

     "There's nobody here," T-Dog says.

     "Then why are the shutters closed?" Rick asks, looking quizzically at the doors.

     "Walkers!" Daryl calls out. He sticks an arm out to bring you behind him, blocking you from the dead. He raises his crossbow and shoots the walker.

     "You led us to a graveyard!" He shouts, angrily. He pushes you further behind him.

     "He made a call," Shane tries to reason, although he himself sounds frustrated.

     "It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl yells. Shane shouts at him to shut up, frustrating you even more at his ill-directed anger.

     "Rick, this is a dead end." The women begin to panic, and Shane brings up Fort Benning again.

     "Fort Benning is too far, Shane. We have no gas, no food," you say. He doesn't say anything, but he sneers slightly in your direction.

     The group is about to head back to the vehicles, get out of the open to figure out the next move, before Rick sees movement from the camera sat above the door.

     "The camera, it moved," he says, staring up at it. You look up, glaring at it intensely to try and will it to move again. It doesn't.

     Your brother argues with him, denies that it moved, trying desperately to get him back to the cars. Rick refuses, adamant that he saw it move, and begins to slam on the shutters.

     "Rick, there's nobody there!" Lori yells at him. Rick continues to yell and bang on the doors, resulting in Lori and Shane trying to drag him away. Shane orders everyone to get back to the cars. You step out from behind Daryl.

     "Rick, they're right. We have to get out of here," you say, a desperate attempt to reason with him. He ignores you, yells and slams on the door, pleading with whoever's in there to open the shutters.

     The group is just about to leave, Rick finally beginning to follow, before the doors open. It's bright and blinding, you cover your eyes to shield them. Everyone hesitates, but slowly begin to trickle in the open doors. It's dark inside the lobby of the building, empty and cold.

     "Hello?" Rick calls. There's a man there, gripping a rifle. You slowly move your hand to rest on your gun holster, your cop instinct kicking in.

     "Anybody infected?" The stranger asks.

     "One of our group was," Rick answers. "He didn't make it." The man seems to nod slightly.

     "Why are you here? What do you want?" He asks. Rick takes a breath before answering.

     "A chance."

     A blood test was the price of admission, the man's way of being positive no one was infected. The man, who's name you learned to be Dr. Jenner, takes you all down an elevator and into another, larger room.

     "Vi, being up the lights in the big room. Welcome to zone 5." You look around warily as the lights kick on.

     "Where is everybody? The other doctors? The staff?" Rick asks. Jenner looks hesitant to answer.

     "I'm it. It's just me," he says. Your heart drops to your stomach and your steps falter. As it turns out, Vi was just a computer. There's nobody, no doctors, no cure, no answers.

     "You ok?" Daryl asks. He's been sticking close to you the entire time.

     "Yeah, I'm good," you say. He nods unsurely and places a hand on your upper arm.

     "Come on, keep up."

     Everyone takes their blood tests. Andrea is last, and almost passes out afterwards. Jacqui explains how no one was eaten in days, and so Jenner leads everyone to the dining hall.

     Your group and Jenner all sit around a large round table. You eat and drink, the wine slightly numbs the feeling of doom you have in your chest. It doesn't completely rid it, however.

     But everyone laughs and jokes. Carl tries a sip of wine and everyone cracks up when he's disgusted by the taste. The boy you considered a nephew's smile helps you to feel something good. That, and Daryl.

     "Keep drinking little man. I wanna see how red your face can get," Daryl pokes fun at Glenn, and you giggle. Daryl catches your smile and gives you a little half-smile of his own. He sits down on the chair next to you, tipping— and almost emptying— a wine bottle into your glass.

     "You trying to get me drunk?" You ask, teasingly. He just shrugs and gives you one last little pour into your cup. You elbow him and he grins. Daryl looks especially handsome. Maybe it's the wine, or maybe it's the feelings you've tried to keep buried making themself known. Whatever it is, it makes you stare and admire him.

     Rick taps his glass and makes a toast to Jenner, and everyone follows. It breaks you from your trance and you glance at Shane, who's sitting across from you. He has a grim expression, and he's staring at you and Daryl with a look of detest. You roll your eyes.

     "Here's to you doc," Daryl says, popping open another bottle. "Booyah!" T-Dog and Dale copy his cheer and you laugh, leaning back and taking a large sip of your drink.

     Shane brings down the celebratory mood with his questioning, asking Jenner what happened with all the other doctors. Jenner's answer is just as much depressing, as he explains many other doctors decided to 'opt out,' as he put it. Everyone gets quiet after, and so dinner is finished off quickly.

     When everybody is done, the doctor leads your group to the living area where there's room for everyone to sleep. Jenner is talking but you're mostly tuning him out.

"Hot water?" Glenn's excited tone brings you back to reality.

"That's what the man said," T-Dog says, both of them sharing matching grins. You let your own slip at the thought of a nice, scorching hot shower. It seems everyone thinks the same, they all rush to their own room.

"Enjoy your shower Dixon, you need one," you tease. He grunts, turning away and heading into the nearest empty room with a bottle of booze dangling from his fingers. You can see the slightest smile on his face right before he closes the door.

You take the best shower of your life. The steam fills the small bathroom as you stand still, letting the hot water spray on you. You sigh happily, trying to forget the horrors of the world for just a minute.

You eventually turn it off, step out, and wrap yourself in a fuzzy towel. You get dressed quickly and decide to take a trip to the rec room. You had spotted a bookshelf when walking by, and you used to enjoy reading a lot.

You hear voices as you get close. You furrow your brows when you make out the voice, a panicked Lori. You rush to the door and push it open quickly.

"Get your hands off of me!" She yelps. Shane has her pressed against the table, his hand between her legs as she desperately tries to push him away.

"Shane!" You screech. You slam the door behind you, making your way to him in three quick steps. You grab the back of his shirt and yank him as hard as you can, using all the night you can muster to throw him to the wall.

He stands there against the wall, in a stupor with a hand to his scratched neck. It seems Lori took a chunk out of it, three long scratches are present there. She still leans on the table for support, shaking and terrified.

"What the fuck?" You say in a rage. The man in front of you was once your brother, but now it's like he's a stranger. His eyes are dark, his nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily. You don't recognize him. He tries to leave but you stop him.

"Y/N, just let him go," Lori pleads, her voice sounds teary. You glance back at her, and the distraction was enough for Shane to sidestep you and get to the door. He opens it swiftly and bumps into the doorframe on his way out, right before shutting it closed in a bang.

"Lori..." you say, walking up to her. She's still half-sitting on the table, tears in her eyes.

"Please don't tell Rick," she says. You sigh.

"He should know." She shakes her head vehemently.

"You don't understand, me and Shane were—"

"I know," you cut her off. "But that's not an excuse for what just happened." Lori puts a hand over her mouth. You walk over and grab her in a hug. She returns it, squeezing you tightly.

"He was just drunk," she says. You rub her back. "Thank you."

"Of course," you say. She pulls away and wipes her tears, taking a breath to compose herself.

"Please, Y/N, don't tell Rick," she repeats. You just nod. She nods back and leaves you alone, standing in the middle of the room.

Your head spins and you feel like you're in a nightmare. Like what just happened couldn't possibly be reality.

What would've happened if I didn't come in? Would he have raped her? No, of course not. It's Shane. He's my big brother, he would never do that to somebody.

You're reeling, struggling to comprehend the events that just took place. You're sure they'll be burned into your memory forever. You take Lori's spot, leaning against the table and rubbing your eyes. Hoping— praying— that this is just some awful nightmares cooked up from stress and anxiety. That you'll wake up, warm and comfortable and next to Daryl and—

Daryl.

That's who you need. Your best friend who despite being icy and snappy to everyone, always had a small soft spot for you. Who wasn't good with words, but always tried his best to comfort you. Who let you sleep in his tent when you were scared, even though you and everyone else knows how much he values his space.

The one who lately made your head fuzzy and heart skip beats.

You get up from the table and speed towards his room. You knock quickly, wrapping your arms around themselves. The air around you is cold, although your certain it's just the shock. Daryl answers quickly, a confused twinge to his brow and a liquor bottle hanging from his hand. You're quick to snatch it and take a sip.

"Want some company?" You ask. He shrugs but nods, moving aside to let you in.

     You sit on the small couch, waving Daryl to sit next to you. He doesn't, instead preferring to sit on the floor, leaning his back on the couch. He sits slightly to the side of you. If you move your left leg, it'll just barely brush against his shoulder.

     You take a big swig of the stolen booze, handing it off to Daryl once you had enough. He mumbles his thanks and takes his own drink of it before placing it on the ground. He leans his head back against the cushion, letting out a sigh.

     "I saw something I wasn't supposed to see," you say quietly. You don't want to think about it, but your mind is still whirling.

     "What did you see?" He asks. He tips his head back slightly more to look at you. You sigh and shake your head.

     "Nothing— I don't want to talk about it now." Daryl nods, slowly. He was never the one to prod, you appreciate it. You just want to forget, at least for now. Maybe deal with it in the morning, or maybe even the one after that. Just not now. You pluck the bottle from the ground and take a long drink before letting it hit the floor again with a thunk.

     The next moments pass in a comfortable silence. Daryl's eyes have slipped shut. He looks so content, comfortable, maybe the most you've ever seen the man. It seemed like he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but not right now.

     You're tipsy, maybe even more that tipsy. Almost drunk would be more appropriate. You feel the familiar heat under your cheeks, your brain slightly foggy.

     Even in your state, you can't help but admire the sleepy Dixon in front of you. You've always known he was handsome, but it seems over the course of the day, the realization of how handsome he is hit you like a freight train. But handsome wouldn't be the word to describe him in this moment; cute would be. Maybe even adorable, even if you'd never imagined the words 'Daryl' and 'adorable' would ever be in the same sentence.

     The temptation to touch him swam around in your sluggish head, and you can't deny it. You carefully, slowly pick up your hand, moving it forward until it meets his hair. You caress him softly, hoping that he's sleeping and won't feel it.

     Luck isn't on your side. Daryl opens his eyes and picks his head up, turning to look at you, confused and surprised. Your mouth parts but words refuse to come out. You think he's going to leave, maybe curse at you, get angry. He doesn't do any.

     He just stares at you. He looks startled, almost scared. Puzzled as to why you would touch him so softly. Like a loving touch was completely foreign to him.

     He doesn't move, and so you bring your hand up again. You move your hand towards him deliberately, slowly, although your fingers tremble slightly. Daryl looks like a cornered animal, fearful and confused. His eyes jump from your hand to your face.

     And then, your hand makes contact. Your shaking fingers card their way into his hair, smoothing down the ruffled strands. He relaxes after a few seconds, his eyes flutter and a serene look overtakes his face.

Abruptly, Daryl put a hand on the couch cushion, pushing himself up swiftly. He comes in close to you, his face barely an inch from yours. He stays that way, his teeth bite into his cheek, a nervous tick.

One hand stays rested in his hair, the other rises to his jaw. Your fingers stroke the scruff there. You bite your lip, nervous and anxious at what's to come.

It's like you're both in a trance. You stare into his eyes and it's like you have tunnel vision. The whole world falls away, the only thing that matters is Daryl and his baby blue eyes and the way he's looking at you. It's intense and intimate, terrifying.

Daryl moves impossibly closer to you, and suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp in surprise against his mouth, but take no time to return the passionate kiss. Your hands find purchase interlocked on the back of his neck.

Daryl's hands find their way to rest on your shoulders. They tremble and nervously skirt from your shoulders to the back of your neck, unsurely. His knee nudges between yours, resting on the couch.

You lean back, pulling Daryl forward to the point he's nearly on top of you, but not quite. His kisses become more feverish, his hand tousles your hair.

Your hands slide from the back of his neck to his chest, further down until they're fiddling with the hem of his shirt. One hand sneaks under his shirt, making contact with the skin on his upper hip, fingertips just barely grazing his back.

And then he flinches.

He pulls away from you like you'd burned him with a hot iron. His lips unlatch from yours and leave you reeling and confused. He takes quick steps backwards, breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" You ask, standing slowly and shakily. "Daryl—"

"Go," he says, face turned down.

"Daryl, I-I'm sorry, please—"

"I said go!" He yells, making you flinch. "Just fuckin' go."

"Daryl, please, just tell me what I did wrong." He looks up at you, an expression you've never seen on him before marks his face. He looks like a scared kid, conflicted and confused. A mix of emotions in his eyes you can't even begin to understand.

"Just fuckin' go," he repeats, lower, before turning his back on you and pacing. You nod jerkily, even though he can't see it, and swiftly make your exit.

     You slam the door to the room you had claimed. Your hands run anxiously through your hair before coming down and rubbing a streak down your face. You pace around, breathing heavily. Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your throat tightens and bobs.

What the hell just happened?

If your mind was spinning before, it’s absolutely whirling a million miles a second now. It seems your entire world was just flipped upside down. First Shane, now Daryl? Did you just lose your brother and best friend all in the same hour?

And what was Daryl’s problem anyway, he kissed you. Did you do something to make him uncomfortable? Was your hand sliding under his shirt too much?

Whatever it was, you’re sure yours and his relationship will never be the same. You’ll never look at your brother the same. Everything was crashing and burning. Maybe to everyone else, the world had ended when the dead began to rise, but yours had just ended tonight.

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

I dont know if your request is still open, but if it is can you make a young reader(maybe 25-26) and Re6 Leon, with reader as his new neighbour? Maybe with reader baking a "nice to meet you" cake or pie and give it to Leon after he came from a mission?

Thank you very much 😘

HI! i loved this and has to write it- i added my own twist to it and am TOTALLY thinking about writing a part two, depends on what you guys think <3

gn! younger neighbor reader x Re6 older leon

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

Warnings: none actually- yet. but it does switch between reader and leon perspective it should be easy to catch onto

word count: 1,141

“Get! Go!”

You yelled at the group of kids walking toward your neighbor's abandoned house. A sigh leaves your lips as you water the flower bushes in your front yard. Your eyes scanned his yard, frowning at the dead grass and bushes. You look around for a few seconds before you walk over to your hose, filling up your watering pot and carrying the heavy bucket over to his dead lawn. Your hand on your hip as you watered his dead flower bush, your hose that you had dragged with all your light watering at his grass. You’ve never once met him. He comes and goes so frequently that this is what happens to his yard. A dead lawn can make anyone spiral into a depression. You did this same thing every day for almost a month, waking up bright and early to care for his plants. This morning was supposed to be no different, coming home from your graveyard shift at the diner, the sun barely rising. Your hand reaches down to turn on your hose, but your movements are abruptly stopped when your head turns to his house, actually seeing a car in the driveway and the kitchen light dimly lighting through his blinds.

—————

Leon’s body was sore. And mentally, he was too, his eyes barely open as he drove down the street, his fingers impatiently tapping at his steering wheel. He couldn’t wait to lay down on a bed or even take a shower- did he even pre-pay his bills? The negative thoughts overwhelmed him as he pulled into his driveway, sighing as he stared at the garage door. Pulling his keys from the ignition. He stepped out of his car, admiring the soft blue sky. When his foot hit the grass, his eyebrows rose in confusion, looking down to see the beautiful green. Then he saw the bushes. He walked around the small perimeter, noticing the hose lying at the edge of his grass. He followed it slowly to see it led directly to your house. A soft “hm” left his lips as he walked up his porch steps, pushing through his front door.

————-

You couldn’t sleep- of course, you couldn’t. Your black work shirt is covered in flour. Since you got home, you’ve been working on making the best apple pie you’ve ever made. Your fingers were sticky from the homemade filling. After scrubbing your hands for the sixth time, you squeal in excitement as the timer goes off, pushing the oven mitts onto your hands as you pull it open, being smacked in the face with slight smoke.

“Perfect..”

You whisper as you lay the pie on the counter, your nail scraping over the crust. You hoped he liked apple pie or just pie in general. What if he hates sweets? You shake your head free from negative thoughts as you pull new jeans on and a pretty shirt to go perfectly. Swiping on your peach chapstick. You take a deep breath as you look in the mirror, looking down at your watch to see it is eight already. It was super early- maybe he wasn’t even awake. You groan to yourself as you pick up the pie, smiling at the small amount of powdered sugar on top. You walk down your driveway and the sidewalk. Your eyes scan the grass you nursed to health. When did you get to the front door? You stared at the pretty auburn wood, moving the pie against your right arm as you reached for the doorbell, pressing your finger against it softly. Twelve seconds, fuck, he’s asleep. Your body shifts on your feet as you sigh in defeat, turning and walking down the first step before the door creaks behind you.

“Can I help you?”

The deep voice bounces through your brain as your footsteps back, your body turning to him—a kind smile tugging at your lips as you hold the pie out.

“Hi, I'm your neighbor- I haven’t noticed your home in forever, and I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself..”

Leon’s eyes scanned your face, his eyes dancing over your lips and then down at your pie. God did he love pie. He meant to introduce himself, his mouth opening to speak but-

“You’re the one who’s been watering my lawn?”

You blinked at Leon, confused, as you stepped back a bit before slowly nodding, looking back at the healthy grass.

“Well, yes- My garden is as perfect as I wanted it to be, and I thought it would be a kind gesture..”

Leon’s arm leaned against the door frame, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. He looked exhausted, poor thing. He pushed himself off the frame, opening the door wider for you.

“Please, come in.”

You were surprised; you didn’t think he would speak to you. You thanked him quietly before you stepped into his door, looking around the house. Simple, no pictures on the walls, simple kitchen with essential appliances. You laid the pie on his counter before you turned to him, that gentle smile still on your face.

“It’s homemade. Hope you like apple.”

You speak as Leon walks to the kitchen, standing a few feet from you before he puts his hand out.

“Leon, and you?”

“Y/N, It's really nice to meet you finally.”

—————

Beautiful. Beautiful smile beautiful presence. Leon has always had to train himself not to see the evil in people automatically. How could he say no to you? Standing pretty on his porch as if he didn’t watch you baking in your wide-open kitchen window for almost three hours. He reached for his wallet, pulling out a couple hundred in cash, reaching his hand out to you.

“For the trouble of my lawn.”

Your laugh echoed throughout his kitchen as you shook your head, refusing to accept his money.

“Leon, I took care of your lawn as a form of basic human kindness. It was a great distraction for me. I respectfully decline.”

Leon stared at you, his eyes blinking in confusion as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“Here. This is my number. When you know you’re going out of town for work or anything, give me a call or just knock on my door. I’ll clean for you.”

You nodded your head as you wrote down your number on the small notepad stuck to his fridge. You walked past him, waving your hand.

“Bye, Leon.”

———————

It was the best pie he had ever had. Never has he finished half a pie in a single day. He could never sleep after coming home from missions; his body slumped on the couch as he peered out the window, dreading the disappointment in his chest at the sight of your car still being gone. But like magic, you pulled into your driveway. Maybe he liked the simple things in life, the simple things being you. He leaned over, his eyes switching the view to your still-open kitchen window, seeing you throw your purse onto the counter. He hummed to himself as he reached for his phone, dialing your number. Watching you smile as you reached for the phone, pressing it to your ear, following your lips as your voice echoed through his phone.

“Hello?”

Sweet voice.

“It’s me. I just wanted to thank you sincerely for the pie. It's definitely the best pie I've ever had.”

Leon chuckled as he stood up, tilting his phone as he held it to his ear with his shoulder.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, I'm a great cook, and I can make you whatever cake you want.”

Leon’s head nodded as he leaned against his counter.

“Do you want to catch dinner sometime?”

He wished he could see your surprised reaction from his position on the couch, but your stuttering spoke volume.

“If you want to come over tonight- I can definitely make you something really good.”

Leon smiled as he walked to his bathroom, looking in the mirror.

“You this sweet to every guy? Or are you just being nice because I'm old?”

Leon teased as he pushed his way out of his bathroom and to his room.

“Oh, Leon, stop it. I do respect my elders, though..”

You joked, your giggle making his heart race as he looked for a somewhat lovely shirt.

“Nine? I’ll start cooking now.”

Leon tilted back, looking out his bedroom window. to see you digging through your fridge, a smile growing as he nodded.

“Nine is perfect, I’ll be right over.”

[himbofan]

bungo stray dogs - meet cutes

hey guyzzz soooo here's my one piece of writing for the next 10 months 😛🩷

jk but fr it's hard for me to write anything consistently so thank you for bearing with me!!!! :3

i always appreciate all forms of support!! I’ve been having bsd brainworms for a couple months now so expect more ramblings at some point ok thx for reading BYEEEEEEEE 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

cw: gn reader, mention of cigarettes, reader has a cat, light stalking

characters: nakahara chuuya, fukuzawa yukichi, oda sakunosuke wc: 2600+

you’re the cute cashier who works the graveyard shift at my local convenience store and i'm always awake at odd hours - nakahara chuuya

Chuuya stifled a yawn and wearily checked his phone. The numbers [3:27 AM] glared back at him with an irritating brightness, almost mocking him for staying up so late. He sighed and pocketed his phone, glancing up at the sky which was still a deep indigo, the stars barely visible from the copious amounts of light pollution. 

He grumbled something illegible under his breath and pushed open the door to the nearest convenience store. The door jingled lightly, the smell of nondescript floor cleaner invading his nostrils as he stepped into the cramped space. 

“Welcome…” you called out wearily from the register, though you couldn’t see who just walked in due to the height of the shelves blocking your view. 

He barely acknowledged your existence at the opposite side of the store, instead choosing to browse the shelves.

He eventually made his way to the register, dropping a bottle of water on the counter before finally looking up at you. 

“And I’ll take a pack of Marlboro Golds.”

You glanced at him quickly while scanning the water and box of cigarettes, trying to take in as much of his appearance as possible without looking creepy. 

You hadn’t seen him before since starting this job a week ago, and he certainly was a sight for sore eyes. 

His hair was a fiery orange that fell in slight waves over his shoulder, with piercing eyes that made your heart skip a beat. 

You silently punched in your employee discount as he pulled out his wallet. Though it was only 10% off, he looked like he’d been from hell and back, and you felt strangely empathetic towards this stranger, wanting to make his night a little easier in the only way you could without getting in trouble. 

You finished the transaction and handed him the receipt, finally mustering the courage to look at his face again. To your surprise, he was looking directly at you this time, his eyes narrowed as he studied you. 

You quickly averted your gaze and hastily bowed, babbling out a customary “Thank you, come again”. 

As he left the building, he quickly scanned the receipt. His eyebrows raised a little as he saw the discount. Of course he would never need it with his cushy salary, but you had no way of knowing that. You simply saw him as a tired man who had a rough day, extending kindness the only way you knew how. The thought of a stranger showing him pity made his brow furrow, but he couldn’t deny how his heart squeezed when he remembered those kind eyes.

—

The next night, you were back behind the register, eyes glazing over while you stared aimlessly at the wall. The door jingled and you snapped to attention. 

“Welcome!”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the same handsome man from yesterday walk in. You fidgeted with your hair and nails trying to look more presentable under the unflattering fluorescent lights. 

He made his rounds and eventually came to the counter again, dropping his choices on the counter. 

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke. 

“Don’t do that again.” 

You gaped like a fish and internally panicked, mind racing trying to find where you had gone wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean…”

“The discount. I don’t need it.”

“Oh my apologies, you just looked like you were having a rough day and I wanted to try and make it a little better…I didn’t mean to insult you…” you rambled. You couldn’t hide the embarrassment on your face, cheeks and ears heating up rapidly as you felt yourself pinned under his strong gaze. 

He sighed, “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. I don’t need your charity.” 

‘…or for you to get in trouble trying to help me.’

You wanted to curl up and die right there, but instead you scanned his items and stuffed them in a bag, staring down at the white countertop and praying for the minutes to go faster so you could go home and scream.

Noticing your discomfort, Chuuya sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He finished the transaction and muttered a small “thank you” before dropping a small piece of paper on the counter. He immediately whirled around and headed out the door so you couldn’t see the slight blush tingeing his face and ears.

I’ll pay you back. Here’s my number.

 xxx-xxx-xxxx

You looked up in surprise but he was already out the door, the jingle of the doorbells signaling his departure. You smiled and blushed lightly, the fatigue from your long shift briefly alleviated as butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the thought of the handsome stranger. 

“Ah… I didn’t even get his name…”

you’re the owner of the cat i’ve been feeding because i thought it was a stray - fukuzawa yukichi

It was a relatively quiet day, the weather was nice and the streets were slightly less busy than usual. Fukuzawa closed his eyes and let the warm rays of sun seep into his tired skin, silently basking after a long day of being chained to his desk. 

His meditation was broken as a striped tail curled around his leg. Much to his delight, a friendly looking cat chirped and rubbed its face affectionately on his legs. His eyes softened as he reached down to let the cat sniff his hand, then softly pet its head. 

He swiftly took a small dried fish out of his sleeve and offered it, to which the cat excitedly accepted, purring up a storm as it crunched hungrily on the treat. His shoulders dropped slightly, stress and tension slowly melting away as he continued to admire the furry creature. 

The cat writhed on the ground, soaking up every ounce of attention from him as he continued to gently pet its fur. As if compelled by an unknown force, the cat suddenly shot its head up and glanced around, before running off into the bushes. Fukuzawa looked around for what could’ve possibly scared the cat away, but saw nothing. Slightly disappointed, he stood and returned to the office.

The next couple of days it came back as friendly as ever, and with an even more ravenous appetite for treats. Of course Fukuzawa was happy to oblige, showering the cat with affection and treats every time. 

“You have quite an appetite for such a small cat, don’t eat too many treats now.” he murmured, his stoic face unchanging yet there was a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

“There you are! You greedy little shit!!”

His respite was broken as an angry voice yelled out from across the courtyard. The cat seemed to instantly recognize the voice and immediately ducked behind Fukuzawa’s legs. 

You jogged up to him, slightly out of breath, and looked up at the man who your cat was using as a shield. He had a commanding presence, with sharp blue eyes and silvery wolf cut. Your eyes locked for a split second and your heart jumped, this dignified-looking man was certainly easy on the eyes to say the least. Clearing your throat and brushing stray hairs out of your face, you awkwardly waved. 

“Hi, that cat belongs to me. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble.” 

You smiled at him but glared daggers at your cat, who simply looked back at you. Though somehow, you could feel a smug aura radiating from it.

He looked down at the cat then back to you with a very slightly amused expression.

“No, she wasn’t bothering me. She’s quite sweet.” 

His voice rolled out deep and smooth, matching his serious appearance. He extended his hand down and your cat happily rubbed her face on it, purring up a storm.

“She really likes people, but that’s because she really, really likes food.”

You sighed and squatted down to attempt to grab your cat, but she ducked further behind the fold of the man’s yukata. You frowned and huffed but didn’t move any further, lest you’d be kneeling between this stranger’s legs. Fukuzawa noticed your discomfort and scooped up the cat in his arms, handing her off to you. You gratefully lifted your cat, accidentally brushing his large hand in the process which sent a small jolt of adrenaline through your body. 

“She’s not supposed to be outside but somehow she always manages to slip out. I feed her regularly but it doesn’t matter, she’s insatiable.”

Knowing the jig was up, your cat meowed in protest and squirmed in your arms.

“I mean how am I supposed to feel when my cat is going up to strangers and begging like she’s starving? She’s making me look like a neglectful owner to the whole damn city!”

You continued to ramble, before realizing you were venting your frustrations on this poor random man. 

He looked at you, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

“She looks healthy and happy, it’s obvious someone loves her very much.” 

You felt your face heat up as he reassured you, wholly unprepared for the praise from this stern-looking yet attractive older man. 

“Ah… well thank you very much for taking care of my cat.” You bowed politely. “Please let me pay you back somehow.”

He shook his head gently and tucked his arms in his sleeves. “No need, it was no trouble at all.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help you out in return, I insist.”

You rummaged hastily through your bag and retrieved a pen and a crumpled receipt, scribbling down your number and name before handing it to him. 

You were telling half of the truth; you really did want to pay him back, but you also wanted an excuse to see this hot man again.

“Ugh, I have to go, but please don’t hesitate to reach out. Again, thank you so much for taking care of her.” You bowed one more time before speed-walking down the street, indignant meows fading as you turned the corner.

Fukuzawa looked at the small piece of paper in his hand, tucking it in his sleeve as the faintest of smiles graced his face for a second. 

‘...cute…’

you ask me for help to pretend to be your boyfriend to scare off a creep - oda sakunosuke

You glance over your shoulder warily while pulling your jacket tighter over your midsection, walking faster down the street. To your demise, the shady looking man that started following you a few blocks ago continued to tail you despite taking several twists and turns to try and throw him off. Cursing under your breath, you opened the door to the nearest establishment and quickly ducked in hoping to find a place you could stake it out until he left.

You’d never been to this bar before despite passing it multiple times on your way home, but it was much nicer than expected. The narrow stairs opened up into a cozy bar, moody lighting glinting off of the polished wooden stools. The only patron was a rather tall man with reddish hair, sitting quietly sipping on his drink. 

Although he was a complete stranger, you felt as if this man was trustworthy. He exuded an aura of peace and safety that you desperately needed at this moment. 

Sheepishly you sat down next to him. He looked down at you curiously, about to ask why you chose to sit next to him when the whole bar was available, when the door opened again and the man who had been following you stumbled in. Your heart dropped and you turned to the stranger next to you, whispering rapidly with a pleading expression. 

“Hey so there’s a creepy guy following me, could you pretend to be my boyfriend? I’ll buy you a drink as thanks.”

Before he could respond, you faked a hearty laugh as though you just told a hilarious joke and put your hand on his arm flirtatiously, hoping that the creepy man was watching. 

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but you continued to smile and look at your fake boyfriend. Getting a better look at his face, you noticed that he was actually quite good looking. He had a slight amount of stubble on his jaw, but the rest of him was well groomed. His eyes were a gorgeous crystal-clear sapphire blue that gazed down at you stoically. You were close enough to smell his light cologne, it was just enough to be noticeable but not overbearing. Your fingertips felt searing where they touched his arm, and you prayed he couldn’t tell how hard your heart was beating. 

He glanced up at the man brooding in the corner, silently sizing him up with a stony face.

Even though he hadn’t spoken a word, his sheer size and intense stare sent a strong enough warning that the other man froze under his gaze. 

Your stalker stared at the two of you and muttered something under his breath, before heading back up the stairs and exiting the bar. 

Once you were sure the door had closed behind him, you breathed a sigh of relief and removed your hand from his arm. “Hey sorry for putting you on the spot like that, I really appreciate it, let me get you a drink.”

“It’s nothing, I don’t mind.” His voice was deep and rumbled like a thunderstorm, and it was very attractive.

“No please, I insist. Ah, I suppose I should introduce myself.” You bashfully offered your name and bowed slightly. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Oda. It’s getting pretty late anyways, I was going to head out. Do you need someone to walk you home?”

You smiled and nodded. “I would appreciate that, thank you so much.”

The walk home was a little awkward but not uncomfortable. Most of your attempts at small talk were met with brief responses that were followed by a long pause. You assumed he wasn’t much for conversation, but you detected no malice or annoyance in his voice. 

Eventually, you reached the end of your commute. Although you were relieved you made it home safely, you were a little disappointed that your impromptu date with this attractive stranger was coming to an end.

“Oh this is it, thank you so much again for helping me out…. oh right!” You dug out your phone from your bag, opened a new contact, and sheepishly handed it to him. 

“I know you said I didn’t have to pay you back but I really want to.” 

He took the phone and punched in his number along with the name ‘Oda’ before handing it back to you. 

“Thank you again! Have a good night!” You smiled brightly and waved at him from the entrance of your apartment complex, heart still pounding. 

He offered a simple wave in return, making sure you closed and locked the door before continuing on his way. He couldn’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of your smile for the rest of the night. 

dividers credit @/cafekitsune