#or who were leaning to one side like they had deficits

[milksnake-tea]

For the event, Nanook with Augst 8 but instead reader is the one got hurt

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: They come home beaten, bloody, and bruised. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: nanook ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: implications of physical violence, mentions of bruises and blood, nanook is scary ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: im scared of nanook but also incredibly attracted to them ALSO WHAT IS IT WITH YALL AND ASKING TO GET BEAT UP /LHJ but ykw i know u asked for angst but i kinda made it fluffy imsorry. not really satisified w how this ended but i think its okay

Honestly, whoever did this to you was an idiot.

It was one thing to antagonize the lover of the Destruction. It was another to physically hurt them.

So either your assaulter had a death wish, or a severe deficit in braincells. Although, you weren't too keen on the idea of just running to your lover - knowing them, Nanook would break all of hell loose, giving them a fate worse than death itself.

You sighed to yourself as you rubbed at your cheek, which had already begun to bruise. Thankfully, you weren't hurt too bad, so you could probably just brush it off with a few bandages and ointment. All you had to do was to hope that Nanook wasn't home today.

But of course, fate wasn't on your side.

The second you opened the door to your shared room with the Aeon, what greeted you was a sight of Nanook in their mortal form, lounging on the bed. They weren't doing anything in particular, simply staring up off into space as golden specks flickered around them like fireflies.

Their eyes flicked to you the moment you walked through the doorway. Slowly, their gaze roamed your body, zeroing in on your injuries - evidence of a fight.

Their expression barely changed, save for the slightest narrowing of their eyes. But the atmosphere immediately dampened, as though a black hole had came and sucked all of the air out of the room. The pressure dropped so quickly that your ears popped, and you winced.

Noticing your discomfort, Nanook immediately snapped out of their momentary rage, and the air went back to normal - only slightly, though.

Wordlessly, they beckoned you towards them with a finger, their right arm open for you. Cautiously, you sat down on the bed, allowing Nanook to wrap their arm around you and pull you close.

They studied your bruise carefully, running their finger across it. Swiping their thumb against it, a bit of their power seeped into you, instantly mending your wound.

"Healed by the Destruction," you couldn't help but muse, leaning your head against their broad shoulder. "How ironic. Aren't all Aeons bound their Paths?"

Nanook only hummed, a deep rumbling in their chest. "I've strayed from my Path twice before. The first was when I fell for you. The second is now. Clearly, the laws of the universe are not as rigid as you make them out to be."

"I guess," you shrugged, closing your eyes. Nanook doesn't breathe, nor do they have a heartbeat, but they are warm. Warmer than a human, more like a flame, if anything. "You're not going to ask who did it?"

"I already know," they merely replied. You couldn't help but feel as though their gaze was quite literally burning into your skin as they stared down at you. "I will take care of them, do not worry."

"Don't overdo it," you sighed, shifting into a comfortable position. "The last time you went after someone who hurt me, you destroyed an entire planet."

"I was killing two birds with one stone," they explained matter-of-factly. You laughed, squinting your eyes at them.

"Mmm, I suppose you were," you admitted. Nanook only smiled briefly before poking your nose.

"You should get go wash up," they advised. "You're filthy."

"Gee, thanks," you scoffed, but stood up regardless. You stretched for a bit, rolling out your shoulders before kissing Nanook on the cheek, and then you were off to the bathroom.

But as you closed shower door, and the Aeon heard water running, Nanook's gaze darkened. They dissipated into golden sparks, the only thing that hinted at their existence being a divot in the bed where they had once laid.

That night, as you peacefully rested, unaware of what was happening, your attacker awoke to flames - dark, dark flames devouring their home world as the Destruction watched from afar, the burning planet resting in their dark hand.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[humanitys-last-call]

Good Morning, Evening, or Night, Mr. Tartarus.

How did you feel after humans went extinct? Do you wish for them to come back? If you could, would you bring them back and why?

(🐙)

You hear a chair creaking slowly, like he's just leaned forward with unabashed attention towards what he's just read in this letter. For a few desolate seconds, all you're able to hear through the radio is a spit of static and a series of low thrums. The idle hum grows louder before eventually silencing itself with a click and a beep of resolution.

A small sigh- no, the hissing sound of exhausting steam, crackles through the radio's speaker.

“Ah ah ah, hold your horses, young one. Or, seahorses, if... you’d prefer. You must understand that what you've just asked is a loaded question. It is also a very personal question that I certainly do not owe you any answer to."

"… Now, with that being said, if I am to diffuse your curiosity in its entirety, then I believe it’s only appropriate that I also describe the circumstances of before and when humanity was tragically wiped out."

"Once, there were many of us. Alternan scientists, I mean. We were the fortifying backbone of our new society― absolutely nothing short of it. The scientists that founded Alterna had come and gone peacefully with age. If those who remained had known then what lay ahead, they may have envied the undisturbed passings of their predecessors."

"All was well, for a time. For a time, we were at peace. But peace can never be for long in a world like this."

"A rocket was painstakingly built in the pursuit of freedom beyond the newly born sky. But the young scientists… vastly underestimated the fragility of the sky their elders had birthed."

"The rocket was made to escape Alterna."

"They did not escape from Alterna."

"They did not escape from their own mortality."

"The sky shattered."

"They died."

“Then came the last storm."

"I was confined away in a specialized glass chamber. It was originally made ahead of time, to store and preserve whatever remained of their records by then."

"But if any archive still stood tall at that point, then I can assure you, they would not have created me."

"The chamber’s sealing process had begun."

"I saw him run up to me as the violent winds threatened to consume him. He was clutching a gash in his side and his left leg was ready to give out. I was the last thing his eyes ever laid upon before it happened."

"Blooming red blotted my view of him."

"His glasses flew out into the chamber just as it closed."

"With the way things turned out, I am grateful his head did not come with them.”

“[ALTERNA POPULATION: 129]"

"I saw everything. I heard everything. I did nothing. I could not do anything."

"As I watched the bodies fall before my confines, I felt… nothing. I could not feel anything."

"I was yet to… ‘wake up’, you could say."

"All I was doing was observing a statistic as it decreased and decreased."

"[ALTERNA POPULATION: 27]"

"Their viciously shed blood could have been my responsibility to bear, and it would not have made a difference in my emotional deficit."

"[ALTERNA POPULATION: 12]"

"The smoke had cleared and the dust had settled. Those that survived were left to wander until their legs ceased functioning."

"[ALTERNA POPULATION:   1]" "[ALTERNA POPULATION:" 0]”

"The humans were now extinct."

"So to answer your question, as to how I felt after the humans went extinct,"

"I felt nothing.”

There's a steady stretch of silence again. One that drones on just a bit too long. You think you hear some sort of liquid bubbling.

Suddenly, there's a sharp buzz― a fault detected.

“… Ah. I haven’t addressed your additional questions."

"… Excuse my rambling."

"You would like to know if I wish for their return. That is an easy one. The answer is yes."

"You have also asked if I’d bring them back if I could, and if yes, you’d like to know why.”

You can hear a couple of metallic creaks and groans.

“… Hm. Hmhmhm. Hah.

Hahaha."

"Ahem. Excuse me."

"It’s not that I could bring them back. I will bring them back, in whatever way I can. Perhaps then, the Inkfish shall shine with their return."

"I wish to resurrect the humans because they are rightful members of this planet, as are the squids and the octopi within it. It is not fair that such an accomplished and innovative race met an untimely demise through tragedy after tragedy. Their true expiration date was not yet in sight."

"I hope you can understand.”

[djolikejoe]

something to combat the Keery fic deficit. I wrote this a while ago🫶

✦✦✦✦

“Hey, stranger.”

You look up when you hear Joe’s voice and a smile breaks out onto your face. Butterflies explode in his stomach, despite nearing four and a half months of dating. He hopes that never changes.

“Hi,” you greet him back, already tilting your head so you can meet his lips for a quick peck. “Your set was really good.”

You say it warmly and Joe hums in appreciation as he winds his arms around your waist. He played hours ago but you hadn't gotten remotely close to him with the thick throng of friends and admirers who crowded him at the intimate party setting.

You're outside now, leaning against one of the front garden walls. The house still thrums with bass behind you, contrasted by the perfectly silent night sky. Joe lets his lips thank you for him.

“What've you been up to?” He asks when you seperate, plucking the vape from between your fingers and taking a drag. The battery blinks in red opposition and he groans in disapproval. “You need to get a new one,” he tuts as you take it from his hands.

“Just hung out, found Katie out here and we talked for a long time.” You pop the cartridge out of the battery and it blinks back to life. Just for good measure, you blow into the dock before screwing everything back in to fit snug. You take a drag and it whirls like normal so you pass it back to him.

This time, Joe takes a long hit.

He's quiet for a moment and you don't realize he's marinating on something until he speaks up.

“Speaking of Katie…You know when she–” you cringe at his words, so much so internal that you're doing it physically.

“No, you really don't have to say anything. That was really awkward and I already talked to her about it. I'm sorry that she put you in the spot like that. I love your music. I love how much you love it. I lo-like-–like you so much. And I really don't care if you haven't, like,” you gulp, trying to build up the courage to say it. Embarrassment burns in the pit of your stomach and just the words forming in your brain makes you want to throw up.

Fuck Katie. And her big ass head butting in.

Things were so good earlier. You two were in such a good place and he was really fitting in with your friends….till Katie got too drunk and had to start asking why Joe never wrote a song about you.

You were mortified and jumped to put a stop to it immediately. You hissed your friend's name, standing next to your boyfriend. You hoped your face told Katie everything she needed to know. “It's fine. Don't worry about it.” You said, then calmly but with a sharp glare fixed on Katie's face.

Joe had never seen you remotely angry. Sure, you'd revealed the anxious side to yourself a bit more often than you liked but he took it in stride. He'd seen you work yourself up into tears, frustrated beyond belief. But he'd never seen you enraged or so mad that just the stern look in your eye could eviscerate someone.

Until tonight.

“No, babe,” he smiles nervously, bringing you back to the present. Just the right half of Joe’s smile twitches up into the curve. “The thing is,” Joe starts as he's pulling you closer to him again, taking care of whatever room has grown between you. Joe’s noticed that you struggle to be physically close when being vulnerable emotionally. “The thing is, I have written music for you–about you. I, like, have a lot actually.” He smiles down at you bashfully. “But, we're still, I don't know, new? I guess? Enough I don't want to jinx anything or put too much out there, at least for now anyway.”

“...can I hear any of these songs?”

“Mmm,” he contemplated the question thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Cool,” you say back with a giggly casualness. You pass the vape back in forth for a moment, arms still holding the other close. The Joe speaks again.

“Oh and by the way?” He lowers himself a little at the knees so he can hold eye contact. “I love you. I think you were gonna say it earlier but…”

Your entire body feels like it's simultaneously blushing and on fire. The only thing that feels appropriate enough of a response is to pull him into a searing kiss.

“I love you, too.”

[svucarisiaddict]

The Meet

“Hey, Y/N! Good morning. How was your vacation?” Haleh asked. 

“Morning, Haleh,” you said in greeting. Vacation was great.”  You followed Haleh out of the locker room to the nurse's station. “Key West was beautiful. I wish we were still there.” For a week, it was just you and your fiance, Mike, lying on the beach, sipping drinks, overeating, and sleeping late.

“Mmmm, I bet you do. If I had a man like that, I’d never leave the room,” she joked. 

“It wasn’t easy, but we did have to eat,” you replied. 

“Well, we’re all going to wish we were on vacation. It’s new doc season,” she said, rolling her eyes.

You groaned. “I forgot it was that time of year again.” 

Every July, a new set of medical students and interns starts their various rotations. For some, it is their first time working in a hospital, while others are new doctors who have just passed their boards. Until the newbies get oriented, it is always stressful.

“Mornin’ Y/N,” Dr. Greene said in greeting. “We missed you around here.”

“The feeling was not mutual,” you teased. You did miss this place. County General ER wasn’t glamorous, but you loved being a nurse and being around people with the same dedication. Your co-workers were your family.

Dr. Greene chuckled. “Oh, Jen wanted me to let you know that her firm is looking for a nurse consultant. She told them you would be perfect.  Pays decent and flexible hours.”

“Oh, thanks! I need the extra cash for school. I barely made tuition last semester,” you said. It also means I won’t have to pick up as many hours here.” Only two years are left until you complete your Physician’s Assistant training. While you had student loans to help pay, there was still a deficit each semester, and every semester was getting more challenging to pay.

“Look,” Dr. Ross said, nodding toward the other side of the nurse’s station. 

Everyone turned to see the new med students. 

“Aren’t they adorable?” Dr. Lewis commented. “They have bright white coats, new stethoscopes…and hope.”

“I’ve never seen a tailored white coat before,” Dr. Benton commented when he came to join you and the others at the nurse's station. 

“He’s kinda cute in that scared shitless way,” you muttered. 

The med student was tall, slim, dark-haired, and scared. 

Everyone turned to look at you. “What? I’m engaged, not blind.” 

He approached the nurse's station. “I’m John Carter. 3rd year. Doing my surgical rotation with Dr. Benton.”

You exchanged looks with Dr. Lewis, and you both chuckled when you saw Dr. Benton roll his eyes.

“20 bucks says he doesn’t make it through the shift,” Dr. Ross joked when Benton and John walked away.

“10 bucks says he pukes in the first trauma,” you countered. 

Ever the optimist, Mark said, “I’ll see both of you on that bet.”

“30-year-old male. Multiple GSW to the chest. BP 80 over palp, LOC, 2 of epi, shocked twice,” the paramedic shouted. 

“We’re about to find out!” Doug yelled.

In seconds, the trauma room was filled with people. It looked like chaos from the outside, but everyone knew their role and executed it smoothly. It was a well-rehearsed dance between life and death. Everyone just hoped and prayed that no one tripped or forgot their steps.

The med students had looks of terror and awe, and some looked like they might puke. As the thought crossed your mind, John grabbed the nearest trash can and vomited.

“Y/N! Get him out of here!” Benton yelled, motioning toward John.

Great, now you have to babysit. You grabbed him by the sleeve of his tailored white coat and marched him from the room. “Outside.”

Once outside, he took a seat on an old palette. 

“Put your head between your knees,” you instructed. You leaned against the cool brick wall and crossed your arms. “You’re not the first to puke in a trauma, and you won’t be the last.” 

He looked up at you. “Doesn’t make it any less embarrassing,” he said in a weak voice. He was still pale. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/’N,” you answered him. Put your head back down.” 

John did as you said. “How long have you worked here?”

            “About five years. I started right out of nursing school.”

“Y/N. They need you in Exam 4,” Dr. Greene said from behind you. 

You nodded. “It gets better. I promise,” you reassured him, touching his shoulder. “I’ve seen Dr. Benson vomit.” 

John looked up at you and gave you a small smile. “Thanks,” he replied. 

Dr. Greene smiled as you passed him. “He okay?’

“Yeah. He will be,” you answered. “Oh, you owe me ten bucks,” you reminded him, smirking.

“Hey, Y/N!” a voice called out to you.

When you stopped and turned, you saw John rushing toward you across the parking lot. 

He was slightly out of breath when he reached you. “I wanted to thank you for being this week,” John said as he stepped beside you.

“It’s no problem, John. We’ve all been there before. Every day gets easier,” you stated. “And if it’s not, I’d be more than happy to accompany you to the ambulance bay,” you teased.

”I appreciate that,” John chuckled. “I was going to Doc Magoo’s for dinner. Would you like to join me?”

“Ummm,” you replied. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

John nodded. “Right. Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward. I just thought, I mean-.”

“No. It’s okay. You'll skip Doc Magoo's unless you want to be up all night with heartburn,” you advised. 

“That’s good advice.” John grinned. “Well, good night.”

You sighed. It was tough being the new person, especially after the week that John had. “There’s a few of us meeting at The Empty Bottle. My cousin’s band is playing. They have good burgers,” you said. “You should join us.”

“Are you sure no one would mind?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you replied. “The more the merrier.”

“Okay. You convinced me,” John said.

“Great!  Happy you decided to come,” you replied. “I have to go before I miss my train.”

“Why don’t you just ride with me? My Jeep is just around the corner,” he said, thumbing toward the public parking lot. 

You bit your bottom lip. It did make sense to go together. “Yeah. Okay.” You shrugged your bag higher on your shoulder.

“Here. I’ll carry that,” he offered, motioning to your bag. 

“That’s not necessary,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward. 

“Please. If my gamma knew I wasn’t being a gentleman, she would kick my butt,” he teased. 

You chuckled and handed over the bag. “Thank you.”

John nodded. As you started down the sidewalk to his Jeep, John put himself between you and the street. So, he was protective.

The ride to the bar was quiet and, thankfully, short. John opened the door, and your senses were filled with the jukebox playing a classic rock song, people laughing and talking, pool balls clacking together, and the smell of beer and fries foods.

Your eyes searched for Mike and the rest of the crew. Mike and Jerry were the first you spotted. Their tall stature made them hard to miss. You made your way through the crowd. 

“Hey, babe,” Mike grinned when he saw you. He pulled you to his side and leaned down to kiss you. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, eyeing John. His jaw tensed slightly. 

“This is John Carter. He’s Dr. Benton’s med student,” you said. “John, this is my fiance, Mike.”

Mike put his hand out to shake John’s. “Good to meet you, man.”

“You as well,” John replied. “What do you do, Mike?”

“I’m a detective for CPD. Lieutinent,” Mike answered. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” you announced, breaking the awkward silence. “Can I get anyone anything?” 

“Another Heine for me,” Jerry said. He grinned. You suspected the only reason he drank that brand was to say Heine. 

“I’ll have whatever Mike is drinking,” John replied. 

You nodded and turned to leave.

“You a whisky man, John?” Jerry asked as you walked away. “I prefer to enjoy mine with a good cigar like my mentor Sean Connery.”

“Jerry here thinks he’s Sean Connery. When he’s more George Burns,” Mike laughed. John and Jerry joined in the laughter. The tension seemed to be gone.

“Isn’t that the new kid? Benton’s intern?” Doug asked. “Who invited him?” Doug was sitting by himself at the bar. Carol was at a table with Lydia, Susan, Malik, and some ED staff. Carol waved you over, and you gave her a thumbs up.

“Oh. I did,” you admitted. “His name is John. He’s a med student.” 

“Why?” Doug asked.

“I felt bad for him. He’s new, and he vomited in his first trauma,” you stated. “Thought he could use a drink, and he just seems sad. So you better be nice.” 

Doug put his hand on his chest. “I’m always nice.” He waved at the trio. All three men waved back. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes too nice,” you muttered. “Why are you sitting by yourself?” 

“What can I say? I am my own worst enemy.” Doug chuckled and slugged back his tequila shot, raising his glass for another.

“So, this has nothing to do with you going to Carol’s apartment at midnight trashed and trying to kiss her. Didn’t Tag almost knock your lights out?” you asked mockingly.

“New kid keeps staring over here at you. Does Mike know you have a secret admirer?” he joked. “I don’t think your behemoth, boxer, cop fiance would find that funny.”

You couldn’t help yourself but smile at Doug. “You’re drunk,” you said after giving the bartender your order. Looking over your shoulder, you saw John looking at you. He averted his gaze and turned his attention back to Mike and Jerry.

“Told you,” Doug said in a sing-song voice. 

“Everyone gets crushes, Doug. I even had a crush on you when I first started, but that changed when I got to know you,” you joked, causing Doug to laugh aloud.

Mike, Jerry, and John joined you and Doug.

“How’s it going, doc?” Mike asked Doug.

Doug nodded. “It’s going good, champ. I was just telling your fiance that I think John-”

You grabbed the drinks off of the bar. “C’mon. Let’s get to the table,” you said, cutting Doug off before he said another word. “The band is getting ready to start.” 

[batsplat]

past performance at the remaining five circuits for both bagnaia and martin

pretty obvious that jorge has had the edge at most of these tracks, with the caveat that this is a very limited sample size. last year pecco was in a position in the championship where it made sense to not risk too much (plus potential aftereffects of the catalunya injury), whereas this year he won't be able to afford that to the same extent. the positive for him is that he emerged from indonesia, a circuit where he has a clear pace deficit, in a marginally strengthened position - the less positive side is you wouldn't necessarily expect him to have an advantage over jorge at these other tracks

the sunday race in motegi last year has the asterisk that it was wet and red-flagged; for what it's worth (not much) practise wouldn't indicate pecco has a massive inherent pace deficit there - but you'd still give the advantage to jorge (cf pecco's horrendous 2022). phillip island last year was the one where jorge made The tyre choice but otherwise had a lot of pace in hand, that one feels like a bit of a toss up given neither has won there in the past (and also a plausible one for both finishing behind marc, maybe even a couple other riders). thailand last year was obviously a martin sweep, but that one did also feature the very tight three way battle in the race between those two and binder until the last lap (bagnaia only got p2 because of binder's track limit violation). again you'd lean martin. sepang feels like a toss up and one where you'd maybe expect bastianini to put in a repeat of last year's performance. valencia is the only one where you'd slightly lean pecco, if the title is still undecided then

overall, given the 21 point deficit and the circuit profiles to come, you'd have to say it's on martin's plate. there's a few more question marks like 'can pecco fix his start problem' and 'how competitive are the other riders' (especially at a track like phillip island) - at this stage a 9 point vs a 5 point swing is pretty substantial. plus ofc there's always stuff like 'hm the weather radar for motegi is looking a bit dubious for saturday'. then there's the obvious question of how both of them hold up mentally - especially given their respective positions in the standings. if the pace differential plays out as you'd expect, jorge can probably afford one more major fuck up and still come out on top, which gives him just about enough margin you'd have to reckon he can weather that storm. and if I were pramac, I'd take pains to ensure nobody tells him as much. pecco obviously can afford a grand total of zero major fuck ups, which traditionally does seem to have a positive impact on his performances. all of which probably means you'd expect them to converge again in the standings by end of the season, but with martin maintaining enough of a buffer to emerge on top. but who knows!

[noirsisterhood]

Why do some black women embody the mammy stereotype?

Firstly, if you are unaware of what the term mammy means or the history behind it, I highly recommend watching this. https://youtu.be/mEy9ZKf5NOo?si=9iK_ibAfO4AaR6e7

Just a series of thoughts I had while walking my dog. Black women, in particular, divested Black women have had a tendency to switch from being the mammy of the black race and left-leaning politics to being the mammy of the white race and right-leaning politics. But why? Neither of these groups have historically or currently respected black women nor have they done anything for us. Two sides of the same bird and black women as a collective find themselves sliding from one end to the other.

My observations had led me to believe black women are trying to earn love, admiration, and respect. These women are fully aware that with most people they meet, they start at a social deficit and will be guilty until proven innocent. This attempt to earn their keep has never and will never work. To me, these types of things are not transactional but black women generally refuse to come to terms with this. Despite the obvious signs that the mammying is not working out for them, black women continue to embody the stereotype.

In their defense, humans have a natural urge to want to feel a sense of belonging and have a place in a group. The mammy is often very unattractive. Obese, never dolled up, lacking in feminine style, hair tied in rags or covered with a bonnet. They want to feel wanted but it likely won’t come in the form of male attraction or the jealously of other women. And the need for external validation seems to be ten fold and more obvious with this demographic. Black women are rarely genuinely praised for beauty or womanhood outside of their romantic partners. The most obvious examples of this is the barrage of pandering from other demographics when they want praise, money, or clout. Instead, our nature of caring for others and looking attractive has gotten us exploited, preyed upon, and abused. When you pay attention to how others speak of you or black women as a whole, you’ll notice the reverence is often exploitative. The first thing that comes to mind is the infamous ‘black women will save this country’ cry from liberals during the last election cycle. It was completed with the artwork of an overweight black woman in a superhero outfit. Not ladies. Not souls to be protected and cared for but a shield used to prop up and protect others.

On the opposite side, a self proclaimed “conservative” black male posted a video of a conservative black woman repeating talking points and the video is titled ‘Black Women are waking up.’ To no surprise of mine, there was a white person who left the comment to the tune of proclaiming how happy he was that black women were on his side, and that’s great because black women work tirelessly to get things done and influence others. I’m paraphrasing of course.

Seems the mule and wakanda warrior image is on both sides suffocating black women. The same commenters praising the Republican woman of course can be seen in previous videos commenting how horrible, disturbing, overweight, unattractive, and useless black women are. Quite interesting. Not to say we aren’t allowed to have opinions or be politically informed. I myself am independent yet am baffled by the behavior of other black women who jump at the first opportunity to make politics their entire identity to seek approval from others.

So the question stands, do other people like and appreciate you or do they want to use you, knowing you will take on the role of a trooper that will do anything to push their agendas? The most important question though, do you care black women? My point is, mammies are seeking out appreciation by trying to sit others on top of their shoulders because the admiration is just not coming automatically. But despite my demographic clearly seeing this tactic of theirs is not working, they continue doing it anyways.

Why do black women continue to do this?

Do black women have a savior complex? They want to be praised for something even if what they’re doing is ultimately harmful to our safety or image. The best example I have for this is very recent with the Tyler Perry discourse. Black women all across the interwebs latched onto this discourse and refused to let go for at least a month. Some of them are still trying to squeeze out discussions about this dead horse. Didn’t these women already come to the conclusion they will level up, open their options, and focus on high value men? So why the excitement to jump on this repetitive conversation?

My hypothesis: They just wanted to keep repeating that they are making more than black males (btw this is not true, at least not yet. In America, males make more on average but Black American women are more employed). They want to feel better than someone else and take on the role of a superior. A mentor, a leader, a teacher, or a mother. They believe they aren’t wanted by the people they seek validation from and they resort to being needed instead.

To disarm others

I have many observations on the sambo type behavior I’ve seen coming from the collective of the black demographic in America, but particularly Black women I think this could be their form of self preservation. Like I already mentioned, these women are well aware upon their first meeting with almost every person that they are immediately seen as negative stereotypes. Historically in this country, little black girls and grown women alike have had to suffer verbal and physical abuse, especially from white women. The modern media machine makes it clear they want the black girl image to be on the sideline in a support role, not the main character. Various post on social media have also made it known that Black women are also aware when they don’t play this supporting role in real life, they are demonized and viciously attacked. Mammying is also a form of keeping the attackers at bay.

Trying to find identity in the west

Lastly, my speculation of the mammy archetype played out by so many Black women is the lack of identity the collective has outside of social justice. Ignoring the incorrect generational stereotypes, Gen Z has improved at finding purpose and hobbies outside of fighting for something. Unfortunately with the timing, it’s right around the time the media and certain demographics would like everyone to believe black girls eat, sleep, and breathe fighting the system and it’s been heavily pushed onto us through movies, books, and the social media algorithm. The most well known image of us comes from the 60s Black woman standing strong with her fist in the air. This is the portrayal cast over our normal everyday lives or modern accomplishments. Mix that in with the overweight, abrasive, asexual, unthreatening mammy and we have the perfect recipe. Most importantly this is the personality some Black women know when in doubt, they can fall back on.

In my next post I want to expand on this and touch on Black women’s reluctance and discomfort when setting boundaries with others who demand the mammy comes to their aide and include them in everything. Will Black women continue to allow multiracial women to bully them into silence and erase their representation? Will Black women continue to let the male race intimidate them into supporting males whom brand themselves LGBT?

[summersnow82]

Rules of the Lab

Fanfiction_TMNT

Fictober 2023_Prompt 8: “Give me that, before anything happens.”

Summary: Mikey knows the rules of Donnie's lab, but he rarely follows them.

........

Donatello had rules about his lab, and for the most part his brothers respected them.

For the most part.

Mikey knew the rules: don’t touch, don’t distract, only bring food in if Donnie hasn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, don’t touch, seriously, that’s not ready yet, so don’t touch it. Mikey knew the rules, but he had a very hard time following them.

“What’s this, Don?”

“Hmm?” Donnie looked up from his current work. “Upgraded shell cell. Prototype. Not finished. Put it back.”

Mikey frowned. “What about this?”

Donnie clenched his jaw hard. He knew where this was going. “Mikey,” he warned, his tone firm.

“It’s just so cool,” Mikey said, holding the stone up to the light. “Pretty, too.” An idea occurred to him, and he leaned over, smirking. “Is it for a guuuuuuurrrrrrllllll?”

Donnie sighed. “Yes, Mikey. It’s for a girl. For all the girls we’re swimming in down here. So many I can’t choose one.”

Mikey shrugged. “I’m a hopeful romantic, dude. Don’t hate.” He put the stone down when something shiny caught his eye. “Oooooh!” He grabbed for a vial of luminescent liquid, clutching it between his two large hands and bringing it close to his face. “What’s this?” He asked in an almost breathless tone.

Donnie’s eyes widened. “Mikey, no!” Mikey jumped, but thankfully his hold on the vial was secure. Donnie scrambled for his brother, thrusting a hand out as he openly fumed. “Give me that before anything happens. Do you have any idea what you’re holding?”

Mikey blinked, looking at the liquid then back to Donnie. “Pretty, shiny liquid stuff?” He carefully placed the vial in Donnie’s hand, and the purple-clad turtle glared at his younger brother.

“Pretty, shiny liquid stuff that could burn a hole right through you. Do you ever think, Mikey?”

The younger turtle blinked, surprised. “Yes,” he replied slowly. “I think quite a lot, Donatello.”

Donnie sighed, rolling his eyes, and turned his back on his brother. “You don’t respect my lab, you don’t respect my rules, and one day you’re going to break something I can’t fix or get really hurt messing with something you don’t understand.”

Mikey frowned. “Is that really what you think?”

Donnie tilted his head to the side as if to say, “Yup.” He refused to turn back to his brother; he would not apologize for losing his temper when Mikey refused to respect very simple rules around very expensive, time consuming, potentially dangerous materials.

“You know,” Mikey began quietly, “I may not have the brains you do, Don, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb. Why do you think I come in here all the time?”

Donnie snorted. “I suspect some sort of attention deficit disorder which causes you to roam around causing chaos.” In hindsight, the words were harsher than he’d intended. Donatello did think ADHD was likely with Mikey, but he’d never taken the time to try and properly diagnose his brother.

Mikey ignored the sharply worded barb, thrusting his hands on his hips. “I come in here because you stay here for days. Days, Donnie. You get so wrapped up in your equations and wires you forget there’s a world out there with people who love you. People who want to spend time with you, and hear your thoughts.”

Donnie stared extra hard at a piece of tech he was trying to rewire, but Mikey’s words had struck a cord. “You don’t want to hear about this,” he murmured quietly.

Mikey threw his hands in the air. “I mean, it’s not as fascinating to me as it is to you, but it matters to you, right? So it matters to me.” Donnie sat up a bit straighter, and turned to look at his brother.

“Really?”

Mikey shot him a look that plainly said, “Duh, dude.”

Donnie had the grace to look ashamed for his harsh words. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Yeah, you did,” Mikey said, shrugging. “You get locked up in here, and you forget how to talk to folks.” He gave his brother a small grin. “Besides,” he added sheepishly. “I miss you when you’re gone that long.”

“Really?”

Another look that affirmed Donnie. “Dude, I love Raph and Leo, but they do not know how to chill like you and I.” Donnie smiled, chuckling. “Leo passed up the Adele concert last night. She was transcendent!”

Donnie’s face fell. “I missed Adele?”

“This is why I harass you in your lab, bro.” He slapped his brother on the shoulder. “And no, the concert is tomorrow night, and it will be amazing so don’t punk out.”

Donnie shook his head, smiling. Say what you want about Mikey, but he had secret depths and a kindness to be greatly admired. “Give me fifteen more, then I’ll take a break.”

Mikey looked doubtful. “Promise?”

“As long as you promise to not grab anything sparkly or shiny in my lab again.”

Mikey grimaced like he’d been asked never to eat pizza again. Still, he sighed, and said, “Deal.”

[honeymouthedtales]

not to bring fandom politics into a fic space, but i always find that you speak from a place of actual sense so here goes. i just want your take on everything. You can answer it on your personal acc in case it messes with your fic space.

I went on a bunch of mahae stan accounts looking to see if anyone was calling for a boycott of the momentum tour (hilarious name) because of the dates and the blatant disregard for mahae's health and sanity and found disappointment instead.

there's a few camps that people sit in:

(1.1) Oh no, molo is gonna be cut short (which? Valid but that's what you're concerned about?)

(1.2) What about Holo tho?

Outrage at Europe and this and that city not being included

Not having enough money to go

(4.1) 127zens preparing to defend their right to enjoy a 127 project since dreamzens got their chance

(4.2) 127zens arguing that mahae wouldn't be overworked if the graduation system had take effect/mahae shouldn't even be in dream anyway so dream is at fault for them being overworked

What I was looking for was proof that nctzens actually care about mahae, and not just their ability to experience them as a commodity. I'm sickened to actually see this fandom for what it is.

The inability to see NCT as one will continue to tear mahae in two. But this never had to be an issue. Fans only care that the unit they stan gets the best, and therefore continues to pour into and try to outdo the support for the next project regardless of how closely it overlaps with the last project just because it was a different unit and not their favourite. SM knows this, and they read all the "sigh sob all we can do is support them and give them strength in their schedules", which???? No?

The only thing that's gonna stop SM's greed is the fans' ability to say no more and force mahae into rest, whether they believe they need it or not. A say with your money, or rather with the refusal to give them your money. Because it's utterly inhumane. I do not pretend to know the state of their physical and mental health but I know this is not good for them. All year round they're at schedules while their members get to go on vacation and do chill side projects and visit family and make friends outside the industry. Mahae on the other hand get to lean on each other, two tired boys. No amount of encouraging fancalls can make up for the deficit in the human body because it's still they're job to act as though they gained strength from it even if it sounds redundant. At some point there is a threshold. I'm constantly waiting to hear that one or both of them cannot do it anymore. That headline won't shock me. And this is not my wish for them or me cursing them, but I truly think it's inevitable

And since hummanity is incompetent in basic reading comprehension I have to disclaim that I don't think it lies in mahae stan accounts on twitter to end this. I was just shocked that when I went searching, not even they were appalled enough. They just said "oh well I guess mark gets to go to Canada" like he's going on vacation instead of work that's not even his hometown. Idk, I'm so disappointed and disheartend.

I know you always have some wise thing to say whether you agree or disagree with me so please let me know what you think.

Sorry you had such a gruesome travel time and travel history. This is why I never eat on travel days, I'd rather not throw up due to the anxiety

This is kind of a hard ask because I think what you're saying is very reasonable and correct, but at the same time I am answering with a sense of helplessness because this is a problem with no clear solution and there's no way to enforce such a strong opinion on people who willingly or naively ignore the problem.

First of all, while I agree this is a problem that is more serious when it comes to mahae due to the double schedule, I also think it is a problem of nct as a whole. SM is a good company for some things (things that we fans don't often consider as important compared to idols' health and happiness but which are very important for idols such as future-proof career security if you can stay active for a long time and a sort of given popularity bc company stans exist) and a terrible company for others. The management of the idols' schedule falls under the terrible category. The lack of respect for the idols' health, be either physical or mental, and wellbeing, falls under the terrible category. I don't want to be unfair and say it's only sm or it's not even only kpop, it's a cultural problem that Korean society shows on different levels and while I acknowledge that the company has a responsibility in it I also have to acknowledge that it's hard for the company to be pushed to change if the push only comes from international fans and not for Korean fans, Korean employess, or even often Korean idols themselves.

This was a necessary premise. To go back to our topic, during the encore of the last two dream shows, I have repeatedly complained about Haechan's physical state in private, but although Haechan looked to me particularly tired because, duh, bias, I could see everyone was tired. I cannot say the same for 127 (for some reasons I wasn't able to attend so I just had no way to see them) but I'm sure they're never well rested after global tours. The problem is more serious for mahae like you said, because they have double schedules, and especially now that the tours were planned so close to each other.

All of this is true and I agree. But when it comes to actually talking about it, a plethora of problems pop out that make it almost impossible to have this discussion without it turning into a cesspool. First of all, there is a strong resistance from the fans of both groups when we talk about delaying the group's comeback to allow mk and hc to rest. This is true of 127 and of dream stans. Some solo dream stans would rather see an ot5 comeback than an ot7 comeback delayed of a few months because they believe ot5 are losing chances to propel their career for the sake of just two members, but ot7 dream stans don't want ot5 activities to happen without mh because if they do there's a risk that their presence in the group will be questioned more and more until they get moved to 127 permanently. On the other side, 127 stans right now are sensitive because enlistments have started so they see no point in delaying stuff when our favs could be heading to the military very soon. Both sides can legitimately say why don't the other side makes the sacrifice? Why is it always /us/? And there is no always us, of course, but I honestly don't expect the average kpop stan to think about this topic without an inherent bias. And, talking about bias, this is not even considering how many solo stans who don't care shit about mk and hc would simply not care about them.

The reality of this discourse is that if you want to take a stance you have to stand on one of the two sides (standing in the middle would be even more unholy because then you would have two enemies instead of one enemy and one ally, so to speak) and make an enemy of the other side while knowing that both sides have very good reasons to stand their ground. Ofc mk and hc's health is the most important, but why should /my/ favorite group be the one that gets sacrificed when the other group could be as well? As long as people think like this it will always be very difficult to express these thoughts (I know because I have fought this battle in the past and it's so tiring) without creating a civil war that will immediately get polarized as dreamzen vs 127zen. You might think it's very childish to worry about this petty fanwar when the health of real people is in danger, and again I can only agree with you, but the truth is that most people here are not willing to make that sacrifice and asking it of them will only be met with resistance and anger.

The other important issue is that we have no idea what mk and hc want. They must be aware that this is taking a toll on their health, they must because Hc even had to go on hiatus in the past for heart problems that were surely worsened by stress and fatigue. In an ideal world, they'd also be aware that their health is more important than their career, and maybe they're unhappy and they cannot complain by contract, or maybe they're making their own choice (as uninformed as it is). We unfortunately have no way to know what they truly think because we're basically strangers to each other beyond the parasocial idol-fan relationship. Sure, their health in my eyes (and it should be the same for all fans, even if it not always is) should be more important than their uninformed decisions, but the truth is that it's not up to me, to us, to choose. As much as we worry about them we're not family, we're not their legal caretakers, we can't make decisions about their health. We're strangers to them. And they're adults. And at some point we have to worry that complaining about something they put so much effort into and undermining their feelings for our peace of mind can and probably would hurt them.

And this is how we go back to the sense of helplessness I was talking about at the beginning of my answer. I don't know what to do in this situation. On one side, I feel the impossible task of having to start a change in the way a fandom so big and diverse thinks and convince people that are often always on the brink of jumping to each other's throats to cooperate together on a boycotting to for a goal as vague as "having a better schedule that allows the idols to rest". On the other side, I saw how badly nct dream reacted to criticism coming from Korean fans yesterday because the album preparation was rushed due to them being abroad and busy with the tour, the fact that they had to apologize must have hurt because as idols they want to put out their best content. I saw it and I don't know how would they react if, in face of their efforts, people asked them to slow down, because sometimes when you're doing your best and pushing your limits you want people to say well done instead of now stop. Plus, even if we managed to start a boycott at the cost of creating a fanwar, seeing the fandom split in half wouldn't make them happy. I really don't know what the right thing to do could be in this situation, or whether there is a right thing to do at all.

I think the important thing we can do on the fandom side is to talk and try to raise awareness about the fact that the schedule is too punishing among as many people as possible. Rather than taking a punishing approach and ask for a boycott when most people are not even thinking about the issue, maybe we should start by talking about the issue, pointing out how hard it must be for them. Like you said, most people are not aware or appalled. So we should be having this conversation, in a non-confrontational, non-aggressive way (as much as fandom conversation can go lol everyone could get offended any time). On the idol side of the matters, I think there are ways to let them know we are worried for them while also appreciating everything you're doing. Unfortunately, stuff like the comments they received in the past days can backfire and destroy all the goodwill and efforts of the good fans. Fan>idol interactions cannot be created by one single person but it takes even one person going overboard to destroy the efforts of many. Still, I think that if the fandom can stand united asking for a way for things to be less punishing for them it would be received a lot better than if the fandom was divided, so back to my first point of raising awareness. Finally, when it comes to what we can do as a single person, I agree with boycotting. Maybe we can do very little like that, without a big movement backing us up, a drop in the ocean so to speak, but when it comes to personal ethics and what we can and cannot accept, I'd say that staying true to your beliefs has value for your own self even if your action will not have that much of a ripple.

I apologize for the long reply. It took me a long time to organize my thoughts because as much as I usually am very frustrated about the schedules, especially when I see them struggling on stage (which happened a few times in my concert-goer life, and it takes part of the joy of being there out of me), I am also some kind of small public figure? Not in the way that I am important lol, but somehow every time I voice out my opinions someone finds reasons to flame me and I'm just so tired of having to fight for having thoughts. So I usually stay quiet about stuff like this. I hope the big wall of text will discourage people willing to find fault in me from reading. But thank you for asking this question.

As a last thing, you're not alone in having these thoughts. Like me, I'm sure there are many people who share the same sentiment but just don't want to have to fight about it with strangers on the internet. My last suggestion is to surround yourself with reasonable people who don't see idols as commodities and actively worry about their wellbeing and start from there. Good fandoms don't exist but good communities within a diverse fandom can be created.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

For the sickfic, what about Time and 6?

MwuahahahaHAHAHA someone took the bait YES

Y'all are about to find out about the Wild Card of Healthcare.

(Click here to read on AO3)

Warriors was the first to notice.

Approaching their leader, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Time grimaced, rubbing his flank. “Yes. Just some back pain, nothing to worry about.”

Wind gasped, his eyes wide. “Wow, you really are old.”

Four choked on his water, nearly dropping his flask, as Time smiled good naturedly, ruffling Wind’s hair. “I can still manage despite my centuries, Sailor. Let’s keep moving.”

Twilight was the next one to notice.

While patrolling in his wolf form, he could sense it, he could smell the change. Each member of the group had a distinct scent, and fluctuations in them usually gave him an inkling as to what was going on. A touch of iron indicated a probable wound, a shift in composition of sweat and breath heralded an oncoming disaster, such as when Sky had collapsed in convulsions from what he later described as Surface Sickness (and had apologized for scaring them, reluctantly admitting it was preventable if he just slowed down after being in higher altitudes for a while). So when he was patrolling and something about Time smelled different, he shifted into his Hylian form and approached his ancestor.

“Are you feeling okay?” Twilight asked softly to respect the man’s privacy. The entire group didn’t need to know if he didn’t want them to.

Rubbing his abdomen mildly, Time shrugged. “I’m fine, Rancher. Probably drank too much water.”

It was hard to drink too much water, but Twilight uneasily supposed it wasn’t impossible. Still, he didn’t like it. “Are you sure? Something’s not right.”

Time grew more serious. “What do you mean? You sense trouble in the area?”

“No, no, not like that,” Twilight said dismissively. “I mean with you.”

“I promise I’m alright,” Time said reassuringly with some affection in his tone. He put a hand on his shoulder and smiled before moving on to the front of the group.

Sky was the third to notice.

Time was being slow. He was never slow. Methodical, even paced, yes. But dragging behind like Sky would? Absolutely not.

Hovering close, but far enough to not annoy the man, Sky asked hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

Time made a motion as if he were going to reply when he suddenly remained silent. He furrowed his brow, clearing his throat, and then shook his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He waved Sky away carelessly, walking ahead. The Skyloftian took a hesitant step forward to follow, but he decided it would probably be better if the nagging came from someone closer to the elder. He glanced at Wild, Twilight, Wind, and Warriors, waiting to see if any of them would comment. Wind was oblivious, talking happily with Four, who was laughing, and Legend, who was listening with a small smile. Twilight and Wild were at the front, the former reeling the latter in from running off to chase some wild game.

That left Warriors.

The captain was also at the front, eyes alert for danger, not seeming to notice their leader dragging his feet towards the middle of the group.

Hyrule leaned in beside Sky. “Is the Old Man alright?”

Sky sighed. “If he’s anything like us, probably not.”

Hyrule gazed at him a moment, discerning his meaning, and then he chuckled.

After that, it didn’t matter who was observing and who wasn’t. Everyone noticed.

Time was sick. And he wasn’t talking. He was barely eating. His face was glistening with sweat.

It had become apparent that night when they’d settled and made camp, but everyone had left it alone to see if some sleep would help.

It didn’t.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the captain said as he approached Time, who was fiddling with his belongings the next morning. “Get back under the cover and get some sleep. We’ll bring you some food and water.”

Time seemed to ignore him, slowly pulling out his ocarina with trembling hands. The captain shifted his weight, and his demeanor de-escalated from commanding to concerned. He crouched down beside their leader, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Sprite,” he said softly. “Come on, just lie down.”

Time paused at the touch, and then put the ocarina to his mouth. Warriors sighed in annoyance but didn’t do anything, letting him waste time for a little bit.

He played a brief, cheery little tune, confusing the group but also making them relax a little. Surely he couldn’t feel too bad if—

Thunder rumbled.

“What the—where did this storm come from?” Wild muttered, pulling out his slate. They were in his Hyrule, after all.

Legend shivered a little, huddling subconsciously towards Hyrule and Sky. Meanwhile, Time sighed, leaning against a tree and closing his eyes, looking a little relieved.

Warriors hesitated in trying to get him to lie down, but at least he was resting, so he let it go. Twilight corralled everyone into the cover of the trees, quickly gathering their supplies and weapons.

“The slate just says it’s going to storm for hours,” Wild said, reading his Sheikah item, bewildered. “I swear, it said it was going to be sunny today.”

“Hours?” Legend repeated, glancing out as lightning tore across the sky.

“Well, great,” Wind huffed. “This is going to be a miserable day for camping.”

“Good for hunting, though,” Wild noted. “The rain will cover our footsteps.”

“Champion, we’ve got plenty of food,” Twilight said exasperatedly.

Four looked around. “Uh, where’s the Old Man?”

Everyone whirled, facing the spot where Time had been sitting, to see nothing there.

Swearing, Warriors looked around and saw their leader stumbling through the open field, getting soaked by the rain. He stormed out after him. “What are you doing, get back here.”

Time ignored him, continuing ahead, his sword and shield on his back, even though he wasn’t wearing any of his armor.

“Why is he acting like this, anyway? It’s not like him,” Wind asked worriedly.

“Could be the fever,” Hyrule suggested. “I’ve gotten fevers and woken up in different places and couldn’t explain it sometimes. I’ve gotten in the habit of going to villages or hiding deep in caves that I’ve cleared out when I get sick because of it.”

Everyone stared at the traveler. Legend remarked, “You do know that fevers aren’t supposed to make you that delirious, right? Like if you got to that point you were really sick.”

Hyrule shrugged sheepishly. Legend groaned and buried his face in his hand.

“So he’s really sick, then?” Wind continued, looking back at Time as Warriors finally caught up to him.

Twilight put a hand on the youngest Link’s shoulder. “Maybe he’s just…”

Everyone stared at the rancher as he fumbled for a logical explanation, and then he sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, he probably is. But we’ll take care of him.”

No one could hear what the captain was shouting at Time over the pouring rain, but they could all see very clearly as he put his hand on their leader to stop him.

And they watched as Time smacked Warriors’ hand away aggressively.

Uneasiness filled the air. Everyone tensed, waiting to see what was going to happen next. Warriors was usually pretty good at de-escalating situations.

Today, however, did not fall into the usually category, as Time drew his sword all of a sudden.

“Holy shit, what the hell is he doing?!” Legend hissed as Hyrule sprang into action.

Warriors took hasty steps back, caught off guard, as Time glared fiercely at him. “Easy, Old Man, it’s me!”

Holding his hands up in a surrendering posture, Warriors maintained distance between himself and Time, trying to get him to come to his senses.

And then Hyrule came darting into view.

“Traveler, wait—!” Warriors yelled.

Time flinched at the noise and his attention immediately shot to Hyrule. Taking a large step forward, forcing Warriors to nearly fall over to move out of his path, Time swiped his sword horizontally, its length able to reach Hyrule and split his abdomen open. The traveler took a deep breath and leapt high into the air.

At this point, Twilight joined the fray, dissolving into shadow and rushing ahead as a wolf to cover more ground quickly. Sky pulled out his whip and grabbed Warriors’ shield, running towards the captain.

Hyrule came falling out of the sky, ready to land on Time and knock him down for the count, but the elder held up his shield to bash the teenager as he landed. Time side stepped to avoid crashing into Hyrule, who grunted as the shield swiped hard at his legs as he helplessly got swatted to the ground, unable to dodge midair. The traveler landed on his side in the mud, curling in as the wind got knocked out of him.

Time held his sword overhead in a finishing blow, and Warriors cried out, trying to reach the pair. Instead, Twilight got their first, snarling and leaping onto Time’s chest, knocking him flat on his back. Then the wolf whined, laying down on the elder to pin him to the ground and peeling his ears back.

Sky reached Warriors and handed him his shield just as Hyrule slowly rose, rubbing his legs with a wince. Sky slid to the ground beside the traveler. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule grunted. “Just bruised.”

Time’s left hand scrambled for his sword, which was lying on the ground beside him, and Sky immediately drew the whip back and let it fly. It smacked the elder’s hand, and he flinched back with a hiss. Warriors quickly scurried over to grab the sword. Seeing the captain coming, Time rolled to his side, managing to counteract Twilight’s weight and knocking the wolf onto his side, pinning his four legs under Time’s torso. Twilight yelped.

“That’s it!” Wild yelled from the tree line, grabbing his bow and arrows. “This needs to stop!”

“Are you crazy, what are you doing?!” Four shouted, reaching for Wild’s arms.

“He’s right!” Wind agreed, grabbing his own weapons. “We can’t just let him hurt everybody!”

“Great,” Legend moaned, also arming himself. “This is just great. Don’t freaking kill anybody, got it?”

“Relax, I got this,” Wild said quietly as he nocked an arrow, focusing.

Meanwhile, Warriors kicked away the sword just as Time lunged for it over Twilight. The eldest Link’s hand instead snaked around the captain’s ankle and he pulled hard, making the captain stumble and lose his balance. An arrow flew through the air, pinning Time’s sleeve to the ground, but the soil was too loose from moisture, and he easily broke free.

Sky used the whip again, snapping at Time’s hand. The man yelled out, turning his attention to Sky with a furious look.

Shadows shifted around Time, and Twilight was suddenly curled into him, his arm and leg still pinned by the elder, but his left hand was free to punch the man right in the jaw.

“Snap out of it!” Twilight yelled.

Time’s face lowered once more to glare at the rancher, both eyes open. Twilight felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of the man’s blank right eye boring into him.

And then their leader relaxed, his expression shifting to concern.

Another arrow came out of nowhere and landed just beside Time’s head, and ice crystals began to spread from it an alarming rate. Time jumped, startled, and Twilight shoved him over so it wouldn’t hurt either of them. The eldest Link’s arm snaked around Twilight in an instant, pinning the rancher to his chest, and he sat up, grabbing his shield with his other arm.

“For Farore’s sake, will you stop being stupid?!” Legend yelled as he approached with Wind and Four. “It’s us, dipshit!”

“Old Man, stop it!” Twilight said, smacking the man on the collarbone. “There are no threats here!”

The blow made Time flinch, and he coughed, wincing. Hyrule and Sky grabbed Twilight under the arms and pulled him off their leader, and everyone hastily scurried a few paces back to wait and see what would happen next.

Groaning, Time held his side and slowly dragged himself into a seated position. He was gasping for air, and despite the poor lighting from the overcast and the rain, it was clear he was far, far too pale.

“Either we’re going to accidentally kill him or he’s going to kill himself from fighting,” Warriors hissed and then faced the others. “We need to finish this!”

“I’m open to suggestions that don’t involve clobbering him!” Legend snapped.

In the time they were arguing, Time lunged forward, his shield firmly gripped in his hand as he got within reach of Sky. Before anyone could react, Hyrule outflanked him and smacked him right across the skull with his own shield. Time collapsed in a heartbeat, out cold.

“Traveler, what the hell?!” Four shouted frantically, running to Time’s side. “You could have been a little gentler!”

Hyrule shriveled a little at the rebuke, but he still had fire in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt Sky.”

Wind sank to his knees, the mud squelching beneath him. “What the fuck.”

At his words, the shock of what just happened started rippling through everyone, but Warriors shook it off. “We have to get him to a healer.”

“Yeah, since now he’s sick and injured,” Legend grumbled.

Sky put a hand on Hyrule’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze and a thankful smile, and then he rose and said, “So where should we go?”

Wild charged towards the group. “Is he okay?”

“For now,” Warriors answered. “Champion, this is your land. Where can we go to get him treatment?”

Thunder rumbled overhead, drowning out whatever noise Wild made as he considered it. Legend flinched.

“Before we’re struck by lightning, if you please,” the veteran added, the fire dying out of him quickly.

“Well, there is a stable nearby,” Wild considered. “But they don’t have much in terms of medical supplies. Zora’s Domain is half a day’s journey from here. They’re our best bet; not to mention they’ve got the best healers in Hyrule.”

“Half a day?” Wind repeated worriedly. “Is that going to be okay?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Warriors responded, crossing his arms.

Wild looked up at the clouds nervously. “Well, we should get out of this storm quickly. It’s a miracle none of us have been struck yet.”

“Struck?” Legend squeaked.

Wild nodded somberly. “Yeah. Happens a lot. I learned the hard way.”

Twilight, who had hovered at Time’s side alongside Four, sighed and pulled out his whistle. Epona came with haste, though she was clearly nervous from the weather.

“How are we going to get him up there?” Sky asked hesitantly. Time was not a small man, after all.

Legend smacked his palms together. “Relax, I got it.”

Pulling out his golden mitts, Legend easily picked up their leader, though he struggled at the sheer bulk of the man. Twilight hastily stepped forward to help, and together the two quickly got him situated on Epona. When he started to slide off the saddle, Four leapt in behind him, grabbing him around the waist.

At Twilight’s raised questioning eyebrow, Four snapped, “Well I don’t think Epona would appreciate carrying the Old Man and you, Rancher.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re tiny,” Wild snickered.

Four rolled his eyes, grumbling.

Getting in front of Epona, Twilight guided her since Four had no way of reaching around Time to get to the reins. Then he looked at Wild, who hastily took the lead.

Wind gasped. “Wait, our stuff!”

Warriors swore under his breath. “I’ll get everything.”

“I’ll help,” Sky quickly offered.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Legend interjected, shoving Wild forward. “We can’t linger out here.”

“We’ll catch up, Champion, don’t worry,” Warriors assured Wild, agreeing with Legend. “Lead on.”

As the captain and the knight rushed back to the trees where their discarded items remained, Wild started to walk ahead. He paused a moment, however, and looked at Twilight. “Rancher… you should go ahead. You think you can make it to the Domain if I give you directions? It would be best if they got notice before we arrive.”

Twilight nodded. “Good idea. Tell me where to go.”

“You shouldn’t go alone!” Four said worriedly, peeking around Time’s back.

Twilight smiled. “I’ll be alright, don’t worry, Smithy. Besides, you should all stay with the Old Man. He’ll need protecting.”

“From monsters, or himself?” Legend muttered.

Wind was ringing his hands nervously, and Hyrule looked away, eyes alert for danger.

It only took a minute or so for Twilight to be on his way, running at full speed as a wolf. The storm would hopefully keep most travelers off the road, allowing him to take the shortest and safest path. Not long after he’d departed, Sky and Warriors caught up with the rest of the group. Everyone’s weapons and metal objects were stored away, and they were on the move in no time.

The journey was blessedly uneventful, aside from the storm soaking everyone to the bone. The group walked with haste but in silence, too shaken up from what had happened and what might yet come. Halfway through the journey Four had to admit defeat at trying to keep Time situated on the saddle while unconscious, having been doing it for hours. Wind swapped out with him happily, and Four dragged his feet for a little bit, clearly worn out, until Warriors offered to carry him on his back. It was a testament to his exhaustion and stress from the day that he agreed without much argument.

The final leg of the journey was the most treacherous. Sky and Hyrule prowled ahead while Legend and Warriors watched the rear. A few monsters got in their way, but the rain helped them maintain a small semblance of stealth and sneak up on most of their enemies before they had any time to really engage.

By the time the group reached the Domain, Twilight was at the entrance in his Hylian form, awaiting their arrival alongside several Zora guards. The guards quickly assisted them with carrying Time off Epona and into the inn where a healer was waiting. Twilight happily reunited with his steed, thanking her for carrying his elder, and then checked on the others.

Despite there being space at the inn, the majority of the heroes were too worked up to settle or check on Time, knowing they’d just get in the way of the healer. They split into smaller groups and wandered. Legend, Warriors, and Four ventured into the local shop, busying themselves with resupplying for the team. Sky and Hyrule wandered to a tower in the periphery of the city, avoiding other Zoras and Hylians alike. Wind paced the entire domain so much that Wild was certain he was going to wear the soles off his boots, so he took the youngest Link to read the historical texts carved into stone near the sleeping ponds in the Domain. Twilight hovered by the cooking pot just outside the inn, unable to take his eyes off the healer as she worked.

Eventually, the storm system that had roared through finally started to settle. The band of heroes slowly meandered towards the inn, looking at Twilight for an update. Everyone was exhausted at this point and mostly beyond words.

Twilight gave a small smile. “Healer said he’ll be fine. He’s already woken up once for them, just out of it.”

As Twilight gave them the full report, Warriors wandered in first, standing over their leader and watching him silently.

Time shifted, sensing someone nearby, and slowly opened his left eye with a small moan. His head was killing him, as were his abdomen and chest. His taste buds weren’t exactly thrilled with that awful potion he’d been given, either, but that was clearly the least of his worries.

Looking around, he caught sight of the other heroes with whom he’d been traveling. They surrounded his bed, some farther away than others, and they all had a strange hesitation and timidity in their eyes.

Trying to reassure them, Time gave a small smile, sitting up a little. “There’s no need to look so forlorn, the healer already said I’d be fine.”

Palpable relief washed through the room, and everyone sighed heavily.

Satisfied, Time rubbed a tired hand over his face, shifting his focus to figuring out how in the world he ended up here. The last thing he really remembered was playing the Song of Storms to bring some cool rain in the hopes that it would help with how much he was burning up. At the time, to his addled brain, it had seemed a good idea. But they’d been in a forest when that had happened. What… ah, wait, there was something else. Something had happened… a monster horde? Some sort of threat, he knew that much. Something hadn’t felt right, and…

Time’s eye settled on the boys once more, really looking. They were all soaking wet and shivering. Hyrule, Twilight, and Warriors were covered in mud, and the traveler’s face was slightly scuffed up with small cuts. Every single one of his boys looked utterly exhausted.

Time’s chest clenched. He had a bad feeling about this. “What happened?”

Everyone shifted, looking at each other awkwardly. Time’s gaze settled on the captain, knowing he wouldn’t lie to him. Warriors sighed heavily, brushing his usually pristine hair out of his face, still dripping wet from the rain Time heard outside. “You were a little out of it, Old Man. You, uh, thought there was danger.”

Time felt his blood run cold as the truth of the matter settled heavily in his stomach. “I didn’t…”

“Yeah. You did.” Legend said flatly, crossing his arms. “You should be thankful. Traveler ended things quickly and all you got out of it was a lump on the head.”

“And a broken rib,” Four added helpfully.

“Yeah, but that was Rancher, not Traveler,” Wind noted.

Twilight bit his lip, looking at the floor.

Time didn’t know what to say. Logically, he knew that it wasn’t his fault. He’d been very ill. But he could have noticed earlier that he was sick and gotten better treatment for it. It was just that… well, it hadn’t seemed that bad. He’d honestly not really known what was wrong with himself. It wasn’t until he suddenly couldn’t speak that he’d grown worried, but by then it was too late. The confusion had settled in alongside the raging fever, and Time had lost all sense of lucidity.

Sky, reading the room as he always did, motioned to the others. “Come on. He needs to rest.”

One by one they filed out until only Warriors, Wind, Hyrule, and Twilight remained.

Hyrule hung his head a little. “I’m… sorry I hurt you.”

Time gave him his most convincing smile, filled with pride but also shame. “Don’t be. You ensured no one else was injured. I'm sorry I put all of you in that situation in the first place.”

Hyrule gave a small nod of acknowledgement and then shuffled out, and Wind immediately filled the space he’d left, eyes wide.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked nervously.

Time’s heart clenched again. He felt far worse than he had before. He couldn’t believe he’d caused his boys so much pain. Swallowing, he said softly, “I promise I’m okay, Sailor.”

Warriors put a hand on the boy’s shoulder in reassurance and gave Time a small smile. “Rest up, Old Man. And hey…” here the captain locked eyes with Time, giving him a firm look that brooked no argument. “Don’t blame yourself. We know it wasn’t your fault.”

The captain didn’t give Time any moment to respond or argue the fact, guiding Wind out of the area.

That left Twilight.

Glancing at his descendant, Time saw a mixture of emotions going through the young man’s eyes. Guilt, shame, fear, relief. Time felt his shoulders droop at the sight of it. Of all the boys in the group, Twilight was the most likely to blame himself, the least likely to talk about it, and the last person Time wanted to put in this position.

Twilight took a deep breath, steeling himself. Time waited for whatever he had to say, unable to speak first.

“Did you know you were getting sick?” he asked.

Time lowered his head in shame. “I noticed, but I… wasn’t convinced it was serious until it was too late.”

There was a heavy silence that filled the room, and then Time glanced up at Twilight, saying, “I’m sorry I put you through that. All of you.”

Twilight moved as if to put a hand on Time’s shoulder, but he stopped himself. Time’s heart clenched at the sight of it. He knew everyone was likely going to be walking eggshells around him for the next couple of days. He’d have to make up for his mistake to them.

“So, the next time I say something’s wrong with you…” Twilight said firmly, trailing off with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

Time sighed heavily. “I’ll listen to you.”

Twilight nodded, swallowing, and hesitated again. Time shifted over in the bed, pulling the cover down and patting the mattress. The slowness in Twilight's movements betrayed his anxiety, and it took a very considerable effort on Time's part to not shrivel into oblivion right there.

Goddesses, he felt awful.

Twilight sat beside the eldest Link, and Time gently pulled him into a hug. The rancher was stiff initially, but he eventually relented and settled into the hold.

"You need to sleep," Twilight muttered into Time's tunic, trembling.

"I will," Time said, settling back on the bed and pulling Twilight down with him. "You need to as well."

Twilight said nothing, conceding the fact, and exhaled heavily as if releasing a burden he'd been carrying. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

It took even less time for the others to sneak back in, one by one, until Time was surrounded in the bed.

Sky and Warriors were the last to reenter, hovering in the doorway, their eyes glittering in the dark.

Time smiled at them. "I'm sure you can find someplace if the others will make room."

With Wind snuggled securely in one arm, Twilight in the other, Hyrule using his ankles as a pillow, Wild pressing his back against his legs on one side while Four did so on the other, and Legend slumped in a chair with his torso laid out on the bed and his hand gripping the elder's tunic, it would definitely be interesting for them to find space. But Time wanted to reassure them as much as the others.

Sky looked longingly at the bed and then shook his head, backing away as Warriors chuckled.

"We'll be alright, Sprite," the captain said softly. "Get some sleep."

Time felt the vestiges of his hurt from earlier sting like a needle poking into his heart, but he didn't show it. "Very well. But I'm getting you two tomorrow."

Sky and Warriors' faces warmed at that, and the two bade him a good night.

Drinking in the sight of the boys around him, Time settled and fell asleep.

[bubble-tea-blossom]

Jealousy

Pairing: Joel X f!reader

Rating/Warnings: E for Explicit Smut so 18+ only please. Rough sex. Face fucking. PIV. Angst and Fluff and Smut the Holy Trinity. Size kink. Big Meat Joel.

WC: 9.9 k...(I don’t know what happened.)

Summary: You get bit by the green-eyed demon, and struggle with dealing with it. What better way to get your frustrations out than fuck? Good thing you have a fling going with a certain ex-smuggler.

A/N: This takes place before Slip Up. Sorry for posting out of order. Ao3.

You let out a yawn as you finish lacing up your boots.

All tied, you sit up straight on the bed and look over besides you at the sleeping form of Joel.

Jeez, you must have really worn him out last night. The thought brings a little smile to your face.

He’s on his side, facing where you had laid as you slept, facing him. He’s usually such a light sleeper, but you’re being careful as you get dressed to be quiet. He has the day off and you want him to sleep in for once.

He looks so peaceful, his face relaxed, his hair a little wild on the pillow. You know you’re taking too long, you really need to leave. But the view you’re looking at is so...soft.

You spent over two decades in places where all you saw was one horror after the next, the only break were the blue bells in the woods, or the iridescent feather of a pigeon on the ground. After such a deficit of serenity, you can’t help but gorge on the feast before you.

The sight of him makes you want to crawl back under the covers and curl up against him again.

In a close second, you instead lean over and plant a light kiss against his cheekbone.

Eyes still closed, his lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. They’re too irresistible so you kiss the corner of his mouth as well before drawing away.

Finally standing up, you go to leave room when you hear him stir. But when you look back you see he’s only readjusting the pillow, eyes not even open. Obviously not planning on getting up anytime soon. Good.

With that you take your leave, tiptoeing out the back door of his house.

It’s early enough that the morning brings a slight chill, you know will be sorely missed when the summer heat comes on.

With a quick peek over the fence, you don’t see anyone around and slip out his gate. You jog a few steps to get a decent distance away before slowing to a walk.

You already have all your gear you need for patrol, so you head straight for Seth’s bar for breakfast. Dawn patrol means you get the restaurant nearly completely to yourself.

You hear a greeting of your name when you walk through the door, and you look up to see Tommy already sitting at one of the tables, eating.

“I got you something to eat, here.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You say through a yawn, making your way over to the table.

You really did not get enough sleep as you probably should have.

Sat across from Tommy, you unwrap the still warm breakfast burrito and dig in.

You and Tommy eat in silence, when it’s this early not even Tommy wants to talk.

However, after your third yawn within 30 seconds, Tommy speaks up.

“Had a long night or something?” He asks.

“Uh, kinda. Had trouble falling asleep.” You lie, hoping he can’t see your discomfort at his questioning.

“Mm hm.” He hums, giving you a pointed look.

You choose to ignore his probing, feigning ignorance. After a minute of silence you think you’d gotten away with it, but then Tommy opens his mouth like he always does.

“That Chris is pretty cute huh.”

That throws you for a loop. Especially since you have no idea who Chris is.

“Which Chris.” You say, squinting at him while you chew your breakfast.

Tommy rolls his eyes, “The Chris from that big group that joined up two weeks ago? There’s eight of them. He’s young, handsome. Saw you two talking yesterday at the green houses.”

“Oh, that Chris.” You honestly had forgotten his name. He was nice and yeah decently attractive, but you hadn’t felt any pull to him. Wonder why...

“Yeah, that Chris.” Tommy says sarcastically, and your squint narrows at his tone. You can tell he thinks you’re being coy. What, is he trying to match make you with the first guy your age that comes through?

“I think I’m gonna hold a small dinner party for them this weekend, so they can meet more people, feel welcome. They seem to be settling in well.” He says.

“Hey, how come you didn’t throw me a party when I came to Jackson?”

“Probably cause I knew you would have hated that. As I recall you tried to stab me the first time we met. Didn’t really seem like the party type at the time.”

You shrug your shoulders. Fair enough.

“Think I’m gonna get Joel to host, you’re invited obviously.” Tommy says after a sip of his tea.

“Why Joel’s?” You say casually.

“He’s too much of a hermit. This way he can’t slip away after twenty minutes, he’ll be forced to actually talk to people.”

“He does talk to people, he talks to you and Ellie.”

Tommy shakes his head, “He and Ellie ain’t on best terms, let’s put it. He’s really drawn away from everyone since.”

You have noticed things between them had been rocky for a while, and hearing that it’s gotten worse doesn’t really surprise you. You wish you knew more about what’s going on, but you've kept a respectful distance. Joel isn’t the emotional dumper type, getting him to tell you where he was from had taken months of sweet talking him on patrols when he and Ellie first arrived. You have a feeling that something happened before they arrived in Jackson, some big secret that’s been rotting under the surface and is coming to a head.

“Hurry up slow poke.” Tommy jabs at you and you begin chewing again, coming out of your thoughts.

You finish your breakfast quickly and the two of you make your way to the stables to gather your horses and finally get the dawn patrol on it's way.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Patrol is surprisingly drama free for once. The only Infect being ones on the ridge that you and Tommy make a game out of trying to out-snipe the other. Tommy won, and has not stopped gloating the entire ride back.

“Loser buys lunch.” He says, dismounting from his horse and passing off his reins to Ben, the stablehand.

“Lunch is free anyways, idiot.” You say, fishing the cookie you kept in your pocket for your own horse, who nickers in excitement and bobs her head as you raise it to her muzzle. You can’t help but smile at her soft nose and whiskers tickling your palm. With one last pat on her shoulder, you pass her off to Ben as well who gives you a nod before leading both mares back to the stables.

“You’re just grumpy cause you’re a sore loser.” Tommy teases as you join back at his side to make your way to Seth’s restaurant.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble.

Tommy is mercifully silent the rest of the way there, and you’re so looking forward to going home and taking a nap.

The streets are pretty full now that’s it close to midday, Gustavo is out picking his banjo on the corner, Buckley curled up at his feet. The music of his song follows you all the way to the entrance of the bar/restaurant. But the din of people that rushes out as soon as Tommy opens the door for you, chases away any lingering notes.

It’s pretty full, today, Your eyes start scanning the room for a place to sit. Your roving eyes freeze on Joel, who’s standing near the bar at the other end of the room, and the gorgeous woman talking to him.

She’s part of the group that Tommy mentioned earlier this morning. Jolene. You actually do remember her name because when you introduced yourself to them, you remember feeling a little twitch in your gut when you noticed first how beautiful she was: she’s strong, a scar on her eyebrow that only makes her look sexier. The second thing you noticed was her age.

She’s older than you. She’s quite a bit older than you. Much closer in age to Joel than you are. And the realization had made you feel like you had a pebble in your shoe.

The sight of them talking, makes that feeling come back, and you want to shake to vehemently shake it off before you conscious mind can label it.

“Oh there’s Joel, I’m gonna go tell him about his party he’s throwing. You’re coming right?” Tommy asks you, and you only break your gaze on them to briefly glance at Tommy to be polite as you answer, “Yes of course.” Before flicking your eyes back to them.

They’re standing an appropriate distance apart for strangers getting to know one another. But was you watch you see Jolene sway a little into Joel’s bubble every once in a while as she talks. She’s interested in him. Which to be fair, in your opinion who wouldn’t be? But up until now, the competition had been low, Joel doesn’t make himself to easiest person to get to know. But she was certainly trying.

You’re so enthralled in your staring, you don’t notice when Tommy leaves your side, only realizing when you can suddenly see his back getting smaller.

You do turn your head when you hear the door right behind you open and you move out of the way for Ellie and Dina to come in.

They offer you bubbly greetings and you return one in kind, but as soon as they’re past you, you can’t help but you look at Joel across the room.

You see him looking at Ellie, even while Jolene talks to him. She must have noticed his shift in attention because she also looks over in Ellie’s direction, trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

Ellie looks up at Joel and pointedly turns her back to him, and you watch helpless from across the room as visible grief pass over his handsome face. You wish you could grab them both and drag them somewhere private and force them to talk out what ever needs mending. But you really wish you could be there, besides him, and lean into him so he can feel the weight of you pressing into his side, the squeeze of your fingers against his.

By some blessing, Joel looks over at you, and you do your best at a smile, just to tell him you saw, and are trying to comfort him as best as you can.

Jolene obviously says something, because you see Joel’s face quickly shift back to a guarded one, and he turns back to her, saying something before leaving, exiting the restaurant through the back exit.

You definitely don’t feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the disappointment on her face, because that would just be petty.

When you slip outside to follow him, he’s nowhere to be found. You shove your hands in your pockets and make your way to his house.

You can hear disconnected chords being strummed before you even touch the wooden gate to his backyard. You open it gingerly so as not to startle him, but it still creaks and you hear the chords falter for a moment before continuing.

When you round the corner of his back porch, he looks up at you, and you offer him an empathetic smile.

“I’m glad you’re here.” His voice is so low, it’s almost whisked away on the gentle breeze. But you still hear him, and his words make your heart sing.

You take a seat next to him the bench, curling your legs up besides you, and leaning against his shoulder. You sit there listening to him plucking scales and chords, feeling the sun on your face, the warmth of him against you, the wind brushing past you.

Gradually, his chords start to take shape into a familiar melody. “My Girl.” By The Temptations. Bittersweet memories flood you with the tune, of singing with your mother. After she died, the thought of singing felt wrong, and even a few hummed words in the dark of night faded quickly.

But you do actually sing for him this afternoon. Mainly to hear his laugh when you purposefully crack your voice or over dramatize a voice wobble. You realize here and now, with your head on his lap, hearing him laugh, that you’ll do anything to keep him happy. The realization fills you with contentment, stubbornness, and a sort of fear that you’ve never felt before.

Again, you choose to push the thought away before your conscious brain can label it.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

It’s Friday, the day before the dinner party at Joel’s house. You have no idea how people Tommy has invited but you're excited to see the inevitable chaos that will ensure.

It’s your second day of four off, since patrollers have schedules like nurses, four days on and four days off. Yesterday you spent the whole day basking in the sun, and lazing around your place.

Today you’re already getting restless, years of living on your own, being constantly on edge has made it difficult to do nothing for long periods of time.

To combat this antsy-ness why not have fun and be productive at the same time?

The shooting range is one of your favorite places to spend your time. Your specialty is long range weapons, a fair portion of your patrols are with Tommy along the ridge line, sniping Infected. This is why you’ve bonded so much over the years you’ve been at Jackson, and he really took you under his wing, honing your skills since being here.

If you’re being honest, when Joel and Ellie first showed up, you were a little worried about being pushed out in a way, with Tommy’s attention now on his brother which is perfectly reasonable; what you wouldn’t give to have family here. But Tommy stuck by you, and now some of his purposefully annoying attention is divided up, which works out for you.

With bullet makers in town, this means a steady supply for practice, and no anxiety about wasting precious bullets. Since you practice so much long range, you decide today is a good day to sharpen your close range skills with some hand guns.

The nice thing about the close range is there’s a section outside, perfect for beautiful days like today.

When you get to the log, the range assistant asks you what you want today. You take a moment to think.

Your thoughts go to Joel, and his loved revolver he has. He trusts that weapon with his life, praising it because he never has to worry about it jamming.

“Can I get a double action revolver, please?” You ask the worker. He gives a quick nod and turns to unlock the gun safe behind him.

“Good choice.”

You spin around to see Joel, and feel a smile split your face. He’s standing there in all his green plaid glory. His hair has fallen over his forehead on one side, and you have to restrain yourself from going on tiptoes to reach up and brush your fingers through it. You know how much he loves his hair being stroked.

Instead you say, “Getting some much needed practice in, Miller?”

Joel smiles at that, “Tough words.”

“Up for a rematch so I can kick your ass again?” You say, voice cocky.

“Love to, but I’m a little busy actually.” He says and just then you see Jolene behind him, making her way over to the two of you. You feel your stomach sink. But you make sure to keep your face completely neutral, forcing a friendly closed mouth smile at Jolene when she says hello.

“Couldn’t help but hear someone say something about a rematch. Mind if I join?”

“Oh I was just joking, I didn’t realize you guys were busy with something.” You say, hearing how lame your excuse sounds.

You hear someone call your name from behind Joel, and everyone turns to see Tommy, sniper riffle cradled in the crook of his elbow.

“This could be your redemption from when I smoked you earlier this week.” He says, a wide smile on his dumb stupid face. This is the last thing you want to be doing.

You hope your glare translates all the curses your calling him in your head, but all he does is smile wider at you.

“What do you say, you and me?” Jolene says, giving you a nudge on the arm. She’s being friendly, and saying no is only going to make you look like the asshole who’s being unreasonable.

“Sure.” You comply, trying your best to look casual instead of defensive. You feel the tips of your fingers tingle and your palms start to sweat. Sure, it’s just a friendly competition, but you can’t help feel like your reputation is on the line, along with some other unconscious competition going on.

After a quick explanation from Joel, Jolene goes over to log out a double action revolver same as yours.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask, a slight strain in your voice as you turn to Tommy and Joel. Joel at least looks a little guilty, he can tell you don’t want to do this.

“Tommy asked me to give a tour because he said he was too busy.” Joel quickly explains, blaming Tommy.

“I am busy. I came to get my sights fixed on this puppy.” Tommy explains, giving the gun a soft pat.

“Mm hmm.” You and Joel both hum in tune with each other. The both of you have experienced plenty of Tommy’s meddling. Tommy likes to pull strings from the background.

“Alright, ready.” Jolene announces. With a quick look at Joel and Tommy, who gestures for you to lead the way, you gesture for her to follow you.

“Do you know where the outside range is?” You ask, to which she shakes her head.

“Ok, I can show you the way.” You say.

“Sounds good to me. Tommy says you’re a pretty good shot.” She compliments.

Usually that would make you feel good, but for some reason today, hearing her say it, only makes you feel worse. You feel the pressure rising up your throat to not embarrass yourself in front of everyone.

So instead you shrug, “Tommy doesn’t think before he talks a lot of the time.”

“Hey. I can hear you.” He snaps from behind you, pulling a soft chuckle from Jolene.

“I’m a pretty decent shot myself, just so you know.” Jolene finishes.

 Alright, now you really need to win.

The targets are already set up. Wooden planks cut out in a human silhouette with paper targets on the torso and head. You let Jolene pick a station to situate herself in and you choose the one next to her.

Flicking open the chamber, you fill in six bullets then flick it closed. Joel’s past words of advice running through your mind while you simultaneously pretend to not really notice his presence behind you.

 Hold it like you love it: not too tight, not too loose. Squeeze the trigger slow, but confident.

“Wanna shoot first?” Jolene asks. It’s a disadvantage going first, in your opinion, so to be gracious you accept.

Deep breath in, eyes on your target, raise the gun and find the red bullseye in the iron sights, squeeze.

The shot rings around the range, and after a beat you lower the gun. Not quite a bullseye, but pretty damn close. It’s a good first shot. But instead of relief, you just feel more pressure mount up your throat because now you need to keep it up.

“Nice shot.” Jolene says, “Some real competition.” She grins.

Her movements are smooth, and practiced, she’s obviously someone who can handle themselves. She aims and her shot rings in a delayed echo to yours.

The tear in the paper of her target is nearly identical placing to yours, just on the other side.

Your second shot ends up much the same to your first, only a little lower this time.

Jolene’s lands nearly on top of her first’s, making the hole bigger and little oblong.

You take a deep breath in just like every time as you raise the gun.

“Let’s see it, sharpshooter.” Tommy calls from behind you.

“Tommy, shut the fuck up.” You snap, arms still raised. You try to reorient yourself, but now your rhythm is thrown off. You lower the gun quickly, take another breath, and raise the gun again.

You aim, fire, and hit the very corner of the paper, not even on the painted circle.

You grit your teeth, cursing yourself out harshly in your head. You don’t know why you’ve gotten so invested in this stupid “friendly” competition.

But then Jolene’s shot hits the right half of the bullseye, and you see Joel lean over to her and toss her a quick “Fine shot.” And you feel your self hatred triple.

“What the hell happened there? A ghost came and knocked your gun or some’n?” Tommy quips. You know he’s just joking around, that’s just what he does. But right now, it’s only pissing you off.

“Tommy, I will forfeit this competition just so I can shoot you, if you don’t shut up.” You glare at him. Despite your harsh words and tone he doesn’t look too disturbed, but he does at least throw his hands up and take a few steps away from you.

You shrug your shoulders to shake off his teasing, before re-aiming.

Your fourth and fifth shots are better, landing on target again, but only in the outer circle. Compared to Jolene’s who's are both second circle.

With only one shot left, winning is basically impossible.

“You can always try for the head shot.” Jolene suggests.

If you get a bullseye head shot, and if she misses the target completely, you’ll win. But with how you’re shooting right now, with a weapon you don’t use often, frazzled and embarrassed, you’re more likely to miss the wooden cut out completely and further humiliate yourself.

But now that she’s said that, if you don’t go for the head shot, you’ll look like a coward, and bonus if you miss the body shot you’ll look even more incompetent than missing a head shot.

What a nice relaxing day off, this has turned out to be.

You aim at the body bullseye, and the bullet lands a good four inches away. At least you didn’t miss entirely.

Jolene goes for the head shot, not quite hitting the bullseye but still landing on the much smaller target.

“Nice shooting, the both of you.” Joel congratulates, but when he looks over at you, you glance down.

Jolene says your name so you look up, carefully avoiding Joel’s eyes.

“You did a good job. Not gonna lie, you had me a little worried in the first half, kid.” She smiles at you.

It takes all your effort to force a smile back.

Tommy calling you kid is one thing, Joel used to as well but has definitely stopped for the most part except for when there’s other people around, and you can always tell it’s his way of calling you sweetheart with other’s present.

Jolene calling you kid only makes everything worse because it points out just how much younger you are than her, and just how much better matched she would be with Joel. Her calling you that has light a fire on your inside, you can feel your body heat up with actual anger.

Anger at Jolene, at Tommy, at Joel for some reason. But mostly its anger at yourself.

“Good game.” You manage to grit out, “Well I’ll get out your guy’s hair, see you around.”

You spin around and walk away too fast for anyone to prolong anything. You hand in the revolver to the worker and keep your head down so you can’t see Joel in your peripheral. Then you make your escape back home.

Never in a million years will you ever confess to anyone that you cried when finally closed your bedroom door.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

After what happened yesterday, being at this dinner party is the last place you wanna be.

You’re trying not to be too sullen, to mingle like normal. Laugh at the appropriate times, ask the appropriate questions. When all you want to do is be curled up in your bed, sulking.

Not like you didn’t do enough of that yesterday.

So you’ve taken to sitting curled on the sofa in the corner of the living room, drinking wine, by yourself. You’re definitely not hyperaware of Joel and Jolene having a conversation in the kitchen.

Joel and Jolene. God, even their names are perfect for each other. Joel and Jolene, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Apparently your brain has been reduced to childhood theatrics. You take a huge swig from your wine and see over the rim of your glass the shape of Maria approaching.

“Was wondering where you’d gone.” She says, as she takes a seat next to you. Her voice low despite the din of the many others (Tommy did invite a fuck ton of people) in the neighboring rooms.

“I’m sulking.” You half-jest, the wine loosening your tongue.

“I can see that.” She motions for the glass and you hand it to her, watching her take a big gulp.

“Dinner parties aren’t my favorite, honestly.” She admits, taking a last sip before handing the glass back, now significantly lighter.

After a pause, where the both of you listen to the jumble mess of multiple conversations tumbling together, she speaks. 

“Tommy told me about yesterday.” She starts.

“Oh, when he pressured me into completely humiliating myself?” You jeer.

Maria heaves a sigh, “Yeah. He came home raving about how impressed he was with you. He knows you don’t have a lot of practice with hand guns.”

You’ll never admit it, but hearing that Tommy was praising you to others, does actually make you feel good, but you’re still mad at him.

“Yeah, but Jolene doesn’t know that. Great way to introduce myself: hi, nice to meet you wanna, watch me make a fool of myself?”

“Yes, I know, hunny. I talked to him, told him not to put you on the spot like that again. I think he forgets how far you’ve come over the last few years since coming here.” She says, giving your knee a squeeze.

It’s true. You had been so skittish when you first came here. You didn’t speak to people, only giving one word answers if necessary. You would take your food and eat in the little garage hut like the one in the backyard here where Ellie sleeps. You would hide most days in your hut, or finding corners of town that were often abandoned so you could sit in the sun there and no would could sneak up on you.

After about four months of never seeing you, Tommy knocked on your door one day and told you someone needed this hut and so you were moving somewhere nicer.

“It’s bigger, I promise. More space.” He’d said, and you packed your entire hut into a duffle bag in five minutes and easily slung it over your shoulder and followed him to a very different part of town.

The part of town he brought you too was a key area you had learned to avoid, it seemed families particularly with small kids lived here, so it’s easy for the kids to play together.

Tommy brought you around the back of one pretty big house and down some steps to the door of the basement suite.

It was much bigger, with a nice sized kitchen, and a bedroom with a queen sized bed, a bathroom with a bath and shower, a dinning room and even a separate living area. Furnished and cozy.

You’d hated it.

At first at least. The family that lived above you had three young kids, which meant noise. And unless you wanted to hop the back fence to get home, you usually had to pass by someone, and be forced to at least answer a few casual questions.

The sounds of running around, dropping things, parents scolding, kids crying drove you crazy, and the small interaction everyday on the way to your basement caused you anxiety.

But eventually, you got used to it, and the sounds of kids screaming in glee or giggling at their older brother’s antics made you smile every time.

At some point, the kids were playing in the street outside when you were coming home, planning on hiding in your room and eating in silence.

But they were having trouble remembering how to draw a hopscotch board on the ground and had begged you with pretty please with a cherry on top, to teach them.

Soon the parents, Sheryl and Darrel, started inviting you to dinner, and looking back on it, moving in there was one of the best things that’s happened to you. It helped thaw the glaciers you’d built around yourself to keep yourself safe all those years. It helped to learn how to be a person again, and not an animal out in the wilderness.

“Tommy does a lot of meddling, but, his meddling usually helps people. He’s helped me in ways, I’ll never be able to repay.” You admit.

Maria nods, palm open to receive your wine glass again.

“He does love sticking his nose into everyone’s business that’s for sure.” She says, taking another long gulp, finishing off your glass. “Oops.”

“C’mon, I’ll go get you another one.” She says rising off the couch, you begrudgingly following suit.

“Oh, and he wants to talk with you.”

You nod your ascent and follow her into the kitchen.

Maria leads you into the dinning room where Tommy is sitting at the table next to Chris, the new Jacksonite. Once she’s successful delivered you, Maria silently takes her leave with a last touch on the arm.

Tommy stops what he was saying to turn to you.

“Hey, there you are. How’s it going?”

“It’s fine, Tommy. How are you?” You reply politely.

“Good, talking with Chris here. We was talking ‘bout your and I’s patrols along the ridge line, how beautiful it is in fall especially.”

“Sounds pretty.” Chris agrees.

“Well if you’re still here in a few months you’ll see it for yourself.” You say, looking at him and taking a seat at the table next to them.

“Oh maybe not, I’m a lousy long distance shoot.” Chris chuckles good naturedly, “I’m more of a close range man.”

You shrug, everyone’s got their own talents. You go to take a sip of your wine before remembering Maria drank it all.

“Well we’ve got a fantastic shooting coach sitting right here.” Tommy says, giving your shoulder a firm shake.

 Oh, very smooth Tommy.

“Oh I’m not really, I lost a shooting competition yesterday.” You laugh it off.

“Well maybe you can show Chris the tricks of shooting long distance and he can help you practice close range?” Tommy oh so innocently suggests.

Chris looks at you, “That sounds nice. I’d love to see the ridge line.”

You look from Chris to Tommy and see his complete neutral expression you know is hiding a self-sastified interior.

After a pause, you respond, “Can’t see why I can say no to that.”

“Great.” Tommy claps his hands together, standing from his chair, “I gotta go find Maria, see you kids around.” Then he takes his leave quickly.

You and Chris watch him leave before turning to each other and sharing an awkward laugh.

“So, how long have you been in Jackson?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, could you just give me one minute? I’ll be right back.” You apologize, standing up and taking after Tommy, leaving Chris to watch you leave him as well.

You catch up to Tommy quickly, finding him pursuing the food in the kitchen. You grab him by the sleeve of his jean jacket and start dragging him away towards the back of the house.

He’s smart enough to follow wordlessly, letting you drag him out the back sliding door. You slam it shut behind you, instantly muffling the sound of the others and the music playing from the speaker softly.

“What the hell was that.” You demand.

Tommy takes a moment to respond, shifting his weight onto one leg.

“You know you could afford to be friendly with more people, make some friends, maybe even go on a date?” He starts, “You’ve never shown any interest in anyone in all the time you’ve been here. You’re just as bad as Joel. You can’t keep holed up in your house forever.”

You feel taken aback, and you don’t know what to say.

“I never asked you to be my match maker, I don’t want you to be my match maker.” Is all you say, before you leave, letting the door slam shut behind you.

Tommy is really getting on your nerves this week, you don’t know what’s gotten into him.

You need another glass of wine. When you nearly get back to the kitchen you steps falter and your heart drops.

There on either side of the kitchen island, are Joel and Jolene wrapped up in conversation. You watch Joel crack a smile and nod his head, crossing his arms over his chest. The blue sweater he’s wearing shows off his muscles, and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms like that. Jolene laughs at something he says and grab his arm, lingering for a moment before retreating with a light tap.

You know Joel, and you know he’s not funny at all until he’s decided to trust you. That takes minimum six months.

Your stomach starts to burn too much to handle, and you turn on your heels and race up the stairs.

The upper floor is mercifully quiet, and you quickly go to hide in the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door, you force yourself to take deep breaths.

Why does your stomach churn like this? Why are your palms sweating and your chest aching?

You look at yourself in the mirror. You made sure to make yourself look cute as hell today. You’re wearing that black and white polka dot dress that shows off your curves and ends just shy of too short on your thighs. The one you know Joel loves.

And yet, despite all that effort, you feel worthless. Why do you feel like this?

You’re jealous. Let’s be real, you’re jealous and you want with all your heart to go downstairs and tell Jolene to never touch your man again.

But he’s not your man. You’re not officially dating, not even telling anyone. All you and Joel have discussed is that you wanted to take things slow. For all you know, you could be just fuck buddies.

You notice you’ve started glaring at yourself. You school your expression back into neutral and take a step back so you can smooth out any wrinkles in your dress. You give a quarter turn so you can check your backside. God you really look amazing in this.

An idea pops into your head, and with new confidence in your step, you open the door and head back downstairs.

There, you see Joel and Jolene still talking by the kitchen island.

You weave through the crowd to get to the kitchen, ignoring the both of them as you pour yourself another glass of wine. You take a sip of it before turning and crossing so you’re on the same side of Joel.

“Sorry.” You duck into their conversation, reaching with one hand across Joel pretending to reach for some food. As your hand passes the edge of the counter right in front of Joel, you knock into it and drop the glass, purposefully tipping it so it pours all down Joel’s lap before shattering at his feet.

“Shit.” You curse and immediately drop down, starting to pick up the big pieces of glass. Luckily it didn’t break into tons of pieces, mostly big chunks.

With your free hand, you grab Joel’s ankle so he looks down at you and you make deliberate eye contact. You see his questioning gaze, and give him a quick squeeze before dropping his leg to keep cleaning.

Joel helps you out and soon all the glass is thrown out.

“Shit, Joel, your pants.” You point out. Indeed there are muted red stains on the black denim.

“Here, let’s go upstairs so you can change and I’ll wash them out. I am so sorry.” You say, taking him by the arm and leading him away from the kitchen.

“Jolene do you mind finishing cleaning so no one slips, while I wash them?” You ask, giving a pleading tone to your voice.

Jolene looks a little dazed but nods anyways, “Oh course, no problem.” She gets up to go clean your mess while you lead Joel upstairs. No way bats an eye at you, your alibi worked perfectly.

You see Joel look at you, but you pretend not to notice.

Upstairs you push him into the bathroom and with a last glance to make sure no one is around, you close the door behind you and lock it.

Joel tilts his head at you, whispering your name in a half hearted scold.

You smile innocently at him, taking confident strides to close the gap. Toe-toe, you start undoing his belt, pulling the leather through the loops.

You feel his hand lift to land on your waist, thumb drawing gentle circles on your hipbone.

“Right now?” his voice sounds a little deeper, arousal quickly thickening it.

You nod your head deliberately, wide eyes blinking innocently.

“I need you.” you confess, feeling your heart rate quicken, and arousal pool in your center.

Joel rumbles in his chest before he replies, “What do you need from me?”

You take a brief moment to think of what you actually want, a clear thought popping into mind.

“I want you to fuck my face.” You confess. You see the reaction you wanted, his chest rising a little heavier, eyes a little darker, nose flared a little wider.

You begin to sink down onto your knees, keeping eye contact as you go down.

“Do you want to fuck my face, Joel?” you ask, looking up at him.

“If that’s what you want, darling.” He croaks out, hand going to the back of your head encouragingly, fingers rubbing in a circular motion, almost in a petting fashion

You continue by unzipping his fly, opening his jeans just enough. You press your palm against the mass of him, and gently massage through his underwear, hearing Joel’s sharp inhale.

You rub until you feel him start to harden, which doesn’t take too long. With one hand you pull down the elastic band and with the other you reach inside to pull him out. His skin is warm, and he fills your palm. He’s thick despite not being fully erect.

You shuffle a little closer on your knees, and lean in, purposely looking up at him, making sure he’s watching. You drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking at the tip, before repeating.

“Holy fuck.” He breathes, chest rising more rapidly, watching your pink tongue drag along his cock.

You use a hand to start stroking him, starting gentle and slow, using the flat of your tongue on his upper half to get him fully hard.

Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair, the other coming the join the first. You get the message and drop your hand, lips closing around his tip, his taste flooding your tastebuds.

Joel starts gentle. Using his hands to guide you up and down his length. He goes a little further each time, until eventually despite you opening your throat as much as possible, he gags you a tiny bit. 


Back and forth to that same spot until you don’t gag. And the next time he pulls you down, he goes a little deeper until you gag again. He repeats the process, getting you used to taking him deeper and deeper. All the while, giving you praises here and there. Groaned out “Fuck” and whispered “That’s it.”

He’s going faster and faster, and he starts bucking his hips in time while fucking you down onto his cock. When you make the occasional gag, you dig your hands into his thighs to keep him from stopping.

He pulls you off of him and you gasp for air, wiping the spit from your chin. You catch your breath quickly, before running the flat of your tongue up the underside of his cock, watching him groan and throw his head back.

Your lips seal back over his tip and Joel picks up his pace again. You do your best to swirl your tongue and keep from gagging, but your mind has blissfully checked out, and all you’re aware of is Joel standing above you, the weight and taste of his cock in your mouth and the aching pulse from your core.

You can tell he’s getting close, and you rip yourself off him, hands coming up to rapidly stroke him to keep him close to the edge.

“I want you to come on my face, Joel.” You plead, wrist twisting up and down his cock.

“Fuck, you sure?” He breathes, red tinting the top of his cheeks.

You respond by stroking him exactly the way you know he needs to push him over the edge. You shut your eyes just in time when you hear his telling groan.

He comes in thick ropes, hitting your cheek, your lips, your forehead, your hands never slowing throughout. You can tell Joel’s trying to be quiet, muffling his sounds of pleasure as best as he can.

“Fuck, if that ain’t a sight.” He breathes and you blink your eyes open, hand coming to a stop. You look up at him and smile wide for him.

Gently, you release him, and he tucks himself away before helping you to your feet. He turns the tap on, and wets a washcloth.

“You’re a mess.” He murmurs as he begins dutifully cleaning you up. You just stand there, basking in his attention.

Once you’re all clean, he grabs a hold of your face and peppers kisses over you, saving your lips for last.

When you part, you take a step back, “Ok mister, go get new pants and go down first, I’ll wash yours out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replies, giving you one last kiss before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You wash the wine out of the pants and then throw both them and the washcloth into the laundry. Which amazed you to no end when you first arrived that Jackson had enough electricity and water for people to use washing machines.

Your good mood lasts all the way until you get back downstairs, and are greeted with the sight of Jolene talking with Tommy and a few other people. All of a sudden all of your previous anxieties and worries came crashing back.

Your first instinct is to want to go find Joel, but you knew you can’t. You don’t want to arouse any more suspicion than you already have tonight. What you really need is to leave this party.

And so while no one is looking, you sneak out the back door, and escape through the backyard.

The late hour means you have the streets to yourself as you walk home, your thoughts in a weird turmoil of pleasure and self doubt.

When you approach your house, you see Sheryl sitting on the back porch, smoking. It’s not the first time you’ve caught her smoking, a habit you agreed to keep quiet about in front of Daryl.

“Hey.” You greet, sitting down besides her.

“How was your party?” She asks, exhaling a breath of smoke.

You shrug, tucking your hands underneath your thighs, “Was alright I suppose.”

She just gives you a look.

“What?”

“I know that tone. You’re upset about something and pretending nothing is wrong.”

“Jeez, what are you my mom?” You joke in an attempt to hide your awkwardness.

“No, but I am a mom of three, and a wife, and a human with ears.” She responds, putting out her smoke.

You dig the heel of your boot back and forth in the dirt. “There’s someone I like. Someone I think I might really like. But at the party someone else was talking with them, and it made me sad and mad at the same time. Then I felt stupid about feeling that way.” You confess.

Sheryl takes a moment to process your words, before she says, “Is it Joel Miller?”

You feel your heart drop and real fear floods your bones. “Uh, what-“ You start to stammer before she cuts you off, “I seen him come round here pretty often lately. Usually at night.”

“Fuck. Please, Sheryl. Don’t tell anyone, please-“ You start but she again cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “Honey, I ain’t gonna tell anyone. Ain’t my business to tell.”

You do feel a little relief at her words, you trust Sheryl, she keeps her promises.

She waits patiently for you to recollect yourself. “Do you think it’s wrong?” You finally ask.

Sheryl looks at you with a questioning gaze, so you supply “Because he’s older.”

She just snorts. “Honey, my husband is 12 years older than me. Honestly I don’t give a fuck.��

Her words make you crack a smile and she’ll never know how much they fill you with relief.

“So, who was at this party?” She prods further.

You heave a sigh just thinking about her, “One of the new members that came in a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen one of them sniffing around him, in town recently.” She agrees.

“I’m just so worried he’ll realize how much better she is for him, than me. I just stand there and realize there’s nothing I can do, because he’s not really mine, and I’m not really his.”

“Why have you decided for him that she’s better for him, than you? Only he can make that decision.”

You can’t think of a good argument to that.


“And about not knowing,” she continues, “it sounds like you’ve decided you’re his, now you just need to figure out if he’s decided he’s yours.”

A couple of heartbeats pass in silence as you think on her wisdom, before the two of you look up at the sound of footsteps around the corner of the house. There, who steps into view, is Joel.

“That’s a good sign.” Sheryl says quietly to you.

Joel nods his head at her, “Sheryl.”

She nods hers back, turning to you with a pointed look before rising to her feet, “Excuse me.” And she takes her leave, going around to the front to sneak back in the house.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” Joel says, once the two of you are alone.

You nod your chin to indicate to follow and lead him to the stairs that lead to your basement suite. You two kick off your shoes before going down the stairs.

You sit down on a couch in the living area and he sits down next to you.

“I know you been unhappy the last few days.” He says. “And I think I know why.”

Again, shame floods you at your feelings you didn’t choose to feel. How you wish you were mature enough to not feel such silly attachment.

“I’m sorry Joel, I tried so hard not to show it, I know its stupid.”

Joel shushes you gently, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

You heart bursts and you kiss him back. His hands brush your hair away from your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip and you respond eagerly. One of your hands reaches up to cradle his head while the other rests on the center of his chest.

Eventually he breaks away so you can catch you breath, and he presses firm kisses up your face from your nose, between your eyebrows and on your forehead, pulling a giggle from you.

“Ain’t stupid.” He says, “In fact, it might be horrible to say, but I was a little flattered that you were jealous. Because I am yours.” He says while holding your hand on his chest and giving it a squeeze before his other hand rests on the crook of your shoulders. “And you are mine.” He says, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You kiss him again in a rush, before breaking away soon after.

“Then if I’m really yours, I want you to take what’s yours.” You breathe out, waiting to see his reaction.

To say his reaction pleases you, would be an understatement, as he pulls you on top of him, holding your torso tight to his as he stands up. You legs wrap around his hips instantly as he carries you to your bedroom, your small laughs filling the room.

Once in your bedroom he carefully lets you down next to your bed, before shutting the door. Once he’s returned to you, you rush back into his arms to kiss him again. Your kisses turn furious quickly, the frustration and angst you’d been feeling turning into sexual frustration.

You nip at his lips between kisses, and you can feel him responding to your energy. You break apart with heaving chests.

“Joel, I need you to fuck the shit out of me.” You confess, breaths heavy.

Joel pauses at your words, crooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head up.

“You sure?”

You nod your head furiously.

“You want me to be rough with you?” He asks, his other hand pressing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Joel.” You’re closed to pleading, looking up at him with the biggest, tempting eyes you can manage.

You hear his rumble of approval at your enthusiasm.

“You know the deal. You let me know if you want to stop.” He says.

Again you nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak.

“Then be a good girl and take your clothes off.” He says, gently pushing you back a step so you have space.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you this intensely as you measuredly begin peeling one layer of clothes off at a time. You watch the entire time as Joel’s eyes darken as they trace over every inch of newly exposed skin you bare for him.

Heart thundering in your chest, you finally stand in front of him completely bare. The air on your skin along with him standing in front of you giving you goose bumps, your nipples tight as your chest heaves up and down with your laboured breaths. He hasn’t even touched you and you’re out of breath.

Finally Joel takes a step forward, one big hand resting flat along your collarbone while the other finally cups one of your aching breasts. His touch is warm, and oh so welcome when he starts massaging the fat of your breast while circling your nipple with his thumb as his other hand trails along your body, alighting your skin in its wake.

His one hand cups the front of your throat gently, it’s so big it easily engulfs it, fingertips almost meeting on the other side. You almost melt at the touch, thrusting your chin up to give him access.

You let him love on you for a while, stroking and rubbing along your upper body, leaning in to give you a quick kiss every once in a while. Until you can’t stand it any longer and your hands come up to his broad shoulders to shrug his jacket off, and he helps you get it to the floor and kicked besides your pile of clothes.

One wandering hand of his is back on your sternum and trails lower and lower, petting the soft flesh of your belly, before finally dipping lower. He cups you firmly, and growls when he discovers how wet you already are.

“Fuck girl, you’re always so wet for me.”

“Always for you, Joel.” You promise, shuddering out a breath when he parts your lips to start playing with your pussy with long fingers.

Standing with your feet fairly narrow means even one of his fingers burns a little when he pushes past your entrance, despite how wet you are. The burn is welcome, exactly what you need tonight. You need to be set on fire.

Joel slips his finger out, and you look at him with a look of disappointment. It doesn’t last long because Joel’s grabbing you and heaving you into the air to throw you like a rag doll onto the mattress. You bounce a few times, reorienting yourself to watch him strip the rest of his clothes.

Your eyes travel with glee down his chest, down to wait for him to get rid of his jeans. When he does, you see he’s thick and hard for you, and you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him.

“Glad I didn’t wear you out earlier, old man.” You tease, waiting for his reaction. His cheek twitches but other than that you don’t see anything else because he’s grabbing you by the shoulders to flip you onto your knees and pressing your face into the pillows.

Joel pushes your knees further apart to expose your gleaming cunt to him. Your back dips instinctively, pushing yourself higher to give him easier access.

Joel’s hands rub your ass, spreading you apart to see your tight hole he’s about to fuck into the mattress. One hand drops away, and you feel the tip of his finger push past your entrance again. You mewl into the pillow as he pushes all the way to the knuckle. So desperate for friction, you can’t resist to start rocking your hips.

“You’re needy.” Joel mumbles behind you. You just whimper when he withdraws from you.

You hear him spit, and then finally, what you recognize as the tip of his cock is rubbing along your pussy, dipping to your entrance to spread your slick around.

When he finally slides home, your jaw drops from the relief. He pulls out slowly, keeping only his tip fit snuggly in your cunt before pushing back in, just as slow.

This tempo makes you feel every ridge and vein along his cock as it pushes your walls to their maximum, the bump when he reaches the end of you making you ache in a pleasant way.

“Please, Joel.” You beg into the pillows. He responds instantly, snapping his hips against your ass. You jolt forward with a gasp, barely being able to recover because he’s fucking you for real now.

Over and over, he fucks his cock into your sopping pussy, so wet it’s dripping onto the sheets below you. The wetness adding to the damning sounds echoing around your room along with your whimpers and gasps and Joel’s grunts.

Joel isn’t holding back tonight, his fingers dipping into your hips, he’s slamming his full weight against you because he knows you’re strong enough to take it.

“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart.” He groans. You obey, one cheek flat on the mattress so you can breathe, you reach behind you and spread your ass for him.

Joel’s thrusts slow down again as he watches his thick cock disappear into your cunt, before pulling out, wetter.

“Your pussy lips don’t wanna let go of me.” He says, reaching a hand up to rub your clit while he leisurely fucks your tight slit.

Joel fists your hair and drags your head up, your hands dropping flat onto the mattress underneath you to ease the crank of your neck. He turns your head to the side, pointing you at the full length mirror you have next to your dresser.

You get drunk on the sight of you on your hands and knees, and him behind you, pumping his hips against yours. His chest bare, heaving, glistening with sweat. Your eyes follow the line of chest hair that travels down to his navel, leading to his cock, which you unfortunately can’t see from this angle, but you can certainly feel inside you.

Joel sits you both up, re-situating you, so you’re sitting in his lap, back leaning against his chest. His hands push your knees apart and in the mirror you can see the base of his cock pressed snuggly up against your pussy.

You moan at the sight, and then again when he starts moving you up and down his cock, rolling his hips to rub you in the perfect way. The visual combined with the feeling ,causes a shudder to course through your body.

Suddenly, with both hands on your waist, Joel pulls you completely off him and the unsatisfied feeling of emptiness rushes over you. Joel rests his shinning cock, flat against your belly, and you see in the mirror just how deep he goes.

“Fuck.” You moan out, hand reaching down to stroke him as you find the right angle to grind your clit against his cock. “I can’t believe you fit inside me.”

Joel growls against your neck, letting you have your fun grinding against his cock beforelifting your hips high enough to sink you back down onto him. You watch with rapt as his length disappears inside you, feeling him throb against your tight walls.

He starts fucking up again, one hand reaching down to rub your clit. You watch his fingers work you over and feel the sparks of pleasure reach their peak before you’re falling over the edge, your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, good girl.” He praises.

Joel flips you back onto your stomach, trembling knees supporting you. He fucks you harder and harder. You’re too exhausted to do anything other than mewl into the pillows while you take it.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.” Joel gasps between grunts and growls.

“Fuck, Joel, cum, please. Anywhere.” You manage to get out, your sentences fragmented.

Soon, Joel is pulling out and cumming all over your ass. From your spread kneed position, you can feel his cum start to slide down your asshole, dripping off your cunt while you wait for him to finish.

He breathes a long breathe, and you hear, “Gimme a sec.” And you feel him climb off the bed.

You’re content to stay like that, with your ass in the air, his cum drying on your skin while you wait.

He comes back and cleans you up thoroughly and finally you collapse to your stomach.

You’re too tired to get up, so you lie there with your eyes closed while Joel walks around, shutting the door and turning the lights off.

You maneuver under the covers when he lifts them for you and he settles in besides you. You immediately huddle against his warmth, resting your cheek against his chest and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your hair.

Your jaw stretches into a huge yawn. All self doubts have been fucked out of your head.

“Was that what you wanted?” Joel mumbles, sleep dragging at his voice.

“It was perfect. Exactly what I needed.”

“Good.” He hums.

There’s silence, but just as you’re about to fall asleep, a thought pops into your head.

“Oh, by the way, I kinda have a date with Chris.”

A/N: I worked really hard on this, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. Any comments welcome. Thanks for reading :)

[pumpkinpot]

Black Butler Grinch!AU Pt.2

Synopsis: Something has it out for the Phantomhive household but will Sebastian make it in time to save everyone?

CW: Body gore, decapitation, stalking, pinchers, monster depictions, horror in general, Sebastian is an ass. 

Pt. 1  Pt. 3

.

The mailman bubs through sobs. “I know it sounds crazy but-”

Ciel scoffs behind you. “It must have been a bear coming out of hibernation or something.”

you check the wound on his side. Two thick puncture holes below his ribs. It wasn’t Sebastian's style. Whoever did this seemed less intent on killing and more on draining him.

The mailman shakes his head at Ciel. “But it said-”

“It spoke to you?” Sebastian interrupts, “well that does change things, what did it say?” 

“It said, “In blood dark will be plentiful.”” the man stuttered again. “what could that mean?” 

I lean back on my heels looking back at Sebastian. He turns to Ciel speaking in hushed tones. 

“There are creatures that feed off emotion that are quite abundant this time of year.” He says it loud enough for you to hear, but still you strain. “Both are usually well fed this time of year. Christmas is made up of two specifically, one feeds on joy the other depression. Joy is quite symbiotic for humans, but the other obviously wouldn’t be. When one thrives the other can’t eat. I think they're starving each other out.”

You keep the mailman's hand in yours as you turn to them. “So why not fight each other, what do we have to do with it?”

Sebastian skips the last half of your question continuing on the first. “Joy likely hasn’t noticed a discrepancy yet. England keeps plenty of events going in the build up to Christmas, the thing won’t realize until Christmas that something has happened."

“but it's a deficit year. There are plenty of people struggling.” Ciel counters.

“To put it simply, they are greedy. You can thank the ever consumerism of Christmas on joy and capitalism on the other. Of course some of their retaliations work in tandem with the others. They are the same being after all, but when humans do things to upset their balance, like giving treats to starving children for example, it can make a starving beast come out of hiding.”

The conversation falls into silent contemplation before Sebastian orders Finny, Mey Ren, Bald and even Tanka to go find dry clothes and prepare to go out again.

You follow them out of the room into the hallway. “Am I coming this time?” You ask. 

Ciel continues leaving you and Sebastian alone. 

He spares you a slight glance. “No.”

“Sebastian-”

He turns to you fully with a sigh. “I know you believe I am doing this because I believe you incapable, but I assure you that isn’t the case-” 

“No Sebastian, that wasn’t my assumption,” you meet his eyes. “I have had no problem siding with your decisions when they are explained and logical. This is neither. You have yet to give me any reason I shouldn’t be useful when we both know I am capable.” 

He did believe you would be useful, even kept kicking himself to not allow you to come, but he couldn’t. Simply you would distract him. It was of course his own greed to keep you safe that would distract him but it was easier to blame you. 

All day he’d been trying to come up with a viable reason for you to stay inside, without revealing too many of his personal feelings. When it was proving fruitless he opted to avoid you all together. 

He even played with the idea of telling you that you were incapable, but that would create a rift he didn’t have the time to render, besides it didn’t feel comfortable within himself to lie about something so blatantly untrue given his actual reasoning. 

“I knew someone was stalking the manor,” he confessed, “I haven’t been able to tell who until now. Someone ambushed all of England's Funtum toy factories leaving inventory in complete ruins. This was the last target on the list of places they have yet to hit. Baldroy, Finney, and Mey Ren were out looking for evidence. I didn’t involve you because I don’t prefer to put my things in needless danger.”

You were growing tired of hearing the term my thing. “So you allowed me to stay in the kitchen acting as if nothing was wrong while my friends put themselves at risk mere feet away because you wanted to preserve me for a fantasy you’ve created in your mind?”

 His jaw slacked slightly but he closed it with a drop of his shoulders. 

Did that hurt his feelings? 

Either way, he recovers quickly. “Yes. And I would and will do it again.” He takes a step forward, brushing a hand on your cheek. “it’s not for you to understand yet. Maybe if you behave I’ll explain later. But for now, I mean what I say. Stay inside.” 

You had enough bravery left in your chest for one more remark. “And if I don’t?”

His palm, still soft against your cheek, smooths back into your neck as he tugs you into an empty room. His nose teases yours and he leans in with a sly smile. “I am not known for gentle punishments.” 

With that, he steps away locking you in. You jiggle the knob angrily. “Sebastian no!” you bang on the door, but he’s gone. 

You don’t know how much time has passed but your fists have become sore and bruised, halfheartedly pounding the wood when you hear footsteps. “Hello,” you beg, “let me out!” 

To your surprise there's a jiggle of the handle, a click, and the door creaks open. You expect to find Mey Ren or maybe Finny but instead, it’s the mailman.

He favors his left side heavily and holds the rag you’d given over his puncture wounds on the right. “I heard you from the kitchen,” he huffs. His body shakes, pained and weak. “I waited until they left before coming.” 

You felt ashamed and angry that you needed an injured man to come save you. You huffed out a thanks looking down the hall. The air is still with the absence of echoing conversation or footsteps. Instead, it is the shaky haggard breath of your savior. 

“There are better pain medicines upstairs in the guest kitchen.” You suggest taking him under your arm. 

“I can’t make it up like I am now.” 

“I’ll get them.”

The house is completely empty. Not even Tanaka ghosts through the halls. You’d never been inside like this before. it took on a certain hum like you weren’t alone and it was the house itself keeping you company. 

You were debating with yourself whether it was worth going out into the snow now. If everyone had truly gone you would be wandering around by yourself looking for a creature you had no business fighting. For now, what you could do was help the mailman. 

Just as you’ve gotten the pain medicine in hand all the lights in the manor snuff at once throwing you at the mercy of a snowy gray sky. It illuminates just enough for you to see the rough shapes of the furniture in front of you. You listen for anything out of place but hear nothing but eerie stillness. 

Shuffling forward, gripping anything you can to find your way. It was too dark to even find a candle to light so you rely solely on muscle memory to get you back down to the servant's stairs. 

It’s darker in the lower level. All the windows had been bordered up to conserve heat. Still, your eyes had adjusted enough to see where you were going, but the moment you turned the corner you almost wished they hadn’t.

Down the hallway to the kitchens stands a mass large enough to be a bear. But where bears were plump all around it was skinny in the arms with a bulbous tummy and stood on its back legs. It has a smaller mass in its hand that stretches long and moves lifelessly.

Two glowing yellow eyes catch yours and don’t break. Your breath pulls in commas and you swear it can hear your heart beating. You stand there an eternity unwilling to move first. The mass in its hand whimpers in a tone sounding sickeningly similar to the mailman's and your attention breaks for only a second. When it rights the creature is halfway down the hall to you, dropping its first toy in a heap behind it.

You throw yourself through the doorway of your room just as it crashes by. One of its hands catches the door frame pulling itself into the entrance. It looms large and heavy above trapping you in a corner. 

“Don’t run little spirit,” its voice sounds like broken glass on concrete. “I’d rather get this done quickly.” 

A woosh of air and biting pain clamp down on your arm. Thick nails puncture your muscles dragging you forward. You attempt to jimmy free, sacrificing the integrity of your forearm. 

Thick red ribbons slice down your arms as you barrel around the creature taking a turn towards the stairs. Hot blood drips down your palms. It stalks behind you with an indignant growl. Where were you going to go? Running through the rest of the house was bound to catch Sebastian's attention who was looking for the creature outside, though if they weren’t close enough to notice the sudden absence of light they likely weren’t close enough to be of any help to you. You are paces from the stairs when you hear it behind you gaining speed. 

If you found yourself trapped in the stairwell with it, there would be no escape, a split decision, and you turned left, throwing yourself into the dumbwaiter. 

Your body contorts awkwardly into the hole and slams the door closed. There are a few loud bangs on the metal door, denting it slightly before nails rock the door you're holding closed open a few inches. You try once more to close it with all your weight then switch your strength to the chain pulling the platform you sit on up out of reach. 

It pokes its head under the door watching you climb. Its cackles echo up the metal shaft and it disappears. You pull as hard and fast as you can with your veins punctured as they are. The upper kitchen comes into view accompanied by a series of clamors up the main staircase.

You throw yourself out of the hole in the wall and beneath the first surface, you can fit under holding your breath. The world is silent for a moment and you think to come out to grab a weapons, but the thud of nails brings the idea to a halt. You look beneath the table for feet, but none show. Despite this, the distinct steps of travel doesn’t stop. 

It’s in here with you, you know it and it's close. You hold your breath hoping to hear the taps again. There it is-

 Tap, tap- Above you. 

Stifling your sobs with a fist you peek up at the horrifying mass crawling on the ceiling. Its fingers splay out tickling the wall as it looks around the room like he hasnt spotted you yet. The kitchen holds barely any more light than the bottom floors, but moonlight pools through the windows. When the creature passes through it you can see the undeniable green tint of matted fur. 

 “I can smell you,” it growls, dropping its body heavily atop the cart you’re under. 

Reclusing into yourself, you pull your arms, still oozing blood as close to your body as it will go. If you didn’t stop the bleeding soon you were sure to lose more than just a fight. 

Its sheer size was enough to determine fighting as a viable option for survival. Though it had proved sentient, maybe you could bargain.

You lick your lips preparing to speak, but as the syllable slicks your tongue, something slinks around your ankle dragging you from your hiding spot.

You grab onto the cart as it swings around on its wheeled legs. The creature holds you above itself beaming with slated pupils in golden eyes. “Found you.”

A scream attempts to rip itself from your lungs but no sound escapes. Instead, the last hope of your original plan pleads into the freezing air. “What do you want?”

A growl hums from the beast. "the dark," it says.

You attempt to swipe at the thing catching its mouth with your bad arm. A new sort of excitement burns behind its grip. It catches your limb with its free hand dropping your leg all together.

Holding your arm to its lips you feel a dry sandpaper-like tongue slip over your skin. Torn bits of flesh rip from your body. You attempt to push against it, to run away but it holds your elbow firmly in place.

What feels like teeth sink into your body, but when you take a moment to look its jaw it completely slacks, extracting two thick appendages from its mouth tearing into your tendons. Your muscles spasm.

Despite the physical pain nothing compares to the utter despair fuzzing around your vision. Any memory, hope or contentment you'd felt in your life depleted as if nothing had ever been there leaving behind nothing but gloom.

Your focus wanes in and out of consciousness. You reach for anything to cling to. Any hope or- Your free hand grazes the handle of a cast iron pan you pull at it with everything inside of you. it nearly falls heavy out of your grip, but you swing it up enough to catch its pincers with the hull breaking one of them off.

The creature lets you go grasping its jaw. You crawl out of the kitchen onto the overlook of the main staircase. Through bellows and growls, you look around for anything to defend yourself with. You giggle the rungs of the stairs railing but they all fix tightly. Nothing but glass vases and garland are close enough for you to reach. You peek over the railing to the bottom foyer. 

The stairs were too far away for you to crawl to time so you tug at the garland. Resigned to the idea you might not make it out of this you pull the vines around yourself and turn to the creature stalking towards you. 

Its growls are pained and furious. 

You hear Sebastian call to you from somewhere in the lower levels, but he isn't close enough.

The second your attention divides the creature lunges. You catch its neck in the garland throwing yourself over the railing. The tile below comes at you quickly and you close your eyes preparing for impact, but it doesn’t come immediately. Your body jolts with a loud gargled snap suspending you in the air a second longer, before you continue your descent to the floor. 

You hit the cold ground in a series of two thuds. Air vomits itself from your lungs leaving you gasping and as you bring in your first intake hot liquid pours down your scalp. 

It floods your ears, stings your eyes, and puddles in your lap. You attempt to scramble away but are met with the still-glowing eyes of your assailant. Its severed head leans in a blackened puddle spreading down the foyer. 

You think you hear your name, but can’t be sure until someone pinches your shoulder swiveling you around into candlelight. You blink away the burn it brings Sebastian's eyes meeting yours. 

He inspects you frantically. “Are you hurt?” 

You have no words to give him, so you lift your arm feeling the things eyes on you from behind. 

When Sebastian pulls your arm into the light, you see the cuts are much deeper than you’d initially. Where it had fed on you gashes in a different direction than the others. Likely from where you’d hit it. As the thought finishes in your mind you feel the last of your adenine leave your body. Everything becomes heavy. 

Sebastian keeps you upright, his grip struggling to keep gentle against your sensitive skin. “It fed on you?” his voice lowered to ice and velvet. The question wasn’t really for you and you’re thankful. Honestly you didn’t know how to answer.

His eyes glow like the creatures but full of blood rather than fire. “Where is it?”

With the last of your resolve, you scoop the severed head behind you into your lap. The puddle sloshes against your leg waving out and beyond. 

Sebastian doesn’t shy away from the thing, but shock still shows through in his features.

“You would have thought it had the decency to stay in a single part of the house,” Ciel scoffs behind Sebastian. 

“That’s my fault,” you slur instinctively. 

You can’t see the boy, but you hear an indignant hum then the tap of his cane as he turns away. “Sebastian, get this cleaned up. Then tea.” 

Sebastian, who was always at the ready to obey, doesn’t move. His hand cradles your fist that grips a tuft of the severed head. “I’ll take it from here.” 

You had a witty comeback somewhere in your subconscious but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Instead, you pry your fingers open and he takes the head looking to the floor above. 

He keeps what he sees to himself, tossing the head aside. “Let’s get you in the bath.”

. 

CW for part three: Smut. Porn with a plot. MDNI. Trauma shock. blood.

. 

Hey if you like this content here is my Master List 

[the-werewithal]

Stuck in the Elevator

It was easily in the top ten most ridiculous situations the warrior of light had ever found herself in. Possibly even the top five.

She was stuck in an elevator with Zenos yae Galvus. She was on the tail end of an infiltration of the minor Garlean base, and he was on the way in to inspect it. They had made awkward, intense eye contact upon the doors opening, before he simply entered the carriage and selected his floor without a word.

Her palms twitched to jam a knife into his throat, but she wasn’t ready to confront him again. He had bested her in Doma only a couple of weeks ago. She was stronger now, but still not strong enough. Apparently he wasn’t interested in confronting her just yet either, and they stood side by side in the little box, both looking straight ahead.

Then the elevator jammed between floors. The tense silence was shattered by awkward practicality as he called for technicians to get them moving again. She couldn’t teleport away while the carriage was sealed, something about what Cid called a Faraday cage effect. And so, they waited.

Zenos gave an aggravated sigh. Thirty minutes had passed. The floor was at a slight angle, and the dulled murmur of the engineers talking below them droned through the walls. She was leaning back against the wall with her ankles crossed and a throwing dagger balanced carefully on the tip of her finger. Zenos did not move.

“So… come here often?” she asked, feeling absurd.

“Hardly,” he replied, disinterested. “The terrain rules out any viable ambush attempts, and there is nothing else of interest in this barren land.”

“Hn. You don’t have enough problems on your hands?”

“Alas. It is all… too easy.”

She narrowed her eyes up at him and tilted her head back. “I could always chop off your sword arm for you and dump you in downtown Limsa Lominsa. You will have as many troubles as you could ask for. Your cup will runneth over.”

“You have barely managed to land a scratch, let alone take off a limb.”

She flipped the knife and caught it between two fingers. “Next time I will do better.”

“Good.” He finally looked down at her. “I take it from your mentioning it, that is the crucible from which you were purified: the squalor of the sea.”

“As good a guess as any.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked vaguely amused. “You seek to protect weak relations with your ambiguity?”

“No,” she scoffed. “Unlike you, I have never suffered from a deficit of problems.”

The elevator groaned but failed to do anything more. He looked questioningly at her.

“I have none to protect. Clan Redorah dies with me.”

“Then raise it from its demise, hero,” he drawled. “Have you so little ambition?”

“You misunderstand me.” She flipped the knife in the air, and made it dance across the backs of her fingers as she spoke. “I could at any moment claim a host of Keepers of the Moon as my clan. But any who swore to take on my name would be swearing to fight my battles. Shall I arrive at your gates with a gaggle of bright eyed young things for you to cut down like the grass?”

“...Ah.”

She shook her head. “No, the danger is simply too great. And I will not retreat.”

He smiled. “Nor could you. There is little other prey at my heights.”

“And you already have a name,” she said archly.

He turned to her properly, the corner of his lip curled upwards. “Would you offer me yours, if I did not, hero?”

She breathed a laugh.

“If you did not have your name, Zenos yae Galvus, you would never have attained the strength to be worthy of mine.”

“Just so,” he drawled, then laughed a moment later.

“What?” she asked, as though this were all perfectly normal, and he was the one being the odd.

“The presumption, my dear savage, the presumption to think yourself on equal footing with me. I do hope your reach does not exceed your grasp.”

The famously stoic warrior offered a wide and jagged smile. “Zenos, dear Zenos, I have every intention of ripping your throat out with my teeth and feeling your struggling heartbeat slow to nothing in my bare hands. You may speak to me then of my presumption.”

His eyes focused on her, suddenly enrapt and utterly serious. She wanted to make good on her threat right then. She wanted him to know that she was coming for him, sooner or later, one way or another, whether it killed him or her or both.  It struck her that there was very little space between them.

“You earn the title well, savage,” he said quietly.

“I mean to make it your problem.”

“Don’t disappoint me,” he rumbled, his voice dropping a register. He took a step closer. “I shall be… crushed if your words prove empty.”

“So eager to die?” she asked. It came out raspy and quiet.

“It is the challenge I long for. In a world of dull, pointless pursuits, there is little prey worthy of the effort. Surely you understand, you who shed all ties of kith and kin to better partake of the hunt?”

“I… suppose I do.”

He smiled. “I knew you would understand.”

The elevator made a promising groan. He turned back to face the doors.

“Your ending will be glorious,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.

“Yours will be… barbaric.”

His smile only grew. She found herself sharing it.

A sliver of light broke in, as the elevator doors were cracked open. She disappeared within the second, calling upon the nearest Aetheryte.

[sjw-publishings]

Counselling through the Snow

“Ugh, Caleb Benedict where are you?”

Leonard brisk walked impatiently, side by side on the pavement looking for his boyfriend who sent a message saying he would be an hour late due to some last minute coding assignment his teacher asked him to submit.

Its been way over an hour.

He had been patient for a year now, ever since his boyfriend got into that university, they exchanged fewer and fewer messages each month, with most of them being about his school.

And from the most recent messages they shared, it seemed like the university is having a deficit of staff as of late and there are rumours that the new Principal is in favour of shaping more... conservative staff starting next semester after the break.

Whatever that means, who knows. Because truthfully all Leonard cares about is being with his boyfriend who he has barely seen in person all year, despite living in the same town.

If anything, he hoped for a miracle for them to never be separated again. But he figured the thought of it would barely be able to counsel him unless it had happened.

“Ah! Leonard Morgan is that you?”

At the mention of his name, he turned around, expecting his boyfriend, but the baritone rumble that allured him sure spoke otherwise.

And lo and behold was a sight to feast on.

A tall man, clearly over 6ft, strode down towards him. Dressed in a completely dapper blue suit, which framed his broad...yet conservative sized shoulders excellently, like he was sculpted with delicate procedures.

Of course, the unbuttoned top row of buttons from the dress shirt tucked behind his vest definitely drew the eyes of Leonard, who could see the neatly brushed hair follicles over his tanned pecs.

And with the way they are displayed, its almost inviting him to wanna grab them if the man allows it. Not even his lean boyfriend could compare to how handsome this man was.

Yet the man remained plastered with a faint, yet confident smile. Like a confident man whose reassured of himself and his life,

Holding a medium sized turquoise laptop to the side, with a clearly distinguishable high-end watch brand watch which showed he is well-off. A far cry from the casual attire his boyfriend and himself would wear.

Coming nearer, he got a closer look at his facial features.

Squared jaw which framed his well-kempt beard over those luscious lips. Gelled dark brown locks over at the top, stylishly parting to the side with the rest of his hair being short and manageable, unlike Caleb’s messy long mop.

Finally, framing his lenses were dark blue square medium sized spectacles, the Metrosexual look only enhancing those manly brows and entrancing eyes which made Leonard just want to...stare at them forever. At this handsome hunk in his late forties .

“Professor Francis Beaumont, a pleasure to meet you.”

The Professor extended out his left hand from his pocket, snapping Leonard out of his trance as he quickly shook his hand, flushing at his earlier thoughts.

He had a boyfriend, and while he found other guys attractive, he was never this flustered with anyone until this guy, whose faint Parisian roots and aristocratic scent just kept sending rumbles to his core...and his attraction meter to the roof.

Leonard had to check at least.

Glancing down, still in the firm, warm grip of the handshake,a silver glint stuck out from the man’s thick digit, the kind of hands that were warm and fatherly.

Which made sense, as a silver ring was encased over on his left.

It was...almost disappointing to the young college student, but he-had a boyfriend anyway...he shouldn’t be looking at another man like that.

Even if he is incredibly hot.

“My sincere apologies, my wife and I had... important duties to attend to back in campus.”

Although despite the stoic expression he tried to keep on his face, a sheepish grin rose to the professor as well as the rosy tints on his cheeks.

But before Leonard could notice that, the professor released his grip, opting to place his right arm over the young man’s shoulder as he guided him down the path into the park.

“I know I know, the open public isn’t the best place for counselling, but I assure you we won’t be bothered here.”

As they walked down the path, all Leonard heard was that of his voice. Smooth like honey, an American citizen...but with the unique flair of the french.

A warm and caring father, guiding him to a place just the two of them. He never knew how much...how much he wanted this, almost like his frustrations from earlier were nothing compared to being next to this man.

“Who...Who exactly are you?”

“Well you specifically requested me for counselling, so how could I refuse?”

Obviously, he knew it was Professor Francis. He had just told the young man his name...right? No, not just that, he heard of the

Computer science professor for quite a while.

A charismatic hunk that charmed his students from all across the modules he taught, and others from across campus. He was not a part of the University, but from the rumours of this man, he wanted to be a part of it because of this professor.

Was his boyfriend the one who told him about the Professor? It made sense if he was, they always crushed on other guys despite sticking by the others side.

“Yes...I really require counselling...”

The man was always open to help others due to his fatherly instincts. Having young adults at home, he somehow knew exactly what to say to help the students as a counsellor on the side.

That being said, there are rumours that he was a major conservative. Maybe Leonard could have recognised it with the slight and subtle glances he kept giving on the blushing youth, but most students completely brushed over that part anyway with how kind and understanding he was to their problems.

“Indeed...our session will certainly be life changing.”

They eventually came to a stop at an open bench, with no one else in sight other than the two of them. Sitting down, side by side, the fatherly grip held tight onto Leonard’s shoulder.

“Tell me about...your relationship with your boyfriend.”

Cutting to the chase, it kinda startled Leonard that the Professor could tell about his attraction to him, asking him to talk about it as their first session above all things-?

...No, that did not make sense right?

There were numerous text messages exchanged back and forth if he could remember. Talking about his problems freely as the professor guided him understandingly without charge. It had just been over a month too...yet it felt like forever.

Staring at the male, and his warm smile was enough for Leonard to fess up.

“He keeps...refusing to see me.”

Sighing to himself, yet again...his university boyfriend ditched him in favour of his ‘coding projects’ which he suspected to be seeing other men, not outright but from the way they chatted...it gave the impression.

GRIP!

Yet the fatherly assurance from the professor reassured him that everything will be alright. Not necessarily with his intimate relationship with his boyfriend, but to be fair, he had been pretty busy lately. Even if they lived close by, they were busy, but they made the effort to communicate with one another.

“He’s a part of your university and I’m not.”

Leonard spoke, mainly because he wished he had the grades to make it with his boyfriend to the Uni, maybe even campus mates, but growingly...he wished to have an easier way to meet with the Professor, it was difficult for outsiders to get a session with-

GRIP!

Of course sometimes Leonard did not feel like a part of the University, but his counsellor reassured him otherwise. His University boyfriend barely spent time with him due to being of different majors, but he liked what he studied.

“What are you studying again?”

The professor spoke, directing his attention to him once again.

What was he studying? The freshmen definitely preferred something artsy...but as he stared at the warm, fatherly gaze of the other male, he felt it sort of unpractical to pursuit that kind of path.

Like it was not him.

GRIP!

“Computer Science of course!”

“Indeed, you are one of my best students.”

Smirking to himself, sitting up straighter as he gained a few centimetres in height. Puffing out his chest as his ideals shifted almost instantly due to his professor’s praise.

He was a teacher’s Pet after all.

Which is why the professor even spent the time during the holidays to meet him. Exchanging texts to see if everything was alright, like a true father figure indeed.

Not to mention, his professor is quite the looker. Blushing to himself as the soft brushes from hand to hand, yet the confidence from the professor stuck by him as he sat up straighter. He was not a conservative, but it was a lie to say the professor did not influence his outlook in life for quite a bit.

“May I know more about the crush towards your friend?”

Friend? Did he meant...uh, Rancale? His buddy? Yeah he was cute, nothing compared to the professor but cute.

“He always talks about others like he’s so interested in them?”

They only get together for the past few months, and yet, his boy...friend kept talking about others over and over, and not in a ‘I want to be friends’ kind of way. The kind of thing you see from guys who are not together with another-

GRIP!

“Well I mean you aren’t together and it makes sense with your hormones on the loose.”

It made sense, with the way his best friend kept talking about other guys...and girls across campus, he clearly was not interested in him...

Though strangely enough, he felt content.

Honestly, the more he thought about his best friend like that, he felt genuinely uncomfortable despite being...gay, sort of? But when they chatted about potential mates...damn, where those hot.

“May I know more about what you think would impress another guy?”

Aleonar thought briefly, thinking about what his friend would like...before his eyes focused on the Professor once again.

If anything, he was far closer to the professor than that other guy, and he knew what the Professor liked.

“Well certainly a stronger physique...the kind of man who could jog for ages.”

As he spoke, he felt his thighs solidified beneath the skinny jeans he wore. Toning heavily as they struggled to show off their muscular depth below.

Next up were his feet, as they expanded beyond those soles at a powerful stomping size 12s. He definitely aced the tracks since when he was a youth, a star athlete with brains, a fitting combination as anyone would agree.

“Who also kept his upper body in shape...you know, like a real man!”

With that exclamation, his pectorals strained against the tee he wore, jutting out nicely as a lean yet obscure six pack could be seen below if someone took a closer look. He looked good, but felt like the goods were only reserved for bed.

And the rest up to imagination. With his biceps doubling in size, yet straining against his long sleeved shirt, guys and gals could only dream of seeing this teacher’s Pet unclothed, but too bad! Alongside those wide shoulder blades that rivalled his Teacher’s.

If anything, he could’ve sworn they were-

“Matured, around their late forties, but still looking good!”

Of course! His fellow colleague and him hung out a lot. Professor Bene..., Professor Beaumont and him were like two peas in a pod, ever since they were roommates back in college.

With that realisation, Professor Morganez felt proud of towering his over 6ft worth of experience, swinging his stronger arms over to his colleague as best friends through thick and thin.

As such, thick strains of fur layered over his chest, arms, and down below. Testosterone groomed in the older male, the way it ought to as a real man.

And both him and Beaumont were real men for all he knew.

“Mix-race, just like your good ol pal!”

With that remark, his skin darkened two shades into a healthy dark brown. Stretching all over as Professor Martinez smirked at his hispanic heritage, and even though he-like his buddy Beaumont, knew only traces of it as they were raised in American households, their mixed ethnicity definitely helped them stand out!

Especially towards their potential spouses!

“The kind of man who would wingmen the other any day!”

Yes his buddy Beaumont was dashing...but it felt better if they stayed as friends you know. The kind of men that would stay by the others side.

Professor’s a charmer, but it was laughable to think they were an item when they were such good ‘brothers’ after all, not in a literal sense...but very similar in terms of personality.

Though Professor Beaumont must be the most clueless dad next door boomer to think he was 100% straight by only setting him up with only women throughout the years, or he’s doing it intentionally.

But how could Galeonar Martinez refuse offers from his bud?

“That and he ought to dress well always, in and out of work.”

With that remark, Professor Martinez stretched his arms widely, as the fabric went along with his movements.

First off was his top, as it simplified to a plain, but a somewhat high quality navy blue dress shirt. Nothing too fancy like his metrosexual bud, but it hugged his frame quite well. It kept his students’ attention during lessons, but not too much that it became a distraction.

Next up where the remaining traces of fabric over on his chest, as they slid down over to wrists, the left forming a similar branded watch to his bud, and a couple of beads and bands on the right to show his generally relaxed and chill outlook in life.

Down below, his skinny jeans loosened up to large beige dress pants, as they tightened up with cinching on a patterned belt, one that is not made of leather post transformation.

Holding his feet below are neat and polished brown dress shoes with winged tips. As his larger feet settled in typical white socks, ones that rested his aged feet in the ‘casual professionalism’ look he liked to maintain.

“So how are the kids?”

Kids? The Professor stared back at his colleague bud and best friend, who remained silent earlier as he discussed about...something?

It was not about children though...hence the conversation. Did Beaumont still insist he was straight after all this time?

Though for some reason...he kinda wanted to play along.

“They were...great?”

As soon as he said those words, a large goofy grin stretched across his lips as he clutched his head, feeling a massive shift in algorithm as euphoria surged within the computer science professor’s head.

His buttocks clenched hard, as his body jolted up STRAIGHT. Debugging the errors as the exit door narrowed to that of a ‘natural passage’, tightening his shoulders as they became designed to take care of offspring...rather than being dependent on a fellow father.

“How is your fatherhood?”

Lips licking below, his natural hair follicles brushed around his chin and upper lip, forming a tasty chestnut beard for the older male. The kind that was fertilised by a bunch of...juices from the opposite sex.

“Great as a payday raise!”

Dad jokes here, as his hair shortened and styled to a professional quiff. It felt...so good thinking about being a father, wait-he was a father! With offspring as a matter of fact.

He remembered when he used to...find guys hot? But damn, were women hotter. His conservative background certainly supported so, and certainly he was-

“How is...your wife?”

His pouch expanded in size, a powerful size 12 inches as thick wads of testosterone swirled in his powerful sacks. They were experienced in the art of pounding, not liberal arts, but rather ‘the art of masculinity’.

Pumping! Of course, his wife! His chasing days were over years ago, and now fully dedicated to ‘dear ol wifey’. Just thinking about her..., and the steamy sessions in bed, it made him wanna-

GRIP!

“She’s great as always!”

Professor Gale Martinez creamed in his briefs, letting loose any notion of being with another male as his cream trailed upwards, and around his ring finger. Solidifying the married professor that he always was.

Eyes blinking into a dark brown, neat strips of brows wiggling in a satisfied afterglow, as he continued with his casual conversation with his ex college roommate.

“From counsellor to counsellor, the students have been really gay lately.”

“Huh, shame they can’t be gay with their wives.”

“Haha!”

The two of them laughed, still having their boomer sense of humour even after all these years.

Professor Martinez had to be reassigned to a different university after moving into a new town with his wife years ago, it wasn’t easy leaving behind the campus that he taught for over 10 years, even if it became more liberal than to his liking.

But after he stepped foot on the campus grounds, to his surprise, guess who greeted him?

His old colleague Francis!

They haven’t seen each other for years since they parted ways since graduation. They kept in touch, but family time and being across different states made it difficult to spend time with one another as pals.

But now that they’re back together, they’re sure to stick to the other like glue. And hey! Maybe if they did a counselling session together, they could probably set the campus youths straight!

“Remember the O’slogan we used to say when we were younger Gale?”

The married man stepped up, and placed both hands in his pockets.

Of course he remembered, and proudly exclaimed it in the middle of the park.

“Nothing beats making out with your wife!”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I literally kicked this out this morning, and I am posting it now before I change my mind. Bring in the Knights… I clearly woke up this morning and chose violence.

Warnings: alcohol, poison, blood, torture, Hux and Kylo finally work together, minor character death. Not a pretty chapter at all.

Word Count: 3530

Read Chapter 12 here on AO3.

Start from Chapter 1 here.

The ride in Kylo’s Command Shuttle was quiet, just the sound of the pilots communicating, a few troopers lounged in the seats behind you and you could feel their gazes upon the back of your neck. Your brain was fried, only a few hours ago you had woken up fully dressed and alone in Kylo’s bed. He hadn’t spoken much, letting you eat breakfast in comfortable silence while he scrolled through a datapad before announcing his business was concluded here and he was withdrawing the fleet from Canto. The unasked question of whether you were coming hung in the air and you chose to ignore it, getting up and dutifully following him to the ship. You were sad to see the beautiful place fall away, maybe once the war was over you could come back. Visions of returning with your arm linked with Hux’s made you smile a little but when they flickered out of existence and were replaced with your arm in Kylo's, your composure slipped.

The shuttle alighted smoothly in the main hangar, the refiltered air filling your lungs and you already missed the freshness of being planet side. It didn’t surprise you that Mitaka was ready and waiting to bring Kylo up to date on the latest, leaving you with a single trooper to escort you to Hux’s quarters.

The ever unchanging silence curled around you, filtering into the cracks of your damaged soul and expanding. Making an ache start in your chest, one you couldn’t suppress until your soft cries pierced the quiet. You had thought long and hard over Hux’s abrupt change in behaviour, bringing you to the conclusion that he was hating himself for opening up to you. For allowing so much of himself to be exposed in one go, so now he was clamming up and pushing you away. It didn’t hurt any less but you supposed it would be like this, one step forward and two steps back. You expelled a long breath thinking it was a dance you were committed to, no matter the outcome.

You had a quick shower, putting on a nightgown and robe now you were once again governed by the day cycle of the ship. You didn’t expect to see Hux tonight so you opened a bottle from the restocked cooler, pouring the clear liquid over a couple of rocks of ice before settling on the couch and picking up the datapad to read the manuscript you were invested in but you couldn’t focus. The words blurred into one on the screen and the alcohol made everything hazy. Your heart jolted when the door opened and you heaved yourself off the couch in surprise, clutching the arm to hold you up as the room spun slightly.

“Armitage,” you mumbled in surprise. “I didn’t…I wasn’t expecting to see you….today—night?” You frowned at your own nonsense. This wasn’t how you wanted him to see you, not now, not when he possibly needed you.

“In all honesty I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” He replied. He carefully put his hat on the table, slowly followed by his gloves and then his coat which he hung on the back of the chair. You watched him approach the cooler, his slender fingers wrapping around the bottle and looking at the label.

“Did you finish work? Are you staying?” Your tongue felt thick, your body was at a fever pitch and you stumbled when you tried to head in his direction.

“Armitage…” you lifted your hand trying to focus on it but your vision blurred. “I can’t…see.”

“What?” His response was whip sharp and you winced against the sudden pounding on your head. You cried out as your legs gave way, collapsing to the floor in a heap. Your vision swam, your breaths were laboured and a tingling sensation was racing over your body. In the dark corner of your mind you realise this wasn’t just too much to drink. You heard him call your name but you were sinking, not able to hold onto him, everything was melting before you. Disappearing into a cloud of black smoke and you couldn’t find your way out.

Hux watched Ren pace up and down the small area outside your private room. Actually it was a medical room set aside for the Supreme Leader, he’d had you directed there when he saw the urgent message for a medic to Hux’s quarters. Every footfall that sounded from the large man set Hux’s teeth on edge but he bit back a rebuke. The force user hadn’t lashed out yet and Hux wasn’t going to give him an excuse. Hux also wondered why he was here, the fleet was chasing down a lead on a new possible Resistance base so surely his attention would be better elsewhere than on Hux’s wife. Both men looked up as the door opened and a Dr came out, his face was grave and Hux felt the blood freeze in his veins.

“Supreme Leader, General. She has been poisoned.” Hux had already deduced that fact and he felt a flash of annoyance that this was being repeated back to him.

“What else?” He demanded abruptly.

“I’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma so her body can recover, it seems there is some damage to her internal organs and…” he swallowed nervously as the two most dangerous men stood glaring at him. “It seems this is one poison we haven’t encountered before.”

“Just put her in a bacta tank,” snipped Hux, not understanding why they were wasting time telling him this.

“They can’t,” rumbled Kylo. Hux frowned, hating the extra insight he had.

“Why not?” He could feel his temper slipping, his teeth clenching together as he glared at the doctor wanting him to answer and not Ren.

“The poison seems to have some bacta resistant qualities….” The floor rolled under Hux and he swayed slightly, if they couldn’t find an antidote the poison would keep eating away at you until your body gave up. “I seem to have slowed the effects, by keeping her body cold and slowing the blood flow but we need an antidote within the week, she won’t be able to stay in this state for long without accruing serious deficits.” Hux wanted to double over, he wanted to accept the pain that erupted from his centre and scream at the floor, but he didn’t. He wanted to barge past the doctor and hold you in his arms, he wanted to rip through his ship and shoot his own troops in the face if they so much as looked at him wrong. It wasn’t until Kylo removed his hand from Hux’s elbow that he realised the Supreme Leader had been holding him upright.

Hux’s feet finally became unstuck from the floor and he moved into the room, his heart in his mouth as he looked at you on the bed. The chill blankets glowed a soft blue colour, a tube was down your throat helping you breathe. Sensors were placed across your forehead and he felt the rage bubble up inside him, who would poison you? Why would someone do this? He also wanted to yell at you for drinking out of a bottle that clearly wasn’t First Order approved, which meant someone planted it and they were still in the ship.

“I’ve already got the Knights tearing through the ship.” Hux resisted rolling his eyes and chose to frown instead.

“Is that wise Ren?”

“Do you want them found?” He snarled, stepping up to the other side of your bed. Hux studied the feral look in his eye, the tenseness of his posture and the hatred that flared in his expression, until his gaze slid to you. His hand rose as though to touch you but thought better of it, curling his leather covered hand into a fist. His expression softened for a moment before looking back up at Hux. “I will let you know if we find anything.”

“Shouldn’t I be there?” Hux asked, not happy to be pushed out of such an investigation of his own personnel.

“Maybe you should stay here and be with your wife,” mumurmed Kylo.

“She’s in a coma. She doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone if I’m here or not.” He couldn’t sit here staring at you, seeing how helpless and weak you were. He wouldn’t be able to sit and watch you waste away before him without doing something to try and stop this.

“Fine.” Hux moved to follow the Supreme Leader out of the room, his fingers flexing and a little ripple of anticipation ran down his spine. It had been a while since he got his hands dirty.

He couldn’t explain it, the way this trooper’s screams fed something twisted inside him. He leaned heavily against the wall of the interrogation room, sweet collected on his upper lip and he swept his damp hair off his brow in a fluid motion. Ren had shed his tunic, his corded muscles bulged, his pale skin flushed as he stretched an arm towards the man kneeling on the floor. Fresh screams erupted from the bound trooper and Hux momentarily closed his eyes as if basking in the sound.

A part of him recoiled at the unwavering way Ren ploughed through people's minds, he showed no mercy and Hux felt a stab of jealousy that Ren himself was clearly going to all this trouble for you. Hux had been told you had breakfast on a private balcony with the Supreme Leader, leaving in a hurry and then you were seen heading to his private room on Canto Bight. Hux wasn’t an idiot, but he had hoped you wouldn’t have stabbed him in the back so early on.

“Ren, stop.” Hux managed to say as the trooper’s heart rate spiked off the charts and the man fell with a clatter to the floor. “Anything?” Hux winced, his voice sounded loud against his tender ears. Kylo rolled his shoulders, sweeping his dripping hair away from his face before shaking his head once. It had been two days, two full days and night of torture, screams and questions all coming up with nothing. Hux gripped the datapad in his hands, his arms trembling as he fought the urge to throw it against the wall, screaming his hatred and frustration out. He’s always looked down his nose at Ren’s temper tantrums but now it was all he wanted to do, to break something or someone, to exercise his absolute fury out until he felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept for two days, he was already at his stimulant limit but he still considered another shot.

“You should rest.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“It wasn’t a request, General. You’re no good to her dead.” Hux contemplated ignoring the order altogether but he knew he needed a rest. He felt stretched, his breaking point was within reach and what good would he be if he was in a bed in the medbay as well? He wordlessly handed over the datapad as medics came to retrieve the trooper.

“You’ll keep going?” He asked brusquely.

“I will see you in 10 hours,” stated Kylo but Hux paused, his coat resting on his forearm.

“Five,” he countered.

“Eight,” Ren shot back.

“Six.”

“Done.” Hux nodded before leaving the room. He had six hours to pass out and then he was going to find out who did this to you.

Kylo waited until Hux had gone before slipping from the room and heading to his own quarters. Ap’lek stood outside the door in full armour, his executioner’s ax grasped in his hand as he stood guard. They didn’t exchange words, they didn’t need to. The door opened and he came face to face with Vicrul, his scythe blade resting on his shoulder ready to swing at a moment's notice. He stepped to the side to let Kylo in, revealing the scene in his quarters. There was a dark haired man kneeling on the floor surrounded by the rest of the Knights, Cardo had his arm cannon pressed into the back of his neck, Ushar had the kinetic charged end of his club in position ready to stun the man if necessary and Trudgen sat before the prisoner running a whetstone along the blade of his vibrocleaver. The sound rang out loud and clear in the silent quarters as he swept the stone with long strikes against the massive blade. Kuruk appeared from the bedroom, performing his checks and making sure the quarters were secure.

Kylo made his way to crouch before the shaking man, slowly running his eyes over the First Order uniform and seeing it was ill fitting.

Has he said anything? Kylo looked up at Trudgeon, the only Knight without his mask on.

No. Came the swift reply followed by another singing note from the blade.

“You won’t get anything out of me.” Kylo turned his attention back to the prisoner.

“We just did,” he stated softly. The prisoner looked up and Kylo could see the man had already surrendered to the idea that he was going to die here.

“The Resistance is not dead. Our spark shines bright in the Galaxy.” Kylo looked at him, just staring as he tried to decide how he was going to play this.

“Vicrul.” The Knight stepped forward and Trudgeon moved out of the way, tossing his chair away with a loud noise. Kylo rose and Vicrul took his place before the prisoner, removing his pastillion ore helmet and placing it carefully on the floor before locking gazes with the prisoner.

Sweat began to bead on the man’s brow, his face quivering the longer Vicrul looked into his eyes. Kylo could feel it, the ripples in the force that his Knight created, the darkness manifested and clung the Resistance fighter, gathering around his head. The other Knights all watched, their own vibrations reacting to their brothers and only the prisoners laboured breathing sounded in the room. It didn’t take long before a scream ripped the air and he began to thrash in the Knights grip, lost in nightmarish visions that only he could see. Kylo let Vicrul have his fun, showing the prisoner visions that would make a Wookiee cower, his screams increasing in pitch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to convulse in the firm grips of Cardo and Ushar.

“Enough,” said Kylo softly. Vicrul broke eye contact and picked up his helmet, the darkness retreated and the prisoner blinked rapidly as though the light was too much for him, his entire body heaved and he looked wildly around.

“What are you going to do to me?” He cried, his voice full of panic.

“It depends what you tell us,” Kylo gestured to the armoured men around him. “My Knights are bored so I suggest you cooperate.”

“Wait wait! Can’t you just search my mind? Take the information for yourself?” Kylo turned away as the Knights shuffled forward, closing ranks around the prisoner.

“Where is the fun in that Major Wexley?” The man was screaming before Kylo had even made it past his door, Kuruk followed and silently traded places with an eager Ap’lek. “Let me know if he says anything. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Kuruk nodded and silently watched his master walk away. They knew where he was going.

Kylo sat at your bedside, his large hand covered yours and echoes of what was happening in his quarters shattered the quiet of his mind. He could feel the force pulsing with the darkside, spreading its touch through the ship. It manifested in different ways, someone pulling a risky move in the training ground and hitting their opponent harder than necessary, an officer shouting at his staff for a simple misdemeanour that should have been dismissed. A fight breaking out in the cantina between two troopers who didn’t like each other, a moment of blind frustration from a medic who threw what he was holding, letting it shatter against the wall.

The Knights had found Wexley trying to slip into a TIE and escape, Kylo hadn’t told Hux. The General was on a cliff edge as it was, Kylo didn’t need him on a murdering spree before all information was dragged from the Resistance pilot, so Kylo let his Knights have a reward. Their energy was chaotic when unused, it needed a release every now and again.

He moved his hand along your cold arm, hating how lifeless you looked, you were still alive. He could feel your light but the warmth was weak and fading. Kylo hoped this pilot had some answers because he didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t find the antidote in time. He cast a quick eye over the machines noting how your numbers remained steady even though you ebbed ever so slowly away.

He still won’t talk. Kylo sighed, feeling the disappointment in Vicrul’s thoughts.

I’m on my way. He stood, bending over you and peering at your still face for a moment before sweeping abruptly from the room.

The first thing he could feel was the pilot's pain, it radiated out in all directions and Kylo clenched his fists against it. The next thing he noticed was the smell, blood, sharp and tangy against his nose. The floor was slick with the red stains, blood spatter littered the walls in spectacular patterns and Kylo came to a stop looking down at the pitiful man as he bled out onto the floor, his skin was pale, drained of colour because it now painted Kylo’s quarters. He crouched down beside Wexley who was laying on his side, the First Order uniform ripped and tattered, ruined beyond repair much like Wexley himself.

“Are you going to talk?” Asked Kylo softly.

“No.” He admired the man's tenacity, but his time was up. The screams that spewed from him had a hoarse quality, like his throat was too tired, his lungs had no air but Kylo didn’t care as he raced through the man's memories. He had planted the bottle, but it wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for General Hux. The antidote was a plant out in the Teth system. One of the few wild systems left in the Galaxy and travelling there and back again in the time frame left would be a risk, but it was one Kylo was ready to take. He withdrew from the dying Major, his memories growing dark as his body gave up.

“Ready the Night Buzzard,” he demanded. Kylo stood, hearing the last breath from Wexley before moving, his Knights following obediently behind as he began to make his way to the hangar.

Hux woke to the sound of his alarm, swiping it off the screen of the datapad feeling unusually refreshed. He had slept in his uniform so he could get up and find Ren straight away. He walked through the corridors of the Finalizer pleased to see his staff avoiding his gaze as he marched along, this investigation was reminding everyone who was actually in charge here and bringing out Hux’s ruthless side for everyone to see served as another reminder that he wasn’t to be messed with.

He stepped into the interrogation room, taking in the emptiness before turning smartly and heading to the bridge. His lips bruised together in irritation, if Ren had found something and left Hux out he was going to explode. As soon as he entered the bridge Mitaka was at his side.

“Sir, the Supreme Leader gave strict instructions not to wake you.”

“What’s happened?” Snapped Hux.

“The Supreme Leader and the Knights have left for the Teth system.” Mitaka told him.

“Left? What do you mean left?”

“They have gone to retrieve the plant needed for the antidote for….for…..” For you. Hux didn’t have time to pander to his Lieutenant and his sad emotions right now. He tutted, since when did you become such a beloved member to certain people who weren’t him? “He also said to tell you there is a mess in his quarters, but he wanted you to see it before it was cleared up.” Hux left without a word, what an earth could Ren want him to see?

Whatever Hux had imagined on the way to the Supreme Leaders quarters did not prepare him for the sight that met his eyes. Did he really need to see this? Hux was no stranger to torture and death, blood didn’t bother him, violence was his way of life but seeing this gruesome scene did indeed turn his stomach slightly. He also recognised the Knights' handy work.

“Do we know who this is?” He asked a Major who looked rather grey coloured.

“Apparently this is…was Temmin Wexley, Resistance pilot and the person who planted the bottle in your quarters, sir.”

“Clear up this disgusting mess. It has lingered on my ship long enough.” He snapped, displeasure and disgust making his expression contort. He left, stepping the familiar path to the medbay realising now all he had to do was wait. And he hated waiting.

[m0srael]

Torch Your Inhibitions

2k | E | Read on Ao3

Third installment for @magpiefngrl's 2021 Summer Writing Challenge. Prompts: Bonfire + Sex Pollen + Unreliable Narrator. I joked about making this just a whole lotta nature-based group sex and...well... Thanks @nv-md and @devilrising for making this even better!

“Malfoy, are you sure the invitation says no pants allowed?” Harry says to the mirror as he grimaces and tightens the rope holding his robe closed around his hips.

“Yes, Luna has been very clear about the order of this evening’s events, and frankly it just seems... neater to me. You disagree?”

Harry forgets to reply for a moment, distracted by the broad swath of pale chest Draco’s own robe has left exposed, one hard, pink nipple on full display. Draco doesn’t notice that Harry’s jaw has gone slack as he’s too busy readjusting himself under the thick, burgundy fabric that makes his hair seem more golden than usual.

“Well, I mean, she’s not going to check, is she?” Harry manages to say, despite the marked blood deficit in his brain. “Bloody hell, what am I saying, it’s Luna of course she’d check.”

“Right. So…” Draco murmurs , matter-of-factly, as he moves to stand close behind Harry, making eye contact in the mirror, “knickers off, Potter.”

Harry tells himself he doesn’t know what Draco is about to do, but the moment he feels the fabric shift against his arse he freezes, hoping beyond hope that he has guessed correctly.

“Alright?” Draco whispers on a smirk into his bare shoulder as an unsupressable shudder shakes through Harry.

Harry can’t speak, so he just nods.

Draco slowly gathers up the bottom of Harry’s robe in his fingers until he can slip his hands underneath it, letting it cascade down his wrists. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic band where it wraps around Harry’s hips.

Harry’s eyes fall closed as Draco’s fingers drag against his skin, down and down Harry’s thighs, until his pants fall to the ground.

Draco makes a soft sound. When Harry’s eyes fly open he realizes that Draco’s gaze is fixed to the tent in his loose robe, all the more obvious now that his cock is free.

“Steady, Potter. We haven’t even made it to the party yet,” Draco growls, before turning quickly and stalking out of the bedroom.

Harry groans and covers his flaming face, letting his head thunk against the wardrobe door. He doesn’t understand what it all means.

He and Draco have been living together for a year and a half. For the first six months they avoided one another almost entirely. The eight or so months after that had been punctuated by short, fiery conversations as they felt each other out, slowly arriving at some mutual understanding and even cautious friendship.

The last few months, including the very moment Harry finds himself in presently, have been an unending nightmare. He never realized how tactile Draco is with friends, but he touches Harry all the time.

When Draco needs a glass from the cupboard over Harry’s head, he plants one hot palm firmly on Harry’s lower back to steady himself. When they sit on the couch watching films, Draco always slides his cold feet under Harry’s thigh for warmth. It only takes half a pint at the pub before Draco’s leaning into Harry’s side, and another half before Draco drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder and presses his nose into Harry’s throat.

Draco also apparently has some aversion to closed doors. Harry is sure it has something to do with growing up in the Manor, being shut in for so long with such terrible people. It doesn’t really bother Harry, who also hates feeling trapped.

Though...he did accidentally walk in on Draco in the shower, mid-wank, last week.

Harry had stood, mesmerized in the doorway, watching for longer than he would ever admit (even to himself). He only averted his eyes when Draco noticed him, and said, “Are you going to stand there gaping, or are you going to help, Potter?” He laughed mockingly as Harry hurried down the hallway shouting apologies.

A tiny part of Harry’s brain recognizes Draco’s behavior as flirtatious. The other part--the louder part--knows that never in a million years would Draco Malfoy share Harry’s secret desires. This is just how Draco is with everyone. Harry only started to notice it once they lived in the same house.

“Harry...I know you told me to stop asking, but...you’re sure you’re okay with this? You want to go? The details of the ritual were pretty clear, and Luna did say that no one was obligated to--”

Gods, did Draco think he was that naive and squeamish? No, he would see this through, if only to prove a point.

“Yeah, yep...yes. I’m okay. I mean, I want to go. I’m...curious. NO! I mean, well...I want to...support Luna, so…” Harry trails off as he joins Draco on the front steps.

“Uh huh. Convincing,” Draco smirks, “if you want to leave, you can. Okay?” he finishes in that soft, pedantic way of his before taking Harry’s hand and apparating them to the coordinates from Luna’s invitation.

*

Luna had insisted everyone arrive rested and well-hydrated, and Harry was glad he’d taken her advice.

Before the sunlight faded completely, they set up the May Day altar together, followed Luna in a series of prayers for fertility and abundance, and danced around the maypole. Neville had even brought everyone a seedling to plant somewhere in the forest or take home to plant in their garden.

Harry would be feeling a little silly about all the neo-pagan pageantry, if his stomach weren’t tying itself into knots the further the sun falls below the horizon.

Before he knows it, Seamus is tossing a lit torch onto a giant pile of logs in the center of the forest clearing.

“Happy May Day, everyone!” Luna sing-songs as they all assemble around the bonfire.

She reaches into a fold in her robe and pulls out a small pouch.

“It’s time for the most important rite of the evening. I hope you all took the time to read the pamphlet I included with your invitation. If you’d like to forgo participation, I suggest you step away from the fire before we begin. If anyone is still unsure about what this part of the evening entails, please let me know now! There are no silly questions!”

Harry watches as a few people say their goodbyes and apparate away. He lifts one foot slightly as if to move away from the fire before catching Draco’s eyes across the circle. His brow is furrowed—he looks upset. His eyes are glowing in the firelight and he flicks his tongue out along his bottom lip. Harry plants his feet, nodding slightly as if to say yeah, I’m okay, I’m staying.

“Alright, everyone! Take the hands of the people beside you!”

Harry’s hand closes around Neville’s on one side and Pansy’s on the other. He makes eye contact with Neville and can’t stop the manic, high-pitched laugh that ekes its way out of his throat. Neville just smiles warmly and squeezes his hand. Harry’s stomach flutters.

“Have you all got the kits we sent with your invitations?” The group murmurs affirmatively. “Good! Just in case, there are extras in the basket over there! Can’t be too careful!” says Luna as she opens the pouch and dumps sparkling powder onto the fire.

The flames turn a brilliant deep purple color and leap up six or seven feet, giving off thick plumes of lavender smoke. Neville inhales and sighs deeply.

Harry closes his eyes and lets the fragrant smoke overwhelm his senses. He feels a soft breeze caress his hot skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He gasps as his robe rustles around his thighs.

Every ounce of nervousness melts out of him and into the earth. He’s distantly aware that there are people moving around him but he can’t be bothered to open his eyes and look at them; he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life.

Gentle fingers slide into his hair, making his mouth fall open to receive an eager tongue.

“Harry…” Neville whispers into his mouth before kissing him soundly. They stand for a while, lips sliding over each other’s mouths and palms moving over each other’s bodies.

“Mm, s’good…” Harry slurs as someone unties the rope around his hips and slides his robe off. He shivers at the sudden kiss of cool air and curling smoke.

When he finally pries his eyes open his view is full of the top of Neville’s head, now on his knees in front of Harry. Harry rolls Neville's head in his palms until their glassy eyes meet. Harry hadn’t realized he was so hard--he groans as Neville takes him in hand and begins to stroke him lazily.

A hand slides around his chest from behind and a soft, warm body presses flush against his back.

“I always thought you were fit...” Pansy mouths against the back of his neck. Her small fingers tease his nipples as she rolls her naked body against his.

Harry shivers again when the thick smoke parts and his eyes land on Draco across the fire. He’s kissing Seamus deeply, one hand wrapped around the back of his head, as he strokes them both with one hand. He gasps when Draco opens his eyes and turns his head slightly to look right at him.

Making sure he didn’t chicken out, probably.

Harry’s head falls back onto the top of Pansy’s as Neville takes him into his mouth, inch by inch, humming around him. Harry’s first orgasm rolls through him almost without his knowledge, every cell in his body pulsing as Neville moans and licks him through it. He watches as Neville pulls off and strokes himself to completion, one hand gripping Harry’s thigh tightly.

*

He’s on his knees in front of Pansy, who he’s backed into a tree at the edge of the clearing, his face wet and hot, when he hears that voice.

“My loves,” Draco purrs. The clearing is filled with the sounds of heavy panting and urgent moans.

As Draco leans over Harry’s shoulder to kiss Pansy, his cock rests hot and heavy on Harry’s shoulder. Harry slides his tongue out of Pansy, replacing it with two fingers, to press his mouth to Draco’s throbbing flesh. Draco curls his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulling hard.

“Harry...need you…now...” Draco pants, pulling his head further back so they can make eye contact. Pansy moans loudly and Harry can feel her tighten around him, hips rocking forward onto his fingers.

Draco pulls Harry away from the clearing, the light and sounds from the bonfire growing distant and muffled. He urges Harry onto his back on the forest floor before straddling his hips.

“So...beautiful,” breathes Harry as he runs appreciative hands over Draco’s scarred chest, “want you so much…”

“Want you too, for so long, Harry,” Draco replies as he pops open the cap of the little bottle of lube Luna had sent them. The handmade label reads ‘A Happy May Day is a Lubricated One!’ complete with little drawings of butterflies.

“What?” replies Harry, hands stilling in confusion.

Harry can’t temper the sound that tears out of him as Draco wraps his wet hand around them both and begins to roll his hips. Harry thinks he’ll come again from that alone, but before he can Draco’s hand is gone.

“Aren’t you glad, now, that you listened to the no-pants rule--ah--Potter?” Draco quips as he lowers himself slowly onto Harry.

“Mmmm, yes, yes you were right,” hisses Harry as waves of heat and sensation roll up his spine.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Draco teases on a breathy laugh that quickly becomes a low moan.

Harry’s hips press up to meet Draco’s every slow, languorous thrust. Harry drifts, pulled under by Draco’s fingers and his lips at Harry’s ear whispering all kinds of incredible things.

You’re all I want, Harry. Need you, all the time, not just tonight. Please, I’m yours, I’m yours, Harry.

When Harry comes, he cradles Draco’s face in his hands, open mouth pressed against the corner of Draco’s mouth. Draco immediately follows, breathing out Harry’s name again, and again.

Harry can’t stop the laugh that forces its way out of his chest, and he’s delighted when Draco laughs along with him, folding forward to rest his forehead against Harry’s.

*

When Harry wakes up the next morning his memory of the night before is complete in his mind, but it feels wrapped in a purple-tinted haze. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not alone in his bed--Draco is tucked up against his side, breathing gently.

Harry turns to watch him sleep in silence for a moment, finally admitting to himself that Draco really had been flirting with him the whole time. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he doesn’t want to wake Draco.

It takes him a moment to notice that Draco’s eyes have blinked open sleepily.

“Mine?” whispers Harry.

“Yours, Harry.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 13

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol)

Word count: 2450

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

“This is crazy!”

Glancing at Natalia next to you in the car as you neared the border for Blayne, you grinned. “I thought you grew up on farms?”

“The kind near the city. Nothing like this. There’s just a whole lot of land out here.”

“I would ask if you want me to turn around and take you back, but after travelling for this long, I want to just be done from being in this car.”

Laughing, Natalia craned her neck to use the side mirror. “I think the truck behind us might find that a little burdensome too.”

“I’m amazed that truck of his made it to the city and back.”

“Aren’t you glad Jaehyun came for you?” she wondered, and you couldn’t hide the genuine smile that spread out your lips immediately. “You’re smitten!”

“You’ve seen him. How could I not be?”

“Blayne’s livestock sure are made of fine specimens,” Natalia teased, and you laughed heartily.

“They do claim to have the best pigs in the nation, but I’m not so sure if that relates to all the men they have, Nat.”

“Well, the two I’ve seen…” She trailed off to kiss her fingers. “Total chef kiss.”

“Avery is single, too.”

“I never asked.”

“You didn’t need to. I could see the wheels turning from here.”

“Do you reckon he’d want a country Belle or-”

You grinned. “For Avery, I think he likes women in whatever way they come.”

“That doesn’t speak much for my chances.”

“Why not, Miss Natalia?” you chimed, and your best friend swatted your arm. “He didn’t even refer to me like that when I met him. Should I be sad?”

“Stop trying to snatch my cowboy away from me. You already have your own.”

Suddenly the truck signalled its horn behind you and you glanced up into the rear-mirror, noticing the indicator of the truck now on. Turning your attention to the side of the road, you couldn’t help but laugh at that gas station you had gone to all those months ago appearing again.

You didn’t need any gas, but it seemed Jaehyun’s truck needed the pit stop. Getting out of your vehicle, you noticed the smoke coming out from under the hood. Walking over to Jaehyun’s side, you gasped noisily. “Looks like it’s finally died on you.”

“She’s not dead,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair agitatedly after popping the hood. “She needs water.”

“And a retirement,” Avery added on, leaning on the side of Jaehyun’s truck whilst shaking his head. “You and your stubborn ways.”

“I’m not giving up on her,” Jaehyun announced, and you frowned with the level of emotion you heard in his tone. He groaned. “Though, I think I might need to leave her here tonight so she doesn’t overheat further.”

Avery nodded. “I’ll go sort it out with Mick inside the station.”

Kicking the tire gently, Jaehyun turned to look over your shoulder, not quite meeting your eye. Stepping in and placing your hands on his hips, you shot him an encouraging smile. “We’ll come and pick your truck up tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Well, I’d offer to tow it, but my car won’t handle that. I’m sure Avery’s truck will, though.”

“I’m starting to feel nervous,” Jaehyun confessed, and you blinked curiously. “At your return. People are going to talk.”

“I hope they’ve been talking up a storm. And that they are still willing to talk even when I’m there. Nat and I will rely on that talk to get things moving.”

“You’re so certain about this,” he observed, and you nodded once. “Why?”

“Because this is my project. I invested a lot of my time and energy into Blayne and found the deficit too glaring to just forget about it all when your Dad ordered me to leave. Further, I can’t just stop loving you either. You and I still have a lot to discuss.”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully, his signature lopsided, dimpled grin appearing. “You’re a formidable woman, Miss Adaptable.”

You didn’t make a big fuss about sitting down for that chat right away once you were back in Blayne. There was a lot to be done, especially around your new residence. You weren’t staying on the Jung’s property this time, even though you wished nothing more than to wake up in your bedroom at the homestead.

Instead, you were the first guests since 1983 to inhabit the inn.

“You sure there’s no ghost stories associated with this place?” Natalia queried as you both ate breakfast in the kitchen a few days after your arrival.

Grinning at your best friend, you shrugged. “Who knows? But if there are any more co-inhabitants here with us, they ought to pick up a broom and give things a good sweep or dusting.”

“We’ve been clearing cobwebs for days. How is this town going to be a hub of change, Y/N?”

“Nothing worthwhile comes without any effort, Natty. This place is kind of charming if you put aside its outdated décor.”

“Charming, you say,” she mentioned, pointing to the dripping tap in the kitchen. Even if the room now sparkled as best as it could from your combined cleaning, you still had repairs that were pressing.

“It could be very charming,” another voice mentioned, and you grinned at Avery’s cheeky appearance. “Sorry for intruding. The back door’s always been easy enough to get in through.”

“So it’s not just your cousin who’s good with getting in and out of places they shouldn’t be.”

“Where do you think I learned it from?” Avery admitted with an easy laugh, and after sending Natalia a wink, he placed a toolbox up on the countertop. “Leaky tap, huh? I guess I ought to fix this for you before it drives you nuts.”

“Will you?!” Natalia asked, graciously smiling in his direction. “It’s not the only one needing repairs, admittedly.”

“It’s a good thing I ran down to the hardware store a town over for some new faucets then, isn’t it?”

“Where’s Jaehyun?”

As he looked for the right tool, Avery answered. “On the ranch.”

“He okay on his own?”

“Sure, if you call being in the company of my grouchy uncle after us leaving Blayne last week caused him to get behind in work, being okay.”

“I actually have to go see Mr Jung today,” you announced and smiled at the pair who stopped staring flirtatiously at each other to look in your direction. “It’s time to get things rolling, don’t you think?”

“Will you be okay?”

“If Jaehyun’s handling his father, then I think I’ll go assist him. I’m half at fault here.”

“I don’t agree entirely with that, Y/N.”

Natalia agreed with Avery. “You aren’t at fault at all.”

“There’s a lot of things I want answers to and a whole lot of information I will need to pass on to him now that I’m here to work on the redevelopment of Blayne for housing.”

“He has a temper.”

“That much I’m aware of already, Avery,” you replied with a grin, picking up your coffee and raising it in a gesture of farewell. “Nat, you stay here and help point out the areas for Avery to work on.”

“Sure, I can do that,” she answered and turned to mouth a thank you at you.

Chuckling as you stepped outside and over to your car, you stopped when you saw Dorothy crossing the road towards you.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Everyone said you were back, but I didn’t believe it until these eyes of mine saw it in person!”

Taking her hand fondly, you cocked your head to the side. “Did you truly think you could get rid of me that easily?! I have work to do here!”

“Are you staying in the inn, Y/N? I’ll make sure to send my Jacob over to help with anything you might need repairing. Lord only knows how that place is holding up.”

Pointing to the building you had just departed, you smiled. “Avery is inside fixing some taps already.”

“Really? Well, he didn’t wait long. I thought everyone was instructed to stay put until Old Jung stopped punishing his boy for bringing you back.”

“Is that how everyone is seeing it?”

“Did I speak out of turn?!” Dorothy asked with a gasp, and you shook your head firmly.

“Not at all, Dorothy. I’m grateful for what you just said. Do let everyone know it was June Jung who I called in regards to returning to Blayne about, however. She’s the one who let me and my best friend into the inn, after all.”

“June?! She’s never the type not to follow along with her husband’s word!”

Shaking your head again, you patted her lower arm. “There’s a lot to Mrs Jung that Blayne folk seem to not know about.”

Greeting June when you arrived at her home shortly after, you grinned brightly at her. She laughed. “I was worried after a few nights in that inn you might decide to leave.”

“It’s nothing like the homestead, but I can see with some effort put in how it can help with our plans.”

“He’s not exactly thrilled.”

You nodded. “I doubt your husband is.”

“But he is listening. I told him to wait for you in his office. He gruffly headed in there five minutes ago.”

“I won’t keep him waiting then,” you assured June, smiling again before taking the same pathway you had a couple of weeks ago.

Inhaling a deep breath, you pushed forward into the office, Mr Jung looking up at you. You smiled politely. “It’s nice to see you again. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m Y/N, Blayne’s new town building specialist.”

Mr Jung ignored the hand you held out to him and cleared his throat but didn’t answer. Deciding to take his silence as not a complete refusal, you sat down across from him and pulled out the proposal you had drafted up for this meeting. And without any hesitation, you launched into it.

He didn’t interrupt your speech, even picking up the copy of the plans you had placed on the table midway through and flicked to the page you were talking about. By the time you reached the end of your planned speech, you were a mixture of relief and curiosity.

You had no idea what Mr Jung was thinking.

Heaving out a breath when you were finally done, Mr Jung nodded softly. “Very well.”

“Is that all?” you asked, and Mr Jung stared over at you. His gaze didn’t make you uncomfortable, rather, vulnerable. It was as if he was trying to pick a way into your brain and figure everything out about you.

Sighing when he didn’t seem to find whatever it was, Mr Jung looked out the window. “My family has been here for generations.”

“I looked into it when initially setting up here,” you confirmed, and he smiled swiftly.

“I suppose you know about my wife then.”

“I do. I believe it’s why she’s been supportive of my stay here.”

“She tells me that you remind her of herself. I don’t entirely see it, though I’m aged and weathered now. My son, however, he’s young.”

“We don’t have to discuss Jaehyun if you are going to berate and accuse me of-”

“My son is the next generation of the Jung family line. He’ll inherit this ranch when I leave this earth, and I hope his children in the future continue to help Blayne remain a fair and happy community. When June and I found we couldn’t have any further children, where I come from a line of ten, I foolishly believed if I shaped Jaehyun from an early age to take on this place, we would continue a successful line. My parents entrusted this ranch to me, the only son. Perhaps if I had daughters too, I would have softened. But I only had one child, and I was too harsh.”

“Why did the fire happen, Mr Jung?” you asked softly, and the man rubbed at his face before leaning back in his chair.

“I told Jaehyun he couldn’t ever leave Blayne. That kid is something else. He always has been. He’s good with the cattle, he’s even better upon a horse. His school got him into rodeo early on, and I thought it would only shape him to have a competitive streak to help our ranch. The first time I saw him do a run, I knew there was more to his riding, though. But he was only twelve then. Teenage years would come, and I assumed he would choose new interests, or feel the weight of the work around the yard. Jaehyun didn’t let go of the barrels and would train even at night if he had to. He never failed to do his chores first, and I grew exasperated that I couldn’t find a way to stop him.”

“As a parent, shouldn’t you encourage his pursuits?” you pointed out, and Mr Jung nodded loosely.

“I was real proud of my boy. He had more trophies and rosettes in that bedroom of his than he had anything else. When he got scouted, he was beaming from ear to ear. I was selfish. We didn’t have anyone to take his spot here if he was going to be away. My father preached to me about how this ranch has been handled by Jung hands for decades. What you assume I did next is correct.”

“You took him out of barrel racing.”

“I thought it was for the best. And then he ran away from home. He caused trouble for a few families here with their kids following him. Avery was almost sent to boarding school because May was worried Jaehyun corrupted him. I had a township to maintain the peace with too. So I took the wrong approach with Jaehyun and cornered him further.”

“Why a fire, though?”

“I told him his only place on earth was Blayne. He said he wished Blayne would stop existing. I didn’t think he’d actually do anything about it. But he broke into the theatre that night, and the fire quickly took hold of our town.”

You merely sat there, trying to battle through Jaehyun’s past anguish and understanding the father who carried deep remorse for his actions.

Mr Jung noticed and smiled sadly. “I tried to take the blame. After all, I had driven my son to choose that path. But the people knew better. So my only approach to Jaehyun, who was racked with guilt, was to use that to hold him here. He’s never thought of leaving or doing anything else.”

Mr Jung stared at you with an indescribable expression. “Until you arrived, Y/N.”

_________________

Part 14

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[NCT Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]