#still figuring out where to fit Maria

[mochiiikko]

Hey Six fandom how are we feeling about this

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 6

masterlist

Guys this is my favourite chapter so far PLS ENJOYYY AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK plsss

TW: physical recovery, PTSD, trauma, blood, mentions of death

Summary: you confront the challenges of recovering from the attack, dealing with a broken leg and the necessity of relying on others for care. An unexpected figure emerges to support you.

please listen to this song as you listennnn fits the vibe perfectly

The last thing you remembered was pain—excruciating and unrelenting, tearing through your leg and radiating up your spine. It was all a blur of chaos—those men, the feeling of being overpowered, the crushing weight of helplessness. Then there was Tommy’s voice, the desperate shouts, and… Joel.

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, your breath catching in your throat. The world came back in fragments—the lights above were dim, casting a hazy glow over the room, and there were voices, soft and distant, just beyond your understanding.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” a gentle voice cut through the haze, drawing you back to the present. It was Maria, leaning over you, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. She was by your side, a cool rag in hand, gently dabbing your forehead. “You’re safe. You’re okay now.”

Your eyes darted around the room, wide and unfocused, trying to make sense of where you were. The space was cluttered with old medical books, shelves stocked with bandages and other supplies, and the faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air. “What… what happened?” you croaked, your voice weak, throat raw from disuse.

Maria’s hand rested gently on your shoulder, anchoring you as she spoke. "You got hurt, but you're going to be okay. We've got you, and you're safe here, I promise." Her voice was calm and steady, laced with a warmth meant to soothe, yet the worry in her eyes betrayed her. It was a quiet, lingering fear, as though things could have taken a far darker turn.

Your thoughts spun in a frantic blur, grasping desperately for fragments of memory. “Is Tommy… is everyone okay?” The words tumbled out, urgent and unbidden, as the chaos replayed in your mind. All you could remember were the screams—Joel collapsing, clutching a stab wound in his leg, crimson pooling beneath him, spreading like a relentless tide.

Was he still alive?

The thought left you cold, a chill sinking deep into your bones, twisting in your gut like a knife. Nausea clawed at your throat, a sickening dread that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine,” Maria reassured you, her voice a soothing balm over the raw edges of your fear. Relief washed over you in a rush, loosening the tightness in your chest. You could breathe again—deep, shaky breaths that seemed to draw you back from the brink, grounding you in the present.

“Tommy just stepped out,” she said, her tone gentle, trying to fill the space with reassurance. “He’ll be right back. He’s been here a lot and… so has—” She stopped abruptly, the pause heavy, as if you were too fragile to hear what came next.

“Who?” you asked, your voice quiet and rough, oblivious to what she was about to say.

Maria’s gaze met yours, hesitant for a heartbeat before she continued, “Joel.”

His name hung in the air, unspoken but heavy with meaning. “He’s been here every day,” she went on, her voice gentle. “Sleeping in that chair, even with his bad back. He only left about an hour ago—I practically had to force him to go home and rest.”

“Oh,” you breathed, the sound barely audible. The thought of Joel being here, keeping vigil while you lay unconscious, was almost impossible to fathom.

Why?

Was it guilt that kept him close?

You blinked, struggling to absorb the reality of her words. “Days?” The question tasted unfamiliar, heavy as it fell from your lips, the weight of it settling in your chest like a stone sinking to the bottom of a deep, dark lake.

How long had you been out?

“Yeah, honey,” Maria nodded, her hand smoothing over the blanket covering you, as if to reassure you with the small gesture. “But you’re okay now, I promise. The worst is over.”

With that, you nodded, surrendering to the pull of sleep as it reached out like an old, familiar embrace. You drifted away, slipping back into its depths with Maria by your side.

•••

People had come and gone, each one offering their reassurances and relief that you were okay. Tommy, Ellie, even a few of the patrolmen had stopped by, voices mixing together in a blur of well-wishes and murmured conversations.

But he hadn’t been here—not since you’d woken up. It gnawed at you, that empty space where Joel should have been. Your gaze drifted to the chair, its emptiness almost taunting, as though it knew who was missing. You could picture him there, sprawled out, his familiar form slouched back, the hardness of his jaw catching the dim light, as if sleep might take him at any moment. But the chair remained vacant, a silent reminder of his absence.

You lay propped against a stack of pillows, just as the doctor had instructed, your leg elevated in a makeshift splint. The “cast” was a patchwork of salvaged materials—wooden splints, thick strips of cloth, and pieces of an old brace, all bound together with whatever scraps could be scavenged. Vague flashes of pain flickered in your memory, the white-hot agony as they’d set the bone while you were only half-conscious. Even now, the thought of it sent a shudder down your spine. Everything blurred together—you must have blacked out from the pain. You had no recollection of how you’d made it back to Jackson. Perhaps they’d explain it all once you were stronger, but for now, the mystery lingered, hovering just out of reach.

Now, Tommy and Maria sat beside you, their presence a quiet comfort. The doctor—a woman in her late fifties, her graying hair pulled back in a loose braid—handed you a small bundle of pills wrapped in cloth. “Alright, here are your pain meds,” she said, her voice kind but firm. “Take these every day, okay? And don’t overdo it. If the pain gets too bad, you let someone know.”

You nodded, the instructions making you feel small and helpless, like a child being told what to do.

You nodded, barely listening as the doctor went on.

“Do you live alone, or…?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the word slipping out almost automatically. The reminder hit you like hard, the starkness of it unwelcome.

“Okay,” she continued, her gaze shifting to Tommy and Maria with a practiced look of concern. “You’re going to need someone to look after you for the next few weeks, at least. You’ll be on crutches, and getting around won’t be easy. The fracture was pretty nasty.” She glanced at the injury, her glasses perched low on her nose as she inspected it. “We did our best to set it, but you’ll have to take it slow for a while. The bone needs time to heal—and it’s not like we have proper casts and X-rays anymore.”

Maria's voice broke the silence, reassuring and no-nonsense. "We’ll take care of her, Doc. Don’t worry about that.”

The doctor gave a final nod before leaving, and Tommy and Maria helped you ease out of the bed, every small movement sending a jolt of soreness through your leg. It was a painstaking process getting you dressed and bundled into Tommy’s truck. The ride back was bumpy, every jostle a reminder of just how fragile your body felt right now.

•••

The house was quiet when you arrived, the air cool and still, carrying that unmistakable sense of emptiness that lingers when you return from a long absence. The familiar scent stirred something inside you, a reminder of what was left behind. It took both Tommy and Maria to help you inside, steadying the crutches under your arms and guiding you carefully through your home. Once you were settled on the worn couch, Maria draped a blanket over you.

“We’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Tommy and I will check in every day. Ok?”

You offered a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. The emptiness gnawed at you again, that absence like a weight pressing on your chest. And even though you didn’t say it, you couldn’t help but wonder why Joel hadn’t come to see you—why he hadn’t been there when you opened your eyes.

The question hung unasked in the silence, drifting in the air like dust suspended in the afternoon light.

•••

It was harder than you’d anticipated. True to their word, Tommy and Maria stopped by every day, but it was clear that Maria was struggling. Her pregnancy symptoms had worsened—nausea and vomiting so severe that some days she couldn’t even get out of bed, much less come over to help. Tommy did his best, but he was stretched thin, torn between caring for Maria and trying to be there for you.

When he showed up alone one morning, his face etched with worry as he helped you down the stairs, you knew something was off.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, his voice softer than usual.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a smile even as you leaned heavily on the crutch, each step sending a dull throb through your leg. It had only been a few days, and you were still getting used to it—the pain meds took most of the edge off, but a deep, relentless ache lingered, a constant reminder of how far you had to go.

“I got some bad news,” Tommy said once you were settled on the couch, his expression hesitant.

A pit formed in your stomach. “What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your attempt to keep it steady. You couldn’t help but think of Maria and the baby. “Is it… is it Maria?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, she’s okay. As okay as she can be, anyway. The nausea’s been pretty rough lately.” His voice trailed off, and you could see the guilt etched on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, which looked more disheveled than usual. The dark circles under his eyes told the rest of the story—he probably hadn’t slept in days.

“I know I promised to be here every day, help out with whatever you needed, but… it’s been harder than I expected. She needs me more than I thought, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it here as often.”

“Tommy, don’t be ridiculous,” you said, your voice a little too sharp. The lie came easily, out of habit more than anything. “I can take care of myself.”

But you both knew that wasn’t true.

You could barely manage to get out of bed on your own, let alone keep up with the daily tasks piling up around you. “Take care of Maria. I understand, trust me,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile, though it felt a bit strained at the edges.

Still, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling that crept up inside you, a sense of being a burden that you couldn’t quite shake.

Tommy frowned, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Darlin’, you’re in no shape to be alone,” he said gently. “But don’t worry—there are plenty of folks who can come by to check on you.”

“Who?” The word came out sharper than you intended, a hint of bitterness cutting through. It wasn’t really anger, just a raw insecurity that twisted inside you. You didn’t have anyone—not like Tommy and Maria had each other.

“Well, there’s Ellie… and Joel,” Tommy began, his tone almost cautious, as if even saying Joel’s name might be too much. “He’s… well, he hasn’t come by to see you yet, but—” He hesitated, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

“He hasn’t come to see me,” you repeated, the words falling flat in the quiet room.

It wasn’t a question; it was an unspoken hurt that hung in the air.

“Why not?” you asked, even though a part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to hear the answer. Joel didn’t owe you anything; the past few months you’d spent together had been anything but friendly. So why did you expect him to be here? Why did his absence sting more than it should?

Tommy hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as though searching for the right words, his gaze skirting away from yours. “He’s been… around,” he began slowly. “Been checkin’ in with Maria and me, makin’ sure you had everything you needed. But he…” Tommy hesitated, his voice dropping as he searched for the right words. “He just wanted to give you some space while you adjusted. Thought it might be what you needed.”

It was clear Tommy was struggling with the conversation, likely because of the awkward position he was in—Joel being his brother, after all. But there was something else behind his reluctance, something unspoken. After the attack, Tommy had seen firsthand just how far Joel was willing to go to save you. He’d watched his brother fight with a desperation that bordered on reckless, doing whatever it took to keep you alive.

Now, Tommy saw the truth clearly, piercing through Joel’s carefully maintained indifference toward you. He chastised himself for not seeing it sooner, for how thinly veiled Joel’s façade had always been. The reality of it all came to light after the attack, when Joel’s restraint shattered—he fought for you with a fierce, unyielding desperation, never once leaving your side. In those moments, his cold detachment dissolved, and the depth of his feelings bled through, unmistakable in the way he tended to you, as though keeping you safe was the only thing that mattered.

But it wasn’t his place to say anything; that was a conversation Joel needed to have with you. Tommy could only hope his brother would find the courage to speak sooner rather than later, though a part of him doubted it. He knew Joel too well—knew how stubbornly he kept his guard up, even when his heart was on the line.

“Oh,” you said softly, nodding as if the explanation made sense. “Okay.” You tried to believe him, tried to convince yourself that it was just Joel’s way of being cautious, of giving you the space you needed. But as it always did, doubt crept in, clawing its way up from some dark place inside. Old wounds had a way of reopening, their whispers cutting through the fragile comfort you tried to build.

What if he doesn’t really care? The thought sank its teeth in, a quiet voice reminding you of every time you’d been left behind, every promise that had turned to dust. The doubt was relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering that maybe, just maybe, you were fooling yourself. That Joel's absence was a choice—a choice to keep his distance, to keep you at arm's length, even now.

You looked away, swallowing against the tightness in your throat, wishing you could silence the voices that told you to expect the worst. Because sometimes, it was easier to accept doubt than to hope for something different.

After all, wasn’t it always the same? People keeping their distance, claiming they were doing it for your own good? It was a wound that hadn’t healed, a scar from years of being left behind. You told yourself not to think like that, not to read too much into it—but the hurt had a way of seeping in, even when you tried to hold it back.

If only you knew how much he did care—if only you remembered the lengths he had gone to, the sacrifices he made without a second thought. The men he had killed to save you, his hands stained with blood that wasn’t his own. The miles he trudged, his body battered and broken, fighting exhaustion and pain as he pushed forward because stopping meant losing you. How he had almost bled out for you, a deep wound gushing crimson, his vision blurring as he clung to consciousness with sheer stubbornness, all for the chance to see you breathe again.

If only you knew the hours he spent by your bedside, his rough hand wrapped gently around yours when he thought no one was watching. How he would sit there in the dark, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin, his quiet vigil a testament to the depths of his worry. You didn’t see the way his shoulders sagged with relief whenever your chest rose and fell steadily, nor did you hear the whispered words he spoke when the night was at its darkest—words he could never bring himself to say when you were awake.

If only you knew how his heart shattered the moment he saw you kiss Sam. How the sight of it hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He had to step outside just to breathe, to force himself to swallow the bitterness that rose in his throat. The jealousy burned hot and fierce, a mix of anger and hurt that tore through him as he watched Sam linger too long, his hands on you against your will, and Joel could’ve killed him right then and there.

If only you knew how his heart stopped the very first time he saw you, that instant when his gaze fell on you and the world seemed to quiet around him. It was a feeling that terrified him, a pull he didn’t understand, as though he’d been struck by something he hadn’t even realized he was missing.

“So, you’d be alright with him coming around?” Tommy asked, his voice gentle, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters. “He’d just help you up and down the stairs, morning and night, like I’ve been doing. He wouldn’t have to stay a second longer than you’re comfortable with.”

You hesitated, the thought of Joel being here, in your home—your sanctuary—sending a jolt of unease through you. The idea of him seeing you this vulnerable, laid bare, made your stomach twist. It would only confirm what he already thought about you—that you were clumsy, helpless, always in need of saving. And now, because you were his brother’s friend, he was stuck picking up the pieces.

“Tommy, I don’t want him to go out of his way,” you said, forcing your voice to sound steady, though uncertainty laced your words. “I can handle myself,—”

The words had barely left your mouth when your hand slipped, knocking the glass of water off the edge of the table. It hit the floor with a sharp crack, the water spilling out in a widening puddle, and you winced at how your body tensed, too slow to catch it.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that said more than words ever could.

You sighed, slumping back against the cushions. “Fine,” you muttered.

“Good,” Tommy said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “He’ll be here tonight, then. And Maria and I will still drop by once she’s feeling a bit better.” He flashed you a grin, his eyes warm with relief. “But listen, kid,” he added, his tone growing playfully stern, “if you ever die on me, I’ll kill you myself.”

You returned a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes; your mind was preoccupied with the thoughts swirling in your head. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t keep refusing help, no matter how much you hated the feeling of being a burden.

•••

That afternoon, you did anything and everything you could to distract yourself. You read the same page of a book over and over, the words slipping away before they could take root. You scribbled in an old notebook, your handwriting growing messier with each line, the sentences trailing off into nothing. You even watched the people passing by your window, their faces unfamiliar, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the day.

But no matter how hard you tried to push it away, the thought of him coming around tonight lingered in the back of your mind—persistent and unwelcome. It gnawed at you, that quiet anticipation twisting itself into anxiety.

What would he say? Would he say anything at all? How would he act?

You wondered if his touch would linger, like it sometimes did in those fleeting moments when you weren’t sure if you had imagined it or if it had been real. The uncertainty wrapped around you like a thick fog, leaving you on edge, caught between hope and fear. Would he bring warmth or distance? The question hung heavily in the air, refusing to let you find any semblance of calm.

You shifted restlessly, your leg aching from the hours spent sitting still, but you didn’t know what else to do. Nothing seemed to quiet the thoughts racing through your head, the uneasy flutter in your chest. All you could do was wait, counting down the hours and distracting yourself with anything that kept you from thinking about the fact that, soon, he would be here. And you weren’t sure you were ready to face him, to face whatever came next.

•••

You hobbled over to the mirror, the crutches clicking on the worn floorboards with every step. The reflection staring back at you made your breath catch in your throat. You looked awful—scratches and bruises marred your face, a dark purple mottling your cheekbone. Your hair was a mess, barely held together by a loose braid, and your eyes were shadowed with deep, dark circles. You didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror, bruised and battered, looking like a stranger you’d crossed paths with in another lifetime.

You suddenly felt a stab of self-consciousness that took you by surprise, the thought prickling at the edges of your mind. Why did it matter what you looked like right now? You shouldn’t care—but still, the feeling lingered, a quiet discomfort crawling under your skin.

You hadn’t expected to be seen like this, so vulnerable and broken. There was a time when you’d been self-reliant, stubbornly independent, but here you were again, needing someone… needing Joel.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door, breaking the stillness of the room. You glanced at the clock—7:00 p.m on the dot.

It was Joel.

“Come in,” you called out, your voice catching in your throat as you angled your body toward the door.

The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the doorway. Joel stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over you with a quick, assessing look. His eyes flicked to the crutches, the bruises on your face, and then back to your own eyes. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, as if weighing what to say.

“Hey,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly, as though the word itself carried more than just a greeting.

You nodded in response, unsure of what to say, the silence between you heavy with unspoken things. There was an unease that hung in the air, not quite tension but something close to it— And yet, seeing him standing there, his expression guarded but not unkind, stirred something in you - deep and unsettling

“Didn’t mean to keep you waitin’,” Joel added, his eyes lingering on the scratches along your jaw.

He stayed near the doorway at first, the corridor stretching between you like a gulf neither of you knew how to cross. “It’s okay,” you whispered, trying to sound casual, but the tension in your voice betrayed you, your hands gripping the crutches for support. There was too much unsaid, too much hanging in the air between you both.

Joel took a few steps forward, his gaze never leaving yours. That’s when you noticed the limp, the subtle hitch in his stride that he tried to shrug off. Your eyes flickered down to his leg, and your eyebrows furrowed with concern. He was hurt—there was no mistaking the way he winced as he moved, a slight grimace crossing his features that he tried to mask with a tough exterior.

“Just a graze,” he said, catching your gaze before you could look away, his voice dismissive. But the tightness around his mouth, the way his jaw clenched with each step, betrayed him. It wasn’t just a graze, and you both knew it. Did he forget you’d seen him get stabbed? The memory of it was still vivid—how he’d staggered, the blood soaking through his jeans.

You didn’t know what to say. The air between you felt thick and stifling, almost hot, like there was too much pressure building and nowhere for it to go. His presence filled the room, and the space between you seemed to shrink and stretch all at once, charged with everything you weren’t saying.

Joel’s gaze swept over you again, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the exhaustion etched into your face. It made his chest ache in a way that was almost physical, like someone had squeezed his heart and wouldn’t let go.

When Tommy had told him you’d woken up, the relief had been overwhelming, nearly knocking the breath out of him. But it was quickly followed by a familiar pang of worry—worry that he wasn’t ready to face you, that the things he had said to push you away still lingered too heavily in the air. The memory of his last words to you was a constant knot in his chest, a reminder of how his fear had driven him to build walls between you… and of the bitter regret that came afterward, unyielding and sharp.

That was why he hadn’t come to see you. Every day, he found himself at your door, his hand hovering just inches from knocking, but doubt tightened its grip, pulling him back each time. It wasn’t until Tommy asked him to step in that he finally crossed the threshold. Joel knew the truth had dawned on his brother—the way things had unfolded left little room for secrets. But Tommy had kept his silence, letting the unspoken truth linger between them, and for that, Joel was grateful.

He took another step closer, and you noticed his gaze softening just a fraction. “How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked, his voice quiet and hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure you wanted him to ask. There was a vulnerability in his tone that made your heart race.

He crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that, unbeknownst to you, was a silent act of restraint—as if by folding himself inward, he could physically prevent his hands from reaching out to trace the bruise on your cheek or gently comb his fingers through your hair. It was a protective barrier, not against you, but against his own unruly impulse to close the distance between you.

You met his eyes, trying to read the expression in them—trying to make sense of the storm brewing in your own chest. “I’m managing,” you replied, though the waver in your voice told a different story.

“Good,” Joel said, but the word came out rough, like it hurt him to say it. He took one more step, as if testing the waters, trying to bridge the distance between you. But even with the few feet that still separated you, it felt like there was an entire world keeping you apart.

“You ready for bed?” Joel asked, his voice low, but softer than you remembered.

“Yeah,” you replied, your stomach tightening as you remembered why he was here. The weight of his gaze felt heavy on your back as you began the slow journey toward the stairs.

The climb was harder than usual, each step sending a dull throb through your leg, and the silence between you seemed to grow thicker with every inch. Joel was close behind, his hand hovering near your back, as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch you or let you handle it on your own.

You were almost halfway up when your crutch slipped on the edge of the stair, your balance giving way beneath you. You let out a small gasp as you stumbled forward, and in an instant, Joel’s hands were on you—strong, steady, catching you before you could hit the ground.

“Sorry,” you breathed, the word slipping out almost inaudibly as he held you. Embarrassment washed over you, a warm flush rising to your cheeks as his touch made you feel exposed, vulnerable. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing into your arm with a quiet desperation, as though he was afraid to let go. You were close now—closer than you had been that day at the lake, when the water blurred the lines between you. His scent wrapped around you, familiar and heady, pulling you back into a moment you weren’t sure you wanted to escape.

“You’re fine,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, his brow furrowing slightly as though he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t, instead he helped you regain your footing, guiding you up the rest of the stairs with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

When you finally reached your bedroom, you hesitated in the doorway, a strange sense of vulnerability washing over you. Joel’s presence here, in this space that had always been yours alone, made the room feel smaller somehow, more intimate. It was the first time he’d ever stepped inside your sanctuary, and you could see him taking in the details of your world—the faded quilt draped over your bed, the stack of books teetering on the nightstand, their covers worn and pages dog-eared from countless readings. His gaze lingered on the half-open drawer, where a few shirts had spilled out, as if it were a glimpse into your life, a life he had only touched from a distance. You felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of embarrassment and something deeper, more meaningful.

He turned to you, helping you sit on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering at your waist before he stepped back. You watched him as he took another glance around the room, his gaze moving from the old, threadbare rug to the small collection of trinkets on the dresser—little things you’d kept over the years, reminders of the life you’d built even in this broken world.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him—the way his jaw tightened, as if he was struggling to hold something back, the way a few strands of hair fell over his forehead, unkempt and tempting your fingers to brush them away. Your head throbbed, and you wondered why you were thinking these things—was it the medication clouding your mind, or was it something deeper, something you’d been avoiding for far too long? There was a tension in the set of his shoulders, a heaviness to his stance, as though he was carrying a weight that wasn’t his alone, but yours as well.

“You take your meds yet?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence, “Doc said two at night.”

Your brow furrowed, a small frown forming as you looked at him. “How do you know what the doctor said?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Joel’s gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he glanced away, his jaw tightening again. “Tommy told me,” he said after a beat, but there was something about the way he said it—too casual, too quick—that made you wonder if that was the whole truth.

The silence stretched out between you, thick with things neither of you knew how to say.

“Yeah, they’re in that drawer over there,” you said, motioning with your hand. Joel walked over, pulling open the old wooden drawer, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he groaned softly as he bent down. The sound made something tighten in your chest—a sudden urge to help him, or to do something, though you weren’t sure what.

He straightened up with a slight wince, returning to you with the two pills in his hand. Just as he reached your side, your stomach betrayed you, grumbling loudly in the quiet room.

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Have you eaten dinner?” he asked, his tone almost challenging.

“Not hungry,” you muttered, brushing off the question, reaching for the pills.

“That sound says otherwise,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Too tired to cook,” you said with a shrug, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve had coffee.”

“Coffee isn’t food,” he retorted, the frustration slipping into his voice. He didn’t seem to notice how close he’d gotten, his presence filling the space between you.

“Joel, it’s fine. Just gimme the meds,” you insisted, reaching for the pills. But he pulled his hand back slightly, just out of your reach.

“No,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “Not lettin’ you starve to death. I’ll be back in a bit. You okay here?”

You stared at him, a protest forming on your lips, but the look in his eyes made it die before you could speak. There was a stubbornness there, a refusal to back down. It was the same look he always had when he was dead set on something, and you knew you weren’t going to change his mind.

“Fine,” you muttered, sinking back against the pillows. “But don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I won’t,” he said, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. And with that, he turned and headed for the door, leaving you in the quiet of your room with a strange warmth curling in your chest that you didn’t quite know what to do with. As you listened to his footsteps fade down the stairs, you found yourself staring at the empty doorway, wondering why the thought of him coming back made you a tinge nervous.

You lay in bed, the quiet ticking of the clock blending with the distant sounds of pans clattering downstairs. The noise echoed faintly through the house, and you couldn’t help but think of Joel, moving around down there. The thought of him in your kitchen—cooking, of all things—felt oddly domestic, almost jarringly so. You stared at the ceiling, your mind wandering back to the last few hours, trying to piece together why he was being so… nice.

It wasn’t that you doubted his capacity to care; you had glimpsed his protective nature before, you had seen it in the way he interacted with Tommy and Ellie.

But this—him going out of his way to make you dinner, staying when he could have easily kept his distance, when he could have helped you up to bed and left within minutes—felt different.

You couldn’t help but question his motives. Was it guilt that drove him? A sense of duty? Or was it something far more complicated, something unspoken that seemed to pulse in the silence between you?

You shook your head, trying to dismiss the spiraling thoughts. After all, Tommy had asked Joel to look after you; it wasn’t like he could have said no. But even that explanation didn’t fully quell the uncertainty brewing inside you. The nagging feeling lingered, urging you to confront the reality that maybe, just maybe, his care went beyond brotherly duty.

The smell of cooking began to drift up the stairs, pulling you out of your thoughts. It started as a faint hint of spices, then grew stronger, filling the room with the warm, savory aroma of whatever he was making. Your stomach twisted with a mix of hunger and something you couldn’t quite name, a flutter of nervous anticipation that made you shift restlessly against the pillows.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of the stairs creaking under Joel’s weight as he made his way up, and your pulse quickened. When he appeared in the doorway, you could see the steam rising from the bowl he carried.

“Here,” Joel said, his voice low as he stepped closer, placing the bowl carefully on your lap. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the kind of care that sent a quiet ache through your chest. You felt the warmth of the bowl seep into your skin, a small comfort against the chill that always seemed to linger.

“Joel, you didn’t really need to do this,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. There was something vulnerable in the way you spoke, almost as if you were trying to deflect the tenderness behind his gesture.

It was no big deal right?

“It’s nothing,” he replied, brushing off your thanks as he turned to find a seat. “Just eat.”

You didn’t expect him to stay, but he pulled up a chair from the corner of the room and sank into it, his gaze fixed on you. There was a quiet intensity in the way he watched, a kind of tension that coiled tightly between you both. As you took your first bite, you became painfully aware of the bruises on your face, the dark circles under your eyes, and the tangled mess of your hair. You felt exposed under his gaze, the awareness prickling across your skin.

“Is it alright?” he asked, his voice laced with a softness you’d never heard from him before.

You swallowed, the flavors rich and satisfying, better than you could have hoped for. “Yeah, it’s perfect,” you said, and though the words were simple, they carried a weight you hadn’t expected. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He gave a half-shrug, his eyes drifting away for a moment, lingering on the worn floorboards beneath his feet. “You kinda have to learn when you’re not just feedin’ yourself,” he said quietly, his voice shifting into a tone that hinted at a past he rarely spoke of. The words hung in the air, delicate yet weighty, creating an invisible thread between you that tugged at something deeper, something unspoken.

You could sense the layers beneath his casual remark, the unguarded glimpse into a life filled with responsibilities and sacrifices. It made your heart race, drawing you closer to the vulnerability he often kept hidden. In that moment, the silence between you felt charged with meaning, echoing the unsaid stories you had yearned to hear.

You saw a flicker in his eyes, a shadow of a life that felt far away and unreachable. He was talking about before, about a time when he wasn’t alone. When he had someone to take care of, someone who depended on him.

“You used to cook for someone else?” you asked, your voice quiet and almost hesitant. “Your… wife?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and a pang of anxiety gripped you. For a brief moment, you feared you had overstepped, that you’d messed up the one time Joel had allowed himself to share even a small piece of his past.

Joel’s expression shifted, a flicker of something deep and raw passing over his features. He shook his head, his jaw tightening as if bracing himself against the words. “No,” he said, the word coming out low and rough. “My daughter.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence pressing down on you both. You hadn’t expected that answer, hadn’t expected the weight it would carry. There was a depth in his voice, a quiet pain that spoke of a love that had been lost, and the hurt that came with it. It hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken, like a wound that had never quite healed.

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotion rising within you—part sympathy, part quiet understanding. It explained so much—the way he kept a watchful eye on those around him, the way he cared for Ellie with a fierce yet unspoken tenderness, the protective instinct that lingered even when he kept his distance. You saw it clearly now, the echo of the father he used to be.

“I didn’t know…” you started, the words faltering as you tried to find something, anything, that wouldn’t sound hollow or empty. But what could you say to a man who had already lost so much?

Joel just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if he didn’t expect you to say anything. “A long time ago,” he murmured, the edge of his voice roughened by the years. “Feels like a different life.”

And with that, the silence settled in again, but this time it felt different—more like an understanding shared in the quiet spaces than a chasm between you.

The rest of the meal unfolded in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need words to fill the space. You were both absorbed in your own thoughts, though neither of you realized that they kept circling back to each other. Joel’s gaze flickered toward you now and then, watching with a quiet intensity as you ate. He noticed the slight tremor in your hand as you lifted the spoon, the way your brow furrowed with each careful bite. There was a vulnerability in those small, deliberate movements—in you—that tugged at something deep within him.

When you finally finished, you set the bowl aside and offered him a small smile. “Can you…?” You hesitated, feeling the weight of the request, even though it was a simple one. “I need some help getting to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, of course,” Joel replied, practically leaping to his feet, his eagerness almost surprising you. He moved quickly to your side, his hand steadying you as you stood. There was a tenderness in the way he supported your weight, his grip firm but not overpowering.

“Thanks,” you murmured as he helped you down the hall, your voice quiet against the stillness. After brushing your teeth, you leaned on him again as you made your way back to bed, each step a little easier with him by your side.

Back in your room, you sank beneath the blankets, the day’s fatigue and the weight of the medications settling over you like a heavy fog. It was time for Joel to leave, and you could feel the air shift—an almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere now that his task was complete.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked, concern lacing his words.

“Yeah,” you replied, nodding slightly. “Thanks again, Joel.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, his tone almost dismissive, but there was something softer in his eyes. As he turned to go, his hand reached for the small lamp that cast a warm glow across the room.

“Can you… keep it on?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, a quiet admission that made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Just… for tonight.”

Joel’s hand froze mid-motion, and when he looked back at you, his gaze softened. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Of course.” There was a faint ache in his chest, the idea of you lying here in the dark, alone and scared. It stirred something fierce in him, an urge to stay—to sit by your bedside, to wrap his arms around you and promise that you’d be safe. But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“Alright,” he said, his voice low and gruff again. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” you murmured, leaning back and resting your head on the pillow. “Goodnight.” Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, drifting through the quiet room.

He nodded and turned, the soft creak of the floorboards marking his departure. You listened to his footsteps as he walked down the stairs, each one growing fainter. The house felt colder without him in it, the warmth he’d brought with him fading into the night.

Your thoughts drifted back to what had just happened. The way Joel had opened up, even if only for a moment. The glimpse into a past he kept guarded, the vulnerability he’d shown in sharing that part of himself with you. It was rare, and it was real, and you could sense that something had shifted between you.

As you stared at the dim glow of the lamp, a quiet ache settled deep in your chest—a longing for something unspoken, still taking shape in the silence you shared. It lingered in the spaces where words had failed, in the glances that spoke more than you dared to acknowledge. But beneath that yearning, there was also a wall—a familiar fear tightening around your heart, warning you against letting him in again, only to be hurt all over again. The possibility of reopening old wounds kept you guarded, even as the ache for something more refused to fade.

•••

The next few days passed in a quiet, unexpected rhythm—something that felt almost like domestic bliss, though you hardly dared to call it that. Joel came by every morning and evening, helping you with the mundane tasks that had somehow become monumental—getting you out of bed, steadying you on your crutches, making sure you didn’t push yourself too hard. He never said much, never offered any explanations for why he was being this way. But his actions spoke louder than words, a silent devotion that was as confusing as it was comforting.

He made you breakfast and dinner without a word, the smell of sizzling eggs or simmering stew becoming a familiar, almost soothing part of your day. There was a quiet care in the way he placed the plate in front of you, the way he made sure you ate before he’d allow himself to sit down. It was in the little things, the quiet gestures that spoke of a protectiveness you hadn’t expected, but found yourself welcoming all the same.

You noticed how easily you had grown accustomed to it all—the sound of the door turning, signaling his arrival; the faint scent of his shampoo that lingered in the air when he leaned close to help you; the warmth of his hands, rough but steady, as he guided you out of bed in the morning and back into it at night. You found yourself looking forward to the soft murmur of his voice, the way his presence seemed to fill the room without overwhelming it.

And it scared you, just a little—how you had almost become too comfortable, too used to this new normal. There was a part of you that knew it couldn’t last, that eventually, things would have to go back to how they were before. But for now, you allowed yourself to savor it, to sink into the simple pleasure of having someone there, of not feeling so alone.

It was easy to pretend, in those moments when he was near, that the world wasn’t as broken as it was. Easy to forget, if only for a while, that this wasn’t really yours to keep.

Little did you know, Joel felt the same. Each time he came over, it was as if he was easing into a life he hadn’t known he still yearned for—a life where caring for someone wasn’t just a burden but a choice he made every day. In the quiet moments spent helping you up the stairs or preparing a simple meal, he found a strange kind of solace. It was a way for him to show how much he cared without having to say the words aloud, words that felt too heavy, too close to the heart he kept so tightly guarded.

He poured his feelings into the little things—into the way he made sure your coffee was just the way you liked it, the way he lingered an extra moment to tuck the blankets around you at night, or the way his hand would steady your shoulder as you wobbled on the crutches. It was in the way he watched you when you weren’t looking, his gaze softening with a tenderness he wasn’t sure he had any right to feel.

Joel had never been good with words, especially when it came to emotions. But this—this quiet care—was something he could offer, a way to be close to you without crossing the unspoken lines that had kept him at a distance for so long. It was as if, in these simple acts, he could bridge the gap between you, express everything he couldn’t say in a way that felt real, solid.

With each passing day, he found himself wanting more—wanting to linger a little longer, to find more reasons to be near you, to close the distance between you inch by inch, to press his lips against your wounds and soothe the ache beneath them. But even as the lines between you began to blur, he couldn’t help but wonder if you felt it too—the subtle shift, the quiet understanding that had nestled itself in the spaces between the familiar routines. Sometimes, he thought he saw it in your eyes, a flicker of recognition, as though you sensed the change but weren’t yet ready to name it.

•••

Just like the nights before, Joel had helped you into bed after making you dinner. He had left your room a while ago, and now you lay there, your mind racing. The memory of his touch lingered—the way his fingers had brushed against your arm as he steadied you, the warmth of his hand lingering even after he’d pulled away.

The lamp still cast its soft glow across the room, a gesture you’d grown to appreciate. Joel hadn’t tried to turn it off since that first night; it was a quiet kindness, one he hadn’t spoken of, but it said more than words ever could.

You tossed and turned, struggling to find a position that didn’t worsen the dull ache in your leg. You’d only taken one pain pill tonight, ignoring Joel’s gentle reminder to take two, as the doctor had instructed. It had been a mistake. You told yourself you could start cutting down, but the pain pulsed deep in your bones, each throb growing sharper and harder to ignore. Reaching toward the side table, you fumbled for the second pill, but your fingers froze when you realized the glass of water was all the way across the room, just out of reach.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, frustration flaring within you. With a burst of determination, you threw off the covers and opted to hop across the room on one leg, leaving the crutches behind. But the instability of your injured foot and the darkness of the room conspired against you. Suddenly, the floor slipped out from under you, and you fell hard, the impact twisting your leg in a way that sent a shockwave of pain coursing through your body. A sharp cry escaped your lips, the intensity of the agony so overwhelming that tears sprang to your eyes, blurring your vision as the world around you tilted dangerously.

It took a moment for the world to stop spinning, and when it did, you realized Joel was suddenly beside you, his arms wrapping around you before you could fully process what had happened. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he said, his voice steady yet edged with panic. “What were you doing?”

His eyebrows were furrowed, worry unmistakable in his brown eyes as they searched your face for signs of injury. His hands moved to cradle your shoulders, his grip both firm and gentle, as if he was afraid you might shatter at any moment.

“Joel, you’re still here?” you gasped, your voice strained as you tried to focus through the pain.

“Here, let me get you up, slowly,” he said, already lifting you, his movements careful and deliberate. He helped you back onto the bed, then quickly fetched the water and pain pill, bringing them to your trembling hands. You took the pill, grimacing as you swallowed.

Joel’s questions came in rapid succession, his worry evident in every word.

“Are you okay? Do I need to get you to the doc? What the hell happened? Why were you out of bed?”

His voice shifted between concern and frustration, each syllable laced with an urgency that made your heart race.

“It’s nothing, Joel,” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction. “I just needed water, and it would’ve only taken a second.” You glanced at him, your brow furrowing. “But… why were you still here?”

His expression faltered, a hint of flustered uncertainty passing over his face. “I—well, I stay,” he admitted, almost reluctantly, his words tumbling out in a way that revealed more than he intended. “Just for a while. Till I know you’re asleep.”

There was a vulnerability in his admission, a softness that contrasted sharply with the tough exterior he usually maintained.

You blinked, taken aback by the confession. “You… wait for me to fall asleep?”

The thought of Joel—gruff, guarded Joel—sitting quietly for hours, just to be sure you were safe, sent something rippling through your chest.

“When I hear you snoring, I know you’re asleep, and I can step out—”

“I do not snore!” you shot back, despite the way your heart quickened at the thought. But the hint of a smile tugged at his lips, softening the hard lines of his face.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost teasing.

You scoffed, shaking your head, though the warmth of his words lingered. “Well, thank you… but you don’t need to stay.”

Joel’s eyes darkened with something serious, something almost vulnerable as he said your name softly. “Imagine if I hadn’t been here tonight. You’d have been on that floor till morning.”

The reality of it sank in, the thought of lying there, helpless and in pain, with no one to hear you. You swallowed, the tension in the air thickening, the weight of his concern pressing down on you.

“I think I should stay over,” he continued, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of resolve. “At least for a bit, until you’re more stable on your feet. Only if you’re okay with it.”

There was no denying the sincerity in his eyes, the way his gaze held yours, unflinching and unguarded. The quiet worry etched into his features told you everything you needed to know—Joel wasn’t just offering to help; he needed to be here, to be sure you were safe.

Was this also part of his brotherly duty to Tommy? Or was this something more?

You just nodded, taking another sip of water, the tension still crackling softly in the air between you. “Okay,” you murmured.

“I’ll be on the couch,” Joel said, his voice quieter now, as if he were offering you reassurance rather than just stating a fact. “You need anything, you just holler, alright?”

“Goodnight,” he said, lingering in the doorway for a heartbeat longer, as if making sure you were truly settled.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, the word barely more than a breath, but it felt like it carried more weight than usual. You watched him turn and walk out, his footsteps fading as he headed down the hall.

As the house fell into a familiar stillness, you lay back against the pillows, letting your eyes close. The sound of Joel settling on the couch echoed faintly through the walls, and you took a small comfort in knowing he was still there, just a shout away. It made the darkness seem a little less daunting, the ache in your leg a little more bearable.

•••

The next morning, as you sat in the kitchen, something caught your eye—a splash of color at the center of the table. Turning your head, you saw a vase filled with roses, their petals a rich, velvety shade of deep red, almost brown, offering a gentle contrast to the morning light streaming through the window. A smile tugged at your lips—a sincere, unguarded smile, the kind you hadn’t felt in a long while.

“Look,” you called softly, glancing toward the stove where Joel was busy cooking. The familiar sight of his broad back moving about the kitchen had become a comfort, a routine you had come to cherish. “Someone brought roses—my favorite.”

Joel glanced over his shoulder, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah?” he said, though he was well aware of the flowers.

He had been the one to bring them, after all.

“They’re so pretty,” you continued, reaching out to brush your fingers over the soft petals, inhaling the sweet, delicate fragrance. “And they smell amazing. I’ll have to thank Tommy and Maria the next time I see them. They really brighten up the room.” You smiled to yourself, the thought of their kindness warming you. It was a small gesture, but it felt significant, a reminder that even in this harsh world, moments of beauty could still exist.

Joel just nodded, his back turned to you as he poured your coffee. “Mmhmm,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“They’re real pretty,” Joel said, but as the words left his mouth, his eyes weren’t on the roses—they were on you. There was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that made something flutter in your chest. You didn’t notice it at first, too focused on the delicate petals and the sweet scent that filled the air. You just nodded, your smile widening as you breathed in the fragrance again.

“They really are,” you murmured.

Joel didn’t say anything, merely offering a quiet grunt of acknowledgment as he handed you your coffee. You wrapped your hands around the cup, relishing the familiar comfort of its warmth, blissfully unaware that he had gone out of his way to find those roses for you. He had spent months listening to Tommy talk about you, absorbing all the little details—your favorite things—and carefully keeping them tucked away in his mind.

•••

The day passed in a blur of familiar routines. Joel was out on patrol, as he often was when he wasn’t at your place, leaving you to settle into the rhythm of the day. Tommy and Maria dropped by in the afternoon, filling the house with a brief burst of warmth and lively chatter. You noticed how Maria’s baby bump had grown, her hand instinctively resting on it with each movement. There was a radiant glow about her that made the future feel almost hopeful. You tried to soak in the comfort of their visit, letting thoughts of a future baby wash over you. It stirred a yearning deep within for the dreams you once held—of a husband, a family, and a home filled with love.

That evening, after dinner, you and Joel lingered downstairs longer than usual. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls as you found yourselves drawn into conversation. Joel had become more talkative lately, his gruff demeanor easing into something softer, almost companionable.

You’d asked him about patrol, and he’d shared more than you expected—details of the day, the quietness that hung over the forest, the way the world felt almost too still. There was an openness in the way he spoke, a willingness to let you into his world, even if only a little. It made the space between you feel smaller, more intimate.

But when the night grew late, you finally retreated to your room, slipping under the covers with a lingering sense of unease, one that would often creep up on the dead of night. But tonight, as you lay there, the dark seemed to press in closer than usual.

The memories came back with a vengeance—visceral and hauntint, vivid flashes of pain and terror. You could see the look on their faces, those men who had tied you up, the glint of cruelty in their eyes, the sound of their mocking voices. The memory of your leg snapping, the sharp, blinding agony, and the sight of your own blood pooling beneath you—all of it rushed back in fragments, relentless and suffocating.

You were caught in the grip of a night terror, your heart racing like a drum against your ribs. Sweat soaked through your clothes, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you thrashed against the sheets. You felt trapped, unable to wake yourself from the nightmare, your body locked in the awful, helpless fear that had consumed you then.

In the dream, you were calling out for help, your voice echoing in the darkness, but no one could hear you. It was like screaming into a void, each cry swallowed up by an unforgiving silence. The world around you was twisted and wrong—faces you recognized lay lifeless on the ground, unmoving. Tommy, Maria… Joel. They were all gone, and the sight of them sprawled out in the dirt, blood pooling beneath their bodies, filled you with a terror so deep it felt like you were drowning.

You kept screaming, clawing at the darkness, but there was no one left to answer. The emptiness swallowed you whole, pulling you down, down, until—

Suddenly, a jolt of sensation ripped through the nightmare. Someone was shaking you, pulling you back from the abyss. The darkness shattered into a blur of movement and sound as you struggled to orient yourself. The nightmare's suffocating grip began to loosen, and you gasped for air, blinking furiously to clear the lingering terror from your mind.

“Hey, hey! You’re okay—wake up,” a voice urged, rough and panicked. You blinked up at Joel, his hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently but urgently, his face etched with a fear that was all too real. “It’s just a dream,” he said, his voice low and steady as he tried to calm you.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unrelenting, as if all the fear and pain of the nightmare were pouring out in a flood you couldn’t control. Your chest heaved with each breath, the sobs wracking your body as you struggled to come back to reality. It was like the terror had followed you, clinging to your skin, and no matter how hard you tried to blink it away, the images still burned behind your eyes.

Joel’s grip on your shoulders tightened, his touch grounding you, anchoring you in the here and now. “Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “You’re safe. It was just a dream. I’ve got you.” He reached up to brush the tears from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, his movements gentle, as though afraid you might shatter.

The tenderness in his gaze felt almost too much to bear, the concern etched into the lines of his face stirring something deep inside you—something raw and vulnerable that you weren’t sure how to face. You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the words to explain the depth of the fear that still clung to you. All you could do was cling to the sound of his voice, the warmth of his hands, and the quiet strength that held you together even as you fell apart.

“You were all…” you gasped, the words tumbling out in a broken, frantic rush. “You were all gone… and they—they had me tied up…” The rest of the sentence fell away, your voice faltering as the horror of the dream clung to you, its shadow still lingering in your mind. The words didn’t make sense even to you, but they spilled out anyway, desperate and raw.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, his voice a soothing rumble that felt like a balm against the jagged edges of your fear. If you had been more conscious and less consumed by terror, you might have realized the weight of the endearment he used—how sweetheart fell from his lips so naturally, as if the word itself had been created just for you.

He shifted closer, his hands cupping your face with a tenderness that took you by surprise. His thumb gently wiped away the tears that continued to streak down your cheeks, the contact grounding you in the moment. “I’m here. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”

His gaze was steady and unwavering, holding you in the present, as if willing you to believe him. In that moment, the world felt small, contained within the warmth of his touch and the low, steady cadence of his voice. It was enough to make you feel anchored, as though the terror that had gripped you was beginning to ebb away, leaving only the thrum of your heartbeat and the safety of Joel’s presence in its wake.

Little did you know, that night haunted Joel just as deeply. It wasn’t just your cries that lingered in his mind—it was the echoes of the past, bleeding into the present. The screams of Sarah, the look of terror in your eyes, even Tess's pained expressions—they all mixed together in the haze of his own nightmares. The memories twisted and blurred into a chaotic swirl of pain, death, sorrow, and loss, each one clawing at him in the darkness.

He’d often wake up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, the remnants of those horrors gripping him tight. But there was one thing that kept him grounded, something that offered him a small measure of comfort: the sound of your soft, rhythmic breathing drifting through the quiet house. It wasn’t just a reminder that you were safe—it was a reminder that he hadn’t failed this time.

The past still weighed heavy on his soul, but the knowledge that you were there, alive and still fighting, was enough to keep the darkness at bay… at least for a little while.

Your breathing had finally begun to steady, each inhale less ragged than the last. Joel stayed by the edge of your bed, his hand still resting on your shoulder, waiting for you to give some sign that you were okay, that he could go back to the couch downstairs. But instead, your gaze met his, the tears still glistening in your eyes, unspoken words trembling on your lips.

“Could you…” you began, your voice wavering as you struggled to get the rest out. “Could you stay?”

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m already downstairs,” he said softly, as though reminding you of his usual spot. “You know that.”

“No, I mean…” You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid to say the words out loud. “Here. With me.”

The request hung in the air, fragile and tentative, but the meaning was clear. Joel’s eyes widened ever so slightly, the surprise flickering there as if he hadn’t expected you to ask.

You caught the hesitation in his eyes, and suddenly, all the harsh words he’d ever thrown at you seemed to come crashing down at once—burden, useless—echoes of moments when you’d felt like nothing more than an inconvenience. Your cheeks burned with shame, and you dropped your gaze, stumbling over your words. “I mean… sorry, that was stupid,” you muttered, the regret already tightening in your throat. “It’s just my meds talking.”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting through the fragile air between you. You looked up, and the expression in his eyes had changed—there was no trace of doubt left, only a quiet resolve. “I’ll stay,” he repeated, his tone gentler this time. “If you want me to.”

You nodded, and Joel didn’t hesitate this time. He moved around to the other side of the bed, his features softened in the glow of the lamp and the pale wash of moonlight that spilled in through the window. He dipped into the bed, settling carefully beside you. Even as he gave you space, you could feel the warmth radiating from him, a steady comfort that made your chest tighten.

You turned toward him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Joel. I know I can be… a lot. I—”

“Hey.” He cut you off gently, his voice firm but soft, as though he was willing away the words before they could take hold. “Don’t do that.” His eyes found yours in the dim light, steady and unyielding, and the way he looked at you made your breath hitch, like he saw past all the broken pieces you tried to hide.

“You’re not a lot. You’re—” He paused, the words catching in his throat as if he hadn’t meant to say them aloud. “You’re someone worth looking after.”

His voice was low, roughened by the weight of things unsaid, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. There was no pity in his gaze, no trace of frustration or burden—just a quiet sincerity that sank deep into your bones.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and gave a small nod, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Okay.”

He reached out through the darkness, and your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch warm against your skin.

“Now try to get some rest,” he murmured, his tone soft and almost tender, like a promise wrapped in warmth.

As you closed your eyes, you felt the quiet reassurance of his presence, the way he stayed close enough for you to hear his steady breathing—the rise and fall grounding you, a reminder that you weren’t alone.

Not tonight. Not with him here.

Tag List:

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@darkheartgatita @ickearmn @spacegirl-3 @mystickittytaco

@sukunnayuuji @jasminedragoon @merm4id5lut @ickearmn

@dugiioh @ginsan-eyes @smoochispoof @off-dreaming-again @cynicalbunny @dendulinka6 @w-w-a-n-d-r-l-u-s-t-t @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @spacemamax @lizzie-cakes @off-dreaming-again

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Cornflower Blue

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

❥Yandere Outlaw Song Mingi x fem reader

➯a/n: this is my darkest fic yet imo, be sure to read the contents and take care of yourself! also im super proud of this, it took like three months tbh and i still didn't get to fit in everything i wanted to. enjoy some yandere minki 💙

✃The moonlight seeps in through the sheer curtains and paints your skin in a haze of blue. The bruise on your temple like a water color bloom.

♫ "You love me 'till you wear me out, then you love me more." -Cornflower Blue, Flower Face ♫"Love's never been more than pain, so Baby, show me how bad you hurt." -Dog Days, Ethel Cain ♫"My Babe would never fret about what my hands and my body done- if The Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my Baby." -Work Song, Hozier ♫"I just wanted to be yours. Can I be yours? Just tell me I'm yours." - Strangers, Ethel Cain ♫

✫彡wordcount: 14k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ)��(>ᴗ•) genre: plot heavy smut, yandere, angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: GOOD LORD WHAT HAVE I DONE ??? wild west au, HEAVY yandere themes, murder, reader near death experience, mingi is CRAZY, bribery, manipulation, threatening, gun violence/shoot-out, injuries, invasion of privacy, 'off-screen' death of main characters, kidnapping, NSFW; multiple sex scenes, masterbation, unprotected(BOO), first time, head(reader receiving), size difference, spit, breeding kink, overstim, biiiiiig dick mingi (i'm a sucker😞), praise, dirty talk, soft sex turned rough, extreme possessiveness

not edited, definitely grammatical errors 🥲

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg @nini4m @senpai-of-doom

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Ellis~" Your sing song tone echoes out through the alleyway, crates of stored food blocking your view. "Oh, my! Is that a corn snake?" You yelled out dramatically, crouching down behind a crate.

"Where?!" The young boys voice gets closer by the second until he runs up to you and you snatch him up.

"Wraa! I got you!" He laughs loudly, an heart-full sound that rings out in the dead town. Everyone has gone besides very few to a new market up North. "I've caught you, and I'll eat you up!" You pull him up as he yells and laughs and swing him around as you twirl to the main road. "I'll have ye for supper," you laugh with your best witch-like voice.

"No, I'm not tasty!"

"No? Well... I guess I shouldn't do this then!" You playfully nom at his sweatered shoulder, tickling his ribs.

"Auntie, please, I'll do it! I'll sweep!"

You stand up like nothing ever happened and smile, "great, Miss Carmen will be most pleased." You had recruited multiple of the youngsters left behind to help you maintain the vacant homes while the market took place, and some off them were less than happy to have been roped in. "Would you like me to carry you?"

"Ye' , please!" His smile is missing a tooth, and it makes you chuckle.

You place him over your hip and begin the short walk, planning out the rest of the days chores in your head when he screams, "horsie!"

You follow the path his chubby fingers points to, and find a large figure riding in past the town sign on a similarly large white horse. His face is obscured by his large droopy hat, but that isn't what makes you suspicious at first.

The man riding into town has multiple guns on his figure.

You scramble to the side of the dirt path and hold Ellis' head to your shoulder, looking up at the stranger as he slows his horse to come to a stop right infront of you.

   "Hello, Si-"

  "Auntie, I'm scared." Despite your best efforts, the young boy had caught a glimpse of the towering and dangerous-looking man, shivering in your hold.

     You crouch down and set him down carefully, rubbing his back for a moment before you turn him in the direction you want him to go, "run off to the schoolhouse, tell Maria to come and cook up our guest a meal. You can do that, right?"

     He rubs his eyes and peeks at the man before looking back to you, nodding eagerly. "Go on and get, then." You pat his shoulder and watch him run before turning to the man.

       "Room and board, Sir?" You speak formally to the hidden man.

    "Yes." He speaks simply, swinging his leg and jumping down from the horse.

    He's no less intimidating now that he's technically level with you. He looms over you like a shadow and places a chill in your bones. "Is this place a ghost town?" He has an accent that you can't place, but you lock onto it anyhow because it's quite clear he isn't from around here. You look away from him, trying to hide your nerves at the fact that he's the first real stranger you've ever met.

    "No, Sir. Most are away to sell our spring crops." He hums shortly in response, watching you closely from under the shadow his hat casts over his eyes as you grab his horses reigns. You can feel the way his eyes bore into your every move as you begin waking, "follow me, then."

    It's a silent and most awkward walk down the deserted main street, and you can still feel his gaze burning into your back as you lead his horse into the stables.

"So, where are you from, stranger?"

     "Away." Your feeble attempt at small talk is shut down by the man immediately as he stands in the large doorway, broad shoulders nearly touching its sides.

"Very well," you step back out of the horse's temporary home, and are put in the shadow his large frame casts. "Uhm, my name is (Y/n)," you extend your hand, trying to remember your manners despite the fear in your gut.

     He takes your hand, roughly. You can't tell if he means to- or if he's just that strong. "Mingi."

     His hand is cold. It shocks you. You pull away from his grip and push past him, head lowered. You've quickly found that you don't enjoy strangers. "Miss Maria can help you get settled, show you around if you like. Nothin' much to do 'round here besides drink or play ball." You ramble on as you head to the bar, just down the road. You don't have to look behind you to know he's following. You can feel his gaze locked in on your back, that same feeling you get when men at the bar have one too many or that time when a wild boar almost got you.

      The bar isn't anything special, though nothing in the town is really. He looks around, silently. A few wooden booths and rickety tables. A pool table. A small island that separates the main floor and the bartenders area. Beyond that, he can see a kitchen. He almost thought his luck had run out when he rode into the seemingly deserted town, and then he saw you twirling the young boy into the main road.

     He nods his head, maybe subconsciously, to say he's pleased enough to stay. "Up this way," your voice echoes in the empty space, and you touch his arm ever so lightly to get his attention. The staircase is hidden by the corner, and he has to crouch to ascend them. When he does, he's pleasantly surprised.

     The room has a homey, lived in feel to it. Well, most of it. It's a large space, walls decorated with dried flowers and boxed in dead insects, chalk drawings of all kinds of things on the dark oak walls. There's a slanted shelf that's adorned with carved wooden trinkets and toys, most of which have a small layer of dust if he looks hard enough. A large open window is on the back wall, facing the town, and a dresser that fits perfectly under it. The bed on the left side of the dresser is messy, a large fur blanket that's bundled up to expose pristine white sheets.

     The part that doesn't look as lived in is on the right side of the dresser. An fresh lantern candle placed neatly on the made bed, dark red sheets and grey comforter.

     "I hope you don't mind a roommate... I'm not here for the most part, I won't be in your hair." You're shuffling around quickly, hiding a few things that he didn't get to inspect into the left side of the dresser. "You can," you gulp, clearly uncomfortable with the silent man, "you can put your things away in these drawers if you like."

He stands, like a scarecrow, holding his rucksack tightly. When he moves, you flinch, sliding closer to what he now placed together is your bed. He chooses to ignore that, sitting down on the other bed and feeling the soft fabric. "You own this place?"

You're taken aback by his unprovoked speaking, gathering you thoughts as you sit across from him on your own bed. "Uh, no. A man named Louis owns this and the bar."

"Hm. And you?"

"I work down in the bar, bartending and such. So he lets me stay."

A small smirk plays at his lips, hidden by his hat as he looks around again. You've clearly lived here a long while. There's more to your story than just working downstairs. "Kind of him."

    "Very. You may be able to thank him for his hospitality, he gets back in a few days." You pause for a moment before you ask tentatively, "how long will you be staying?"

     He stands and turns his back to you as he takes off his hat, beginning to unpack his bag. "Few weeks maybe."

    "Ah," you draw quietly, anxiety growing in your gut. The very few visitors you could remember stayed for only days, if that. Even then, they weren't total strangers. They were people that others in town knew from the market or city.

    "Hope you don't mind a roommate," he turns back around and tosses a look your way as he starts to fold his clothing into the unoccupied drawers. And if the air wasn't gone from your lungs by now, it is now. This stranger, Mingi, is the most handsome being you've ever laid your eyes upon.

     His eyebrows are softly arched, beautifully curved nose and lips. And his eyes- oh, his eyes. You swear you could get lost in them. And it seems you do, staring at the man despite the fact your intuition is telling you to look away. "Handsome, I know."

    A heat flushes your face and you force yourself to look away as he smirks your way, "w-well, you know, uh- let me go and fetch Miss Maria, you must be famished!"

     With that, you're down the stairs and out the bar. He watches as you speed walk away through the window, blissfully unaware that he's opened up your drawers to have a deeper look into his roommate.

༄

You dodged the handsome stranger until you no longer could, the sun was setting and there were no more excuses to be found to avoid going back home. He wasn't in the room when you returned, but the bathroom door was closed and you could see the flickering of a candle from the cracks.

    You lit a few candles on the dresser before the sun fully set, taking some deep breaths as you heard him moving around. You remove your boots, a groan of relief settling behind your lips as you wiggle your toes.

    As you're unfolding your night gown, the door to the bathroom creaks open. "Hello, Miss," he greets, much warmer than his earlier aura.

     "Mingi," you greet back with a small smile, "have you found your way around well?" You shift your weight uncomfortably as he tilts his head at you, as if he's trying to read you.

    "Mhm, this ghost town isn't as bad as I thought," he sits down on his bed, rolling his head with a groan.

     "Very good, maybe when the other return you'll find it even better." You can't wait for the day. His presence makes you... uneasy, is the best way to put it. You know he could easily over power you and the others. Elderly, young, and women who don't have a single idea of self defense. Maybe that was stupid on your towns part- but you needed all of the hands on deck to sell the bountiful harvest.

      You excuse yourself and lock the bathroom door behind you, double checking before you begin to remove your day clothes. As you change, you start to wonder if maybe Mingi was just uncomfortable around strangers as well. He's seemed to have warmed up quite a bit to you. You'll have to ask Maria in the morning about their encounter.

     Perhaps he won't be as bad as you expected- "Oh, dear me!" You stumble as you re-enter the room, covering your eyes with your hands. "Uhm, Mingi?"

    "I'm just cleaning my wound," he chuckles, watching you with a glint in his eyes.

      You peek through your fingers, keeping your hands to your face to hide.

    Indeed, he's shirtless. Your eyes hadn't played a trick on you.

      You swallow the gathering wetness in your mouth as you peer at his naked torso. He's slim, toned in all the right places. His arms are something of a dream to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from them as sinful thoughts begin growing in your mind.

    Instead, you take a look at the wound he referred to.  A shallow gash going from his hip around and around to his back. The edges of it are already scarring, leaving only the middle of it as a wound.

You slowly approach the end of his bed, hands resting on the metal bed frame. "May I ask?"

"Every man his enemies. Mine happen to be good with throwing knives."

"Is that why you carry all those weapons?" The question has been nagging you. He has so many. And you don't like them. You don't like that they are in your home. He's left them on his side of the dresser.

"Perhaps." He groans as he tries to reach around and clean the part of the cut that stretches onto his back. "Would... would you be so kind, (Y/n)?"

It's your turn to be the silent type. You move to sit beside him, taking the damp rag and jar of salve with shaking hands. You haven't been this close to him until now. You haven't been this close to any man, really.

He smells shockingly good.

He shivers as you begin cleaning up his wound, and you apologize under your breath.

Unbeknownst to you, that was not a shiver of pain.

He's always been the nosy type. He couldn't help himself but try to get to know you through your belongings while you were gone. And he struck a pot of gold when he found your diary.

The entries dated back seven years. And he read through all seven of them. With every word, he became more and more infatuated with you. And your touch on his body solidified that infatuation. It felt right. Your innocent, helping touch turned his infatuation into something more sinister.

So, no. It was not a shiver of pain.

"There you go," you can't help but stroke the large expanse of his back once you've finished, it's a work of art. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

But, oh, does he. He has to bite his lip to hold back a moan, looking down at his lap. His member twitching to life from the smallest, most pure of your touches. "Thank you kindly." He forces out, breathily.

You're in your own bed much to quickly for his liking, hiding under your blanket. "Goodnight, Mingi. I shall see you in the morning."

༄

     "Hello, stranger," you smile at him as steps out of the building, earning one back. "Slept well, I hope?"

    "Very, thank you." He takes a seat on the steps of the bar next to you and watches the sun grow higher in the sky. "May I ask you a personal question, (Y/n)?"

     "I suppose so," you shift slightly, toying with the strings on your boots. While your knees are pulled up to the step just below your bottom, his feet stretch all the way off of the steps and onto the dirt.

    "Where is your family?"

    "I'm sorry?"

   "Well... it's just, you're a beautiful young woman. Don't you have a husband and a couple of rug-rats?"

    "Rug-rats," you repeated with a chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no rug-rats."

"And a husband?"

"The closest I have to a husband is Castle... my mutt." You look to him with a bigger smile, your nerves and anxiety around him unwinding. When he laughs, you feel a flutter in your stomach that makes them disappear completely.

You turn back to the sun as it rises, trying to convince yourself that the heat you feel on your cheeks is from the warmness of it. "Why do you ask?"

He hums, leaning back on his elbows and allowing his eyes to flick up and down as they observe you. "Wanted to know my chances."

"Oh!" You look back at him, his eyes shining with that glint once more, "the cow boy is a flirt? I see."

"I'm not a cowboy."

"No?" You lean back and join him, crossing your legs. Maria had told you just earlier that he was strange, that she sensed a darkness about him. But you only felt warmth and light. "What are you then, Mingi?"

"An outlaw." The smirk on his lips makes you think he's joking, and you let out a laugh.

If only you knew that Mingi was being truthful.

༄

      The wagons roll into town the next morning, bright and early. You're still asleep when the first one comes, but the happy hollering from Maria wakes you and Mingi both with a start.

    He's dazed and confused, rolling around and glaring at at ceiling above him. While you, well you nearly jump out of your skin to run downstairs.

     Still in your nightgown and soft socks, you almost slip and fall as you jump off of the last stair and slide into the main area. "Lou!" You collide into him and sway happily as the older man lifts you up in his arms.

"There's my girl! You been holdin' us down?" He sets you down carefully and inspects you, making sure you've been kept safe in his time away.

"You know I have," you give him a wide and toothy smile, "how was the new market?"

"Oh, it was wonderful, dear! Next time I should take you both with me, so many new things," he reaches into his satchel, handing his wife something small and shiney.

Mingi, in his own sleep clothes- a loose pair of pants, slowly descends the stairs, silent as a mouse as he watches the three of you.

Miss Maria, the older woman with a scarf permanently affixed to her head, looks down at the ring with a teary smile. "Oh, Louis, you shouldn't have." You lift yourself up and sit on one of the tables, watching the two kiss with a small smile.

"Why shouldn't I? A man is meant to spoil his wife, isn't that what I always say? Besides, we made quite the profit this time around." His wrinkled hand cups her cheek, and you can't help but coo at their affection.

"Y'all are too stinkin' cute." Maria looks away bashfully, admiring the ring on her hand. While Louis turns to you with a smile, which fades as quickly as it came.

"And who is this?" His hand is on his belt, twitching at his pistol as he spots Mingi coming up behind you. You turn, and then back, moving his hand away from his weapon.

"That's Mingi, he got here a few days ago. A traveler." You don't know if that last part is necessarily true. Mingi never did tell you why he was passing by your isolated town. "He's quite alright."

"He's half naked- and so are you! Young lady-"

"Lou!" Maria is flabbergasted by what he seems to be implying, while you don't seem to see the innuendo. Of course you are? You just awoke.

Mingi stays silent, and simply extends his hand to Louis. When he doesn't take it, he puts it back to his side, joining you at the table. It seems to you that Mingi is indeed weary of strangers. He seems only comfortable with you. Yesterday, he followed you around almost like a lost dog. Insisting that he wanted to help you with your daily chores.

His eyes flick down to your chest. Sure, he's seen you in your nightgown. But that was in the moon or candle light. The sunlight from the many bar windows exposes just how sheer it is. He can see your nipples if he looks hard enough. And, oh, he's looking.

And Louis notices, ears flushing red with anger as the strange traveler looks you up and down. "Alright, dear, go get dressed."

"Oh, but I wish to hear of the market! Unc-"

"Now, (Y/n)."

With a sigh, you slide off of the table, patting Mingis exposed shoulder as you pass him. He goes to follow you back upstairs when Louis grips his wrist. Hard.

Maria is fiddling with her new ring, almost cowering behind her husband as she feels Mingis aura once again. She can't seem to pinpoint why. But she doesn't like this man one bit. He's done nothing to her, to anyone for that matter. But she feels an evilness seep from his gaze.

"Have a seat, Mingi." Louis doesn't seem to like him either. Maybe because of his silent demeanor or the way he was ogling you.

He does so, with a bored expression, plopping down on one of the wooden booths. Louis slides into the booth seat across from him, waving Maria off. She doesn't need to be told twice. She doesn't want to be near that man for one second more than necessary.

Alone in the seating area, the two men stare silently at one another. As if sizing each other up.

Louis is the first one to break, reaching into his pocket. A rusted old locket is slid across the scratched table top, and Mingi catches it before it falls into his lap.

As he opens it up, he sees a picture of two people in either of the slots. One, a woman with a wide smile. The other, a man looking down at the baby held to his chest. Their features seem... familiar.

"Her parents."

He looks up slowly, and sees the older man leaning back, "I'm sorry?"

"Those are her parents. My little sister and her husband. Died seven years ago. Train crash. Hit a cow on the tracks. Hate those damned things. They can't slow down quick enough to avoid hittin' something."

It's silent again, save for the sounds of Maria cooking up a storm in the back of the kitchen.

He looks down at the pictures again. Seven years ago... that's when your diary entries start. But you never mentioned the crash. Did you just decide to forget about it? Move on?

Louis can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he looks at the worn photo. Before Mingi can ask, Louis is answering. "I seen the way you looked at my little girl. The same way I look at my Maria. So Imma tell you," he points to the locket, "I made a promise the day that train crashed. You know what that promise was?"

"No."

"That I'd gut anyone who ever laid an evil finger on that girl."

"Maria!" They hear you coming back down, and Louis snatches up the locket from Mingis hands as he stands. You stop briefly and look at them, but move on when you see Louis smiling down at him. "Have you seen my vest?" Your voice grows distant as you join your Aunt in the kitchen, unaware that the smile was followed by a threat.

"Don't make me gut you, boy."

༄

"You're so soft," you mutter as you brush the white mare with your fingers, stood just outside of her stable. She neighs loudly at you. "Oh, I know. So many strange horses, you must be frightened."

The once empty stable house was now filled again, everyone was back in town by high-noon. She seems like her owner, and like you. She doesn't like strangers. She nearly kicked the short door down when you approached with a handful of hay.

A few minutes later, she's letting you pet her. You're stood on a stool, bent over the edge of the door to dust the dirt off of her white coat. "You're a sweet girl, huh?" You smile at the animal, receiving more neighs in response.

"Who you talking to?"

The abrupt interruption makes you stumble, nearly falling off of the wobbly stool. You steady yourself on the door and look back, throwing a smile his way when you see it's Mingi. "Your horse."

He joins your side at the door, holding his hand out to his mare. "You know she can't talk back, right?"

"Don't mean she can't listen."

He smiles at your response. You really are a kind soul, giving affection to an animal that can't give you anything in return.

"Busy, Miss (Y/n)?"

You shake your head. Nobody has come by the bar yet, and you don't think anyone will for a while. They're all spending time with their families.

"How about a ride, then?" He's opening up the door before you can respond, making your upper body follow it, legs outstretched to stay on the stool.

"Oh- I don't... I don't know how."

He keeps putting the saddle on the horse despite your words, a smile playing at his lips. By the way your smiling as well, he knows you want to. "I can teach you. Are you afraid?"

     "I must admit... a bit."

    "Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

    "Really?"

    "Mhm."

      You hop down from the stool and move it out of the way as Mingi walks the mare out of her stable, following close behind him with a wide smile. You get a few strange looks from townspeople as you and the towering stranger stop in the middle of the main dirt road.

     One pair of eyes watches you even closer. Louis stands from his rocking chair on the porch of the bar, staring dumbfounded as Mingi picks you up and helps you onto the animal. Jaw dropped as he hops up and sits in the saddle right behind you, hands guiding yours to hold the reigns. Before he can even get off of the porch, the both of you are galloping out of town.

     The cool October air against your face as you slowly gain speed feels freeing, like it's washing your very soul. Your nerves are still shaking a bit, and you lean your back into Mingis chest, holding onto the reigns tightly. You jump ever so slightly when one of his hands rests over your stomach, gently holding you.

     "Don't worry," he says, "I've been riding since I was a child."

And so, you don't worry. You let the freeing feeling wash over you, relaxing into him and letting the mare take you where ever she pleases. Which just so happens to be the furthest you can ever remember being from town. You nearly forget that Mingi is even with you until you feel his hand move away from your stomach.

He grabs the reigns, his hand over yours as he pull her head back carefully, slowing her to a stop in the middle of a field. He pulls your hands back with his and settles them in your lap, atop of your bundled up skirts.

She lowers her head and starts chewing on some of the green grass. You look up at the sky, clear and bright.

"Not so scary, right?" Mingi speaks up gently, his hands never leaving your own as he looks up at the baby blue with you.

"Not at all, though maybe it's because you did all of the work," you let out a small laugh, turning your hands palms up and letting him weave his fingers into yours, enveloping you in warmth. "Is this what your life is like?"

The endless expanse of nature staring back at you, birds chirping their lovely songs.

"For the most part." He doesn't want to tell you about the other parts of his life. The bloody and harsh parts. You don't need to hear about that. Not when you're so pure and soft in comparison.

"I like it. I can see why you don't settle, cowboy."

"I'm not a cowboy."

A grin on both your faces, a comfortable silence overcomes you for a moment. He leans and slowly, almost nervously, rests his forehead on your shoulder. When you don't make a move to lean away, he absolutely melts into you. His heart beating loudly in his ears, he's shocked you haven't looked back to look for a marching band with how loud it is.

"I think I may stay a little while longer," he whispers tenderly into your back.

"I think I may like that."

You revel in each others touch for a few more moments before he moves, scooting back away from your backside. "Let's stretch our legs." Before you can complain, he's jumped off the horse and is holding out his arms for you. Deciding 'why not', you lean over and let him essentially pull you off her back.

You stretch your arms over your head as you wander, smiling back at him.

Oh, he could get addicted to that smile.

Directed at him, and him alone.

He watches with a flicker in his eyes as you start gathering wild flowers, folding up the rim of his hat to get a better look. You start braiding them together, fingers working nimbly. The song of nature overcoming you as you work, and he admires from a few feet away.

You look like an angel, the sun beaming down on you and shining from behind you like a halo as you turn and face him. "Crouch down, big boy," you tease him softly, a heat creeping up your face as you see him blushing.

He leans down, letting you affix the flowers around his hat. When he comes back up, he does a small twirl, "how do I look?"

"Pretty!" It slips your lips before you have the chance to think, and it makes him blush all the harder.

"Let me see," he takes his hat off, short hair wild and blowing with the breeze.

He pulls the hat over your head in the next second, and the large accessory falls over your eyes. He laughs, hand over his mouth as you tilt your head up and peek at him from under the rim. "How do I look?"

"Like a doll," he exclaims breathlessly, eyes not leaving you for a single second as he takes in the sight of you in his hat. The wind blowing your loose hairs and skirts. A shy smile stretching your lips as you look away, admiring the sky as he admires you.

"Oh, hush."

"It's only true." He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders loosely.

You have to remember how to breath as he looks over your shoulder at you, shit-eating-smirk on his lips. "Doll~"

"We should head back!" You squeal, ducking out of his arms as heat overwhelms your body. He only laughs, and the melodic sound echoes in the field.

"Alright then, up you get," he hoists you back onto the saddle, hands lingering on your exposed thighs as your skirt pools around your hips while he hooks his boot into the stirrup.

And you're off again, this time slowly. Like he knows that you crave to spend time with him as much as he does you.

༄

It's a few days later when he awakes in the night. The moon his only source of light. His breaths uneven and heavy.

Why did he have to wake up? That dream was ethereal, it nearly made him ascend to the heavens.

He groans as he flips onto his stomach, not a atom of shock in his being as he feels his hardness pressing into the mattress. Not after he just experienced the wettest dream of his life.

You looked like a Goddess below him, head tossed to the side and exposing all of the marks he left on your neck. The bed rocked in time with the yells of his names that left your bruised lips. Over and over. Louder and louder. Your eyes rolled back, your chest rising and falling as you tried desperately to keep up with his pace.

He's certain that's your rightful place, taking his cock and calling his name, soul intertwined with his. "Fuck..." Just six days and you have him wrapped around your little finger. He's never felt like this. You must be the one.

    He can't help but look over at your bed across the room as his hand travels into his pants. His eyes nearly flutter shut, but he forces them open once again.

You're a restless sleeper, he's discovered. Your torso is pressed into the mattress while your hips are rotated slightly up, one leg hiked up and making your nightgown slip past the round of your ass.

God, your subconscious must know what he's doing.

That's the only 'reasonable' conclusion Mingis lustful mind can come to as you moan in your sleep, rolling onto your back and spread your legs to get comfortable. It takes every fiber of self control in him not to pounce on you and take you right there.

He's content to fuck himself silly for the moment, and he's almost ashamed at how fast his release comes- but he can't help it. You look so fucking delectable and he hasn't touched himself since before he rolled into town.

He bites into his pillow with a growl, eyes never leaving your peaceful form until he's overstimulated himself into oblivion. His arm sore and cock even sorer, he finally lets up, breathing heavily into the quiet night.

As he slinks to the bathroom and cleans himself up, he wonders what it would be like to feel your body close to him after such a release. Well-

Why not find out?

He leans over your bed with tears in his eyes, gently grabbing your arm and calling out to you.

"Min?" The nickname that you utter while half asleep almost has him ready to go again, but he pushes it away as you sit up groggily and look at him with concern written on your face.

"I don't feel too well, Doll... Can I sleep with you? Keep me warm?"

You feel his head with the back of your hand, a frown on your face as you feel his heated flesh- unknowing of the true cause.

"Mh, come on, big boy," you scoot to the wall that your beds on and lift your fur blanket, a sleepy smile on your features as he dives into the bed. The metal frame creaks under both of your weight but neither of you pay it any mind.

He melts into your body heat, wrapping his arms around your waist and keeping you close.

It's so much better than he imagined.

༄

That's the best sleep you've ever had. You felt so safe and warm. And Mingi doesn't feel any different, he hasn't had a restful sleep like that since he was only a boy. You seem to have kept his reoccurring nightmares of his past away.

All the damage he's done and all the pain he's endured, wiped away as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Your legs are tangled together, arms wrapped around one another. Your head in his neck and his chin resting gently on top of it. Soft, gentle breaths as the both of you wake.

Rain beats down on the roof, creating a soft and steady melody.

Neither of you can tell how much time has elapsed, but it doesn't seem like it's ever enough. So when you finally sit up, a pout forms on his features.

You feel his forehead, a smile on yours. "No fever."

"Hm, maybe a night bug." He sits up and swings his legs over the bed, facing into the room to hide his growing blush as the memories of his dream flood his mind.

He feels the bed shift under your weight as you crawl up behind him. "I had a dream last night," you whisper as you gently rub up his back.

"Mh?"

"Mhm." Your heart flutters as you muster up the courage to continue speaking, "a dream of you and I."

"Oh, do tell."

And tell, you do.

"Well... it began with you and I, sat in the bar. A few too many drinks in our bodies. A few kisses... A few touches... and then we came up here." His breath hitches in his throat, surely he's still dreaming. This is an elaborate trick of the brain. "Mingi?"

"Y-yes?" He wants to both explode with joy and collapse with embarrassment.

"Will you touch me? Will you kiss me? I'm sorry if that's wildly inappropriate- oh it is, I'm so ter-"

Your rambling is cut off as his lips collide with yours ever so softly. One of his hands cups your cheek, the other finds purchase on the small of your back.

He slowly pushes his weight onto you, laying you down on your back as your lips meld together. A curse falls past his lips as you ghost your fingertips over his abs.

He kisses down your jaw, savoring every inch of your skin until he reaches your covered breasts. He looks up, and the look in his eyes makes the heat in your belly grow ten-fold. "Can I see you?"

With the slightest nod of your head, he's slipped the straps of your nightgown down and tugged it down past your chest. His mind is racing. His heart is about to beat out of his chest. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He whispers, voice rough and barely heard over the storm raging outside.

His calloused hands trail down your chest, ghosting over the pebbled flesh on your breast and down to your skirt. You can't help the gasp that escapes you when he lifts it up, letting your entire nightdress rest in a bunch on your stomach. He's already panting, and he hasn't even touched you.

You're just so beautiful. You're a Goddess in his eyes.

He smiles up at you as he lowers himself, your legs spread by his wide shoulders. "I'm going to make you cum your brains out, Doll~"

Before you can even question what he means, his tongue is darting out and swiping up the length of your cunt. "Ah!" Your back is arched off the bed at the simple motion, and it solidifies his theory that you're a virgin. Your keening at the littlest bit of attention, your poor neglected pussy is begging for more.

You slap your hand over your mouth at the noise, looking shocked that it even came from you. He can't help the chuckle that vibrates in his throat- that is, before his taste buds register the most delicious, mind blowing juice he's ever had the pleasure of putting in his mouth. "Oh, fuck..." Then he's just as flustered as you are, diving back in between your thighs like a man starved.

     The little noises that manage to slip past your hand urge him on even more than the way that your wetness just keeps coming and coming and coming as he slurps it all up. His tongue darts and licks and rolls all over you, and you can't even register all of the pleasure you're getting from it- it feels that good.

     He slips his arms under your thighs and grips them tightly to ground himself as he allows himself to drown in you. He lets his instincts do all of the work, enjoying himself more than he ever has. His nose nudges against your clit as he slurps noisily.

     The way you taste. The way you smell. The way you sound. The way you feel.

     All of it. All of you. He's going mad with lust. With love. He's going to explode, he truly believes it. And then you call his name.

      "Mingi—"

    So sweet and desperate, absolute music to his red hot ears as he sucks the bundle of nerves above your sopping wet heat. He doesn't even register that you've cum all over his chin until youre tugging at his hair roughly and forcing him away from your throbbing pussy.

     He moans out loud as you harshly pull him away, jaw dropped as he pants. "You taste so good, Doll," he slurs drunkenly. Your essence has gotten him drunker than any alcohol ever could.

     You're panting even heavier, chest rising and falling quickly as you tremble in the aftershocks of your first orgasm that's come from another person. 

     He rubs his finger tips over your thighs gently, luring you back down to Earth as he gawks at you. You swear that there's hearts in his shining eyes.

     "W-" your attempt at words comes out as jumbled whine, and you let yourself fall back into the pillow.

     "It's okay, Baby," he coos, licking his lips as he sits up, folding his legs under him and pulling your limp hips into his lap.

     The new nickname makes your cunt twitch, and he catches it. "Oh, you like that, hm?" His index and middle finger spread you wide, and he purses his lips- spitting directly onto your sensitive hole. "C'mon, talk to me, pretty Baby."

      "G-god!" You cry out embarrassedly, forever thankful for the angry storm outside that hides your sounds from any neighbors. "Yes, I do, I really do," you draw out, grabbing the sides of his thighs as he teases your entrance. You're still hyper sensitive, twitching with every small movement he makes.

    And he absolutely revels in it.

    "Yeah? I bet no one ever made you feel that good before," he smirks, letting another wad of spit hit your hole.

     "Nuh-uh," you shake your head, peering up at him, and your next words make it hard for him to keep his composure. "Stay. Stay here and- and fuck me."

     Little do you know, after that first night- he lost any plans he had of ever leaving.

"I will never leave you," and he means it. He has no plans of ever letting you go. And he's about to let you know that.

       He slides you back off his lap and lays over you, holding your head with one hand as the other guides his leaking tip into you. "Oh, ngh," you whine, holding onto his biceps tightly. He bites his lips as he feels your walls for the first time. So warm and tight around him. So soft. "M-min, be gentle," you whimper, leaning up and hiding in his chest.

     "Don't worry, Doll, we'll go slow" he strokes your head gently, slowly -oh, so slowly- sinking into your tight core. "Such a pretty little thing, so fuckin' tight f'me," he growls, and again as the noise makes you clench around him. "Gonna have to stretch your little pussy out before I can even move, you've got me in a fucking vice, Baby."

       "Mingi, d-don't talk like that, it's dirty," you pant into his chest, the warm air making goosebumps form.

     "Well, look at you," he nearly purrs, pulling your head back from his chest gently, "look." You blink a few times, taking in the sinful scene.

    Your legs spread around his slowly moving hips. His thick monster of a cock gradually disappearing into your stretched folds.

     "Can't not be dirty while we're breaking in this cute little cunt," he says matter-of-factly, looking down at said cunt while it clenches around the half of his cock that's he's managed to sink in. A lewd moan leaves his parted lips, looking back to you as you whimper and fidget. "Hey, hey," he coos, cupping your face in his palms. "Half way there, Doll. How's it feel?"

     "Like you're gonna split me in half," you ramble out, looking up at him with the softest eyes he's ever seen. "Please, c-can we take a break? You're jus' so big..."

     "Of course, sweet girl," he leans down, careful to keep his hips locked despite how badly he just want to slam into your welcoming heat, and kisses you. Stroking your cheek bones with his thumbs. "You feel so good, like heaven." 

    The praise makes your rapidly beating heart skip a beat. "Mingi?"

    "Yes," he moans in response, looking deep into your eyes.

    "I think I'm falling in love with you." The sudden confession makes his cock twitch, his heart jumping into his throat. "Is that silly?"

     He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, which are admittedly a chaotic mess.

    "If it is, we would be silly together."

     "You mean-"

    "Yes."

    You grip his shoulders and lean up, pressing your lips to his in an act of pure desire. The both of you get lost in each other, tongues darting out and lapping at one another like a lifeline.

    Sufficiently covered in each others spit, you pull back. "Keep going, I want to take all of you." You have a newfound confidence after your short trade of admissions, demanding that he go on and fuck you.

      A few more moments of excruciating stretching pass when you suddenly feel his pelvis flush with your clit, both of you panting like wild animals as you feel each other completely.

     "Holy shit, Baby," he sneers, resting his face in the crook of your neck, taking in deep breaths of your scent to keep himself from jack hammering into you. You are truly the best thing to ever happen to him, and your cunt molding into the shape of him is just a bonus.

      There are no words that you can find in your brain. All if it is wiped away as you feel his rock hard cock stretching you out, filling you wall to wall. When he breaths out, a content sigh into your neck, you feel the veins on his length pressing into your gummy walls. "Hah~" Is all you can manage, thoughts turned into mush as he begins to slowly pull back out- just an fraction of an inch. Before sliding back in quickly. "Fuck!"

     "Doll, please, please," he whimpers, holding onto your waist tightly as he rolls his hips, "please say you're ready, I don't know how long I can take it."

    "Y-" the second the first syllable is utter from your lips, he's already pulled out half way, "yes!" He thrust back in, steady and slow at first.

Words are lost between you - minds absolutely flooding with hormones as he begins thrusting harder, faster. Moans, groans, loud whimpers. The slapping of your skin is so loud that even the rain pounding at the window can't drown it out.

He's stuffing you beyond your wildest imagination. His cock was made to stretch you so deliciously, and your pussy was made to take it.

It's his dream coming to life, quite literally, as your eyes roll back to the depths of your head and you're squeezing him tighter than before. It's almost impossible for him to keep thrusting, but he finds a way.

He grips your hips tight and is making you bounce on his cock effortlessly, all the while pounding his hips into yours. He's so deep inside of you, it feels like he can feel the same coil in your gut that you do. And it's about shatter.

He slips a hand down and begins swirling his fingers over your clit, pushing you off the edge roughly, making you cream over his member with a broken yell of his name. He leans in, all of his weight on you as fucks you through it harshly. His lips right next to your ear.

"You. Are. Mine."

And with that, a warmth like no other spreads inside of you.

༄

Nearly two months passed like they were nothing, days seemed to fly with you by his side.

     He felt he finally had a place where he belonged.

    He found himself work cleaning peoples guns in the bar, even selling and trading some.

    He had a bed to go to at the end of the day. After that first time together, you both rearranged the room. Pushing your beds together under the window and putting the dresser on the wall.

     He had the other half of his soul. You. He knew everything there was to know about you, and you knew everything there was to know about him. Well- all he was willing to tell. Sometimes, there was a dark glint in his eyes that made you feel like you didn't know the full story of the man you shared your life with. But all doubt faded away when he smiled at you.

     All was well- more than well. It was perfect.

      Until a group of strangers rode into town. Strangers to the town. But strangers to Mingi, they were not.

     He walked into the bar and Mingis heart stopped. He saw all of his hard work to get you, to settle, to make a life- all of it- vanish. It disappeared.

     "Fuck me," he groans, keeping his head low and cursing himself for not wearing his hat today. He hopes that he'll go unnoticed. But that hope is squashed when the man slides into the booth across from him.

     "Well, slap my ass and call me Pamela. Song Mingi!" The rowdy man immediately catches Louis' attention from behind the bar.

     "Why are you here, Buck?" Mingi keeps his tone low, hostile.

   "You know why I'm here. You want in?" The man, Buck, has a smirk playing mischievously on his lips.

     "No. You, and whoever else you drug into this town are leaving. This town is off limits."

     Buck lets out a shrill chuckle, "says who?"

     "Says me. This is my town. Get the fuck out before I shoot you." Mingi growls, placing his pistol on the table, finger twitching at the trigger.

      That gets Louis' full attention, his hand immediately unlocking the safety on his gun as he makes his way over. "Mingi, who's your friend?" He hates to admit, but he's grown fond of Mingi over these long winter days.

     "He's leaving. Ain't that right?" Mingi tilts his head at Buck, who takes a look around. Multiple patrons of the bar have their hands on their guns, ready to draw.

     He isn't stupid. Mingi is apart of these people now and they'll protect him.

    "Yeah, that's right." He slides out of the booth, giving Mingi a seemingly innocent smile. But Mingi knows him all too well. "I'm glad you finally found yourself a nice girl to settle down with."

      With that finally threatening congratulations, he's back out the bar the way he came. Mingi watches from the window with wide eyes as he joins the posse of men outside. As soon as they start wandering away, looking into shops and other such buildings Mingi has come to be so fond of, he snaps into action.

    He runs up the stairs, nearly bumping his head. They've been casing the town, that's the only way he'd know about you.

      "Mingi!" Louis follows after him, slowed by age.

     He finds him reaching under the bed, staring bamboozled as he places gun after gun after gun into the mattress. "Mingi!"

      He ignores the panicking man, loading all of them up. "Son!" His head snaps up, tears threatening his waterline.

      "Louis, they're going to raid the town."

"What...?"

"I don't have time to explain, I have to go- go get (Y/n). You need to gather everyone who knows how to shoot. I n-"

"Boy, I don't care much for nonsense."

"Listen to me, Louis!" He clearly panicked, an expression he's never seen from him before. "What reason do I have to lie? This is my home too! This is my home and my woman, and I'll be damned if I let Buckey fuck-face and his thugs ruin it!" In his panic, Mingi doesn't notice the ring that falls from his bag as he gets out more ammunition.

Louis bends down next to Mingi and picks it up, puzzle pieces falling together in his mind.

Mingi snatches it back and shoves it in the bag.

"You're gonna propose to my little girl?"

"Not if we all die," Mingi responds shortly, shoving an armful of guns into Louis.

   They share a look.

    It seems Mingi made a similar promise to himself about you.

"Go and fetch her, don't raise any suspicion. If the townspeople know what's coming, it'll start a panic."

Mingi gives him a short nod. To say yes, sir. To say thank you.

He keeps his head down, hat covering his face as he weaves his way to the very back of the town. Trying his damnedest to avoid everyone from his past.

When he successfully makes it to the river, he spots you and is filled with relief.

    You hum quietly to yourself, bundled up in his large poncho to protect yourself from the frigid January weather as you clean your clothes.

    The harsh winds whip your loose hairs around, makes the clothes on the line flap loudly.

"(Y/n)!"

"Hey, Darlin-" He pulls you up, holding you close to his side as he drags you away, "what're you doing?"

"Just keep your head down, when we get back to the bar, go to our room, lock yourself in the bathroom. Okay?"

"Min, you're scarin' me..."

"Do you understand?" He asks firmly, stopping at the edge of town, turning you to face him.

He looks deadly serious. You haven't seen this kind of look since the first day you met. So you nod, committing what he said to memory.

"I love you," he kisses you deeply, shortly.

And then he drags you through town, and into the bar. But he pushes you right behind him when you walk in.

Buck has Miss Maria and Louis tied up, pushed to the floor. The few patrons are gone, and the yelling outside tells him Louis' plan to keep things calm has failed. Multiple men are rummaging around the bar, cleaning out the register. He can't hear any noise above them, and he's thankful that the entrance to your small home is so well hidden by the corner. 

     He feels you grip the back of his leather jacket, and he's about to turn and tell you to run when he feels you get ripped away.

     Your scream echos in the building as one of Bucks men tears you away, and Mingi has to stop himself from shooting the man the second he puts his hands on you. Doing that will just get you all killed.

He's deadly silent as he watches the man toss you to the floor. His gun was drawn the second you got tore away, and he's itching to use it.

You try to scramble away, but Buck comes up behind you and places his boot on your back, shoving you back down with a thud. Maria is sobbing uncontrollably into her hands, Louis' jaw is locked in anger as he looks away.

He bends down, putting more pressure on your spine. He grips your hair and turns your face to the side. "Well, well," he smirks, "you're even prettier up close, ain't you?"

Everyone stops in their tracks as you spit in his face. "Fuck you!" One of the men closest to you has a gun to your head in the next second, but you refuse to break.

"Feisty, I like that," he shoves your head to the floor, hitting it against it roughly. Mingi is seeing red as the world around him resumes, men ransacking the bar and chortling at your family. His family.

      "Buck."

   "Oh?" He turns, leaving you on the floor, "got something to say, pansy?"

     "Yeah." His eyes flick to yours as you push yourself up dizzily, and over to one of the booths before Buck even realizes he's looked away. "You need a key for the safe. I gonna give it to you, and youre gonna take it and leave."

     "Is that so? That's what's gonna happen?"

   "That's what's gonna happen."

   "You really lost your guts, aye? Found a nice girl and a cozy town and decided you're too good for this life, I see."

    Mingi slips his pistol back into its holster on his hip, sauntering over to the bar with all eyes on him. He stands infront of Maria and Louis, shielding them from what's about to come. "You see it how it is, then." He lifts up the pot of dying chrysanthemums in the middle of the wooden island and scoops up the key. His eyes spot you curling up under the booth he glanced at. Thank goodness you got the message.

      Cause shit is about to hit the fan.

    He tosses the key to Buck, and as his hands raise up to catch it-

     He puts a bullet in his brain.

     You can't help the scream that rips past your lips, covering your ears and hiding your face in your knees.

    As the men behind the bar start shooting at him, he ducks, shielding the older couple as the men infront of them begin firing. But he's too quick. Only one of them gets close, grazing his shoulder and stunning him briefly. He drops his pistol and takes the larger gun off of his back, propping it up over the island blindly and spraying the rest of the men in a hail of bullets.

     And then all is silent.

    With a heavy heart, you look up from your lap. The building is covered in blood, light seeps in from the holes in the walls caused by stray bullets. Maria is crying silently. Louis is looking at Mingi in shock as he falls onto his backside, holding his bleeding shoulder. 

     "What the hell was that, boy?"

     "That was me saving your ass."

༄

    Mingi and Louis, with the help of a few good samaritans, cleared the bodies out of the bar and drug them to the outskirts of town. Leaving them for the coyotes and bears. If it were up to him, Mingi would have hung them up as an example.

     Maria, seemingly in shock, scrubs the floor with a blank face as you fix up the register and dig out all of the bars belongings from the bandits bags.

     You feel a roll of papers at the bottom of one of the bag. A silent hum of amusement leaves you as you see what it is. They kept their own wanted posters. Proud of what they've done. You flip through them. Maybe out of morbid curiosity of who your boyfriend just gunned down.  And then you get to one who you know wasn't a victim.

     Because he was the gunner.

    Mingis face in a sketch stares up at you.

    WANTED.

    DO NOT APPROACH. ALERT THE AUTHORITIES.

 DANGEROUS FUGITIVE. SONG MINGI.

    The door to the bar swings open.

   The world spins around you as you look up from the drawing. And come face to face with it, brought to life.

    "Mingi..."

    "Are you okay, Doll?"

   You can't seem to find any words that describe the way your heart is breaking. Louis approaches you first, his own heart stopping as he sees what's held in your trembling hands. He tears it from you, glaring down like it's a hallucination.

    "Who are you?" Is all you can manage to whisper, backing away with a grip on your uncles sleeve as Mingi steps forward.

     "What is that?" He nods to the paper, although deep down he has an idea of what it is.

   Maria snaps out of her trance, joining your side, a gasp leaving her lips as she looks back and forth from the paper to Mingi.

     "You get out of here, you never show your face in this town again," Louis grips the man's collar and pulls him to his level, "You're lucky my girls are watching or I'd hold true to my promise."

     Mingi shoves him away and grabs the paper from Maria, his worst thoughts come true as he sees himself staring back at him.

     "Wh..." He trails of in a whisper, heart breaking into a million pieces as you look at him fearfully. Like you did the first time you met. He thought he'd never have to see that look again. "(Y/n), please, hear me out."

     Maria holds you to her chest as he approaches. "I knew I sensed evil in you, boy." She bares her teeth at him as she seethes, like a wild mother bear.

"Leave," your voice trembles, raw with all of the emotions that are flooding you. You lean further into your aunts arms as he reaches out for you. "You lied to me! I never want to see you again! I ought to turn you in!"

    "You have to believe me, I'm not like that anymore. Baby, listen! I only did what I had to to survive, you don't understand. I'm not like them!" He fights against Louis as he drags him to the door. "Please, I love you!" He's thrown off the porch, only getting a glimpse of you as you crumble to the floor before the door is slammed in his face.

༄

Mingi drapes his mare's reigns over a poll, trudging through the snow until he's at a familiar door.

He doesn't bother knocking. He barges in and stares down at the man at the desk.

"Mingi, long time no s-"

"I have a job for you." He slaps down a wad of cash, "more where this came from when you're done."

The man sighs, but takes the cash, thumbing through it. "And why don't you do it?"

Mingi ignores the question. "Louis and Maria Donelley. Shoot them, make it quick. (Y/n) (L/n). Tie her up on the tracks."

He hesitates for a moment. But in the end, "More where this came from, huh?"

༄

     It's been three days since Mingi has gone away. Rather, since he was forced away by his past and your reaction to it.

     You've slept for most of that time. Cried the rest. You barely eat. Barely talk. You hardly even move off your side of the once-shared bed.

    Maria, Louis, all of your friends tried to comfort you. Telling you that he was just a fling. That the one for you will come around and make all of the pain Mingi left disappear.

     They don't know that Mingi was the one.

     He made you so happy. Happier than you'd ever been. He made everything seem... right.

     "Hey, Dear," Louis knocks at the wall, slowly coming ascending into the room.

     "I don't want the soup, Uncle Lou..."

     "Auntie!" Ellis comes barreling past Louis and jumps onto the bed, hugging you tightly.

     "Ellis? Hey, Buddy!" You force a smile as you hug him back, sitting up with a groan and holding the child in your lap. "How you been?"

      Ellis goes on and on about what the new teacher from the city is teaching his class, a big smile on his face. Louis sees the smile pulling at your lips in the slightest, and he excuses himself silently.

     He, admittedly, is a very good distraction from your pain.

You spend quite a few hours playing with him, catching up on the things that are going on in town. He drops the ball onto the jacks and giggles loudly as it rolls away, under the bed. "I'll get it, set us up another round."

You bend down and feel around for it blinding, heart skipping a beat as you feel Mingis bag. You haven't found the courage to touch any of his things, even if to throw them away.

You move away from it and grip the ball, rolling it back to Ellis. "El, I'm feeling a bit tired, why don't you come back tomorrow."

"Aw... okay! I'll bring Violet and we can play outside!"

"See you then, Kiddo," you ruffle his hair as he passes you to leave.

It was a nice break from your sorrows while it lasted.

You crawl back into your half of the bed as the sun sets in the window above it, pulling Mingis pillow into your arms as you sob yourself to sleep once again.

Deep into the night, you feel the bed dip. You open your eyes with the littlest inkling of hope that Mingi has returned despite your harsh words his way.

But you're only met with a stranger.

You open your mouth to scream, but only get a small squeak out before you are met with a hit on the head.

༄

You awake as your body is tossed into the air, a loud groan leaving you as you collide with something hard. Through your blurry vision, you can see the moon high above you.

You look to the side, and you put two and two together that you're in a wooden cart as you see the stranger from above your bed riding on a horse that's got you attached to it. "Hey-" You croak out, getting his attention.

"Morning!" He yells, making you wince. You have a splitting headache. "Just in time for the show," he mumbles under his breath, pulling the horse to a stop.

You can hear him shuffling around in the snow, and you try to sit up before you realize you can't. Your entire body is tied in a thick rope.

The back of the cart opens up, and you try -you try so hard- to shimmy away as he reaches in and grabs your foot. But to no avail.

      He pulls you from the cart and lets you fall into the snow. It wets the back of your nightgown and hair, soaks your thin socks and makes you shiver. You don't think you've ever been this scared. Even during the shootout, Mingi was there to protect you.

      You watch with a fresh set of tears brewing in your eyes as you watch the man double knot some ropes onto the tracks. "Oh my God..."

      He ignores as you begin to beg for your life, telling him all sorts of things about you to try and make him sympathetic. "- and his name is Louis, he took me in when my parents died! Uncle Lou and Aunt Maria, please! She'd die of heartbreak!" He scoffs, knowing she's already dead. So is Uncle Lou.

    He followed Mingis request and made it quick.

       He pulls you by your binds to the tracks, the metal on the tracks is the coldest thing you've ever felt and it makes you yelp. You cry out in the night as he begins tying the ropes on the tracks to the ropes on your body.

    "Please, why are you doing this?!" Your voice shook with pure horror, tugging at the ropes that were wrapped around your entire body and tied to the tracks by the bandit. He crouched down at your feet and smirked, his simple answer making you cry all the harder.

     "Why not?"

   All of your pleas and prayers fall to deaf ears as the man turns away and to his cart, rummaging in his chest. The tracks begins to shake and you begin to except your fate. You turn your head to the side and watch the pebbles rumble, your sobs visible in puffs of air as you exhale into the harsh winter air.

    A loud thud and a groan makes you look back, and you see a tall figure on a familiar white horse.

    "Mingi!" He drops the crowbar he used to whack the man as he rode past.

    He looks back at you briefly- his face hidden by his droopy hat. But you can tell he's pissed. His jaw clenched and shoulders tense before a gunshot rings out and he ducks and rolls off of Mare, slapping her to make her run away as he draws his own gun.

    Between the rattling of the tracks and the thrumming of your heart, you can barely force yourself to watch as he approaches the man bravely, your eyes flicking from them to the horizon repeatedly. A sob of his name makes him pause for a split second before he comes back to his body.

    "Too close," Mingi scowls at the man, using his gun to smack his hand and make him drop his, kicking it away as he scrambles for it.

    "Aye, man, I did what yo-"

    "Too close."

    "Just give me my mon-"

       His gun smokes by his side in the next second as the man drops to the desert floor dead. He takes a moment to bask in the way the blood pools in the pure white snow before the steam whistle catches his attention.

      "Mingi, please!" He drops everything and runs to the tracks, crawling over your body and looking at your binds frantically. "Mingi, oh my God, please- I'm so sorry! Please untie me, hurry," you babble on in a panic as the train appears just over the horizon, sobs wracking you body under his as he tugs at the ropes.

     Your horror breaks his heart, but he knows it's necessary. He knows he has a knife strapped to his back, but he plays the panic card and 'forgets' as he forces a false worry onto his face. He won't let anything happen to his Doll, but you're too caught up in your fight or flight to remember that.

    "I got you, I got you," he murmurs as he pulls the ropes on one of your sides undone, taking his sweet time with the other as he watches the train grow ever closer- the conductor blaring the horn.

     Your free hand grasps at him, clawing at his leather jacket, eyes wide and soaked with tears as you stare down your death as it barrels towards you. Just a few feet away.

    Mingi yanks you up and falls to the ground besides the tracks with you on top of him, hands roughly holding you to his chest as his hat blows away with the wind that the train creates. You willingly slump into him, sobbing into his warm chest as the tracks rattle loudly besides you, drowning out your cries.

     He relishes in the way you cling to him well after the train passes, not daring move away from your savior as you cry your heart out and ramble on to him about how you're so sorry and how you never would have really turned him in and on and on until he silences you with a tender hug.

    He knows all of this. His Doll would never betray him. But it's best that he get a subconscious message through your thick, naive, skull early on.

   The message being: the attempt to leave him has failed miserably. Why even try to leave when he's so clearly your fate?

༄

Mingi locks the bar door behind him as he carries you into the building. He kicks off his boots. He knows you hate the mess.

    It was silent the entire way back to town.

And it remains that was as he carries you up the stairs and to bed. He doesn't even acknowledge you as he gets you some clean, dry clothes.

"Mingi..."

He sighs, shoulders dropping.

"I'm s-"

"I thought you hated me?"

"Min... I was just- just in shock! Why didn't you tell me you were... an outlaw?"

He kneels at the bed and slips your socks off, replacing them with a warm, thick pair.

The moonlight seeps in through the sheer curtains and paints your skin in a haze of blue. The bruise on your temple like a water color bloom.

"Because I was afraid." He bites his lip as it trembles. That's the plain truth. He was afraid you'd leave if you found out all the things he'd done. But now that you know, he still doesn't plan on letting you leave. "Please forgive me, Doll."

He lowers his head into your lap and smirks as he feels your hand rest on his hair.

"Come back home, Mingi."

"Really?" He looks up with the most puppy like gaze you've ever seen.

You nod, wiping your tears away, "I don't care what the others have to say. We can leave this place if we have to, I just need to be with you, M-" His lips collide onto yours as he pounces on you, pushing you onto the bed and nipping at your lips like he's starved. And he is, because-

"I missed you so fucking much, Doll," he growls into your lips, melting into you as you wrap your arms around him. It feels like it's the first time in forever, and it is to him.

"I love you, Mingi," you whisper as you look up at him, chasing after him as he sits up on his knees.

     He lifts your ruined nightgown, looking down at you as if you're a work of art as he tosses it away. "I love you," he whispers back, cupping your breast in his warm, big hands. "I love you so much it hurts."

You lay back with a moan, arching into his touch. Your mind is so fried from this weeks events, all you want to do is disappear into him.

     And you let it be know. "Take your clothes off." You tug at his buckled belt with an utterance, licking your lips at the sight of his happy trail. "Show me how much you missed me. Show me how much you love me."

     Your sultry words have him undressing in a hurry,  slamming his pistol down on the nightstand he made and kissing you deeply as he removes his belt, heart beating rapidly as you cup his cheeks to bring him closer.

     You're the closest to heaven he's ever been. Kissing down his neck and stroking his back. He doesn't know how or why this infatuation grew into something wild and untamable. And frankly, he doesn't care.

       You are quickly working to undress his top half while he kicks his pants away, letting his larger gun clatter to the floor. You no longer care if he leaves them out. You just want him home.

      "I was so worried about you, Baby," he pants, "I know I hurt you. I'm so sorry," he places kiss after kiss after kiss on your face, rubbing your thighs as he slides between them. "I love you. I adore you. I want you. I'm yours. You're mine." Every statement is accompanied by a kiss.

      "I'm so sorry, Min," you look deep into his eyes as he rubs his member on your wetness, "you're my one and only. I don't care what you've done to get here. As long as I have you in my arms. As long as I'm in yours."

     He hugs you tightly, forehead against yours as he slips inside of you. "I will never leave you," he moans out, settling deep inside of you as you pant and whine.

    You've taken him quite a few times at this point, but never like this.

    He always takes his time sinking into you, reveling in the slow stretch.

    But not tonight. Not after what you've been through. He needs to feel you, and now.

     He needs to feel your emotional connection on a physical plane. And so do you. That's why you don't stop him or push him away as he lowers into you quickly.

     You ground yourself by wrapping your arms under his and gripping his shoulders, careful of his healing wound.

     His chest against yours, heart beats drumming together as you try to disappear into each others being.

    Affectionate touches are left all over the both of your bodies. Tender kisses and promises of love.

    "You're all I ever wanted," you whisper into his chest as he starts a languid pace. "I want to be yours, tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine, Doll, all mine." He speaks ever so softly, cradling your head to his chest. He can't believe how lucky he's gotten.

"Make me believe you, show me I'm yours."

And he does.

     God knows how or why Song Mingi has so much stamina, but no amount of time passed stops him from pounding into you, he stops when he thinks you've had enough.

     He's made you cum seven times through the night, and with the sun beginning to rise out the window, he's still at it.

     Its been hours, and his pace hasn't slowed one bit. If anything, your pants and whines stir him on and he almost hammers into you. The quick in and out rhythm makes him moan. Your heat encasing him as the cold winter air seeps in through the walls that makes him want to bury himself in your body and never leave.

    He knows he's big. He's so big and you're small compared to him. But he doesn't care when he's balls deep in your sore and swollen pussy. He makes you take it to the base and chuckles deeply when you try and crawl away.

    "Min- can't take it," you sob, but that doesn't stop him.

    He grips your hips roughly and pulls your clit flush to his pelvis, holding you there as you squeal out, banging your fists onto your shared bed.

     "Fuck you can't, your pussy was made for me to stretch out." His next thrust sends your hips into the mattress, finally able to rest your exhausted body as he plunges into you from behind.

      Each rough thrust wipes away every thought from your mind until it's all Mingi.

   Mingi is so deep.

   Mingi is so thick.

   Mingi fucks you so good.

   Mingi treats you so good.

   Mingi loves you.

   Mingi.

   Mingi.

      "Mingi!" You moan out loudly into the pillows as you seize up, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum all over him. Vision dark and blurry, drooling all over the place, barely conscious after your eighth orgasm around his massive girth.

     He's panting and growling into your ear, continuing to thrust. He's relentless. He's really out to break you.

      "Please," you slur, wracking your slush of a brain for a way to get him to cum. You love him, and you love fucking him. But he just won't stop until he cums. And he won't cum until you essentially force him. He's so hell bent on making you get there, he forgets about himself, like he's outside of his own body. And he's extra determined after almost losing you. Your usual tricks haven't worked. So you pull out the big guns. "Please, Min... put a baby in me." Oh, you know him all too well. He's made multiple comments about how good you are with children. How pretty you'd look with that pregnancy glow, your belly round with his baby.

    "F-fuck, Doll," it seems as if that is enough to satisfy his hunger, slamming his tip into your womb and filling you with his warm and sticky seed so much that it splashes back on him and makes a mess of his lower stomach.

Still buried deep inside of you, uncaring of the mess, he lays ontop of your back gently and wraps his arms around your shoulders, his head next to yours. You shaking breaths and trembling legs calmed by his warmth over your entire body.

     "Holy fucking shit," you whimper, making him chuckle quietly.

     He places a gently kiss to your shoulder, "I didn't go to hard, did I?"

    "You did... but I liked it."

    He smiles as he rests his head, hands rubbing up your arms and to your hands, intertwining yours fingers. "I love you." He states. Loud and proud. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to share everything with you and I don't want to keep anything from you. I want you all to myself. Will you marry me?"

    The words almost get lost in translation on their way to your endorphin flooded mind, and your silence makes him nervous. That is until- he sees the giant smile spreading on your lips. "Yes."

"Oh, thank goodness," he sighs a breath of relief followed by a soft laugh.

    "But you'd better get me a ring," you joke, groaning out as he slowly pulls out of your abused core. There's a smirk on his lips that you can't quite place as he gently turns you on your back and helps you get comfortable.

     He reaches under the bed and grabs his bag. "You didn't-"

    "I did," he has his signature shit-eating-grin on his face as he takes it out. A dainty, pretty, thing. Much like he sees you.

      He cuddles into your side, fur blanket draped over your lower halves. Calloused and rough hands take yours. Gently and loving with you. Their past of violence is lost as he slides the ring onto your finger tenderly.

     "Mrs. Song."

༄

[bitchslappin]

Figure Studies

 

Summary: Joel let's his you paint him like one of your French girls (kind of not really).

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, no implied age gap but do what you want, sexual tension, voyeur to some degree, exhibitionism kind of, M masturbation, overstimulation a little bit, fluff for sure, Joel's so in love, idk the tags make it sound lame lol

Word count: 2.5k

“Quit starin’ at me. It’s creepy.”

   Joel’s voice is gruff. He’s bent over the dining room table, summer evening sun streaming in through the kitchen window. He’s cleaning his rifle. It’s been too long, he hasn’t been keeping on top of it, it’s been long enough since he’s had to use it. He’s been at it for the better part of an hour, stripped down to his t-shirt, hands covered in a layer of gun oil, sweat starting to bead on his neck from where the sun’s been resting. His girlfriend is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the doorframe, just watching him. She’d been down at the Tipsy Bison most of the morning, helping Maria draw up plans for the community garden expansion. Ellie is… well Joel doesn’t actually know. She hasn’t been home since last night. But she tends to couch hop around Jackson these days, and Joel can’t say he’s mad for the alone time while she bothers other people for once. 

   “Can’t help it.” She tells him with a slight grin as she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “You look so good right now.”

   Joel snorts and flicks his eyes to her, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Sweaty and greasy and angry. What a good look.” He snarks.

   He doesn’t have to see her roll her eyes, he can feel it. She walks in slowly. “‘M serious Joel. You look good.” She murmurs softly. She’s not teasing him this time, or even really flirting, her tone low and sincere. 

   He finally looks up at her then, pausing what he’s doing. His breath sticks in this throat a little bit. Even after years together, he’s not good at this. Accepting genuine compliments in a neutral setting. He’s gotten better at the flirting, and he’s more willing to give up some control in the bedroom, but this kind of thing? The softness? He’s still a little shy about it. He just shakes his head at her and says nothing. He won’t argue with her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He turns back to his task, wiping the stock of the rifle, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers. 

   She sits down next to him, pulling her legs up onto the chair and leaning her elbow on the table, her head in her hands. She watches him silently for a little while, and it’s easy for him to fall back into the rhythm of cleaning, zoning out a bit as he works. As he finishes up, fitting the pieces back into place, she interrupts the silence.

   “Can I draw you?” She asks quietly. He looks up at her with a furrowed brow. She’s quite the artist, always sketching and even painting when she has the time. One of her new friends had somehow gotten her a set of oil paints for her birthday, and Joel loved to sit for hours and watch her paint. She’s sketched him plenty of times. He’s seen some of them because she’s shown them to him, some because he spied them over her shoulder. But she’s never asked before. 

   “You… what, now?” He asks as his brows knit together in surprise. She just shakes her head with a smile. “Yeah now. Come on, please?”

   Goddamn him he can never resist that look on her face. Sweeter than sugar. He grumbles. “Fine fine…” He rolls his eyes as she smiles in triumph. “Where d’you want me?” 

   She stands and drags him by the hand into the living room, grabbing her sketchbook off the coffee table. The light is pouring into the living room as she pushes the curtains open. “Go sit on the couch. Just get comfy.” She tells him. He huffs about it but he goes to sit on the couch, groaning, when she turns back and makes a surprised noise. 

   “What are you doing?” She asks, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He’s hovering, halfway to sitting, and he frowns at her. “You told me to sit on the couch…?”

   She makes a noise in the back of her throat and pushes on her shoulder as she goes to sit on the coffee table in front of him, sketchbook on her lap. “You gotta undress first.”

   “What??” His lips part in shock and his eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

   She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Come on Joel, please? I haven’t ever been able to do real figure studies. Please?” She’s not teasing anymore, not trying to push his buttons. She’s genuinely asking. She’d always told him that when she was little, she’d dreamed about going to art school in a big city, sketching figure models for hours. But then of course… well you know what happened. He hovers there for a minute. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. Hell sometimes he feels like they see each other naked more than clothed. But it’s not the same. This is more exposed, in the sunlight, with her just staring at him. 

   “Can I just… just take my shirt off?” He asks with a nervous chuckle. He meets her gaze and he can see the slight of disappointment there, though she nods and gives him a smile. “Sure Joel, that’s fine.”

   He pulls the shirt over his head and hesitates, watching her face as she flips to a clean page in her sketchbook, twirling her hair up onto the back of her head and pinning it in place with a pencil. The sunlight makes all of her look golden, the strand of hair that escapes down her neck, the freckles on her cheeks… she’s glowing and he is powerless but to give her everything. Even something he thinks is silly. He huffs and commits, unbuttoning his pants and shoving everything down like he’s annoyed, but he’s really just nervous for some reason, and flops back on the couch. He shifts a little as she gazes at him. It feels different from when they’re in bed, the way she’s looking at him now. Now, she’s looking at him like a specimen, like something to study. 

   “So… how should I sit?” He asks nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Her gaze seems to shift suddenly and her eyes get softer as she smiles at him. She sets her sketch book aside and comes over to maneuver him, her brow furrowed in concentration. She pushes him to lean back, muttering “get comfy” to him softly. He leans back, one arm instinctively going to the back of the couch, his legs falling open comfortably. She smiles at him and adjusts his arm resting on the couch, moving his hand this way and that until she likes the angle. She moves to his legs then, her hands are warm and sure as she pushes at his knees, his thighs, adjusting them a little wider. He lets out a slow breath, trying to keep his cool. ‘This is for art, that’s it’ he tells himself. But then she takes his other arm, adjusting it across his body, placing his hand over his cock, already semi hard from her attention. He bluescreens for a second, looking up at her with wide shocked eyes. She just arches an eyebrow at him.

   “This okay?” She asks, her hands hovering and ready to move him if she needs to. He looks down at himself for a half a second before back up to her. ‘Be cool, Joel. Be cool’ he tells himself and clears his throat. 

   “Yeah. Yeah it’s… it’s fine.” He nods. She smiles brightly then and leans to peck a quick kiss on his lips, before moving back to the table to pick up her sketchbook. 

   She quickly gets lost in the drawing, holding her book on her knees, her pencil skritching on the paper softly. Her focus on him is intense, almost like she’s not really seeing him, she’s looking through him. For a while, he just watches her, fascinated. The way her brow is furrowed in focus, and the way her eyes move rapidly as she flicks her gaze between him and the paper. It seems silly to think but he finds himself feeling like he’s never seen her so… intimately. There’s something about the demeanor she has while she’s creating. He feels that way when he watches her paint, too, but he’s usually sitting behind her then, watching the colors take shape, looking at the landscapes with her. He’s never been the subject. He watches her fingers, delicate to him, though she might argue after the years of post-outbreak turmoil, as she uses her pencil like a magic wand. The movement of her hands is mesmerizing, the way the light catches her skin…

    It doesn’t take long for him to start getting hot under the figurative collar. ‘Stupid caveman brain’ he thinks to himself. He can’t help it. She’s so beautiful and she's looking at him like that and he feels so… vulnerable. He tries to stay still, to hold the pose, as he starts to harden under his palm. The couch under him, the sun streaming in, his hand on himself… everything is sticky and warm and his hard is beating faster. He shifts a bit in his seat, trying to hide it, to stay still for her, but catches the way he shudders as he slides against his sweaty palm. She’s doing some shading and doesn’t even look up from her paper when she breaks the silence in a low voice. 

   “Do you want to touch yourself?” She asks softly, her gaze fixed on the drawing. His head snaps up and his eyes dart around for a minute like he thinks she’ll be talking to someone else. He clears his throat.

   “Wh-what?” 

   She looks back up at him then. Her face is open, almost confused at his confusion. “Do you want to…” She gestures with her pencil at where his hand rests covering himself, speaking matter-of-factly. He glances down at his hand, curled around his hard dick. His brain still can’t process fast enough and he looks back up at her, just staring for a minute. 

   “Do you want me to?” Is what eventually spills out of his mouth. He swallows thickly as he keeps her gaze, a flush burning on the back of his neck. He’s never done anything like that before, not like this with her fully clothed and sitting five feet away from him. She smiles at him softly, the sweet look on her face is making him feel fuzzy and warm and he squirms a little bit, trying not to gasp at the friction against his palm. She nods after a beat.

   “Yeah honey, you should.” She says simply, sitting back again and picking up her pencil. She continues sketching like it’s a simple as that, but he feels caught in limbo. He doesn’t do anything at first, just sitting there with his hand curled around his cock, in the same position she put him in, a blush burning hot on his cheeks. She looks up at him for an extra beat before nodding her head at him. It’s like a signal and he jolts into action, sliding his hand loosely over his cock. 

   It feels… way better than it should and his eyes slip closed for a second, his breath hitching in his throat. Maybe it’s the build up, maybe it’s the heat in the room, or maybe it’s just the way she’s staring at him and how easy he is for her… He keeps his fist loose at first, but quickly tightens it as the movements become slick and easy, his arousal spiking. His head drops back against the back of the couch as he starts to lose himself in the movement until her voice cuts through his foggy mind.

   “Hold your pose please.” She asks firmly, her voice low. He snaps his head up and finds her eyes trained on him, his breath stuttering. She arches an eyebrow at him seriously. “I’m not finished with my drawing. Wait until I’m done.”

   The tone of her voice, the command to wait… it’s like flames licking up his spine and he barely suppresses a whine, his eyes squeezing closed. His hand is still sliding over his cock, slick with his steadily dripping arousal. She’s nearly ignoring him and it makes him feel hotter, desperate. 

   “Sugar…!” He whines. “I don’t think I can… I’m..” 

   She looks up at him again, her stern expression making him choke. 

   “You can.” She says firmly. It’s a little encouraging, a little humiliating. “Just five more minutes.” 

   He groans but finds himself nodding. She’s not usually so direct and it’s lighting a fire in his belly. He should slow down, back off a bit, but he can’t. It feels too good as he watches her pencil gliding over the page. His hips roll off the couch just barely, trying to meet the rhythm of his hand, and she either doesn’t notice, or more likely she doesn’t stop him. He’s whining through his teeth as he holds onto that knife's edge, he can’t help it. 

   “Sugar… baby…” he mutters softly, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, his mouth hanging open as he fixes his gaze on her. Maybe it’s the tone in his voice, the needy way he calls to her, or maybe she really is done, but she sets her sketch book aside, putting her pencil down, before leaning back on her hands casually. 

   “Go on then.” She tells him softly, and he breaks. The moan that tumbles out of his mouth would be embarrassing if he could hear it, but the static fills his ears as he comes hard all over his stomach. With his head tossed back against the couch, he doesn’t see the hungry look on her face, or the way she moves off the couch and kneels in front of him. He works himself through the high, his hand starting to slow and his chest heaving when she pushes his hand away, taking him in her own. He gasps sharply and looks down at her. 

   “Baby wha..?” He stutters out as she starts to stroke him firmly. She just smiles at him, leaning in to kiss his inner thigh as she works him over. Her grip is tight and slick, hot from her skin being in the sun, much smoother than his own hand, and he moans brokenly through the oversensitivity, squirming in her grip. “J-jesus baby.. Y-you…” He stutters out between sharp chirping breaths, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

   Eventually she slows her hand as he starts to soften, her movements still firm but stilling. She holds him until his breathing has calmed down. And he looks down at her. “What the fuck was that?” He asks, his voice raspy. She just laughs and shrugs. 

   “You just looked so pretty, I wanted to join in.” She tells him as she leans her head on his thigh.

   He blushes hotly and looks away for a minute. The afternoon has left him feeling vulnerable, but also syrupy and soft, better than he has in a long time.

   “I… you…” He looks back down at her before huffing in frustration. “Just get up here.” She mutters and grabs her by the elbows, manhandling her into his lap as she laughs. He drags her in for a kiss, hot and lush, before flipping her over onto the couch, looming over her.

   “My turn.”

[neo-nomatrix]

Give you the world

Joel Miller x reader

summary: You love Joel more than you can explain, you just can’t figure out if he feels the same

warnings: age gap, angst ig

my last joel fic

a/n: could be read as a part two of my last Joel fic but it can be read as a stand alone

You haven’t seen Joel truly happy in a while, the closest it’s come to is now. You’re standing with Ellie when Joel runs up to his brother, Tommy, who you’ve heard little about. You swear you hear him sniffling as he walks back to you.

The gates of Jackson are unbelievable. It’s somehow so incredibly warm despite the thick layer of snow below your feet. Everyone is beyond inviting and kind, it reminds you of before the outbreak.

“It’s amazing here,” you tell Tommy and Maria as you, Joel, and Ellie eat the plates of food in front of you.

“I’m glad you all like it,” Maria responds, smiling,

“It’s safe here,” Joel mumbles while leaning over his plate.

You can tell he’s thinking about something, whether it’s a good thing or not, you don’t know.

-

Maria leads you and Ellie to your home for the next day? week? month? You’re still not sure how long you’ll spend here. You secretly hope it’s a long time but you can tell it won’t last.

Since you’ve arrived you haven’t seen Joel in at least three hours.

“Hey, El, do you know where Joel is?” you ask the girl, slightly concerned.

“No, are you going out looking for him?” she asks.

“Probably, don’t know where I should start though,” You respond.

Something drew you to the carpenter's shed when you were searching for Joel. You peer into the window and as you suspected you saw him sitting there. Toying with new boots you assumed Tommy had given him. As you open the door Joel didn’t look up like you had expected.

“Joel,” You say quietly.

“Joel,” you say again, this time tapping his shoulder and using a firmer voice.

He slightly jolted back like he was shocked.

“Oh, hey,” he said reluctantly.

“Is something the matter? You seem upset,” You ask worried.

“How’d you like it if you stayed here for a while?”

“This sounds like a trick,” you tell him.

“I’ve asked Tommy to take Ellie the rest of the way. I’m gonna leave too, and you’re gonna stay here,” He said, his eyes not meeting yours.

“What?” you say, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

“And what makes you think you can just decide that for us?”

“It’s the best option for you and Ellie,” he said.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Like hell it is! Joel, you are the only person I trust right now, and as far as I'm concerned you are the only person who can take care of me. You promised me you’d protect me, you fucking promised!” You’re both standing now, in a fit of rage you start lightly hitting his chest with your fists.

“Hey, hey I know what I said. You can call me a liar all you want. Just please, stay here. Where you’re safe. This is how i’m protecting you,” He says, you don’t miss the way his voice breaks.

“Joel, don't do this! I’ll never fucking forgive you. I’m gonna hate you if you do this,” You sob into his chest as he holds your clenched hands.

“I’m sorry, I'm so sorry. I just- I just can’t take care of you. I’m worthless to you now,” At this point his eyes are threatening tears too.

“You can’t! You can’t leave me too. No, no, no, I won't let you.”

“Doll, you have to trust me. I’d give up everything for you if I could. But you’re young, you have so much more life to live. If I take you with me I'm endangering that. And I'd rather die than see you hurt,” he admits as he picks up his boots and leaves you to settle with your own pain.

_

Ellie had told you about her own fight with Joel only a few hours after your own. Part of you still can’t believe he would just let go of the two of you so easily.

You’re walking beside Ellie and Tommy to the stables. You’re still processing the fact that this is “the end.”

“So what? This is it? Everything we did all for just this,” Ellie asks you.

“Maybe not,” you nod towards Joel who’s standing by one of the horses.

“Are you here to say goodbye?” You ask Joel, walking up to him.

“Look, I still think you’d be safer here and Ellie would be better off with Tommy. But you both deserve a choice. You can-” Joel gets cut off by Ellie throwing her bag at him.

“Let’s just go already,” she tells the both of you.

“You have every right to hate me, doll. I don’t blame you if you want to stay here now. But I need you to know how much you mean to me, okay?” Joel says, his hands cup your face.

You sure as hell don’t miss the way his eyes finally meet yours.

[thedragonhermit]

This could be my last Sonic post for a while so it's gonna be a long one! And it's covering the Shadow and Tails AU I mentioned in my previous comic post!

The basic premise is this is an alternate reality where Shadow was woken up early by Eggman, whom he initially sticks with because of his relation to Gerald/his promise to help Shadow get revenge on GUN, but ultimately leaves to strike out on his own due to Eggman treating him as a subordinate instead of an equal. Then, during Shadow's frequent fights with GUN (him attacking them on purpose, and them trying to recapture him before Eggman does), he unintentionally helps out Tails.

Just like he does with Sonic in canon, Tails starts following Shadow everywhere, and at first Shadow attempts to get him to leave him alone, then just decides to tolerate this persistent fox boy stalking him. It isn't until after an incident involving Tails getting severally injured -- and giving Shadow horribly vivid flashbacks to him witnessing Maria's final moments -- that he rescues him, helps him recover, then become a sort of duo.

A major difference between their partnership and Sonic/Tails' is Shadow's trauma over the death of his previous blond, blue eyed sibling makes him extremely protective of Tails and has him enforcing Tails providing him help from a safe distance (their base) as opposed to physically at his side (like with Sonic). Something that continues with the formation of Team Dark, and no matter how many times Tails tries to convince him otherwise.

Rouge, who was a GUN agent sent to investigate Shadow before defecting to become one of his teammates, is aware of his past and understands Shadow keeping Tails around as the fox reminding him of Maria. Which also makes him Shadow's biggest weakness-- if anything happens to him, she figures it will absolutely destroy Shadow. So she's a bit mixed about him keeping Tails around, as even if she finds their sibling relationship endearing, she doesn't believe it'll be good for Shadow in the long run. Omega, on the other hand, doesn't really care, though he vastly prefers the maintenance Tails provides over whatever care he might have been getting as an Eggman bot.

Oh and Sonic still exists in this AU! It's just that Shadow helped Tails first and interrupted their meeting. Because of that, Sonic (despite having all his friends otherwise) doesn't have a main partner in this AU and usually just works alone. Though there is a moment where Sonic and Tails end up separated from their respective teams and stuck together, during which Sonic basically says how Tails kinda seems like an odd fit for Team Dark and he's welcome to join his crew. To which Tails loyally declares he'll never leave Shadow's side, and yeah! That's pretty much the AU :)

[photmath]

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: After the Storm

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: anxiety, self-doubt, miscommunication, cursing

Note: Aurie reminding us that even the most strongest and independent people have their moments of doubt and still need reassurance too.

Aurie isn’t in bed next to Kylian when he rolls over and feels for her. Maple is curled at his feet, snoozing with her tail covering her eyes. The sun shines brightly into the room, filling every crevice of the bed that he knows it’s way too early for Aurie to be gone. He listens quietly for the quiet patter of her footsteps, trying to figure out where she wandered throughout the house as she’s not in the restroom.

Scoffing, he rises and dresses himself with his boxers and a pair of shorts. They slept late last night, Kylian staying back to help Aurie break down the decorations of the nursing home, and then laying in a tangle of limbs in her bed. Once it hit two in the morning, they finally slept, after having spent the night together tracing and memorizing every sliver of skin they shared.

Kylian pats Maple’s head, causing her to open her eyes and purr, stretching out towards him. A small smile finds his face as he exits her room and searches for Aurie. Already he knows something is uneasy. The rest of the house reeks of cleaning supplies, drenched dirt, and there’s a low hum of music coming from her library. Thudding down the stairs, he turns towards the library and sees her dusting the bookshelf, a large stack of books on the small table, a second away from collapsing onto the ground.

“Aurie,” he mutters, noticing her in a short pair of night shorts and a loose shirt.

She spins around to face him, her cheeks flushed. “Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to her. “No.”

“Sorry,” she smiles softly at him and then bends down to clean the bottom shelf. She grabs a book and haphazardly places a book on the ever-growing stack, it wobbles, and Kylian steps towards it, holding it.

“Aurie.”

“What’s up?”

“Come on, what are you doing?” He rubs his face, splitting the stack so that it doesn’t fall over on top of her.

“Cleaning.”

“It’s not even seven in the morning yet, Aurie,” he sighs.

Aurie purses her lips, disliking the way he utters her name. She knew he was tired, and she would’ve been too if it weren’t for her mind thinking of a hundred thoughts per second. She didn’t get much sleep last night, constantly thinking about Kylian and his move to Madrid. It was infuriating to be consumed by a man who lived so differently than her, yet made her question what she wants. The same man who seemed to have torn down her walls so easily before but now they were back up.

Before Kylian, she was sure of herself and her career. She had bounced through different departments—pediatrics, geriatrics, nursing homes, out-patient care, physiotherapy for a club—and was sure that the simple life of working at nursing home was it for her, that she wasn’t strong enough mentally to handle any other group, but now she wasn’t sure.

Besides Kylian, she thought of Maria and Estrella’s words, how she does have the time to still figure everything out. Still has time to see where she fits, whether that is in the nursing home or somewhere else. She had the power and skill.

And then Aurie scrambled to the last thought: that Kylian still had yet to ask her if she would even be willing to go to Madrid with him. What if he didn’t? What if he understood what the nursing home, the house and pets, and how much Camille and Simone meant to her, that the thought of splitting them up would never come across his mind, so he wouldn’t even think to ask Aurie—

“Aurie,” Kylian whispers, slipping his hand behind her waist and pulling her closer to him. He grabs a hold of the dusting cloth, prying it out of her hand and setting it down near the edge of the books. “C’mere.”

His warm skin burns her cheeks and neck as his strong arms engulf her. He smells of heat and her bed sheets, the sleep marks still evident in his shoulders. Aurie hugs his waist, clasping her hands where they meet, sighing deeply. She can feel her own body relax and mold into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

He kisses her temple, pulling back. His finger traces around her ear. “What are you thinking? Let me in.”

It’s three simple words that Aurie wishes were as simple as saying them. But her tongue knots, her throat closes as she stares at his eyes. They’re soft, but there’s an emotion in them that makes her heart lurch, an ache that travels underneath her breastbone and through her ribs, paralyzing her in that spot. Aurie can plainly see the tension around his eyes and jaw.

“I can’t,” she croaks, slipping out of his grip. Kylian sighs, reeling his arms back slowly, offering her a faint smile but she knows it’s merely out of politeness rather than genuine. “I’m sorry. I know I said I wasn’t going to run away and I’m not, but—I need some time to think.”

“Okay,” he says softly, stepping away from her. The air stills between the two of them, a silence so sudden and profound that even Bleu stutters to a stop, his wagging tail going stiff.

Kylian glances at Bleu, walking out of the library, petting his head before going upstairs. He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe in some way this is her punishment towards him after the past week, but Aurie isn’t that cruel.

His phone buzzes from his pocket as he reaches the top of the stairs, he reads the message from Raphael.

Hey, I found Stefan. I have his mother’s contact information, should I send it?

-

“Hey,” she says, sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder. Escaping to the ballroom to clean the rest of the remnants of last night, she called Martin, needing to talk to him.

“Aurie,” Martin beams. “What do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Aurie snorts, tossing the last bits of trash into the bin. “Hardly pleasure. Erm, got to ask, are you staying at PSG?”

“Absolutely not,” Martin says curtly. “Management is in shambles. I cannot in good faith stay there and try to micro-manage all their injuries while simultaneously listening to a new staff try and implement their different plans. No one can agree on anything.”

She purses her lips. “That bad?”

“Very, had I not been dealing with this, I would’ve fallen up on more of those in-person visits of Kylian like I said I would, but I knew you could handle him.”

Aurie nods, “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, at the moment, back to orthopedics, in-patient and out-patient. Rather do that for the next couple of months at least. And you, Aurie? Has taking care of Kylian changed your mind about going back on the field?”

She laughs, sitting down in a seat. “No. Not at all—”

“You aren’t bad, you know? It can be intense and quick-paced, but you have it in you. You always have.”

“I know, I just rather not always be on edge all the time. It’s too much.”

“Mm-hmm,” Martin hums.

“Working with Kylian has made me realize that maybe I can do something else as well. Maybe just volunteer at the nursing home instead of working primarily there.”

“Ah. I saw that you two got very close…” There’s a light-hearted tone in his voice, perhaps teasingly.

“I know,” Aurie cringes, remembering who she’s talking to.

“I mean, technically—”

“Martin, we do not need to have this conversation.”

“Okay okay,” he chuckles. “All I’m saying is that you two got close and now he’s leaving. Is this why you are asking me?”

“Yeah…I don’t know if I want to get back into the hospital setting but maybe.”

“You can always work with me.”

“Martin.”

“Well, maybe not if you are planning on being with Kylian. Look, I don’t have much time on me right now, Aurie, but wherever you end up, you will excel. I’m not sure when and why you ever started doubting your abilities. You are capable of a lot of talented and remarkable things. I would have never selected or trusted you with Kylian had I had any doubt about your ability,” Martin pauses. “Truthfully, I think you should try the in-patient setting again. I know peds scared you, but you didn’t get to see the way those kids and parents walked out of the room when you were there. Maybe even geriatrics. You have given so many people hope, Aurie. You’ll be okay, alright?”

Aurie chokes back a sob. Listening to Martin’s praise reminded her of who she was when she was seventeen and taking his class, immediately getting his attention when she was the only one to pin the diagnosis on a patient of his. What she thought was an example ended up being the diagnosis of a patient he was currently caring for. It was a rare diagnosis, yet, Aurie seemed to know it within ten minutes, asking him all the right questions to arrive at her conclusion. Since then, her skill was highlighted in all of their exams and practical studies.

When she first walked into his class, she would’ve never imagined it leading to where she is now. At seventeen, she wasn’t fearful. She never hesitated, head-on with certainty, yet it all changed five years ago during her mother’s accident.

“Aurie?”

“Yeah,” she musters, sniffling, “okay, yeah, thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, you know you can always call me.”

“I will.”

“And oh hey! I can take over Kylian’s rehab from here. His medical in Madrid revealed that his calf is 95% healed,” he enunciated. “They were impressed with it and want him doing more agility exercises and getting his fitness up. I’ll send you a plan that they shared with me.”

-

Like a madman on the street, Aurie drove five over the speed limit because there were no nearby cars. It was barely anything over the speed limit, but it felt so damn powerful and exhilarating to steer into her driveway, feeling every jostle and jolt of her car, slamming on the brakes as she stopped in front of her house. Turning it off, she quickly hops out and ruffles Bleu’s fur before bolting through the front door.

Kylian stands there, sweat glistening off his toned biceps through his sleeveless tank. One of his cheeks is bulged as he carries the canister of strawberries.

Aurie’s mouth falls open. “You’re eating my strawberries again?”

A lopsided grin breaks out on Kylian’s face as Aurie nears him, snatching the canister of a few wet strawberries. He bristles, “Hey!”

“Come here.” She grabs his wrist in her other hand and he turns his palm over so that their hands can intertwine. She leads him to the living room and sees that the couch is drawn out into the bed, a blanket loosely drawn over it. She sits down and pats the spot next to her to sit down. “Okay I need to say it now before I start crying, but this is all so stupid.”

His eyebrows crease as his head tilts. “Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t been handling this right and have been very…emotional…but it’s silly because you haven’t even asked me yet.”

Kylian’s hand tightens around hers. He shakes his head, “You haven’t been too emotional. Asked you about what? Madrid?”

Aurie purses her lips, slightly embarrassed. “Not just Madrid, but where we go after this. What this—” Aurie raises their hands together, “—really means? Or what…is this just a summer fling?”

Kylian shakes his head immediately, not being able to hold his laugh as he says, “No, Aurèle, you are not a summer fling.” He lets go of her hand and slots it on her cheek. “You are not a summer fling. I love you. I’m in love with you. Selfishly so, that I would force you onto a plane and move you to Madrid with me if I could, but not only is that illegal…and unfair. You love it here, and I want you to come with me, really, I do, but that is only if you want to come.”

Aurie can feel the tears brimming around her eyes and a tear slipping down that Kylian doesn’t hesitate to wipe away. The small smile he gives her is full of adoration and love. His eyes are a stark difference from the ones she saw this morning.

But he didn’t leave. She left the house this morning, and he had three hours to leave but instead he worked out, spoke with Raphael, ate her strawberries, and waited for her to come back home.

He chuckles, a laugh that is suppressed but he attempts to hide it. “You are going to break my heart if you say no, but that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me your answer right now. I do, however, want you at my presentation. I know you may be reluctant and hate the media’s light, but they think you are my manager, so it won’t be odd that you are there. It’s okay if Madrid is too big for you, hell it might even be too big for me, but I don’t want this to end, Aurie.”

Despite the surge of courage Martin’s call gave her and remembering Maria and Estrella’s words from last night, she feels like she needs to debate just one more time about moving to Madrid—and the only way to do that is to get her career in order. She needed to cross her t’s and dot her i’s before she left.

The idea of being at Kylian’s presentation terrifies her. Her window was a blatant reminder of what happened during the first and last time she was under the cameras of the public with Kylian. But, the hope in Kylian’s eyes causes her to utter the words before she can stop herself. “I’ll be at your presentation.”

“Really?” His mouth falls open in a gleeful smile like a child being promised ice cream on their way home.

Aurie rubs his hand with her thumb, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Kylian kisses her cheek, letting his lips linger. “Thank you.” He faintly tugs her with his hand and captures her lips, sealing the promise with a kiss. When he retreats, Aurie feels a surge of heat travel through her body.

“I don’t want this to end either, Kylian,” she whispers. “I need to figure out my job, what happens to this house, my animals—if I do end up moving to Madrid permanently.”

“You need me to convince you?” Kylian proposes with a smirk.

Aurie laughs, hitting his chest with her hand. “No. I just don’t want to leave with many things unfinished.”

“You can always come back.”

“I know, but if I come back and there are problems…I’ll want to stay and fix them.”

“Okay.” He smiles, leaning against the couch, and pulling her into his chest. His arms swallow her whole as he kisses her forehead. “Thank you. For not running away and talking about this. You don’t have to decide everything right now, Aurie, although I know you were probably lying awake thinking about this the entire time, hmm?”

She nods sheepishly, chuckling as she draws little shapes on his clothed chest. “I wanted to wake you up in the night and tell you to just rip off the bandaid, let me know if you want me in Madrid or not.”

His chest vibrates. “You really thought you were a summer fling?”

“No,” she scowls, sitting up to face him. His hand traces the edge of her jaw as he smiles, it’s such a hazy smile behind hooded eyes that if he were anyone else she would’ve asked him if he were drunk. “My mind went there as I thought of the words, trying to describe a short-term girlfriend.”

Kylian snorts, shaking his head languidly. “I don’t know what else I need to do to prove to you how much I love you and would wait for you. I know we moved fast, but I’m sure of it, there is no one else I would rather have beside me than you.”

Aurie simpers, pecking his nose. His words felt like an arrow shooting right into her heart, striking with all its might, imprinting into her, and if she were to pull it out, it would leave a gaping hole that would never be filled. They gave her reassurance, that her worries weren’t for nothing, and that of course Kylian would be patient, would be willing, and wouldn’t rush her to uproot her entire life.

He knew when he walked into her house that falling in love with her would be damn near impossible, but he also wasn’t going to force this girl, who brought the smile to all of her residents and her niece, out of the town. Sure, he would get on his knees and beg for it, but it was Aurie’s decision at the end of the day. And she had a lump of baggage to sort through.

“You don’t have to do anything else. I know you do.” Aurie nestles her head back into the space between his arm and shoulder, her nose scrunching. “You’re kinda stinky, but I love you.”

He pulls her closer, tightening his arms around her so that she can’t wiggle out. “That’s a bit rude, chérie.”

-

Within the next two days, Aurie reluctantly straightens out her résumé and sends it to one hospital in Madrid, one that she has volunteered for back when she had the stint with the Spanish national team. Martin also enjoyed this particular hospital, so she knew if he had nothing but good things to say about it, then it was good.

She sent it in the middle of the night as Kylian laid with an arm strewn over her lap, snoring softly. She debated on sending it for thirty minutes, switching over the tabs repeatedly, until finally, thirty minutes later, she sent it while muttering a small, “Fuck it.” She shut her laptop and scooted it towards the end of her bed. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into Kylian’s body and sleep came swiftly.

In the morning, Aurie stirs awake before Kylian. Her legs are intertwined in his, sandwiched tightly around his muscled thighs. When she untangles from him, she kisses his cheek demurely, making his eyebrows twitch and turn toward the pillow. She kisses him again, running her hands over the planes of chest.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

“I’m going to head to the nursing home,” she says, because really, she did have an actual shift today. Kylian’s lips curl into a smile, his eyes still groggy as he rubs them, not interpreting any of her words. Aurie chuckles, kissing his forehead. “Okay I’m leaving, Kylian.”

“No,” he rasps, grabbing a hold of her propped wrist and pulling her back down.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

“Shhh,” he hums, pulling her back down to his warm frame. “Or take me with you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“They love me,” he smiles, pecking her cheek. “And they love you.”

Aurie smiles, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. They do love Kylian, and while no one would really care that he was there, it was still…odd? But she also didn’t care to ponder about it, he could volunteer to help some of the residents if he wanted to while she made her rounds, either way, she needed to start getting ready.

“If you want to come, you have about thirty minutes.”

“Thirty?” His eyes pop open.

She shrugs, “Yes.”

“Jesus, Aurie, how do you get ready so quickly and are so calm for something that starts in thirty minutes?”

“It is my first day back, officially, so…I don’t know,” she says nonchalantly like it explains everything. “I’ll eat there, so don’t have to worry about that. Just quickly shower, and then throw on some scrubs, and then I’m out the door.”

Kylian stares at her as if she suddenly grew antlers from the side of her head. But as much as he would’ve loved to join her, he knew he needed to start his new exercise regimens that he received from the physios at Real Madrid.

He kisses her lips chastely and releases her so that she can get ready. He watches her ruffle up Maple’s sleeping form, rile up Bleu and then grab a set of clothes before trotting towards the restroom. He snorts at the sight, his heart thumping in his eardrums.

He falls back to sleep for what he imagines is five minutes, but in reality it’s been 25 minutes. He wakes up with Aurie kissing his forehead, his chin pinched in her fingertips.

“I’ll see you in a bit, don’t forget dinner with your parents!” And then she rushes out of the bedroom door with the animals in tow.

-

Kylian is restless when the time of the reservation for the dinner comes, pacing back and forth down the hallway as Aurie stands in the kitchen, casually writing down a list of groceries she needs.

“Ky,” she mutters mindlessly, knowing that he is fretting about something, but doesn’t indulge him because the worry is most likely nothing.

He fusses with the tie on his neck, pulling it off entirely and tossing it onto the couch. He doesn’t need a tie, he realizes, it’s just his family. He undoes the top of the buttons and walks down again, spinning around and then stopping abruptly in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

Aurie perks up at him, leaning against the counter with one hip. Setting the pen down on the notepad, her brows raise, “Have you ever been to a grocery store?”

He sighs, and walks—no, strides—towards her. His hands land on her cheeks, cradling her head before he leans in and kisses her lips. The small stubble he was growing is gone, cleanly shaven that she feels his smooth chin against hers.

“You are beautiful,” he says when he pulls away, exhaling with a ragged breath. He glances down at the white blouse she wears, and then at her black pencil skirt.

She chuckles, her cheeks warm up like the first time he’s ever looked at her for more than two seconds. “So, have you?”

He shakes his head. “It’s been years, possibly six, no seven—eight?”

She laughs, her hands fixing the top of his white button-up. “I hate that you haven’t experienced a grocery store in so long. There’s nothing like the crushing disappointment when you realize they ran out of the ice cream you’ve been craving for days, and then a screaming child is behind you begging their mom for candy.”

Kylian smiles, shaking his head at her rambles, too distracted with the way her necklace is shining underneath the kitchen’s light fixtures. He chuckles as he kisses her jaw.

“Oh! And then of course you always forget something on your list. No matter how many times you think you’ve got everything, nope! And it’s the most important item, too.”

His hands snake behind her waist as he pulls her closer to him, pulling her body closer into him. Her neck is exposed so he pecks it, tickling Aurie in the process.

“What are you fussing about?” Aurie asks.

He sighs, resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m just nervous. Worried that the media will find us.”

Aurie smiles softly, hugging his shoulder blades. “They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

“Then,” Aurie shrugs. “Oh well.”

“You won’t be mad?”

“No, I’m more focused on meeting your family than the media.” And it’s the truth for Aurie. The media is at the bottom of her worries for tonight. She also frets about Camille and Raphael making it on time. If she’s going to move to Madrid, she’ll need to get used to cameras.

When Kylian peels away, Aurie massages the worry lines on Kylian’s face, chuckling at the way his lips pucker out.

“They’re going to love you,” he whispers.

“I know you say that, but you know, I still don’t want to do anything embarrassing.”

Kylian grins. “Like what?”

“Fall on my face?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You’ll be surprised what happens when I’m under pressure.”

“Can promise there’s no water bottles,” he smirks, referencing the time she recounted her spraying the Marseille player with water.

She gasps. “Hey!”

His lips split into a laugh as he grabs a hold of her face and kisses her. “I’m kidding! But let’s go, Mac and Paul are here.”

Making their way to the car, Kylian holds open the door and Brice sits in the backseat, who waves with a welcoming smile. “Aurie, hello.”

“Hi.”

Paul turns his head from the passenger seat. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to flood the car again.”

“Oh, my god,” Aurie groans as she sits down, a chuckling Kylian behind her, slithering his hand onto her thigh.

“You know, Brice,” Kylian says, glancing at him. “Aurie called you cute when she first saw you.”

Aurie’s cheeks redden, palming her face. She isn’t sure how she suddenly became the butt of the joke, but she wasn’t going to let them run away with it. “Was I supposed to call him ugly?” The boys snicker, and Aurie taps Paul’s shoulder. “And I didn’t see you attempting to cool him down.”

Paul laughs, throwing his head back, his beaded locs slam against the headrest. It’s the first time Paul shows any personality in front of Aurie, even Mac cracks a small smile from the driver seat. Kylian’s security detail that he kept in place around her house were cordial, never talked to her, not that she minded. She would see them playing with Bleu occasionally but that was about all they gave through their tough exterior. Just three men whose names she mixed up.

“I heard that you took Kylian driving,” Paul says, angling his body towards Aurie. Kylian intertwines his hand with Aurie’s, leaning his head on the headrest, simpering.

Aurie narrows her eyes. “Mmm, yes he was scared the entire time.”

Kylian gasps. “For a good reason!”

Paul snickers as he intigates, “Come on, Kylian, you’re going to Madrid without a license.”

Kylian’s jaw drops, glancing between Aurie and Paul and hearing a stifled laugh from behind him. How are they suddenly teaming up against him now? “Alright now.”

Aurie laughs at his antics. She sticks out her hand towards Paul who shakes it, silently acknowledging their success to get underneath Kylian’s skin. Paul turns around while Aurie, noticing Kylian’s small pout, kisses the back of his hand.

-

“Tatie Aurie!” Simone leaps off the bench and runs towards Aurie. Camille and Raphael are right behind her, hand in hand. There are hardly any cars in the parking lot of the restaurant. The incandescent lights that line the restaurant cast a glow on Simone’s pale blue dress.

Kylian doesn’t hold Aurie’s hand, worried of paparazzi lurking nearby, though so far it seems calm. They chose a restaurant in Aurie’s town, knowing that the quietness of it wouldn’t draw much attention and renting it out for the night would be easier on such short notice. His entire family was already inside, having arrived about ten minutes ago.

“Hi, Keelan,” Simone greets once Aurie picks her up. She gives Kylian a small wave from the crook of Aurie’s shoulder. Kylian chuckles, waving back to her and then introducing her to Brice.

Camille and Raphael stand up once they meet at the bench. Aurie settles Simone back onto the floor and Kylian fixes the side of Aurie’s blouse. She turns around, thanking him with a smile and his knees go weak. She slots her arm around his back like it’s second nature.

Brice gets the front door and they make their way inside, the hostess leading them towards their table. The lights are drawn down, the only lighting coming from hanging bulbs, a kind of elegance that you would find in the city. It was a wonder she had no idea about this place, it was stunning.

There was some greenery hanging throughout the ceiling, being able to see hints of what it would look like in the daytime. Kylian nudges Aurie to keep walking as she gets distracted, his hand finding her lower back.

“It’s pretty in here,” she whispers. “Seems expensive.”

Kylian snorts. “Hardly. It’s just a pretty restaurant.”

She knows it isn’t expensive, but the ambience is rich. They chose a very good place, one in which she would visit again.

Kylian perks up when he sees his family. His parents, Fayza and Wilfried, are seated on one end, Ethan sandwiched between his niece and nephew—Lana and Isayah—and then Melissa beside Lana. Intertwining his hand with Aurie’s, he pulls her past the hostess and Brice. Aurie laughs, tightly holding onto him.

His nephew and niece greet him first excitedly, getting up from their seats and immediately jumping at his side. Kylian hugs them and then one by one he introduces Aurie and her family to his own. They each draw her in for a hug; Lana and Isayah immediately friending Simone and kicking Ethan out of his seat so that they can sit together.

Afterwards, Kylian pulls out Aurie’s chair and she sits in between Camille and him, Simone across from her, already engaged in an animated conversation with Lana.

It’s Fayza who catches Aurie’s eyes throughout the beginning part of dinner, she glances at her, staring at her and Kylian carefully. Kylian speaks enthusiastically amongst his family, wanting to hear what they’ve been up to more in detail since he’s been gone, and then highlights some of what Aurie has done for his recovery. There’s no way someone could miss how happy Kylian is at that moment. Fayza’s quiet, presumably soaking in the conversation like the rest of them, but Aurie feels like she’s silently assessing her.

Aurie stifles a smile, earning a snort from Camille who then jabs her side with her elbow. Aurie leans in towards her sister and whispers, “Don’t start.”

“That’s about the fakest smile I have ever seen in my life.”

“I feel like this is a test,” Aurie whispers, catching Raphael’s ear who chuckles quietly.

“You are doing fine, really,” Camille assures.

Raphael nods. “Stop doing that smile though…seems odd. You have a naturally resting smile, so just do that.”

Aurie’s face warms when Kylian’s hand slides underneath the table and clasps his hand with her own. Aurie forces a smile that quickly fades, her awareness of every muscle on her face sharper than ever.

A waiter distracts them as they place the order of their meals, a variety of pasta dishes. Kylian smiles bashfully as he strokes her hand with his thumb. “Stop worrying, mi amor.”

“Mi amor?” Aurie raises her eyebrow.

“Practicing.”

Aurie chuckles, feeling some of the tension ease off her shoulders with Kylian’s brief interaction. His squinting eyes and glowing face, he looked so handsome underneath this kind of light—and his happiness is contagious.

The kindness Kylian’s family shows the staff doesn’t go unnoticed by Aurie or her sister. Their manners are all profound, even the youngest of them, and Aurie watches them as they point to the menu of what they’d like. Simone sneaks glances at Aurie across the table, giggling when she does a silly face and then hides her face with the menu.

“She’s made friends,” Camille laughs.

“And look at you, you were worried she wouldn’t make friends in school when she starts next year.”

Camille shakes her head. “Because she can be too blunt.”

“She’s a kid, you know how they are. We certainly were like that.”

Raphael nods, blowing a raspberry. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey,” Camille interjects. “You didn’t have to tag along.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well you should’ve made other friends instead of always following me around.”

“You are all I need,” Raphael winks at her and Aurie snorts, a bubbly but loud noise that grabs the attention of the rest of the table.

“Did you just snort?” Ethan chimes, amusement in his eyes.

Aurie embarrassingly drinks a sip of her wine as the rest laugh, before setting it down. “It comes out sometimes.”

“All the time,” Kylian notes, raising his finger.

“You aren’t that funny.”

The table immediately bursts into a laugh—including Fayza—not that Aurie was taking note of it. She slaps her hand over her mouth to cover her own laugh and looks back at Kylian, quickly muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Melissa interrupts. “That was good.” She raises her glass for Aurie to clink with hers. Kylian is slightly flustered as they clink glasses, smiling fondly.

He leans in to kiss Aurie’s cheek and whispers softly, just for her to hear, “I love you.” Aurie's smile widens and Kylian’s breath catches, brushing her cheek with his thumb before intertwining his fingers with hers again.

Conversation flows swiftly, Aurie grows increasingly at ease, even when the discussion shifts to focus on her. Kylian, never once breaking his gaze from her, becomes more certain that Aurie is the one for him. She speaks with such ease, striking the perfect balance between professionalism and passion, without coming across as inauthentic. Impressionably, she doesn’t back down when Wilfried asks in-detail about her career choices. Kylian knows he can interject but Aurie doesn’t need him to.

Aurie should have known that Fayza was going to be the least of her problems, because the interrogation that Wilfried was putting her under, even Camille grabbed her other hand underneath the table.

“Why did you leave PSG?”

“To be frank, I became too emotionally invested in working as a physio,” she replies candidly. Thank god for the many sips of wine that she had. She’s sweating under his gaze. “Too many season-ending injuries. It felt like I was putting in a long time with these athletes just for them to get tackled and reinjure themselves. It was beginning to take a toll on me.”

“So then you went to the nursing home?”

“Not necessarily in that order,” she says meekly. “I worked in a hospital prior and then settled at the nursing home next door. I am specialized in pediatric and geriatric care, orthopedics as well.”

“Ah, impressive,” Fayza responds, eyeing Wilfried. With that glance from Fayza, Wilfried tips his glass towards Aurie, and she’s never been so thankful for the conversation to subside there, immediately sipping on the glass in a silent toast, and then exhaling a deep breath quietly.

Camille squeezes Aurie’s hand and then retreats it. She gives Aurie a thumbs up before the attention returns to Kylian. His eyes are more glossy than Aurie remembers them, perhaps it’s a mixture of the lighting or the wine, but it’s endearing.

-

“I’ll be right back,” Kylian excuses himself, following his mother to the terrace. She made a subtle sign earlier for him to follow her, and he’s barely gaining the confidence to get up and follow her. He kisses Aurie’s head before finding his mother outside. The cool air hits him when he opens the terrace door, the wind blowing the door open more forcibly than he anticipates.

Fayza chuckles, a lit cigarette in between her lips. “Are you drunk?”

“Non,” Kylian mutters, closing the door.

“Wine drunk has always looked so interesting on you. Can’t hold your liquor at all.”

Kylian smiles softly, relishing the wind rippling against his shirt. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was for both him and Aurie just now.

“I knew I would like her when you first told me about her,” she starts. “But I think I enjoy her even more now. She’s very smart too.”

“Incredibly.” He sits down in one of the seats.

“What are you worried about then?”

“That she won’t want to leave,” he mutters, glancing away at her careful gaze. “I mean you saw her with her family, they adore her… They’re already tight-knit and deeply protective of each other, just trying to get close with them was tough.”

Kylian sighs, resting his head against his propped fist. Seeing little Simone teasing Aurie from across the table and stealing glances between them throughout the chatter, his chest ached thinking about them being separated by a country-line.

Fayza puts out the lit cigarette in the ashtray and sits down in front of her son. “They are, I can tell. You aren’t going to separate them, Kylian. She’s moved before, without them.”

“I know, but—”

“Seeing the way she is now, she will have no problem traveling for the people she cares about,” Fayza interrupts, and Kylian knows she’s right. “I’ve never seen you so infatuated with someone like this, it’s pure. If it’s true love, the two of you will have no problem adapting to your new life.”

Kylian smiles, nodding alongside her words. He lets her grab his hands and she cradles them protectively.

“Besides, she is very beautiful, strong too. I didn’t think you’d fall in love so quickly with her, but after seeing how she is, I understand,” Fayza chuckles.

They could agree on that as well. Aurie was certainly the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, inside and out. Her heart captured him and locked him inside, and he didn’t want to escape.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Kylian grins, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Fayza squeezes his cheeks, making him laugh.

When the two of them make their way back inside, Kylian heads to the men’s room while Fayza saunters back to the table quietly, sitting in Kylian’s spot. Before he can even stop her, Raphael whistles at him and motions him down the hallway.

“Have you contacted Stefan’s mother yet?”

Kylian shakes his head. “Was waiting on a couple of things.”

“Like what?”

“Whether or not Aurie would be at my presentation and my official announcement to the team.”

“When is that?”

“Tomorrow…”

“And your presentation?”

“Not until a few weeks,” Kylian scratches his neck. “You and Camille and Simi are invited by the way”

Raphael smiles briefly, “Thanks man. I’m sure Simi will enjoy that.”

Meanwhile, Aurie and Fayza disappear onto the terrace. Simone, growing restless and sleepy, rests her head against Camille’s shoulder.

Aurie frets with her skirt once she steps outside, unsure whether to sit or admire the small garden, she does the latter.

Fayza smiles warmly when she stands next to Aurie. “This place is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Aurie pinches several flower petals between her fingers.

“Kylian told me about your reluctance to the media,” Fayza continues. “I know the rock being thrown in your window gave you quite a scare, that must’ve been terrifying.”

“Oh,” Aurie says, glancing down. She lets out a forced laugh, “Erm, yeah, a bit. But it’s fixed now, and I feel safe knowing it was all resolved.”

Fayza laughs. “Aurie, you have nothing to worry about. I completely adore you.”

Aurie grins, leaning against the garden’s railing. “Sorry, I am just a little tipsy. I apologize, genuinely, but I’m nervous.” Aurie lets out a shaky exhale, one that she had been holding since Fayza sat down next to her.

“No worries at all, you and my son both seem to be that way—tipsy.” Aurie laughs alongside Fayza. “Anyway, I know being in the spotlight of the media seems daunting and downright scary, but you won’t always have to be in the spotlight. We’re very private and if you don’t want to be in the limelight all the time, that’s perfectly fine. You’ll never be forced to explain yourself.”

Aurie nods, digesting her words. Slowly, they calm her nerves.

“Unfortunately, it will always be a factor, Aurie,” she continues. “But it’s about how you let it affect you. How you react to it or choose to embrace it. You can stay away from social media, set everything to private, or even delete your accounts altogether, but don’t let it hinder you from being with someone you love, okay?”

“Yes, that’s very wise. Thank you for those words,” Aurie says breathlessly. This all but intrigued her and comforted in one go.

Fayza laughs. “You said you were currently looking at jobs?”

“Oh, yes!” Aurie excites. “Well, I only applied to one at a hospital. It’s for geriatrics, the older population. It’s a smaller hospital, and I expect to hear a call back, but—” Aurie shrugs, “—kind of nervous for the first time. I debated applying for a long time the other night and really the idea of starting over in a hospital nauseates me.”

“You’ll be great there. I can tell you bring the kind of energy that lights up the entire room. You showed it tonight.”

“Thank you.” Heat creeps against Aurie’s cheeks. “I appreciate your words, immensely. I needed the extra boost in confidence…been an uncharacteristically few days feeling down.”

Fayza empathizes and holds her arms wide, beckoning for Aurie to hug her. Aurie doesn’t hesitate, chuckling nervously when she wraps her arms around Fayza. Her head rests against her shoulder, feeling small but reassured that everything would be okay.

She blinks away the tears, not wanting to ruin Fayza’s blouse, but her words did mean a lot to her. Hearing them from someone who had yet to meet her in person gave her a newfound confidence—a better judgment than anyone who knew her because Fayza immediately saw Aurie through any walls she attempted to put up.

“You are very lovable, it’s no wonder he fell in love with you so fast.”

Aurie laughs as a tear slips, wiping it away quickly.

-

As they hug and say their goodbyes, Melissa strikes up a conversation with Camille, the kiddies run alongside the sidewalk after their energy was revived with ice cream for dessert. Kylian’s hand tightly grips Aurie’s, not letting her go as he speaks to his family,

Ethan seems bashful in front of Aurie, and she can’t tell why, but she doesn’t pick on him despite it being on the tip of her tongue.

“I’ll see you at the presentation?” Ethan asks, glancing down.

“You will, it was nice meeting you,” Aurie says.

“You too,” he nods, before Kylian engulfs him into a hug.

“See you later,” Kylian utters towards his brother.

Finally, Aurie untangles their hands and waves at Ethan once more before strolling over to Camille and Raphael. They've moved closer to Paul and Mac, who are standing outside the car, playfully teasing the kids. As Aurie passes Melissa, she gets a warm hug, and Melissa then gathers her children from Paul. Aurie chuckles as she watches Simone leap up to give Paul a high-five.

Camille and Raphael embrace Aurie before she bends down and says bye to Simone. Simone wraps her tiny arms around Aurie’s neck before hopping away with a giddy smile.

On the way back to Aurie’s house, Kylian leans his head on her shoulder the entire time and mumbles incoherently, speaking just to speak. Not that Aurie minds, she’s checking her email, waiting to see if there was any update regarding her job position. She waits some agonizing seconds for the app to refresh before finally, there is an email regarding the position. She skims through the introduction and finds the paragraph she’s been waiting for.

Upon reviewing your application, we believe your exceptional skills and experience are better suited for our out-patient geriatrics role, while possibly aiding some of the new in-patient physiotherapists. Your expertise in both in-patient and out-patient rehabilitation and your compassion—

Aurie’s eyes went wide, her application was accepted!

By the time they make it inside, they can’t keep their hands off of each other, not even bothering to make it up the stairs, just settling down on the couch in the living room. Their discarded clothing lines the path from the front door to the couch. She tells Kylian the news when their chests are still silently heaving.

“Ky,” she says, sitting up. She slips on Kylian’s white dress shirt, which distracts him.

“Hmm?”

“I applied to a hospital about two days ago in Madrid,” she murmurs sheepishly, feeling shy under his gaze. He cradles her head against his shoulder, peering down at her.

His brown eyes widened. “Really? That’s amazing—”

“I got it.”

“What?!” He tries to reign in his excitement, but he can’t because if the position was offered, it meant she’s a step closer to moving to Madrid with him. That she was going to choose him. It also meant that she was over her hump of doubting herself. He kisses her forehead with a firm kiss.

“I got the position.”

“Well of course you’d get it,” he beams, pulling her impossibly tighter into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

She silently curses all the doubts that have plagued her over the past few days and weeks. Despite her insecurities, this hospital recognized her exceptional skills and experience at just 25, deeming her capable of teaching the new physiotherapists. Whatever spell she had been under, she hoped it was gone for good.

Although she completed possibly the biggest task she needed to figure out, she still wanted to speak with her mother before she left. She didn’t even want to think about what she would say when she was moving, but Aurie vowed to not let it affect her. She was able to move past many of the things her mother told her, and one more thing wouldn’t hurt.

Aurie squeezes Kylian’s torso tighter, snuggling into him until she finds a comfortable position to sleep. His protective arms wrap around her like a secure cocoon, and she’s never felt so relaxed as she does now.

-----

Note: Almost to the end. :')

Taglist: @karotland​​ @mrs-bellingham​ @kylianswifey​ @kymb-10​ @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog​ @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113 @neymarloverxxx @444jodie @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1 @euphoriapillz @imagesthatlive @ohpuckyeah @nothingtoes

[zal-cryptid]

Any advice for writing dialogue? How detailed do you get in the regard?

How do you differentiate between your characters ways of speaking?

I have a lot of conversations with myself in my head, and so whenever I write dialog, I simply channel their personalities and talk and react to myself as if I am those characters.

Differentiating their speech is something I'm personally still getting a handle of, but I have some techniques. It helps when you have a cast with distinct personalities. "Is this something they would say or even know?", "where are they in their lives?", "is there anything affecting their personalities?".

What I did was make a speech guide for my characters to help me. Here's some of them:

ELEANOR

Uses British English spelling (i.e. colour, theatre, analyse, programme, etc.).

Uses British words and phrases (i.e. "I'll be mother").

Falls back to using Victorian-era vernacular (i.e. "uranian", "spinster", "morbs", "mary ann", etc.).

Formal and reserved.

Intelligent and, at times, verbose.

DOLORES

Uses American spelling.

Occasionally uses 1920s-1930s slang, especially upper-class jargon.

Occasionally uses New Orleans slang and phrases.

Brash and irritable.

as DOLLY

Polite and empathetic.

Avoids swearing. Child friendly language, even when talking about adult topics (i.e. "hanky-panky" etc.).

Sunny predisposition.

JEN

Uses Australian English spelling and words (i.e. "practise", "nappy", "colour", etc.).

Uses Australian slang.

Uses 90s slang.

Always says "omg" instead of "oh my god".

MARIA

Uses American English spelling.

Swears liberally (more likely to say "what the fuck" than "what the hell").

Will swear in Spanish when really angry.

Informal.

Up to date with slang such as "karen".

ANDRÉ

Occasionally speaks French (no Google translate, put those duolingo skills to good use!).

Replace "th" with "z" except for words like "thyme" and "Thames" and the end of words like "with".

When speaking English, his words are written in British English ("colour", "behaviour", etc.)

Another thing is I work on individual scenes at a time. I'll write dialogue and figure out how it fits in the story later. Or I'll leave gaps in the script to be filled in later. It's important to know where you're heading in the story and where you're heading in the scene.

I hope that's helpful!

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 29

Masterlist

Warning: small injury, mention of past abuse and self-doubt, more family fluff.

Word count: 3.8k

It seemed second nature for you to sit back and watch. You weren’t trying to be rude but liked understanding how everyone fit in a group. Then, you could see where you fit into it. Yelena hung on every word Alexei said, no matter how ridiculous. She would tease him and poke fun, but it was a side of Yelena you never saw, and she was surprised that it existed. Deep down, she was a little girl looking for her father’s love; you could relate. Now, with Melina, she was more hesitant to accept the older woman’s affection. You wondered what happened between the two to hurt their relationship. With the blonde here, Natasha was more willing to join in on family time. It felt like she was holding them both at arm’s length away. Similar to how you were when you first arrived at the tower, you were so scared to be hurt by those who promised they cared. You, Yelena, and Natasha weren’t as different as you thought. Kate and Wanda acted as the buffers. If a conversation took a wrong turn or Alexei made a joke that struck a nerve, they would pivot the conversation or touch their girlfriend to soothe the. You needed to figure out where you fit here.

“You are doing it again,” Yelena said, pushing a hot chocolate into your hands. Wanda was making them, and it was Yelena’s job to hand them out. You sipped the sugary drink instead of acknowledging her statement. “Why do you analyze everything like a game of chess?” You looked at her. She wasn’t being mean, just curious. You frowned, whipping your lip with a napkin.

“I don’t know,” your eyebrows scrunched together as you thought. Vision taught you that chess was always about being two to three steps ahead of your opponent. It was better to be ahead than trying to catch up. Every time you picked up a piece, your move was final; there were no do-overs. All the pieces flowed together, and a player couldn’t win without every piece. The pawn was just as important as the Queen or Rook. “I guess I like to see how everyone fits together; then I can find my spot.” Yelena smiled.

“I think you would make a good Avenger.”

“Me?” You questioned. “I don’t think I have what it takes to be an Avenger.” The blonde shrugged, leaning back on the wall. Her eyes were trained on the card game between Natasha, Alexei, and Kate.

“I thought the same thing when Natasha asked if I wanted to join the team. Sometimes, I still wonder if I’m good enough for it,” you watched her expression darken, but she shook it off. “We all have those questioning thoughts. Maybe that makes us good at what we do.” Natasha raised her hands in the air to celebrate her victory. “Come on. You are joining the next game.” You had little choice as you were pulled towards the table as the next game began.

*

“Ready?” Melina asked. You shook out your legs and stretched your arms. You nodded and heard the sound of the machine starting up. The older Black Widow wanted to test your reflexes, so you stood in the center of two machines hooked up to a switch that Melina held. They would shoot clay disks at you. All you had to do was doge them and use your powers to destroy them.

Back at the tower, when you trained with Maria, she helped you fall in love with using your powers again. Now, training with Melina made your stomach twist with anxiety. You wanted to perform well, impress her, and show her what you were capable of. So you pushed down the feeling and felt your powers dance at your fingertips.

The first two were easy; the clay pieces fell to the ground before they got to you. You heard the machines rave-up, and the disk started to come faster. Sweat began to drip down your back as you trained under the Russian sun. It was getting harder to stay on your feet as your legs turned to jello.

You dove to the ground, the disk skimming over your head. With the last bit of energy, you sent a stream of lightning and hit your target. The clay pieces fell to the ground. Rolling onto your back, you let out a heavy sigh. Your heart was beating so fast, you could hear it in your ears. You thought Maria’s training was brutal; you were pretty sure Melina was trying to kill you. “Better,” she said. “We’ll take a small break and go again.” You gave her a weak thumbs up and heard Yelena approach you.

“Get up,” she grunted as she pulled you up into a sitting position. Your body mainly was dead weight. “You need to give your lungs more room to expand and slowly drink this.” She handed you a water bottle.

“I think,” you slowly sipped on the water. “I think your mother’s trying to kill me.” Yelena laughed, looking at Melina, who was speaking with Wanda. They were too far away to hear what they were talking about.

“Putting you through this is her way of showing that she cares,” your mouth dropped in shock. You were mentally preparing for your funeral. “She wants to make sure you can protect yourself. You are her first vnucka.” You smiled.

“When are you and Kate going to add to the family?” The blonde’s cheeks burned bright red. You laughed, and she pushed you on the shoulder. There was no fight in your body, so you fell back to the ground. “Jerk,” you called out. Slowly, you sat up and stood up. You shook your legs out and jumped on your toes. Instead of anxiety filling your stomach, something else replaced it. You felt off. Jumping on your feet again, your ankle rolled, but you caught it before anything happened.

“All set?” Melina asked. You gave her a thumbs-up instead of answering and tossed the water bottle out of your way. The machines began to spin, and you let out a shaky breath.

You should have said no, called it off, and tried again later in the day. But you were stubborn, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it. The first sets went well. You dogged the clay plates and destroyed them before they hit the ground. Until you plant your foot and your ankle gave out. Your body crumbled to the ground.

All of your life, you knew pain—the pain you inflicted on yourself. The bruises and scars your father left on you would stay with you forever. The pain during HYDRA was blinding. So when a pulsing pain erupted in your ankle, you knew something was wrong. Especially when your body crumbled in on itself and you fell to the ground. You faintly heard Yelena call out your name and rush to your side.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You nodded, stretching your legs out in front of you. Your right ankle felt throbbing. Melina joined you, kneeling next to you.

“My ankle gave out,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can continue your little course.” You joked, but Melina frowned.

“Do you want me to look at it?” Her hands went towards your foot, and you jerked your leg away. That was a mistake, and the pain traveled up your leg. You gripped the blades of grass between your fingers to stop yourself from crying out.

“No,” your voice shook. “No, I’m fine. Can you help me get back to my room?” You asked, looking at the blonde. She offered her hand, and you took it. You were pulled to your feet, and Yelena picked you up onto her back. You yelped and put your arms around her neck. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you into the house,” she adjusted her grip underneath your legs and began to walk. “Mama is right; you need to eat more.” You rolled your eyes and got used to the feeling of her carrying you like this. It was nice, and you rested your head on her shoulder.

“This is kind of nice,” you mumbled. “I may need more rides like this.” You moved from her laughter.

“Don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” Surprisingly, the house was empty when Yelena walked in, and she went towards the room you were using. She gently set you down, and you limped over to the bed. You felt her eyes watching you. “I’m going to have to tell Natasha.” You groaned but understood. “Don’t try to move it a lot and we’ll be right back.” You nodded as the blonde left.

You sat against the bed’s headboard and carefully removed your sock and shoe. The swelling was already starting, and a nice bruise was forming. You tried to move the joint but had to cover your mouth to stop the cry from slipping past your lips. This could have been better. Injuries meant punishments. You had to fix this quickly. With shaky hands, your fingers traced the bruise. A small surge passed your fingertips and hit the affected area. You jumped, surprised by the sudden display of power, but the pain wasn’t bad when your leg jerked. It was manageable. Curiously, you touched the bruised skin and concentrated your energy on that area. You only stopped when your ankle was back to the expected size, and the bruise was gone. You rolled your ankle without pain as if the injury had never happened. For one final test, you stood up and jumped up and down. Nothing. You slumped back on your bed. That was new. Your door opened, and Natasha came in looking frantic. “Hi,” you said.

“Hi?” Natasha asked. Yelena said you got hurt, and all I get is a hi.” You shrugged.

“I’m fine,” she gave you a pointed look. “I am. Look!” You circled around until Natasha forced you to stop and sit back down. She put your ankle in her lap.

“Yelena and Melina said you could barely pressure it,” you bite your lip. I know you wouldn’t fake an injury to get out of training, so what happened?” Natasha was safe. She was caring, protective, and loving. She wasn’t like your father or those HYDRA goons who hurt you for being hurt.

“I think I sprained my ankle,” you told her. She looked at you to continue. You sighed. “But I’m fine now because I healed it.” She slowly looked up, blinking a few times at you. You saw her brain trying to make sense of what you said.

“You did what?” You pulled your leg off her lap and began to put your sock and shoe back on.

“I was touching my ankle when I accidentally shocked myself, but it helped the pain, so I kept doing it until the swelling went down,” you tied your shoe and rolled your ankle again. “See! All good!” You expected to see that she was proud or happy on Natasha’s face, but she looked worried. “What’s wrong? This is so cool! I wish I knew how to do this when I was younger; it would have saved me a few extra bruises.” Gently, she took your hand.

“It is very cool,” you said, sensing a but. Why were you sensing a but? “But Melina said you flinched when she tried to help you.” Ah, there it was. “Do you want to talk about that?” You shrugged, flipping her hand over to trace the lines on her palm. “Come on, molniyenosnyy zhuk (lightning bug), I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going through your head.”

“Not much to tell,” you said. “Injuries of any kind were frowned upon at HYDRA, and with my-” you stopped yourself. “With Johnathan. It wasn’t good enough if I couldn’t perform at my best, and I was punished.” Natasha tapped on your knee, and you looked at her.

“Can I give you a hug?” You nodded, and she wrapped her arms around you. Your head rested on her chest. “When I was in the Red Room,” she spoke softly and ran her fingers through your hair. “I dislocated my shoulder during a mission. I completed it, but I wasn’t perfect. I went three days without food, and they doubled my training.” You pulled back to look at her. “No one will ever hurt you because you got hurt. Injuries are common in this line of work,” you nodded and leaned against her.

“I’m sorry the world was so cruel to you,” you felt her lips brush against the top of your head.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “But the world can’t hurt you anymore.”

*

Natasha found Wanda in the living room, drinking tea and reading a book. “Hey, how is she?” She closed the book. “What’s wrong? Does she need to go to the hospital?” Natasha shook her head.

“Can we talk in our room? It’s important.” Wanda placed her book on the table and took her girlfriend’s hand as Natasha led them to the room they used when they visited. It had personal details that Melina had kept up - pictures on the walls and extra clothes in the closet. Natasha sat on the bed. “She said she sprained her ankle, but it was fine when I checked on it. No bruising or swelling,” The witch nodded slowly, waiting for the Black Widow to continue. “She said she healed it. That she used her powers until the swelling went down.” Wanda’s eyes went wide. Natasha thought they were going to fall out of her head.

“That is—” she paused, seemingly at a loss for words. It’s different, but we shouldn’t panic,” she sat down next to the Black Widow. This could be happening because she is getting stronger.” Now Natasha was on her feet.

“You are the one that came to me when her powers changed during training. Her powers are preparing her for something, which could be what Vision warned you about.”

“What did Vision say?” Natasha turned around to see Yelena. The blonde had her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised in question. A part of Natasha wanted to lie to her sister because the more people that knew, the more real it would feel. On the other hand, Yelena could help them. With a sigh, Natasha grabbed her sister’s hand, pulled her into the room, and closed the door. “Can you not do that?” Yelena deadpanned and sat next to Wanda on their bed.

“What we tell you can’t leave this room,” Yelena slowly nodded and looked between the couple.

“Should I be worried? Do we have another Thanos coming?” She smiled. Natasha was grateful for the joke to try breaking the tension but couldn’t bring it in her to laugh. So Wanda began to tell Yelena everything they knew, which was a little. Natasha watched the smile on her sister’s face fall. Once the witch was done, Yelena stood up suddenly. Her hands tangled within her blonde hair. “That glorified toaster oven let her touch the fucking infinity stone,” the redhead snorted at the name-calling towards the android but covered it with a cough from the flare she received from her girlfriend.

“We know it was a bad choice,” Wanda ran her hands through her hair and rested them on her neck. “We can’t change the pass.”

“I can complain about it,” Yelena mumbled.

“What can we do,” Wanda ignored Yelena’s comment and continued, “is figure out how to keep her safe moving forward.” The blonde rested her hand on her chin.

“She’s the safest with us,” she said. “As long as we keep her in the tower or one of us goes with her, nothing can touch her.” That was true, but Natasha hated the idea of limiting your choices over something they had no idea was coming. It wasn’t enjoyable. “Have you thought about telling her the truth?”

“What is there to tell her?” Natasha questioned. “Oh, remember when you touched the mind stone, well, we think something is coming after you, and we think your powers are preparing you for it. But,” the redhead flipped on her back on the bed. “We have no idea if any of this is true. Sounds like a great fucking idea.” She felt a slap on her thigh from her sister.

“Don’t be a dick. I’m trying to help here,” Wanda raised her hands to stop the fight between the sisters.

“Once we get back to the tower, we will find some answers and tell her everything.” The sisters nodded in agreement. Natasha hated this, this feeling of uncertainty that swirled in her stomach. For right now, her daughter was safe.

*

“Good,” Kate said, touching your stomach and lower back. “Remember to engage your core and lower your shoulders.” You nodded. When she removed her hands from your body, you took a steady breath and fired the arrow. It hit the target, not the bullseye you aimed at, but at least you hit something. “That was a great shot! Get ready to do it again.” You shot two more arrows at the target, focusing on grouping them. “Not bad. A few more training sessions, and you’ll be better than me,” you laughed as you walked over to the target to retrieve the arrows. “You know,” Kate pulled out an arrow. “America was pretty jealous when she found out we were coming to see you,” you smiled, pitting your lip. “She was going to come, but Stephen needed her.” You nodded, getting in your stance.

But you couldn’t focus because Kate was looking at you, waiting to see your reaction. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You knotted the arrow and aimed it at the target.

“You and America almost kissed in Macey’s changing room, right?” You completely missed the target at her blunt question but nodded. “But you didn’t. Are you okay with that?” You aimed your second arrow and, this time, hit the target.

“I think I wanted to kiss her, but that scares me,” you said. You aimed the last arrow, but Kate put her hand on your shoulder. You dropped your stance and sat on the ground. Kate sat next to you.

“Why does that scare you?” You moved your hand through the grass instead of answering her. “Come on, bud,” she hit your shoulder against hers. “You can tell me.” You pulled the grass out and let the blades go in the wind.

“America would be my first kiss, first partner, first everything, and that scares me,” you admitted. You shook your head, pulled your knees to your chest, and rested your chin on top of them. “I don’t want to hurt her or get hurt. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Kate sighed, and you looked at her.

“I don’t think any of us know what we are doing when it comes to liking someone,” Yelena said something similar to you about being an Avenger. “We just have to trust ourselves and the person we give our heart to. Sometimes, it works in our favor, and sometimes, it doesn’t.”

“How many times have you gotten your heart broken before finding Yelena?” Kate smiled, laughing with a shake of her head.

“Too many to count, but you learn much about yourself when someone breaks your heart. But between you and me, I don’t think you have to worry about America breaking your heart.” You chuckled and shook your head. Standing up, you picked up the bow and retook your stance. Kate was right. America wouldn’t break your heart. You had very personal experience with dating but you’ve read a lot. The way authors described love and having a crush, you saw it in how America looked at you. However, you were scared of breaking her heart.

*

Melina brushed your hair as you read over your math and science homework. If you had a question or didn’t understand something, you would raise the book to her, and she would help you through it. “You are brilliant.”

“Do you think so?” You questioned. She hummed in agreement.

“I do, and I’m no lair,” she said. Do you know what you want to do when you are older?” The question stumped you. It was something you never thought about, and you could never give yourself hope that you could achieve something.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Never thought I’d reach the age to decide on a career.” You felt her hand stutter in your hair.

“Whatever you decide, I know you’ll do great things.”

“I found it!” Alexei proclaimed suddenly with a cassette tape in hand. He pushed it into a radio they heard, and soon, American Pie started to play. The super soldier danced towards Yelena.

“Do not touch me,” she warned. “Or I will chop off your hands.” But that did not deter the man; he pulled her up and danced around the living room. Her hardened expression began to soften, and her laughter danced off the walls. Kate quickly stood up and pulled Wanda to the makeshift dance floor. Your eyes locked onto Natasha’s, and a smirk formed on her face. ‘No,’ you mouthed. That made the Black Widow more determined; she closed the distance and pulled you out of her mother’s lap.

Your instinct was to pull your arm out of Natasha’s hold on you and run, but you allowed her to try to move you to the music. “I forgot I’m raising a moody teenager,” you pouted. Natasha spun you, and somehow, Wanda had her hands on your arms.

“Teenage angst, right, sweetheart.” You recognized that she spoke Sokovian, but you weren’t sure what she called you. You asked her to speak her native language around you more so you could try to learn it. “Isn’t that what they are calling it?” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t have teenage angst.” It was Wanda’s turn to spin you, and Kate took the witch’s place.

“Then dance with your family!” The archer laughed. You huffed but began to dance. The feeling of embarrassment washed away, and you laughed with everyone. The dancing continued even when American Pie ended, and the next song started. You saw Melina still sitting in the same spot, with a fond smile as she observed the scene. With a smile, you skipped over to her.

“No.” You ignored her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet, bringing her to the dance floor in a similar fashion to Natasha.

“Come on, babushka (grandma), dance with your family,” Melina glared at you, but when Alexei came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, she melted against him and swayed to the music.

Family. This was your family. Oh, how lucky you were.

-

taglist: @aestruvx, @toouncreativeforausername, @modedddd, @julilamoment, @mythixmagic, @yourmamacom, @vicmc624, @cherlenovix, @liliesandrosies, @whitewidowsbite, @clintsbigtoe,   @blackbirdv98 @arualdcg@yoyo-w​  @natbelovasblog, @johnnyhulu, @blackwidow-3, @theenglishswiftie, @faith-olsen

[whereserpentswalk]

There was a church who started worshipping a god built of machine.

They started out as a normal church. Culty and strict for sure, one of those tiny American high control protestant sects. They were just kind of doing their thing for awhile, but than some of the elders said that an angel had come to them, an angel made of steel and wire and plastic, and that he told them how to build God on earth.

The first thing they did was connect every church they had in North America with these massive underground wires. The wires were large and thick and made from this unknown red material. The stats tried to stop them, but once it was built nobody seemed to be able to remove it without causing worse damage. So the wires stayed.

And in every church they owned they brought in big machines to hook up to the red wires. Nobody saw the machines, everyone other than the high ranking priests were forbidden from seeing them, they always kept them under cloths. Nobody knew what they did either, they just knew the priests were constantly interacting with them. But they heard them. It was an awful noise. Sometimes it was like a great churning or screeching, but most of the time it sounded like singing, a horrifying and strange song like nobody had ever heard the likes of before, in a language no one knew.

They showed the world a map of the network and the machines, and told them that that was their god. They believed that if their god had come to earth before as a mortal man, now he had come to earth as a network of machines. And now the entire church bore the bloody hands of Saint Maria.

As time went on they started replacing normal church images with ones that fit their vision of God. Security cameras, computer screens, factory engines, headlights, and the hard and glowing things. And when they depicted angels, they seemed like beings of mechanical creation.

Then they started putting machines inside of people. Little computers. More advanced than anything that humans had made before. Some of them seemed to be to watch their followers. Others to effect their mood, or the hormones, or other subtle things. Others to tell them things. And still others were to do things nobody could figure out the meaning of. Soon all the followers had little computers in their body, and the church knew everything about them. They were entertained, the songs were always with them now.

Then the angels came. Strange mechanical creatures, they looked like something from outside of humanity trying to imitate it. And the angels told the church things, about other planets, and other planes, and war amoung gods and spirits. Some of the church leaders went mad or became disturbed, but they all disappeared, and the ones who stayed were the most loyal. They handed them a map of many universes, and told them to keep it secret.

Soon the angels began demanding sacrifices, though they wouldn't call them that. They wanted humans, to take, nobody knew where. Though they would take anyone, and the church could make anyone with the machines inside them go. Children who didn't follow the pure lifestyle of the church, those who doubted their doctrin, loose women, unmasculine men, those who knew too much that they couldn't be trusted with, all went to the angels, never to be seen again. It's not even like there were bodies to find, they looked but it was like they just exited the universe.

The church left soon after that. The state never cared about them, but journalists broke the story, and the church became too hated to continue. And when their crimes were found, most of the leaders were arrested, tax fraud, embezzlement, crimes more boring than they deserved. The angels left, but warned of darker things from further places and stranger masters. And the god from wires and machines was pulled apart, it didn't even get to be seen in full condition, it just seemed to fall apart and than they had to clean it up.

They say there's still something lurking out there with interest in our world, something that was kept quite, but can now listen thanks to new technology. There is something living in the wires and the glowing machines.

[totowlff]

the betrayal

➝ you never allowed yourself distractions during work. but how can you resist such a beautiful one?

➝ word count: 4,4k

➝ warnings: smut, polish, crimes

➝ author’s note: i still don't know how i wasn't arrested after this story, considering the number of people and real events involved.

The apartment was dark, the furniture illuminated by the soft moonlight that leaked through the curtains that covered the balcony door. As you tried to figure out whether what was next to the frame on the wall was a lamp or a tall plant in a pot, the door behind you locked to the sound of keys jingling, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.

And then, you felt a large hand slide down your neck, fingers brushing your skin teasingly, but without squeezing. Feeling them rise up your jaw, leaving a trail of excitement in its wake, you knew there was no turning back.

— Maria — a deliciously deep voice whispered in your ear, while an arm wrapped around your waist. Then, with a pull, you felt your body fit against that of the owner of the hand whose thumb caressed your skin. Even with the fabric of his shirt and your dress between you, you could feel the heat and power emanating from the man who nibbled your ear and made the words melt in your brain.

This was wrong, you knew it. But, how could you resist Toto Wolff?

After the photo you sent of the little porcelain figure on your shelf, the two of you began to exchange cordial messages, talking about ordinary things in your routine. It didn't take long for you to discover that Toto had a stock market investment company, whose office was close to the cafe where you had first bumped into each other. That detail ended up becoming the pretext for you to meet again and this time, with nothing fragile between you.

That moment between you made you feel lighter. It was as if there, in front of him, you left all the tension and anxiety that surrounded that investigation outside the cafe. Toto was light, fun, a breath of fresh air in your days in Vienna. And, no matter how much you tried to deny it, you knew you were falling more and more in love with that man.

The invitation to dinner came naturally after you said you hated the famous wiener schnitzel. After arguing in defense of his favorite dish, Toto said, with a smile, that he knew a place that had a schnitzel that would make you completely change your mind about the dish.

— If you want, we can have dinner there on Friday — he murmured, suggestively.

And you couldn't say no.

Wearing a blue satin dress, which you had bought in a hurry at a department store, since you had brought nothing remotely suitable for a date, you allowed yourself a night without thinking about your mission in Vienna. Between bites of schnitzel and laughter that made your chest warm, you had in mind that moment was just yours and Toto's.

And you wanted to make the most of it all.

And that meant melting in his arms. It meant feeling his hands press your body against his tightly, while feeling him taste the wine that was still on his tongue. It meant ditching the taxi you had called and going with him to the apartment he had nearby, feeling his warm palm press against your thigh the entire way. It meant staring into his hungry brown eyes through the reflection of the elevator mirror while his mouth distributed bites in your neck.

— You look so beautiful — Toto murmured in your ear, his deep voice taking you back to the present, where you were about to combust — So hot in that little blue dress of yours...

— I chose it for you — you replied, your hands resting on the arm that wrapped around your waist.

— Oh, yeah? Did you choose it for me?

— Yeah — you sighed, feeling him press your body harder against his, causing something hard to rub against your back — You like blue...

He chuckled against your skin, as he led you through the dark living room slowly.

— And how did you find out about that?

— Your shirts — you panted, feeling him place his hand against your belly — All blue...

Laughter sounded again throughout the apartment, accompanied by a sudden movement. Rotating you on your own axis, you faced Toto, whose face illuminated by the shy light of the moon allowed you to see the intensity of his gaze on you. An intensity that couldn't be compared to any man who had ever been in that position in relation to you.

— Smart girl — he murmured.

You smiled, feeling a certain pride grow inside your chest.

— Pretty too — Toto added, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring your mouth voraciously, as if you were going to escape at any moment. But you knew you would never be capable of that, not when you were sure you would combust if you didn't have that man to yourself that night.

— Szkoda, że tak dużo kłamiesz — he whispered against your mouth, something about the way he pronounced the syllables making your skin tingle deliciously.

— What does that mean? — you asked softly, your curiosity overriding your own desire to take Toto to bed.

Pulling his face away from yours, he smiled mischievously.

— That I can't wait to take off that dress of yours.

Giggling, you kissed him again, allowing Toto to lead you through the dark hallways of the apartment. Your heavy breathing and his giggles joined the staggering steps when he noticed the way you tried to unbutton his shirt, trying to feel his skin under your fingers.

— Calm down, moje skarbie — Toto said, before turning on the light from the lamps that lined the enormous bed that occupied one of the walls of the room. In the dim light, you could see the amusement in his eyes, as if you were exactly the way he wanted — So impatient...

— I want you — you stammered, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping you upright.

Limiting himself to a low laugh, Toto took you towards the mattress, his hands busy with the zipper on your back. The short, hissing sound was accompanied by the soft touch of satin sliding down your body, leaving a trail of anticipation across your skin.

Toto's dark eyes stared at your silhouette as if you were a feast and he was a hungry man. However, instead of simply satiating himself, he took long seconds to appreciate every detail, his gaze moving down your skin in an attempt to keep every little piece of you in his own mind. However, one detail made him smile mischievously.

— No panties this whole time?

— Yes — you replied softly — It appeared on the dress...

Raising a hand to your face, you could feel the excitement bubbling just below your navel.

— Just for that? —  he asked, as his fingers slowly slid down your skin.

— Yes — you managed to say, feeling your breath catch in your throat when you saw his hand approach your right nipple. Lightly brushing his fingertips against the sensitive skin of your areola, you could see his satisfaction in having you there, completely at the mercy of his touch and desire.

— I thought you wanted to make things easier — Toto whispered.

— Do you prefer easy things, Mr. Wolff? — you asked in a challenging tone.

He smiled, pinching your nipple lightly. That touch sent an electric shock through your body.

— I prefer the right things, no matter how much of a mistake they seem.

Something about that sentence made your heart beat heavy in your chest.

— This is a mistake? — you questioned in a low voice.

— Maybe. Do you think it's a mistake? — he returned the question, while his hand slid towards your waist.

— No — you replied — You would never be a mistake.

— Naiwna dziewczynka — Toto murmured, before pulling you against him and capturing your lips again.

Completely surrendered to his touch, you let yourself be led around the room in slow steps, giggling when you felt the man suddenly stand below you as he sat down on the mattress. With his hands on your waist, Toto positioned you so that his leg was between yours, making you straddle his thigh.

Bringing your hands to his shoulders, you began to move your hips almost instinctively, rubbing your pussy against his pants. With a small smile of satisfaction, he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

— You're a very needy girl, you know that? — Toto murmured, with a teasing smile.

You even thought about answering, but there were no words that could convey the hot sensation that took over your skin and made your pulse roar in your ears. So, you kissed Toto, trying to convey in that simple touch all the intensity of your desire, your need to feel him inside you, filling the void between your legs that bothered you more every second.

As the kiss deepened, you moved your hips faster, rubbing your clit against the cream-colored fabric. The texture was perfect, causing your muscles to tense and your fingers to squeeze Toto's shoulders tighter and tighter.

— Fuck — you panted against his mouth, the sensation growing in your belly by the second.

— Skarbie — he whispered, his hands holding your hips tightly, as if trying to guide you to orgasm. But you didn't need or want to be led by him, especially when you knew that path so well — Are you…

— Yes, yes, my God — you moaned loudly, closing your eyes tightly as you felt your body showing the first signs that it was about to come apart — Yes, yes, yes, yes!

The hot wave ran through your body suddenly, the overwhelming sensation causing all your muscles to tremble. Throwing your head back, a loud, sharp moan escaped your throat, leaving you completely breathless.

That orgasm had definitely joined the list of the best you had ever had.

— Maria? — Toto asked somewhere far away in your head, while you still felt your body shaking with involuntary spasms.

— Hm? — you murmured, feeling your skin warm and pulsing as you returned to Earth.

— You didn't say you were going to cum — he said in a serious tone.

Opening your eyes, you looked at him, seeming to process that sentence amid the adrenaline that was still coursing through your veins.

— I…

— And you made a mess on my pants — Toto added, making you look down, finding a dark stain on the fabric, the result of the pleasure that had dripped from you. The sight made your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, accentuated by the way he looked at you.

— I thought you wouldn't care about that...

He clicked his tongue, clearly dissatisfied.

— What, are you going to be upset about pants? —  you asked, an eyebrow raised.

— Get up — Toto said, seriously. His tone showed that this was not a simple provocation, but an order. And orders were to be obeyed.

Standing, you watched the way he stood in front of you, imposing, almost threatening. His eyes seemed even darker when they were fixed on you, completely naked in front of him. It was as if he were a predator, completely satisfied with having captured his prey and about to feast on it.

— On the bed — he ordered — All fours.

You complied in silence, feeling your skin crawl as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees on the soft mattress. The expectation you felt was huge, your heart beating heavy in your chest as you waited for Toto's next order.

However, instead of words, you heard the sound of metal against the floor, as well as fabric against skin. The idea of seeing that man completely naked made you turn your face back to see him, even if just a little.

And then, a crack echoed through the room. The sharp pain you felt in your right buttock was mixed with the excitement of finding Toto's eyes staring at you sternly. He definitely liked to command and, as strange as it seemed, you were enjoying obeying him.

— I don't remember telling you to turn around — he murmured, while his hand massaged the place where he had slapped you.

— Do I need your permission now? — you asked, defiantly.

A new slap, this time on the opposite buttock, made a gasp escape your lips. Surprise replaced the expectation of being punished for not being able to remain silent when you felt Toto put his hand on the back of your neck and pull you back. Kneeling on the bed, you could feel his skin against your back, as well as his breath against your neck.

— You're a little brat, Maria — he whispered.

— Is that a bad thing?  — you asked, a mischievous smile on your face.

— I don't like brats.

— Are you going to punish me for this?

Toto chuckled.

— I should, so you can stop being insolent.

— You like my insolence.

He didn't respond, preferring to return you to the position he wanted you to be in on the bed, with your arms resting on the mattress and your butt sticking up in the air.

— I like it when you're a good girl — he murmured, as his fingers slipped into your pussy, spreading your wetness across your vulva — Can you be a good girl?

The touch made you let out a shaky breath, your nails digging into your palms with how tightly you clenched your hands.

— Yes, I can — you managed to respond.

Feeling his hands on your hips, you didn't have time to prepare yourself before feeling him fill you completely. The sensation made your arms give out and a loud moan escape your lips, as you squeezed your eyes shut, savoring the pleasure mixed with a hint of pain.

— Fuck — Toto grunted above you, fingers squeezing your skin as he began to move against your hips, trying to establish some rhythm — You're... Fuck... Tight as hell...

You did not know how to answer, especially with Toto thrusting against your pussy, so you allowed yourself to sink your head against the duvet, hands gripping the fabric tightly. The sound of moans and sighs mixed with the noise of your skin colliding in a constant and delicious rhythm.

At that moment, you were sure that all the obstacles you had imposed on yourself up to that point had been completely irrational, not to mention idiotic. You had the right to feel good, to feel desired, to feel satisfied sexually, even if everything that led you to that bed was a lie.

“Men lie all the time,” you remembered saying to yourself before leaving your rented apartment that night to meet up with Toto. However, that thought wasn't able to shake off the feeling of guilt that took over you every time he called you Maria. He didn't deserve that, you knew, but it was the only way to protect him from all the mess you were involved in.

You came back from your own thoughts when you heard a slap sound across the room, followed by a familiar burning sensation on your butt. But you didn't complain about the pain, quite the opposite.

— Naprawdę jesteś małą, brudną dziwką, prawda? — Toto muttered, through his teeth — Kto by pomyślał, że kolacja wystarczy, abyś tu był, z moim kutasem w sobie…

— Toto — you moaned, feeling a warm wave of pleasure run over your skin. Something about the way he said those words made you want to melt into that bed.

— Nie jestem idiotą. Zawsze wiedziałem, że mnie okłamujesz. Myślisz, że nikt nie ujawnił niczego na temat twojej gównianej misji? — he continued, his voice breathless.

— Please, please…

Suddenly, you felt Toto's hand pull you by your hair, bringing your body against his. With your back against his chest, your sweat mixed with his, his breath hot against your skin. Bringing your hand to his head, you sank your fingers into his dark hair, trying to resist the instinct to continue seeking pleasure.

— What do you want? — he asked softly.

— I want to cum…

Toto slid his hand towards your neck, squeezing it lightly.

— Do you think you deserve to cum after your little show?

— Please, Toto — you whimpered.

— I could hear you moaning like that all night long — he said, giving a thrust that made a loud moan escape your throat — Desperate to cum on my cock, make the same mess you made in my pants...

Suddenly, something clicked in your mind.

— Sorry, please, I'm sorry — you stammered desperately.

However, Toto just laughed.

— You're truly unbelievable, Maria — he said, moving his free hand around your waist and bringing it to your clitoris.

With the double stimulation, it didn't take long for your muscles to tense, your apex getting closer and closer to you again. With your eyes filling with tears and your mouth letting out increasingly louder moans, your legs shook, almost like a silent announcement of what was to come.

— That's it, come for me, skarbie — Toto whispered, accelerating the movement of his fingers against your pussy, making you finally cross the line that separated agony from explosion.

— Toto — you moaned loudly, before collapsing forward, panting and shaking. Behind you, he tried to prolong your sensation as long as possible while searching for his own orgasm, which didn't take long to arrive.

— Fuck — he growled, as he spilled himself inside you, his hands squeezing your hips so hard that you were sure there would be marks on your skin the next morning. It wasn't like you cared about them either. In truth, you didn't care about any mark that Toto left on you as long as it was accompanied by that mind-blowing pleasure that only he could give you.

You allowed yourself to collapse onto the bed after the wave of pleasure wore off, leaving only the aftershocks and your racing heart behind. The sensation had been so intense that you didn't even notice the moment Toto withdrew from inside you, not even when he left the room to get a damp towel to clean you.

— Lubię cię. Chyba nigdy nie lubiłem kogoś tak bardzo jak ciebie — Toto murmured, looking thoughtful as he wiped the inside of his thighs — Szkoda, że byliśmy skazani na porażkę, zanim jeszcze skrzyżowaliśmy nasze ścieżki w tej kawiarni. Byłabyś świetną panią Wolff.

The sound of the syllables was pleasant to your ears, especially combined with Toto's calm and particularly deep voice. However, in the post-orgasmic haze, you couldn't distinguish which language was full of short pauses and nasalized words.

— What language is that? — you asked softly.

Looking up at you, Toto gave a small smile.

— Polish. Do you know it? — he returned the question. Upon seeing your negative wave, he smiled — I imagined.

Getting up from the bed still naked, Toto returned to the bathroom in silence. Meanwhile, you used the last of your energy to crawl towards the pile of pillows that were leaning against the headboard. Pulling the duvet to cover yourself, you snuggled in, enjoying the way the scent of the owner of that bed was permeated into the fabrics.

And it was by breathing in the musky notes that you fell asleep, without even saying goodnight to your host.

The timid light that came through the window was what woke you up that morning. The room was quiet and the temperature under the covers was perfect. Part of you wanted to turn the other way and close your eyes again, enjoy that moment of peace and quiet. However, as you turned on the mattress, you found a beautiful reason to keep your eyes open.

Lying on his stomach, Toto slept peacefully. His expression was calm, as if he had been having a good dream, which wouldn't be surprising considering the night before. And it was with that memory that something inside your chest tightened, a familiar feeling washing over you.

Guilt.

That moment had been just an accident along the way, an oversight. You weren't there looking for fun, a break, or even someone special. You were there to find a piece of history that had been stolen by a dangerous man whose family was up to their necks in it, not to end up in the bed of a handsome stranger who was particularly good at sex.

Silently getting up, you walked to the suite's bathroom in slow steps. Upon meeting your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel scared at the way your mascara and eyeliner had run out of your eyes. “I look like a panda”, you thought to yourself, as you wet your hands and put some soap on your face.

More awake and with clear skin, you slowly returned to the room, thinking about what you could put on at that moment, considering that your dress was nowhere to be found and that you had, conveniently, left your panties at home. After a few seconds of contemplation, you picked up Toto's baby blue shirt that was crumpled on the floor and put it on, pulling the sleeves to give your hands more freedom. And then, more or less dressed, you left the room in slow, silent steps.

Walking around the apartment during the day was definitely different than when you did it at night. The light that came through the windows revealed modern and minimalist environments, with furniture with clean lines and decoration in shades of blue. However, your mental note about telling Toto about his passion for that color was completely discarded when you came across the last thing you expected to be hanging on a wall in that flat.

In a prominent position in the room, there was a large and sumptuous painting, clearly ancient due to the style of the brushstrokes and its golden frame, which divided it into three. In the center, Our Lady and baby Jesus were erected by Prince Casimir of Poland and Saint Hyacinth, surrounded by saints, kings, queens and important figures in Polish history. On the side panels, two archangels, Michael and Gabriel from what you had read.

You finally found what you were looking for.

And that was the worst thing that could have happened at that moment.

— Good morning — a voice made you jump, turning your face to the side. Standing at the entrance to the room, Toto looked at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes — Did you sleep well?

— Good morning — you murmured, feeling your throat tighten — Yeah, I slept well.

As he approached you, your mind tried to weave some story, something that would cover your shock at having found the triptych right there, in Toto's apartment. However, as soon as you felt his hands on your waist, as well as his body right behind yours, your heart started to beat faster, not because of his touch, but because of the tension that built up in your shoulders.

— See something interesting? — he asked, his hot breath against your ear making your skin crawl.

— Yeah, well, yes — you stammered — I hadn't noticed that painting yesterday.

Toto chuckled softly.

— Ah, yeah — he said, his thumb drawing circles on your waist — It's a triptych from the 19th century, painted by one of the great Polish masters, Jan Matejko.

You were frozen, staring at the illuminated brushstrokes that formed Our Lady's face. In your mind, it didn't make any sense for Toto to have that piece hanging on the wall in his apartment. Maybe he had bought it without knowing its origin or history, or he had received it as a gift, or…

— How…

— My grandfather had an antique shop and acquired this piece in the 1960s — Toto explained — He always loved Poland and leaving everything behind to save his own family was really difficult for him. I even think that's why he kept the triptych for himself instead of selling it, to have a little piece of the place he loved so much.

— An antique shop? — you stammered, as the dots connected in your mind. You knew that Czesław Bednarczyk had two daughters, but as far as your knowledge went, only the eldest was connected to the family business. There was no one with the last name Wolff in the intelligence documents that were in your apartment, you were sure.

— Yes, the antique dealer I took you to after breaking your ballerina is owned by my family. But you already knew that, didn't you… Maria?

You suddenly turned to him, shock frozen in his expression.

— Toto…

— Operation Królowa — he pronounced carefully, without taking his eyes off yours — Did you really think no one would know?

— That’s not —  you stammered.

— You do not know the people you have by your side, Y/N. There isn't a person within that agency who doesn't have a price. And it was worth every Euro...

You couldn't speak, you couldn't move. The shock was so great that you were practically frozen in place, eyes taking in Toto's smug smile.

— When I found out that Europol was going to send someone to Vienna to investigate, I kept everyone in the antique shop on notice. And it didn't take long for someone to alert me that there was a woman monitoring the movement from inside the Eskeles — he continued, in a calm tone — And so I went to check in person, but I didn't find anyone in the cafe. Until I tripped over you and broke your ballerina.

There was a lump in your throat, your stomach churning with each word.

— I didn't think you were my problem until you said you weren't from Vienna. And, if I may say so, your accent sounds nothing like someone from Graz — he murmured, bringing a hand to her face — But it's pretty. Definitely pretty.

The touch made you wake up from that cathartic state you were in.

And what happened next was a blur.

Pulling away the hand that was holding his face with your left arm, you hit Toto on the nose with your palm, making him take a step back. Next, you tried to kick him between the legs, but were caught by surprise when he defended himself from the blow with a hand placed close to his groin.

Contrary to what Toto wanted, you retracted your foot. And, with adrenaline pumping through your veins, you bolted towards the apartment's front door.

  — Come back here — he roared after you, his heavy footsteps mixing with the sound of your own pulse, which roared in your ears. You needed to get out of there, you needed to talk to your boss, you needed to say that you had found the triptych, you needed to reveal the truth about Toto Wolff to everyone.

However, you felt the ground beneath your feet slide. And suddenly everything went dark.

[creepling]

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ you make lovin' fun - l. mckinney / 4k

synopsis. after admiring julie from afar at a college party, leland lays off and enjoys the rest of the night. only he’s sitting in a room with that metalhead that intimidates him and ends up having a night that changes the trajectory of his love life.

tags. smut - MINORS DNI. gender neutral, metalhead!reader. no use of y/n. stoner!danny gaines. drug use (weed). mild alcohol use. smoking. black cat x golden retreiver energy. unrequited love. one night stand. oral (male receiving). friends with benefits ending. possible part two???

Leland did not want to come off as a creep by any means, but he didn’t want to pass his chances at talking to the girl of his dreams. Yet, Leland wasn’t the only one crushing on Julie Crawford. She was a magnet for men and women alike. Surrounded in admiration and love, her energy is addictive and radiating. She was the life of the party and dare anyone to have her all to themselves and ruin the vibes. Leland kept to the walls, admiring her from afar, asking the odd person about her in casual conversation. “She’s a total babe,” one girl said, Leland assuming in a platonic way. Her friends were her guardian angels, interfering with prying men and keeping the conversation light. Anytime a guy took his shot, Julie’s friends were by her side, changing their course to the beer keg or smoking outside. Anything to protect her, to gossip and giggle at the men who thought they stood a chance. And with that, Leland saved himself from embarrassment, sipping his beer and enjoying the company that he had.

Sonny bailed at midnight. He said something about having to study before lectures. Leland only nodded and hugged him goodbye; there was no stopping Sonny and his academic determination. That left Danny as the last guy friend, but Leland needed to figure out where he was or if he even was at the party. Maria invited him when he could since he wasn’t a student, and most people liked him around for his weed. Speaking of weed, maybe Leland should find him. He’s feeling up for it.

“You seen Danny?” Leland asked Maria, finding her in the backyard. An idle smile on her face, a blazing joint between her fingers. Oh yeah, he is here.

“Try upstairs. He said something about feeling cold and needing to lie down,” Maria said, quickly returning to her conversation. Leland headed forth, downing the rest of his beer and dumping the solo cup in a trash can, ready to motion into a different head space.

Leland cautiously tried every room upstairs, preparing to walk in on people having sex. He got lucky and entered the second room with a polite knock, welcomed by the overwhelming smell of incense—tapestries galore on the walls, carpets softening the ground. Whoever’s room this was, they made it into the perfect smoking room. Leland discovered Danny lying in pure bliss in the sea of blankets and pillows underneath bed veils—an amused smile on his face.

“Danny,” Leland cooed, concealing a laugh. “Dude, wake up.”

Danny opened his eyes halfway, and his face faded. His smile grew wider at the sight of Leland. “How ya doin’, man? Great party, I feel fucking amazing.”

“That’s good to hear,” Leland chuckled, “You got anything left?”

Leland thought it wasn’t possible, but Danny's smile grew larger, his hand digging into his jeans pocket. “You bet I do,”

Danny humfed his body upwards, shuffling to the end of the bed where a weed tray lay. Leland took his place next to him, trying to act casual. He is good friends with most of the gang but still feels the need to act older than he was, being the youngest. They never looked down on him, and it still amazes him he made friends with the seniors as a college freshman. If his mother knew about it, she’d have a canary fit.

While Danny was preparing a joint, Leland noticed the person in the corner of the room for the first time. Danny caught his staring, following his gaze, a jolt of fright taking over him.

“Damn you, are you still sitting there? Fuck, you can be real scary sometimes.”

There you were, in all your intimidating glory, two stubs of a joint in an ashtray, a book in your hand. Eyes are dark, heavy, and smokey with liner. Your dark clothes blend into the shadows of the dimly lit room.

“Someone had to look out for you in case you choked on your vomit,” you remarked stoically. Danny nodded at the reasonability, flattered by the protection.

“Why you not down with the rest of the party?” Leland mustered the courage to ask, prepared for your cold gaze. Out of all the group, you were the one Leland felt the most distance from. You were kind of a shut-off, aloof, kept to yourself. Connie insisted that you're an absolute sweetheart once someone gets to know you. Yet, you looked ready to bite his head off whenever Leland conversed with you.

“‘Cause they’re not playing ‘Sabbath, I bet,” Danny teased, rolling the joint in his fingers. “Did I ever tell you if you were in Cali, you’d live in Spahn Ranch?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Fuck you,” dropping the book you were browsing and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, “I think you forget it was hippies like you that did that fucked up shit,”

  Danny grinned, “Yeah, and your lot are eating bat heads. My apologies.”

Leland thought an argument would break out until the sound of laughter soothed his worries. It was the first time Leland saw you smile, somewhat allured by it. He’d like to see you do it more often;  it was a pretty smile.

Leland tried not to stare at you too much while you smoked, your eyes scanning the two men. From Leland’s perspective, it looked like you were sizing them up, and he shuffled in his seat. You must have noticed this because a smirk grew on your face.

Danny finished his first joint and passed it along with a lighter to Leland. Leland thanked him, perking it between his lips. As he lit the end, he sucked in its flame, dropping the lighter and exhaling the smoke.

Time passed, and the night was slowing down, a muffled ambience as the room became another dimension from the party. Danny left at some point, probably back to Maria, so she didn’t start to worry, and you took your role as mediator for Leland, chilling in his hazy state. You were high, too, but all it did was relax you, its side effects not hitting you like a ton of bricks. You stick a record on the turntable, keeping the volume low, relighting a new incense stick and keeping an eye on Leland idle on the bean bag across from you, his eyes staring into space. A tug of a smile was visible on his face as he heard the hum of the music, motioning his hand to turn it up. You turned it one notch higher, amused at his state.

“This okay?” You ask. It was a song you can tolerate. Seeing Leland nod along with it was amusing enough, and you sat in the spare bean bag next to him.

With the proximity, Leland realised it was only the two of you together. He thought about Julie, wondering where she was and how she was enjoying her night. Then he looked at you. Instead of his heart sinking, it was beating faster.

“Connie was right about you,” Leland drawled, a smile on his face.

You frown, then scoff, surprised anyone is talking about you. Sure, Connie was your friend, an unexpected one at that. When you came to college, you expected not to make any friends. “Oh yeah? What’s Connie saying about me?”

Leland gathered his words together, his brain slower than usual. You watch the gears turn in his head, trying not to relish in it too much. There was something so endearing about him in this state. He looked less like a jerk, which was how you view any guy who peaked in high school. Leland was your run-of-the-mill popular guy, trying to continue his legacy in college and failing miserably. You knew he was a wrestler but dropped out before graduating, losing out on the scholarship and having to build from the ground up. His parents might have been pissed off about that, but there was something about it you admired. It showed hard work, determination, and ‘following your dreams’. It’s one of the first things you liked about him.

“Connie said… You’re a nice person once you get past the hard exterior,” Leland articulated, freezing when he saw your still face.

“Didn’t you think I was a nice person before?” You glared at him.

Leland began stumbling over his words, trying to defend himself. You burst into laughter. And there it was, that smile you showed before that stopped Leland in his tracks. It could win awards and make people faint and applaud. He couldn’t help but stare at you longer than he should.

“Well, right there is the evidence. You have a habit of… How should I say it? Pushing people away?” Leland pondered, “That sounds rude, sorry-”

You wanted to object, but he was right. It’s a habit of yours. You’re used to judgement and ridicule. It’s better to keep people at arm's length to avoid it. It saves all the hurt that comes with it. “Like usual, Connie is right. You have nothing to say sorry for,”

The look in your eyes told a thousand stories. Leland sensed this is something you feel to your core, a plague waiting to be lifted. How much could happen in one night? Is it enough to convince you you are deserving of admiration? Maybe it was the weed, but he had so much to give.

“Y’know, before tonight, I was like everyone else. I was so intimidated by you. Not only because I was scared of you but because you’re the coolest person in any room you enter. You defy everything, all the bullshit we have to conform to. I always assumed you don’t care what people think of you,” Leland argued.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, not at Leland, but how the compliments he voices are the very problem why you can’t connect with people. You’re not the person they bring home to meet the parents. You’re not the person authority approves of. Assumptions about you are thrown towards you in every corner, and trying to dodge them gets tiring.

“That’s my problem, though. I am everything you said, but I care what people think about me. I just want someone to like me how I am,” your words almost turn into a whisper, the vulnerability making you feel out of place. You never expected to be like this with any guy, let alone Leland.

He looked at you momentarily, debating the move he was yearning to make. But was it the right thing to do? You began sheltering again, patronised by his puppy dog eyes. In a desperate moment, he reached for your hand, cupping it in yours. His thumb caressed your knuckles, and he felt your fingertips coil against his hand.

“Don’t,” you warned, yanking your hand out of his grasp. Leland furrowed his brows.

“Why?” Was Leland’s only question, his eyes refusing to leave your averting gaze.

“I’m not dumb, McKinney. You have no right to go all lover boy on me. You like Julie, and only Julie,” you made eye contact with him, your eyes cold and stern.

Leland looked at you as if to say, ��How did you know that?’ and you sighed.

 “Everyone knows, dumbass. You make it so obvious.”

Leland bowed his head, a blush creeping up his neck, and he rubbed the nape to soothe its burning sensation. Now he’s hyper-aware of his predicament, making you feel like a rebound or a second choice. Guilt washes over him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe it’s the weed. I’m just not thinking straight.”

Your gaze softens, but you shrug your shoulders, and another sigh leaves your lips. “Have you ever tried getting over her? Like, fucking other people?”

Leland looked at you like you had two heads. “No, never. Flings are not my thing,” he said, shutting down the absurdity.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your smile down-turning. Leland melted at the sight of it once again. “You’re in college and looking for a future wife? Dude, this is the time to experiment! ‘Beats staring at Julie all night and feeling sorry for yourself. Let off some steam. You can like who you like but still have fun. She’s probably doing the same. In fact, I know Julie, she’s definitely doing the same,”

Leland was torn between relief and heartbreak at the information, the thought of her with another clawing at his feelings, but knowing if he takes your advice, he won’t be seen as different if the chance with Jules comes. He ignores his internal conflict and turns to you, “Is that what you do?”

You debate on answering that question, wanting to keep the information private. “Yes, I do. Sure, I have crushes, people I wanna be with. But I also don’t wanna follow them around like a lost puppy, especially when they don’t like me back.” Was that right? Did you make it too obvious? You looked at the very man you were talking about, reassured by his oblivious stare that had a hint of tenderness. You tried not to let it draw you in, your gaze darting away from Leland’s soft features—the warmth of his skin, the glint in his eye. If you were Julie, you’d take him in a heartbeat. You kept your face in its familiar stoic stance, but Leland saw a flicker of softness in your eye. Throughout the conversation, he noticed you were glaring at him less, as if you were warming up to him. He didn’t know what to think, so he moved on to his next question. “So… should I go out there and hook up with someone? See if it changes my mind?” Leland was hesitant, biting his lip in thought.

Your thoughts got the best of you, and so did Leland’s. Now, looking at each other was like looking directly at the sunlight. “Or you could just stay here… with me.”

Working you out made Leland feel he was reading a book in another language. He couldn’t help but scoff, shifting his body to face you directly, smirking. “A minute ago, you weren’t up for that idea.”

You rolled your eyes, admitting defeat but still sitting defiant. This back-and-forth was complicated but intriguing. “Well, now I’ve changed my mind. You need help getting over Julie, and I need to work on not pushing people away.”

Leland was questioning your intentions, wondering how sincere it was. His heart was racing, and he cursed his bodily reactions, biting his cheek in response to the blush on his face.

You rise from the bean bag, Leland’s eyes following you, craning his neck to look up at you. You stood over him, hands on either side of your hips. There was a seductiveness to the darkness looming over you. Leland shifts in his seat, his eyes lingering on your figure.

“Besides, we both need to loosen up in our own little ways. Maybe we can help each other,” you say, liking how Leland looked at you. You’ve wanted him to look at you like that for a long time—a stare mixed with longing and bashfulness. You had to admit, it was cute.

You gently steady your thighs on either side of Leland’s hips, placing yourself onto his lap, studying his face for any sign of rejection. You would adhere to his objections, but you manifested he only encouraged you. You wished for him to like you just as much as you like him. You weren’t ready to confess to him, so you suggested this predicament. It’s casual enough to come across as a one-off thing, with no feelings attached, but passionate enough to find pleasure in this unique twist of fate. Hooking up with him, at this moment, was the only chance you might get before he moved on to pursue Julie, so you felt like enjoying it while you could.

Leland rested his hands on your waist, reigning your body with his, glancing from your smokey eyes to your lips. He was surprised to feel the warmth he would typically protest in his core. Leland was honest when he said he wasn’t the type of guy to have one-night stands. All his sexual encounters involved someone he loved. He likes you, of course. He likes the way you look at him and how you make him feel. But love can’t happen overnight, surely not. He loved Julie the minute he laid eyes on her. With you, it feels . . .

Leland became distanced from his thoughts at the sensation of your lips meeting his, soft and passionate, ceiling the tension between you into a physical reality. Your hands brush the hairs on his neck, cupping his soft skin and sending goosebumps down his spine with your cold touch. Leland instinctively wraps his arms around you, his hand snaking up your back underneath your shirt and onto your bare skin. You gasp between his lips. Your eyes flicker open momentarily. The passionate stare in your gaze ignites a fire in him, his breath heavy in the hot air.

Leland’s butterflies crescendo in his stomach as you motion lower and lower down his body. Trailing kisses down his neck, his breath hitching at the odd nip of his skin between your teeth. You peer up at him teasingly, and Leland anticipates your steps. You seemed like the type to be unpredictable, and Leland’s body tenses under yours, making you slow down and unbutton his shirt, leaving soft kisses.

“Don’t worry, I can be gentle,” You reassured, relaxing your coiled smile and giving a genuine look of understanding. “You don’t have to be scared of me,”

“You don’t have any… weird fetishes, do you?” Leland asked, just in case.

You couldn’t help but laugh, sliding his shirt open and exposing his abdomen, trying your hardest not to freak out at the sight of his lean muscles. Your fingers trace his snail trail, your eyes catching the presence of his bare chest. It was rare nowadays to see a well-groomed man. And consistently, Leland defies your expectations. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I’ll keep it light, just for you.” You tease.

“Yeah, I’d like that. This is nice,” Leland chuckled, relieved of his worries.

You continue to unbuckle the belt on his jeans, unbuttoning loose enough to tug his bottoms down his legs. You hooked your fingers over his boxers along with it, anticipating the reveal. Leland helped you with his jeans, lifting his hips to run them down. His hard dick springs into place, resting below his stomach, the tip inches away from his belly button. His length kindles a look of mischief in your eyes, and Leland notices it when he looks for your reaction.

“You’re full of surprises, McKinney.” You purr.

“Really?”

“Oh, stop humbling yourself,” you tut, relishing in his awe as you trailed your fingers down his shaft, wrapping your digits around his girth. Warming him up, you teased the tip with your tongue, arousing Leland with your alluring stare. He brushed your hair from your face, caressing his fingers along your jawline, eyes lulling at the breathtaking sight of you.

You took him pretty well, taking Leland aback, the sensation tensing his muscles. With the afterthought of weed, and the feeling of your slick, warm mouth engulfing his cock, it stirred a sense so blissful he grew lightheaded. Leland moaned your name, his tone so gentle and appreciative. His hands caressed your head, motioning with your steady pace, his fingers tightening in your locks when your tongue massaged his shaft. Every shift of his body was a thanks for the pleasure you gave him. And as your mouth adjusted to his length, you buried his cock deeper inside, gag nonexistent as his tip touched the back of your throat, your spit coating your plumped lips.

“Holy fucking shit,” Leland cursed, his whines heavy. “That feels amazing.”

He began to buck his lips, unable to help himself, addicted to the feeling of your mouth, completely enamoured. You allowed his eagerness, surprised at his gentle strokes, your moans muffled. Your jaw grew stiff, and you squeezed your eyes shut, but Leland was reading your mind, pulling out for you to gather air. You gasped, your head lightheaded, drunk on his precum, pooling on the base of your tongue. Like clockwork, you stuffed him back into your mouth, fully committed. Hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue, drawing his dick with your lips, from base to tip. It was driving Leland insane.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he pleaded, “feels s’ good.”

Swelling with pride, you picked up the pace, breathing steadily through your nose. Pinning Leland’s thighs deeper into the bean bug, the crush of the fabric overshadowed by the gentle moans whispering from Leland’s lips, fighting the urge to ejaculate, the knot in his stomach swelling and ready to release.

“I think I’m gonna . . .” His face is scarlet. You rest a steady hand on his solid abdomen, the glisten of sweat collecting under your nails that dug into his skin. The pattern of his abs turning your brain to mush, heat collecting at your crotch at the act of pleasuring such a pretty, handsome boy. You gaze up at him under your lashes, succumbing to his brows furrowed together, his mouth agape, pulling such a cute face. Fuck, he was perfect.

Your quick pace soon brought Leland to a close, instinctively pushing your head down his length, coating your throat with his hot seed. He cursed under his breath at the overwhelming pleasure. He rutted out his high, loosening the grip on your hair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough,” Leland chuckled nervously, hoping he didn’t piss you off.

You greeted him with a sly stare, tasting him on your tongue, swallowing his cum with one swift gulp, licking your lips clean. Leland pulled his jeans back on before helping you to your feet. You struggled to stand with your stiff knees, feeling Leland’s arms snake around your waist to keep you steady.

“How’d you like that then, lover boy?” You hesitantly ask, half expecting the post-nut clarity to hit him.

Leland thought for a moment, “I mean . . .” He chuckled, “Words can’t describe it.”

He still looked at you the same as before, if not more intensely. His grip on you never loosened. He cupped your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone, and you almost gave in to him.

“What about you? Don’t you think you deserve some love?” Leland airly said, a gentle smile on his face. He didn’t want the night to end.

“I think that’s enough for today,” You chuckle, pulling out of his embrace. You try to ignore the smile fading from his face, replaced with those sad puppy eyes that weaken you.

“C’mon, now I feel like a jerk,” Leland whined, walking after you, trying to block you from the door. “At least tell me the next time I’ll see you.”

“Oh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You cock your eyebrow. “What happened to just having a fling?”

“I told you that’s not my thing,” Leland teased, trying to contain his smile. You balance the smirk growing on your face by narrowing your eyes. “Let’s say next Friday? You free?”

It came as a surprise seeing him put in the effort. Most guys just finish and bail. You started to question if you bit off more than you could chew. He’ll bail once he has his chance with Julie. Or maybe his heart has turned in another direction. Heading straight towards you, gazing at you with those eyes you get lost in. No… You must keep your guard up, not get your hopes up.

“See you next week, lover boy. But don’t get all romantic with me, ok? Or I’ll puke on you.” You established, swinging the door open and swaggering out of the room, acting as casual as possible for passersby. Leland lingers by the doorframe, grinning from ear to ear.

“Great! It’s a date! See ya then!”

You roll your eyes with a flattered smile, wondering what you have gotten into. Becoming friends with benefits with your crush wasn’t on your 1972 bingo card.

[synthwayve]

Hi have this absolute crackpot of an AU my delirious 4:00 AM brain came up with where Micolash fulfills the role of the Plain Doll. Doodles+rambling below the cut \o/

Imagining him saying “Ah, good hunter” has been killing me for the past 30 minutes

In all honesty I have no idea where any of this came from, I think I just wondered what it would’ve been like if Insight was the loose stat that does not progress the story, and Beasthood/Blood became the story-dependent stat. That brought up the possibility of Laurence and Gehrman communicating with Kos rather than MP, and THAT made me think “what if Laurence got whisked away like he was supposed to, instead of Gehrman taking the fall for him?”

Since the doll looks like Maria and not Laurence, I figured if Laurence were in Gehrman’s place, his doll wouldn’t resemble Gehrman. So I started wondering who else would fit the role AND. YEAH. Then I just went insane from there. In this AU, moon presence would be dead(maybe “washed up” in the field of asphodels rather than the beach?) and Yahar’gul would fulfill Yharnam’s role (since it’s the more insight-heavy area, so there’s be Old Yahar’gul and New Yahar’gul lmao). I think Kos would take an arm rather than a leg thanks to the placement of the Kos Parasite, but I still drew Laurence in a wheelchair because I imagine after a certain point he’d lose the energy/mobility to walk due to an unclean cut and eldritch shenanigans.

I like to think that while Gehrman has the know-how to create the doll and MP gave it life pygmalion style, if Laurence were in his position, he would 1. Not know how to do that and 2. Not create Micolash anyway. So I thought it’d be funny if Kos just dumps him in the dream like “hey I heard you were upset, here’s something that’ll make you more upset” because Great Ones don’t understand human feelings. Kos thinks having a curious doll that can’t be killed is a gift, but obviously Laurence would Have Issues with seeing his old academic rival who died horribly just be “Brought Back But Wrong” like that. Perhaps Lady Maria and her research patients would be a really big deal and Micolash+The School of Mensis would have been the first “faction” to die in this AU. I haven’t exactly marked out who “”swaps”” with who since there are quite a few characters who dabble in both Blood AND Insight, so their biases are hard to figure out(maybe Rom would fulfill Carylls role and you’d get to fight an ascended/beastified Caryll, The Byrgenwerth Runesmith?) idk!

This is all just silly half-asleep “hey what if”s and “oh this would be goofy to draw”s so obviously I’m just tossing ideas around. And doodles! I’m tossing doodles around too :,) okay goodnight

[smok3r7]

One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

The Duality Of Life

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and an old flame of Renae’s reignites in the same breath?

Chapter Summary: The reality starts to really set in for each of them, but for different reasons.

Word count: 2.1k

—

It’s been two weeks since Renae first met Joel and about twelve hours since their last consultation, all about Annie getting served divorce papers on a day that just so happens to be today.

She just knows shit is going to hit the fan. In other words, Annie’s going to throw one big, giant fit.

Joel told Renae the first time he and Sarah left to stay at Tommy and Maria’s place that Annie would nonstop call and text him - along with his brother and his sister in law - about how “unfair” he’s being. She even tried to break into his brother's home, multiple times. The woman has some screws loose, to put it politely, and Joel has told Renae more than she needs to know, but he wants to make sure she knows every detail of what’s going on - not just for the court.

Rather, because there’s not a day that goes by without her or Joel texting and calling one another. They can’t leave each other alone and the lines have been blurred many times already, by both sides.

Even at the gym, where Renae is currently working out with her cousin, Ally, who’s only a year younger than her. She’ll send him sweaty pump pictures in the locker room mirrors, clearly trying to show her ass and thicker hourglass figure, though with a bit of class. She’s not afraid to admit that she does feel something for Joel, but she knows how careful she must be - in the eyes of the law, the man is still married and Renae is not, and she will never be a homewrecker. But as long as he proceeds with this divorce - which she knows he will - then there’s no issue. Right?

You’re dangerous, you know that?

Renae reads Joel’s message again and again. She couldn’t hide the way her heart flutters or the heat that radiates from her cheeks, even if she wanted to. It’s a natural reaction after continuous texts and conversations that dwell into the deeper parts of one another. Things that Renae wants to learn about, not for her job, but for her to grow closer with him and be able to understand Joel as an individual. Not a married man.

Her thumbs playfully do a little dance above her keyboard while she thinks of a slick response to toy with him even more than she is.

Who me?? Neverrr ;)

“What are you over there cheesin’ about?” Ally questions as she unlocks her locker and starts grabbing her things. Renae and her have grown increasingly close since Gia left for New York, not a replacement by any means but definitely another sister-like relationship.

Joel. She one words Ally as she sets her phone down to pull her large graphic tee over her sticky, sweaty body. Renae’s brought up Joel to Ally before, only briefly - his name and that they met at the diner - but word gets around fast here. Even though she trusts Ally with her life, there are some things that she keeps to herself.

“What’s goin’ on with that by the way?”

The question lingers in the locker room for what seems like thirty seconds, while Renae tries to figure out how far she wants to divulge. On one hand she wants to tell somebody what’s going on because she has all these questions and feelings clouding her conscience. But on the other, she doesn’t want this to blow up in her face later on - with her job or her life - because something like this could mess with her reputation.

She does not want to be known as the sleazy attorney that sleeps with her clients. It would ruin her completely. So Renae decides to keep this to herself.

“Just havin’ some fun, is all.”

—

“JOEL!”

His eyes shoot open and his heart sinks, this can’t be good. He raises his right hand above his eyes like a visor so he can see the human figure that stands in the doorway. The raging sun beats down on him and Sarah who’s floating on pool toys in the water to cool off from the yard work they finished an hour ago.

Suddenly Joel’s eyes adjust from the brightness and he sees Tommy waving his hand, motioning Joel to come inside. Serving Annie must’ve not gone as smoothly as he prayed for. But in reality, he knew she was going to make it harder for him and Sarah because there’s nothing simple about Annie.

Small things such as asking her to do a simple load of laundry or dishes turns into a huge debacle in itself, so he can’t even begin to imagine how this went.

“Stay in the shallow end, please,” he reminds Sarah, who’s now swimming back and forth with her bright pink goggles on her eyes, as he pulls his white shirt over his head and wraps his large beach towel around his waist covering his bathing suit. Okay, dad, rings through the backyard creating this little song with the birds that hang out in the trees above her, causing Joel’s cheeks to glow.

Gliding his fingers through the curls that hang in front of his face so they slick back and stick to his drenched head, he builds up the courage to face Maria, who offered to serve the papers. Maria and Annie have gotten into it at least a dozen times before because of the way Annie has tried to create this havoc in Maria’s life, unnecessarily.

Annie’s lost every time.

“How bad?”

Tommy does nothing but spin around and stomp through the four-season porch, then push the screen door open that leads into the kitchen, leaving it open for Joel to follow. But his feet are almost melted to the boiling cement, he can’t move, or at least his mind won’t allow him to. It’s like the wires that connect from his brain to his muscles are malfunctioning, Tommy only acts like this when something goes haywire.

Maybe this divorce wasn’t a good idea…maybe I shoulda’ stuck it out just a little bit longer…I mean, was my life really that bad? I coulda’ faked it longer…but could Sarah? Joel only turns his head to take one more look at his daughter who’s now playing mermaid with her Barbie’s, nothing but a bundle of joy and cuteness. Her brown hair clings to her shoulders and face when she breaks the barrier of the water but quickly disappears when she dives again. No… I’m doing the right thing.

Finally grounding himself, he steps out of the warm comfort of the sun and enters the chilly house. Sliding the screen door shut behind him, he shouts into the empty kitchen asking where they are. “Bedroom,” Tommy responds. Joel inhales deeply through his nose and as he exhales he mumbles, the biggest steps are the hardest but that means you’re movin’ on. Words from Renae that have stuck with Joel and help him get through days like today, days that impact him more than people would think.

Without really preparing himself for whatever fresh hell he’s about to see, he strides to Tommy and Maria’s room where he sees Maria laying down with Tommy next to her. Her nose bloody, right eye swollen, and knuckles a mix of blood and bruises - fuck.

“I’m okay.” Maria reassures him instantly, then turns to her husband, “Tommy! You gotta calm down!” Joel rushes to her side of the bed and kneels on the floor, carefully folding his hands around her hand that lays on the comforter. Apology after apology flies out of his mouth, he never wants this to happen. It's not good for anyone, even if Annie gets put in her place - or an ass beating - because his life is now affecting his little brothers.

“Joel, stop. I offered to do it,” Maria tells him and she continues to reassure him that he has nothing to be sorry about. She’s actually really proud of him for taking this big leap in his life and it all being about Sarah, she finds it’s very admirable that he fights hard for his daughter.

“Thank you,” he mutters, standing up to leave them for the evening knowing that everything’s fine and is going to be. Halfway through the kitchen he stops, partially losing his balance he leans his right hand on the large wooden table to stable himself. His lungs grow and shrink in a slow rhythm, he finally feels relieved.

The biggest steps are the hardest but that means you’re movin’ on.

—

“Wait…so you’re tellin’ me he cheated on you?”

“Twice. I can’t believe I was that naive, but what can ya do? Just the way the world works I guess.”

Joel’s chuckle feels warm in her ear, like he’s laying next to her in bed letting her head rest on his chest, playing with her fiery hair while her arm wraps around his belly and she squeezes him. But he’s really on the other end of the phone, in his own home, his own room, his own bed. When all she wants is nothing more than to smell his musk and run her acrylics through his salt and pepper curls that lay on the nape of his neck.

Renae rolls onto her stomach, placing her phone between her elbows as she watches “Joel<3” scroll at the top of her screen with an hour and forty-nine minutes underneath. The longest phone call they’ve had yet and somehow, the most memorable. Renae’s finally opening up to him after three weeks, feeling that she can truly trust this man with things she rarely has told anyone.

For once she feels vulnerable and safe at the same time, which she hasn’t felt with anyone in years. It’s like the world is finally rooting for you instead of against, she feels she can maybe relax some more. Just knowing this man is here for her whenever she needs; to simply chat about nonsense or when something is bothering her to the point of irritation, helps heal parts of her she didn’t even know were still bleeding.

“Well, the bastards missed out on the fun one.” Renae can hear the hoarseness in his voice, getting more and more tired as the seconds pass. “The gals like you are the resilient ones. The ones who can make it through anythin’ ‘n may come out with some bruises, but you dust off the dirt ‘n grow from it.”

Her face flush from the genuine words and affirmations from Joel, her stomach bounces around that she rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with both her forearms. She tries to control her breathing from the adrenaline that pumps through her veins, which slows down a tiny bit - but not much.

“You gotta stop doin’ that thing!” She can’t help the giggle that follows her words, like a teenager on her first date.

Doin’ what, Rae? The lowness of Joel’s voice vibrates her phone on her mattress, one of her favorite things he does over the phone. She’s not sure how he does it or if he even knows he’s doing it, all she knows is that she loves it. The nickname started last week, all on Joel’s own and she hasn’t loved the way anyone has called her pet names, since Dominic - Mia Sole, My Sun.

“That right there!” She laughs, “You’re gonna get me in trouble old man.”

“Old man, huh?”

Mhmm, she smiles into her bedroom as she pets Frankie who’s just hopped up next to her. She can’t help herself from toying with him, especially since he bites back or at least he usually does, unless he just lets Renae have her fun taking shots at him. Like tonight, the man had a hard day at work today, he’s pretty sure he tweaked his back a bit - hence why he sounds exhausted.

“Well, young lady…this old man’s tired ‘n your sweet southern charm is rockin me to sleep ‘n I don’t wanna fall asleep while you’re tryna chat-“

“I don’t mind.”

She’s not sure why she blurts that out, it just did. This happens far too frequently for her to not know why her body naturally reacts to him like this, it’s almost like her body is set on matching them together. But nonetheless, she stands ten toes down on her feelings, Renae wants this man to herself.

She’s gonna get him one way or another.