#wait i think i have seen someone post something about this before. maybe. i don't think it was the focal point of the post

[iamthetruenhaz]

Disclaimer, this will be a mess. It's 2am, I can't English (I can't Bulgarian either), which means this will be incoherent and the thoughts will be like those of a caveman. Might edit later.

I don't know who Bell Hooks is but I've been seeing a lot of outrage about this post as well as similar posts (I think I've had some too.

The left's problem (mostly from women) is that it's seen as a given that if men feel hated enough, they'll fall into the alt right. So they respond with "if you get radicalized just by some women not being nice to you, you were misogynistic to begin with and we were right to be mean to you".

Which is only partially true. We have a saying in my language - kick a dog enough times and it will start biting. People snap. People react to what they see as unjust, undeserved abuse. Especially when they haven't identified their inborn or ingrown biases that they might not be aware of. (And before you say it, that's really hard to do because "biased person" is automatically taken to mean "bad person" and no one wants to see themselves as a bad person, you only overcome that painful shame by realizing that having biases is something very much human and doesn't in and of itself make you worse than most people, especially if you learn to examine and confront those biases). So people, including men, have a limit to what they can take before they snap. And there's the alt right just waiting to offer you a sense of purpose as a big strong alpha chad male, and put the blame on those evil, evil bad women.

But here's the thing. Two things, actually:

First thing, empathy. You see women being angry at men, all men - let's not pretend that in a moment of anger anyone bothers to make distinctions and avoid sweeping generalizations. Let's just be honest about that. Maybe it's because I always had a number of female friends, including my best friend, and thus was able to get female perspectives on things like MeToo, but it's essential to listen with the intent to understand. I know a lot of women say their male friends just turn a blind eye and start to be willfully blind to their issues but I guess you have to have "women are just as much people as I am and not fundamentally different" as an imperative on a subconscious level and somehow that's not always a given.

Second, critical thinking. Just because someone offers you some "comfort" and "purpose" or what have you, doesn't mean you can't look at them critically and see what they are really about (forgive me, I can't English, it's past midnight). Even if - actually ESPECIALLY IF - they start offering you comfort out of nothing.

I can't say I haven't been tempted to drop down that pipeline, I've felt resentful, unfairly blamed, mistreated. But the language, the attitude, the mindset in those communities, that always just put me off. I guess it comes down to what you really want - for people who hurt you to be hurt as you have been, or for no one to get hurt at all anymore.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[verycoolusername1]

Don't think you understand

Summary: Quinn can't get ahold of his feelings, which leads him to push you away unintentionally.

Track 8 of short n' sweet - dumb & poetic

Warning! Slight miscommunication

A/N: This does have a happy ending :) and it's short. I apologize for that!! I just wanted to post something for the short n sweet masterlist(been delaying it)

And I gave you guys a bridgerton love confession kinda so enjoy that lmao

You haven't talked to him in weeks. The man was your best friend and you haven't talked to him in two months, how did this even happen?

Hmm, maybe when you had confessed your feelings to Quinn around the same time, you left without an answer, analyzing the blank look on his face, bringing enough of one for you.

This was your fifth tub of ice cream in two weeks, while on a call with Luke(and Jack, who also joined the supposed gossip session).

"Wait, so let me get this straight." Jack said, collecting his thoughts. "You told him you were in love with him, and he didn't say anything or have any reaction which led to you two not talking anymore?"

"Well, it certainly helps hearing it out loud." You grumbled.

"Sorry! I just need to recap so I know why I have to slap him when I next see him." Jack mutters the last part.

"You know, for him being the oldest, he sure is stupid." Luke chuckles.

"Pretty sure I'm the stupid one here, I mean, I thought he actually liked me back." You smiled Sadly.

"You think he doesn't like you in that way?" Jack asked, you nodded.

"Yeah, no, Quinn's definitely in love with you, Y/N. Have you seen the way he looks at you? The way his eyes seem to shine brighter when he talks about you." Luke shrugged.

"Okay, now you guys are feeding into my delusions." You rolled your eyes. "I lost my best friend because I couldn't control my feelings about him. And now I'm sitting on my kitchen floor, crying to Conan Gray while eating Ben & Jerry's."

There was a sudden knock on your door. Who could that be? It was late in the night in Vancouver.

"I'll be right back guys, don't hang up." You warned.

You walked up to the door and looked through the peephole and saw the man of the house standing on the other side. You unlocked it. How could you not?

"Quinn? What are you doin-?" You were cut off with Quinn kissing you passionately. You melted in the kiss before slowly breaking apart.

"I'm in love with you too." Quinn confessed. "I think I've been in love with you the moment I saw you falling off the swing when we were kids, if I'm being honest. It's very easy to fall in love with someone as special, charming, kind, heartless, caring, and comforting as you. I can't imagine being with anyone else other than you. And I don't even want to think about how sorry I am for not realizing it until now. But I love you Y/N, and I don't think I can ever stop - No, I know that I can't and won't."

Now it your time to be in shock.

"I understand if I'm too late, I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry for kissing you. I just wanted to know what it felt if it was the only time -" You cut Quinn off by kissing him.

"I love you too." You whispered. "Gosh you're so dumb and poetic."

Quinn chuckles. "What does that even mean?" He followed you into the house.

"Y/N!!! Did you get kidnapped? Omg Luke what if we gotta call the cops and tell them what happened and we gotta tell them she was crying about our idiotic brother-"

"Jack shut up." Luke looked at his brother bewildered.

"I'm just saying, could be a possibility." Jack mutters.

"I'm not dead guys." You picked up the phone.

"Y/N! You're alive. What happened? Who was at the door?" Luke asked, Jack chuckling behind him.

"Oh you know just this really hot guy." You answered simply.

"Okay? How hot was he? Is he gonna make you get over Quinn?" Jack asked.

"Very hot and no." You answered.

Quinn came into frame behind you, kissing you on your neck.

Jack and Luke's jaw drops. "No way!" "What the hell?"

"There are children present in this conversation, you guys are disgusting." Jack gestured to Luke who shoved him in response. "I'm 21!"

"Bye guys." Quinn hung up the phone.

"That was rude, you know." You looked back at him.

"I know, I just wanted to kiss you without them bickering." Quinn mumbles.

"And to think I was just crying over you not too long ago." You recalled.

"I'll make up for every tear you shed for my stupidity, I promise." Quinn's nose brushes yours.

"I know you will." You leaned in closer.

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : SUNDAY *·˚

Yeah, Sunday escalated a little, which is why he was moved to this post, lol. That's...kinda throwing off my initial plan for these posts. Anyways, bone app the teeth??

*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; reader implied to be shorter than Sunday. *·˚ english isn't my native language!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⭒˚｡⋆ Sunday ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ Sunday the kinda guy to have his first kiss after an old-fashioned date or something. I mean, my characterizations of everyone keep changing more extremely than the weather in Germany, but yeah, bare with me for the current one. ⇢ Spending time with Sunday (and sometimes Robin) was almost like an everyday occurrence to you. You were...friends? Well, you certainly were close. It wasn't unusual for you to be alone with him, have long conversations about nothing and everything, go out to get dinner with him. ⇢ And you didn't expect today to look any different when he invited you over to spend time with him at his place, thinking he just needed some company in Robin's absence. After all, you were close, and that's what people who got along with each other did - spend time together. ⇢ But, as you spent time with him, laughing over anything you found funny enough, you felt the energy between you was...different than usual. Sometimes you caught Sunday looking at you a little longer than usual, physical touch lingering, and eventually, you found yourself standing beside him on a balcony, overlooking the Morning Dew Dreamscape, your meeting slowly coming to an end.

''I don't think I'll ever get over this view,'' you sighed, leaning against the railing as you watched Morning Dew's sunrise. You had been to a handful of different Dreamscapes, but nothing could ever compare to those that shared the beauty of the morning sun with you. Beside you, Sunday chuckled softly, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he joined you, ''Well, maybe there's a beautiful sunrise somewhere out there just waiting for you to finally witness it.'' ''I have to find a way off this place first, no?'' you quipped, glancing over at him, ''And I guess I can't really do that until Robin returns. Can't just leave you alone, can I?'' When your eyes met his, you found that Sunday had already been looking at you, a gentle expression on his face. ''Well, I'm glad you're still around,'' he muttered quietly, his smile making you flustered, ''I don't think there's anyone whose company I enjoy more.'' ''Yeah? Huh, I don't think Robin would want to hear that,'' you joked, your voice softer than before, almost hesitant. The atmosphere around you was changing, the innocence of the early morning hours suddenly filled with another emotion, one you couldn't name just yet. Sunday just laughed at your response, turning to face the sun, ''I doubt she'd be surprised.'' ''I'm sure she realized it long before I did,'' he continued, catching you slightly off-guard. With a perplexed expression, you just stared at him, repeating his words in your head. You knew that Sunday considered you someone he shared a close relationship with - otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now - but it still made your heart skip a beat to hear him voice it all so openly. In the pale morning light, you found yourself entranced by him, watching the way the soft rays danced across his face, making his golden eyes shine even brighter than you had ever seen. His words kept repeating in your head, quietly, like a choir as your mind went through all the possible meanings behind the simple sentence. ''I hope she doesn't mind that I'm her brother's favorite,'' you finally spoke again, sounding far more off than you had expected, making Sunday turn to meet your gaze. He was smiling, a mixture of amusement and endearment on his face, ''She knew that it was bound to happen.'' ''Besides,'' he added, turning around to fully face you, ''I care about the two of you in very different ways. Robin is my sister, my family. And I love her the way you love your own blood.'' A heartbeat of silence. The world around you seemed to slow down, the ambiance noise as if muted while Sunday continued his speech, ''While my feelings for you and my sister aren't...that unalike, there is an important distinction. I feel familial love for Robin, while I feel something much deeper for you.'' The beating inside your chest made you think your heart was about to break out of your rib cage, and you didn't even realize that you had stopped breathing, unable to break eye contact as you stared at the man, straightening up while trying to process his words. Neither of you was saying anything right now. You were both just looking at each other, the atmosphere completely changed. Sunday seemed as if he was expecting an answer, but your mind was racing in overdrive, unable to form coherent thoughts. And, while Sunday was starting to grow slightly nervous given your...lack of response to his ''confession'', something inside you just- switched. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, catching not just you, but also the man off-guard. ''May I kiss you?'' Another heartbeat of silence. Then, a soft chuckle, relief flooding Sunday's expression, ''You may.'' And you did, leaning forward, the nervousness terrorizing you as your lips met his in a soft, brief kiss before you pulled away again, your hands shaking slightly.

You were about to say something, comment on...everything that had been said and done today, but before you could come to word, Sunday cut you off with another kiss, this one longer, deeper, and as you stood there in the light of the early morning sun, you found yourself hoping the moment would never pass.

Sunday held you close after that, his forehead resting against yours as you just stood there, allowing the rays of sunlight to engulf you, the pale golden hue like a sign that you had made the right choice, that you had found the right one.

For the longest time, neither of you wanted to leave, lost in the other's embrace until Sunday slowly pulled away, a sigh escaping his lips, ''I fear I probably have to get back to work.''

''I- I know,'' you muttered, looking up at him, ''Just...a few more minutes? Is that alright? I just...I don't want you to leave yet.'' Your voice was quiet, almost fragile. You couldn't remember the last time you sounded this vulnerable.

And Sunday noticed, eyes widening momentarily before he began to smile, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up and place another brief kiss to your lips, ''Just a few more minutes, then I'll have to get back. But you're welcome to stay with me if you want.''

[fridayyy-13th]

holy shit i'm an idiot

so i've been Thinking About Web!Martin, particularly about how the little foreshadowy bits jonny dropped still appear in canon because that particular plot point was changed mid-series, and when i got to thinking about the letter jon found, i had to stop for a second

because writing about being afraid of losing your job is a strange thing to write to your mother, especially a mother like martin's who he did his damnedest to please and make proud, to no avail. since web!martin didn't become a thing i've always interpreted it as martin almost admitting his fear of losing his job to himself, and trashing the letter in an attempt to keep the thought out of his mind.

but, in the context of this being another hint towards web!martin, writing about worrying about being found out makes much more sense if he was reporting back to someone. and, well.

the letter was addressed to his Mother, after all.

[musaslullaby]

Is the princess really getting married?

Charles leclerc x fem reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The Princess of Monaco is getting married, but the fans don't know who the lucky one is.

Face: people on Pinterest, and the driver.

Warning: fluff, Instagram AU.

A/N: There will be a second part.

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸/

Ynofficial

Description: Me every time they tell me I should go get ready.

Liked by user56, lewishaamilton, and other 948.983.

user43: Yn doesn’t want to be a princess anymore.

user32: Let’s switch places, girl. ❤️ Like to author

yourbrother: Yn, you shouldn’t post these things.

Ynofficial: Don’t be so strict.

yourbrother: I’m just trying to keep you on the right track.

Ynofficial: How boring.

user3: The best princess I’ve ever seen.

user12: This is too funny.

user34: POV: How to pretend not to be a princess.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: POV: It’s not a POV.

user34: YNNNN!!!!

Ynofficial: Yes, that’s my name.

yourbrother: What am I going to do with you? ❤️ Like to author

user78: What do you have to do today?

Ynofficial: Another one of those shoots for something, honestly, I don’t even know.

user23: Wait, you’re doing a photoshoot and you don’t even know what for?

Ynofficial: Exactly.

Ynofficial

Description: At least I have him to keep me company.

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and other 8.483.939.

user45: How cuteeee.

user67: The luckiest little dog in the world.

user221: Yn doesn’t need a boyfriend; she has her dog.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I totally agree.

yourbrother: He’s the only one who deserves to live in the palace.

Ynofficial: I know you love my son more than me, thanks.

yourbrother: I never said that.

Ynofficial: So, you love me?

yourbrother: You trapped me. ❤️ Like to author

user21: The last photo is worthy of a queen.

user34: Maybe you meant goddess?

user56: Guys, doesn’t that dog look like Leclerc’s dog?

user7: Who’s Leclerc?

f1lover: How can you not know? He’s a god on earth.

user90: He’s an F1 driver who has a dog of the same breed named Leo.

user50: Now that I think about it, they adopted them around the same time.

user54: Coincidence?

Ynofficial

Description: Okay, okay, I have to admit I had fun this time.

Liked by user43, checoperez, and other 98,453.

yourbrother: I told you.

Ynofficial: You usually tell a lot of lies.

user45: I love the relationship between Yn and her brother.

❤️ Like to author

user6: The heir to the Monaco throne.

user7: He’s very kind, I met him.

Ynofficial: Try living with him, then we’ll see.

user21: Were the jewels real?

Ynofficial: Yes, and they’re really heavy too.

user6: I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.

Ynofficial: The clothes are super uncomfortable tooooo.

user67: But they’re beautiful.

user0: They look amazing on her.

Ynofficial: I can’t wait to take them off.

Ynofficial

Description: A date before saying goodbye.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 4.784.839.

user21: Who are you with, girl?

Ynofficial: With a human being.

user6: The luckiest human in the world. ❤️ Like to author

user5: YN OF MONACO WHAT ARE YOU DOING??

user34: Thank you, Yn.

user1: Whoever it is should thank their lucky stars every day to be with someone like Yn.

❤️ Like to author

user45: So, is she engaged??

user41: Yn, don’t play these tricks on us.

user67: It’s not funny.

user3: I love the dress.

Ynofficial: I don’t, they forced me to wear it.

user56: No way we could afford it.

user32: I wish I were a princess.

Ynofficial: Wish granted, please come take my place.

user6: Guys, isn’t the Monaco GP today?

user5: Oh God, you’re right.

user43: Do you think she’s going to the GP?

user8: I didn’t know she was into F1.

user09: Neither did I.

user5: Yn is the black sheep of the family.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: You’re absolutely right.

user56: That description doesn’t sound like you.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Sorry, too poetic.

yourbrother: Mom wants to talk to you.

user6: Trouble’s coming.

Ynofficial: Time to run off to Mexico. Checo, will you host me?

checoperez: Whenever you want. ❤️ Like to author

user32: Wait, they know each other???

user9: Did I miss something?

user78: What does this dialogue even mean?

user76: YN?

Ynofficial

Description: Guess who’s not supposed to be wandering around the paddock?

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 877.473.738.

gp1: YN OF MONACO.

vroom: Wait, they allowed her to go to the GP??

race: I think at least someone from the royal family always has to be there?

user43: YN, DID YOU MEET CHARLES?

Ynofficial: 🤫🤫.

16_55: IT’S A YESSS.

user2: MY TWO FAVORITE PEOPLE MEETING. ❤️ Like to author

yourbrother: Where did you go? Mom’s going to be very angry.

Ynofficial: Cover for me.

yourbrother: Wait, what?

Ynofficial: Thanks, love you.

yourbrother: No, Yn, come back here, we agreed to stay low-key.

Ynofficial: No one will see me.

yourbrother: That includes me too, right?

Ynofficial: Maybe yes, maybe no.

63_: I love this woman.

user42: Is the car comfortable?

Ynofficial: My princess ass didn’t appreciate it.

user21_: That’s why you’re my favorite princess.

Ynofficial: I don’t think you know any others.

danielricciardo: Princess Yn is a fan of mine.

Ynofficial: You’re my childhood.

danielricciardo: I’m not that old.

Ynofficial: Don’t worry, Daniel, it’s hard to accept.

landonorris: Wait, Daniel met her and I didn’t?

maxverstappen1: He’s just privileged.

Ynofficial: I’m coming to you, don’t fight.

user98: Everyone wants Yn. ❤️ Like to author

81_4: She’s anything but a princess.

f1lover: Please marry me.

Ynofficial: Sorry, I’m a bit busy.

Ynofficial

Description: As a good princess, I have to congratulate Charles Leclerc for winning his home race, Monaco. Congratulations, Predestined One.

Liked by charles_leclerc, f1, and other 42.457.473

f1lover: How sweet, Yn.

ferrarifan: After this post, I’m over the moon.

race_: The Monaco curse is broken.

❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Yes, but now Charles has to endure at least a month of bad luck.

charles_leclerc: Thank you, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: I thank you, Your Highness, for wasting two minutes to make the post. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: Consider yourself lucky.

landonorris: Will the next victory post be dedicated to me?

georgerussell63: Keep dreaming, mate. ❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Charles has reached the pinnacle of his career after this post.

carlossainz55: I can hear him laughing and blushing from here. ❤️ Like to author

maxverstappen1: Princess, may I humbly request your attention? ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I always have my full attention on you, Max Emilian Verstappen.

charles_leclerc: No, today is my day, step aside. ❤️ Like to author

user56: Is Charles jealous??

user45: Max asking for Yn’s attention?

Ynofficial

Description: I can officially say I’m off-limits.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 98,457.633.

yourbrother: I’m so happy for you, little sister.

❤️ Like to author

landonorris: Can I be the best man?

Ynofficial: No, you might show up to the wedding already drunk.

maxverstappen1: You said yesss! ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: I said yesss!

georgerussell63: Congratulations, guys.

❤️ Like to author

lewishamilton: Congrats, but honestly, I expected it.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: He has the eyes of love.

❤️ Like to author

user44: No, okay, we need to figure out who it is.

f1lover: It’ll be the most beautiful wedding ever.

ynlove: Our little girl is growing up.

charleslec_: I hope it’s Charles.

race: It’s definitely a driver.

vroom: I don’t know; it could also be a prince or noble.

user32: I doubt it, knowing Yn.

ynqueen: Love is blind.

user3: Whoever it is, I’m so happy for you.

user77: I’m going to drop a bomb: I think it’s Max.

maxie_: Oh God, yes, can you imagine??

1_11: The best couple ever.

Ynofficial: I like your theories.

user66: Yn, help us, please.

cl16: Has anyone noticed Charles didn’t even comment?

55_: Strange.

Ynofficial

Description: Goodbye, Monaco.

Liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and other 757.648.

yourbrother: I can’t believe mom let you go.

carlossainz55: Knowing Yn, she would’ve gone anyway. ❤️ Like to author

Ynofficial: My friends know me too well.

user43: Wait, how long have they known each other???

formula1_: More importantly, since when does Yn love F1?

f1lover: It’s a new thing, actually.

race: Yn, princess of the people.

Ynofficial: Always at your service.

landonorris: Now she’s getting a big head.

charles_leclerc: As soon as they offered you to skip your duties, you accepted right away.

Ynofficial: You shouldn’t talk to a princess like that.

charles_leclerc: And you shouldn’t talk to a prince like that.

f1love: WAIT, WHAT DID CHARLES MEAN???

charlesmylife: Guys, Yn deleted it.

charelsofmonaco: No, I don’t understand.

16cl: I arrived too late 😭😭😭.

Flove1: Finally, we have proof that this man exists.

user65: I was convinced it was a joke.

user90: Secret agents of the world, unite, we need to find out who Yn’s boyfriend is.

user67: YN, WE HAVE TOO MANY QUESTIONS.

Ynofficial: And I have zero answers.

user56: Where are you running to, girl?

Ynofficial: Away from nobility.

Ynofficial

Description: I had to try the ice cream in Italy.

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and other 74.673.883.

yourbrother: Bring me some.

Ynofficial: No.

charles_leclerc: I’ll bring it to you.

Ynofficial: Since when are you two so chummy?

f1lover: No okay, we missed something.

race: Something important.

Formula1: Is that Leo or Yn’s dog?

f_1: The numbers don’t add up.

user78: I can’t tell them apart.

user1: They look the same.

landonorris: Good job, Yn, distract him so I can win in Monza.

carlossainz55: NO, YN, BRING CHARLES HERE NOW.

Ynofficial: Now I don’t know what to do anymore.

user56: Yn is a princess even outside of Monaco.

user09: How cute is the guy tying her shoes?

[pomefioredove]

i just noticed on your 'yuu gets sold' sorta series that there was a good ending, by chance could you do a bad ending one? if not that's totally ok! keep safe and stay healthy ❤️

oh god. I have a very evil idea for this.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim

summary: a bad (or good, depending on your stance) ending type of post: short fic characters: surprise :) additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is short, HELP

Everyone waits.

The chatter and banter which once occupied the courtyard dies down to dull whispers and foot tapping.

Everyone waits, and there's no Crowley.

"Wonderful," Jamil sighs. "He's probably taken all the money and run off. I told you all that-"

"Maybe he's late!" Kalim shouts. A few in the crowd murmur in hopeful agreement.

Silver coughs. "Maybe he realized this whole thing is ridiculous and is processing everyone's refunds,"

They don't like that option as much.

The sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, threatening to shroud everyone in darkness as the minutes tick on.

"Well, I've had enough of this," Vil says, turning towards the exit. "I've put off my afternoon long enough."

"For once, we can agree on something," Leona murmurs, dragging Ruggie along with him.

No one is exactly surprised with this turn of events- but there's a definite sense of disappointment that everyone is sharing.

"He probably just forgot or 'somethin," Epel says, walking alongside Ace, Deuce, and Jack back to Ramshackle to update you on the happenings.

Jack shrugs. "He's definitely not the most organized, but there's no way someone could just "forget" about this. I think Jamil is right, he probably ran off with the money while he could. The swindler..."

Deuce is the next to add something to the pity party. "And yet, we should've known this was a possibility,"

"Shoulda seen it coming..." Epel murmurs. "I shoulda listened to Vil and pulled out while I still had the chance. Dang it..."

The lights are on in Ramshackle as the four approach, a warm and welcome sight after their disappointing afternoon. And the front door is open- were you expecting them?

"Hm. Well, think of it this way," Ace pushes the door the rest of the way open. "We may have been scammed, but at least nothing changes. I mean, it could've been worse."

"A lot worse," Deuce murmurs, following him inside.

The four make it into the foyer and stop dead in their tracks.

There are many things to expect walking into Ramshackle- cobwebs, dust, ghosts, you- Crowley is usually not one of them.

"You- you've been here this whole time?!" Epel shouts, throwing his arms out. "We were all 'waitin for 'ya like a bunch of idjits!"

Deuce and Ace wince. "Dude, chill... but seriously, where were you?"

Crowley doesn't have the chance to answer before something else steals away their attention.

You walk into the room, suitcase in hand. "Guys?"

The four turn to greet you, eyes wide at the luggage you're carrying. "What's that... Crowley?"

The man himself just stands there, pretending to ponder something. "I could have sworn I sent someone to break the news... how peculiar,"

Epel's brow knots. "What news?"

"A third party somehow got wind of our little... venture and donated a very high sum at the last minute. Along with a very passionately worded letter about our dear prefect's safety here at school," he pauses. "Or lack thereof."

Crowley sighs. "The name rung a bell, but... I couldn't imagine how or why anyone outside of NRC would be following the prefect's moves so closely,"

Deuce's eyes narrow. "Crowley. What are you trying to say?"

"Well, I..." he says, seemingly at a loss for words. "I'm afraid to say that our prefect is being transferred to Noble Bell College,"

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — prologue | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | coriolanus is his own warning, mentions of death, elitism, self harm (Coryo burns his wrist)

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 eight year old Coryo finds out who his soulmate is and his feelings about it

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 this is the first official post about this series that I started on a whim! I am excited to see where this goes, please give me feedback, thank you!

series taglist | series masterlist | navigation

It started with Sejanus. Despite being friends with the boy, eight-year-old Coriolanus Snow couldn't help but loathe the fact the boy had District blood.

Sejanus' presence in the Capitol Academy was an insult to all of Capitol. He couldn't comprehend how it was all allowed before he heard the whispers. Sturbo Plinth bought his way in with money.

Money. The one thing a Snow should be entitled to and yet has none of. Even the power his name held was dwindling. Coriolanus will do anything to make sure ‘Snow lands on top'.

With that vow, Coryo gently brushed his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist. A number, something of significance for his soulmate. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he traced over the dark lines. He felt instantly calm.

Everything is going to be alright.

His soulmate will be a princess, a goddess, a rich Capitol girl no one can compare to. He will have a happy ending with her. Snows will rise on top, and his girl will be beside him every step of the way. The First Lady of Panem as he will be the president.

He vividly remembers the day all of his hopes were crushed. It was a couple of weeks after Sejanus started attending the academy. The boy was mocked by everyone, and Coriolanus thought it was deserved, a district boy was nothing more than an animal.

Then came the district girl, this one from District One, the district closest to the Capitol. But still not the same. The girl from the district was the prettiest he had ever seen. Although she's district. She had claimed the hearts of the teachers, and in return received many privileges. It was rumored that even the dean had a soft spot for her.

It was understandable why. She was a girl with a sweet smile, a secret sharp tongue, and hidden cruelty in her eyes he wasn't sure anyone saw except him. Her eyes always softened when she looked at him but she was always friendlier with Sejanus. Pea in a pod sticks together after all.

It was a bright day, a hot summer making him sweat in his uniform more than the walk to the academy did. That was the day he felt his heart break, and soul crushed. It was completely by accident. Sejanus and you thinking that maybe, you were soulmates. And Coriolanus thought so too, after all, you both were so close, attached to the hip.

Coriolanus felt like he was intruding into something private whenever he was near you both. With your shared giggles and secret smiles, you were as close as children could be.

When you raise your shirt sleeve revealing your soulmate's tattoo, the date is meant to be the most significant to your soulmate. Sejanus didn't recognize it but Coriolanus did, much to his nightmare.

It was the date most important to him. It was the day of his mother's and unborn sister's death. The day he lost someone he held so close to his heart. That's the number etched on your skin.

No. No! He grabbed your wrist, ignoring your yelp and the protest from Sejanus. His eyes were wide and he felt his body shake. “No. . .” He whispered, a sob in his throat.

“What's wrong?” You asked, trying to get your hand out of his hold, and due to his weak, underweight body, you did it easily enough. You rub your wrist and wait for Coryo's answer.

You don't get one because Coriolanus Snow had turn away and begun to walk away from you and Sej.

When he reached his home, his body was shaking and fat drops of tears falling from his eyes. A district girl as his? Never, never in a thousand years. His dead father would have been so disappointed. He refused to accept her as his.

He won't. Ever.

Tigris tried to ask what happened, but Coryo ignored her. He went into the kitchen, turning on the stove. The fire burned blue and orange. He didn't hesitate, ignoring the scream from Tigris as he put his wrist forward. He bit his lips to not scream himself.

By that time, Tigris had pulled him back. The skin had burned, along with it was gone the soulmate tattoo of his. He let himself sob as Tigris tried to fix him up as much as she could. She didn't scold him, couldn't, when he was crying like he had lost everything, all of his dreams shattered and the reality had settled in.

This was ten years ago, he decided he had no soulmate.

Now as eighteen, he wondered if it would remain true.

next chapter!

Taglist: @tristanswildcat

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy

Part 1/?

Modern au rock star!Eddie & sugar baby!Steve; alpha!Eddie/omega!Steve

Fall was in full swing and a chill was officially in the air at all times. Most especially as the sun started to go down. Eddie was warm in his leather jacket but for a brief moment his heart went out to the guy standing outside the bar, arms bare to the wind. He was dressed in a striped polo shirt and jeans, not quite what one might see in a dive bar like this.

But he was probably waiting for someone, so Eddie went inside without another thought, catching just the smallest whiff of his scent as he walked by. An omega. He was definitely waiting for someone then. No one kept their omega idling for long. Once inside, Eddie took his shades off, the lights low enough to keep most from recognizing him.

It helped that he was flying solo tonight. No band members or bodyguards in sight. It was nice to be anonymous sometimes. Not that fame and fortune ever got tiring, it was just a good change of pace. He posted up to the bar, ordered a beer, and got comfortable. He was right in the middle of a conversation with another patron about the current season's fishing prospects when that scent washed over him again something like lavender and petrichor.

Although, when Eddie looked over, that second part might've just been the scent of actual rain. The omega from outside was sitting next to him. The tops of his shoulders and head were damp.

"Was wonderin' when you'd come in and grace us with your presence", the bartender said.

The omega simply rolled his eyes and didn't order anything. Eddie saw him shiver and without thinking, took off his jacket and placed it over his shoulders. He realized what he'd done when the other man froze.

"Sorry you just looked cold and maybe you were but I shouldn't've just done something like that I can-I can take it back", he reached out.

"No", the omega held onto the jacket. "No, it's fine. I was cold. Thank you."

"I uh, saw you outside. Boyfriend making you wait?" Eddie inwardly cringed. He meant to be more subtle than that. Meant to say something anything else.

"Don't have one." The omega got a strange look as he finally looked Eddie square in the face. "Have I...seen you somewhere before? Sorry", he shook his head and let out a breath of laughter. "What I line. I swear I'm not-I'm not trying to come on to you or anything, I just know I've seen you on like tv or something."

Eddie couldn't judge on pick up lines after what he said about a boyfriend. "You...you might've." He looked around and contemplated for just a second before he continued. "Ever heard of Corroded Coffin?"

"They're a band, right? That's where I know you from?"

Eddie grinned. "Yeah, that's where." He could tell this guy just barely recognized him and that it wasn't an act.

"God, Dustin would kill me. I can hear him now. Sorry, I'm probably not the kind of fan you like running in to."

"I'll take polite conversation over groveling any day. So do you know any of the member's names?"

"I know there's the guy Dustin likes the most because he can play drums and the bass. He admires talented people like that. And he goes on and on about this Eddie guy, but I can never remember which one-you?"

"Me, handsome", Eddie grinned. "And your name?"

"Steve. But I also answer to 'handsome'."

Steve. Eddie had to taste it on his tongue. "Steve. And were you waiting for Dustin before the rain brought you in?"

Steve smiled now, adjusting Eddie's jacket across his shoulders. "No, I wasn't really waiting for anyone. And before you ask, Dustin is definitely not my boyfriend. I'm completely untethered." Steve ran a hand through his hair, not so damp anymore after they had been talking.

"You gonna order something or keep taking up space at my bar?", the bartender asked.

"What's your poison, Steve?"

"Oh, I can't pay you back", Steve said.

"Then don't. Order something."

"I mean I really can't pay you back, Eddie. I was hanging around outside because I...because I'm between paychecks right now. And I'm not that kind of omega." Steve's shoulders hunched up in shame and he looked like he was about to remove Eddie's jacket.

"I didn't say you were. You don't have to pay me like that. I take many forms of compensation. Including sparkling dialogue with gorgeous men."

"Really?", Steve asked, voice flat in disbelief.

"Really."

Steve turned to the bartender. "Whiskey sour please."

Eddie smiled. "So, what's your opinion on farmed fish versus wild caught?"

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

Steve had been going through the worst day of his life. Work had been awful and he had wanted to scream. He ran out so quick that he forgot his jacket and was already halfway home when he remembered. He kept going. He wasn't going back there today. He got to his apartment, ready to fill his empty stomach with something only to find he was devoid of food.

Of course. He'd cleaned himself out with his last heat and hadn't gone grocery shopping since. He'd been eating out for the past week. And if he checked his bank account....

$10.43

And pay day wasn't for another three days. Steve was desperate. It was plenty of money if he went to the convenience store right outside his apartment. But the cashier there always gave him odd looks and he just didn't have the energy for it. He contemplated sending someone in to buy his stuff, but he wasn't feeling very trusting right now.

Which was how he ended up at the bar. The dollar store would've been an option last week, but it was a couple of miles away and his car was in the shop. He didn't even know what his plan was. Buy the cheapest drink and fill up on pretzels and nuts? It was why he was standing outside as the sun got lower, just feeling sorry for himself.

He just wished someone would take pity on him. Would see how hard he had been working and told him it was okay, he could take a break now and they'd take care of him.

Hell would probably freeze over first though.

Then the rain started and he couldn't waste time out here any longer. At least inside the bar, it was warm. Steve already wasn't looking forward to the walk home. What if it was still raining? He couldn't afford to get sick right now. He sat at the only empty seat at the bar and thought of the least pathetic way to ask for a cheap drink when something warm came over him.

It smelled of ginger and cinnamon and for a moment, Steve was drowning in it when he heard the owner of the jacket try to apologize for it and then take it back. Instinctively, Steve held onto it tighter.

"No, no, it's fine. I was cold. Thank you."

The alpha next to him said something about a boyfriend that Steve barely registered but figured out by context what he was asking.

"Don't have one." He shook his head and then actually looked the alpha up and down. Curly hair spilled over his shoulders and he looked smaller without the leather jacket that was currently over his own shoulders. There was something oddly familiar about him. Like he'd seen that face on his social media feed or something.

When Steve asked, he realized he was talking to a guy in Dustin's favorite band. He felt like an idiot. This guy was probably used to starstruck fans bowing at his feet and here Steve was, just treating him like a nobody. But try as he might, Steve couldn't pretend like he was some big deal, even imagining Dustin's lecture on proper celebrity sighting etiquette later didn't change things.

Then the alpha, Eddie his name was Eddie, introduced himself and then asked for his name, tacking on a compliment at the end of the question.

"Steve. But I also answer to 'handsome'." He couldn't help being a little hungry for some positive attention right now.

Then Eddie asked a very unsubtle question about Dustin, insinuating that he was some kind of boyfriend and Steve wanted to laugh. The little kid he had babysat that had been like the pain in the ass brother he never asked for definitely wasn't that. And he let Eddie know that.

"Dustin is definitely not my boyfriend. I'm completely untethered." He didn't know why he said it like that. He might as well have spread his legs and held up a sign that said 'open for business'. This guy was a literal rock star, he must have lustful groupies throwing themselves at him all the time. Wording it like that absolutely wasn't Steve intention. Even if his scent was so comforting and intoxicating.

Then the bartender urged them to order something and Steve felt his empty stomach drop. Eddie insisted on buying him a drink and Steve really wished he had the money for it because there was no way he was paying in any other way. And if Eddie was expecting that, he'd just as soon go back out into the rain, leaving the warm jacket behind.

"You don't have to pay me like that. I take many forms of compensation. Including sparkling dialogue with gorgeous men."

Steve searched his face for a bluff, any sign of dishonesty. But he saw none.

"Really?"

"Really."

So Steve ordered just as Eddie asked him something about fishing and clearly this night was not going to go the way he planned.

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

Eddie was halfway through his second drink and knee deep in a conversation about the pros and cons of fishing compared to hunting. Apparently Steve's dad took him out hunting before he presented and afterward, his grandfather took him out on a couple of fishing trips.

"One just seems more fair, is all I'm saying", Steve said, still nursing his first drink. "One has you sneaking up on an unsuspecting animal. The other one you're just luring them. Fish know what they're getting into. Deer don't until they're already in your sights."

"You think very highly of fish intelligence", Eddie noted.

"I once had a year long beef with a friend's pet fish. Long story. But fish are smarter than they look." Then Steve's stomach growled. Very loudly. Embarrassingly loud.

"I don't know about you, but all this fish talk is making me hungry", Eddie said. "Can I buy you dinner?"

"I suppose I've got about twenty bucks worth of more conversation in me", Steve smiled, appreciating what Eddie was offering.

Eddie paid the tab and Steve put his arms into the jacket, then remembered Eddie might want it since it was cold outside. "Did you want-"

"Keep it on. I run hot anyway and we just need to make it to my car." That was a lie, Eddie had the circulation of a failing newspaper but he liked the look of Steve in his jacket too much to give it up. And the rain had stopped so now it was just damp and cold outside.

Steve thought he should feel wary of getting into a car with a stranger, especially a famous one. But he had his phone on him and Eddie was taking him to a place with a lot of people, so it was fine. Eddie put his sunglasses on as they went inside and asked for a table in the back, which the person up front gladly accommodated.

"Not to toot my own horn", Eddie said as they were seated. "But I can never tell when and where I'll get recognized. And I don't want any tabloids tomorrow morning." Because right now, Steve didn't just look like some random guy that Eddie was wining and dining. Right now, he looked like he belonged to Eddie.

"Got any funny stories?", Steve asked.

Eddie grinned and rolled his shoulders as he got comfortable in his seat. "Well, there was the one time I was literally in a tv studio about to be interviewed with the band and someone thought I was the boom guy."

"If I was dressing up on Halloween as a boom guy, I think I'd put on this general look", Steve said, gesturing to Eddie's whole body.

"And there was the time I got recognized while at a fabric store. I'm standing in line, basket full of sewing supplies and a bunch of floral fabrics, and this woman in her sixties asks for my autograph."

"Aren't you in a metal band?"

"Yeah and some of our most hardcore fans are women over 40", Eddie said. "Don't underestimate 'em."

A waiter came by and took their orders and they kept talking. Steve couldn't believe how badly his day had started because now it felt like he was flying above the clouds. Eddie actually seemed interested in what he had to say. And Steve was constantly thrown by the different directions Eddie took the conversation. From fishing, to getting recognized stories, to horrible customers, to the perils of sailing a boat.

"Never?"

"I remember going once as a kid and was scared shitless the whole time", Steve said. "Whoever decided it was okay for me to watch Titanic in kindergarten really messed me up."

"So besides that one time you've never been on a boat?", Eddie asked.

"My parents tried getting me on a yacht once and I started hyperventilating on the dock. I stayed on the boardwalk", Steve said. Just one of the many ways he'd been a disappointment.

After the meal, Eddie offered to drive Steve home. He wanted to. But after drinks and food and talking to Eddie for so long about nothing at all, Steve felt cautious. Had his guard lowered? If he let Eddie see him to his door, would Eddie be expecting something? What made him even more hesitant was that he might let Eddie get away with it.

He was handsome and charming and had alleviated Steve's worries for a few hours. He was even going home with some leftovers in a box. For a second, Steve wondered if food was all it took.

"Hey, look, I understand if you don't want some strange alpha taking you home. What about if I just order you a ride?", Eddie suggested.

"You can take me home", Steve said quickly. "Just don't expect any dessert."

Before leaving, Eddie excused himself to use the restroom and Steve used that opportunity to do something that was probably really stupid. It was certainly pointless. But he could take a risk every now and then. He tore off a piece of the menu and used a pen at the podium up front and that was how Eddie found him.

"Ready to go?"

"Ready", Steve smiled.

The car ride was a little more quiet, both of them digesting both the food and what had happened tonight. Meeting a stranger that you clicked with, it didn't happen every day. Steve gave him his address and Eddie pulled up to the building.

"You should walk me up", Steve said. "Make sure I get there safe."

"Y-yeah, I can do that", Eddie stuttered, struggling with his seatbelt while Steve was already out of the car.

Eddie followed him to his apartment, glad now for the chill outside because otherwise he'd be sweating watching Steve's ass for so long as he walked in front of him.

"Well, this is me", Steve said.

"I had a great time tonight", Eddie said.

Steve laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Can we come up with anymore first date lines?"

"Hmm, how's about I'd love to do this again soon?", Eddie smiled, leaning in a bit.

"I'd like that." Steve took Eddie's jacket off his shoulders.

"What if I want you to wear it for our next date?", Eddie asked.

"If you want me to wear this, you better scent it properly", Steve goaded.

Eddie pinned him against the door and smashed their mouths together. His jacket was trapped between their bodies. Steve let out a soft sound and brought a hand to Eddie's cheek.

"We can't go on a second date until the first one is over", Steve said when he pulled back. He curled a lock of Eddie's hair around his finger just because he couldn't help it.

"Your number?", Eddie asked, licking at Steve's lips.

"Check your jacket", Steve breathed.

Eddie didn't take his eyes off Steve as he went through his jacket pocket and found what Steve had been scribbling on earlier. It was a ripped piece of the menu. And it had Steve's number on it.

Part 2

If I had a nickel for every time I steddified a Marilyn Monroe song I'd have two nickels.

[netherfeildren]

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him. 

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude. 

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it. 

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse. 

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

-

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you. 

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want. 

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks. 

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come. 

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too. 

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do. 

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby. 

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to. 

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap. 

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also. 

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you. 

Sameness. 

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as. 

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms. 

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it. 

“Good girl,” he says now with voice. 

-

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved. 

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else. 

Your love too. 

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now. 

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper. 

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness. 

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one. 

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance. 

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you. 

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is. 

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up. 

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now. 

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership. 

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous. 

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking. 

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude. 

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world. 

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful. 

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.  

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise. 

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you. 

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well. 

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now. 

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house. 

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail. 

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him. 

He stares up at them now. 

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie. 

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then. 

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game. 

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

[504py]

Do you have any thoughts on yandere SDV Harvey?🤔

i sure do!!!! i think i got a little carried away 😭😭😭 i hope i delivered!

Yandere Harvey Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, no use of Y/N, munchausen syndrome by proxy, implied murder, implied NSFW, Harvey's a little weird about bodily fluids and food, long post ahead!

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How the relationship started...

Let's say, he knows you outside of his work, and somehow, you're the one person in Stardew Valley who has never entered his clinic before. Honestly, you'd have drawn his attention right then and there because of your strange imperviousness to harm or disease.

Like... You? That farmer who goes down into the mines every other day to fight monsters has never been injured? You, who works day and night to the point of exhaustion has never gotten sick and required medical assistance?

The fact that you weren't one of his patients would worry him to his bones.

Even if you weren't one of his patients, he'd have befriended you outside of work. Perhaps at the saloon, after hours, and one of the very rare times he's seen you relax.

He notices the slight limp as you enter, different from your usual gait. When he asks, you chalk it up to a rock in your boot. Harvey sends you a disapproving stare and a furrowed mustache, and you loosen up.

You tell him you tripped while running away from a slime in the mines. And that you maybe pulled something while running. And maybe you lifted something wrong yesterday and hurt your back. And-

Harvey takes off his glasses to rub at the space between his eyebrows, stressed.

"And not once did you think to come visit me?"

"Thought it would go away if I just slept and drank enough water."

His gaze softens.

"..I really do advise it. Please."

Your fingers play with your glass. He can see a bruise forming on the side of your wrist, and the cuts and calluses on your skin.

"...I'll do it tomorrow."

He sighs slightly.

"Well, since I can't do anything for you right now, I'll at least buy you a drink."

"You can do that?"

"Hey, it numbs the pain. Painkiller." He jokes, and you laugh and shake your head. He realizes he likes the sound of your laugh.

"But- wait, don't take that as real medical advice. Really. Please."

That pulls another laugh out of you, louder, and pink warms his cheeks as he laughs heartily alongside you.

The next evening, Harvey waited all day for you to come in. It was nearing closing hours, and he was worried you had disregarded his advice, but right as he got up to start closing the clinic, the door opens, and there you are, leaves in your hair and your muddy shoes leaving a track on his tiles.

He's elated, he knows he shouldn't be, considering why you're even here, but he's so glad you listened to him, so glad you're here. He looks noticeably flustered, his hair is slightly out of place, his glasses are sliding down his nose, and his tie is loose.

"O-Oh, hey there. You finally came in."

"Were you waiting for me? I apologize. It looked like you were about to close up."

He waves your worries away with a dismissive hand, "Ah, what's one more patient? Come on, you look like you really need my help, anyways."

You follow him into a room, cringing at the muddy mess you leave on the floor.

"Sorry for that- I can clean up after we're done."

Harvey insistently shakes his head, sighing your name, "No, no, can't have you doing that, not in the condition you're in." He motions over to the bed, you sit on the edge of it.

"Besides, I haven't even started my assessment of you yet, but I already know you're gonna need a few days of rest at least. Doctor's orders."

He smiles softly at your annoyed expression, donning his stethoscope as you straighten your posture slightly, readying for him to place the other end of the apparatus on you.

"...See, you've got an abnormal heart rate for someone who is at rest."

He notes the warmth of your skin under his palm, resting against your back.

"Have you been feeling ill recently? Runny nose, coughing, headaches, anything of the sort?"

"U-Uh, no." You shake your head, playing with the fabric of your trousers. Nervous.

"...You seem rather flustered. Any reason?"

Your eyes glance up at his, he cocks his head, and you immediately look back down to your feet.

"...Nah."

Harvey smiles, knowingly, and the rest of the appointment continues as normal.

Expectations...

Following this, he'd be more obvious in his attempts to court you. His courting attempts would feel rather old-fashioned, but I think there's a lot of heart in them. I feel like Harvey would be a little bit of a sucker for romantic things, so you'd definitely be receiving letters, all from a secret admirer, of course.

He is confident that he likes you, but he'd carry a lot of anxiety about being so upfront about it, and that perhaps you wouldn't feel the same way.

The letters he sends you would be brief yet sweet. Short messages to pick you up for the day, just wanting to be a part of your life.

"If you ever feel like all the work you do isn't appreciated, know that I am always here, and I always do. You are doing great."

You'd tell him about the letters you've been receiving, during one of your evenings together at the bar. It'd make him blush. Oh, his letters were so important to you that you had to gush about them to a friend?

"And... What do you think of them? The letters?" His eyes are slightly wider than they should be, but the reflections on his glasses hide his faintly, much-too focused expression.

You shy from his eye contact, "...I think they're really sweet. But honestly, I wish they'd just... say it to me directly instead of hiding like this. I want to communicate, talk to them, y'know? Have a conversation, and stuff.."

Harvey blinks, wets his lips.

"What do you think you'd do if he-" He clears his throat, "-they did?"

You frown a little, mulling over the thought for a bit.

"...I'd go on a few dates with them, see if things work out."

His exhale is shaky, he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Who do you think it is?"

You meet his gaze. His eyes are warm, his cheeks are red too, but that might be the alcohol... Though you realize he's not the type to get flushed when drunk.

"...Is it you?"

His fingers around his glass tremble, and his bottom lip quivers.

"I.. w-well..." He pushes his glasses up, nervously running a hand through his hair. You giggle, and he relaxes.

"Yeah." He smiles warmly.

"Yeah?" You chirp out a laugh again, "I figured."

Although Harvey was usually one who didn't have any problem holding eye-contact at all, now he found himself unable to look at you for too long without getting giddy like a schoolgirl and having to look away to save his racing heart.

That night, you two would be declared a couple. He teased you, wondering where that "first few dates then we'll see how it works out" phase went. You said it was different if it was him, and he had to hide his face in his hands to conceal his boyish, cheesy grin.

His first show of affection would be the next morning, when he brought you a bouquet of flowers to your doorstep, but upon arrival, seeing your expansive field of vegetation, he realized it was perhaps a bit stupid to gift flowers to someone who grows them.

Nonetheless, you accepted them from an embarrassed Harvey gratefully, saying you've wanted to try growing these for a while. Lo and behold, the next time he shows up, with a more thought-out gift this time, he sees a few new flower pots on your front porch.

Harvey as your boyfriend is strangely rather maternal. He tends to be quite the worrywart, always fussing over any cuts or bruises you may get while going about your day, making sure you eat and get enough rest, and always making sure you're dressed properly.

Oh, the different kind of monster Harvey turns into during the winter LOL. He will stay posted by your door, making sure you don't step a foot outside without a thick coat or gloves.

He does enjoy more than he likes to admit, though, when you still feel cold and he has to give you his coat or his scarf. It makes him all smiley and he thinks you look adorable in his clothing.

I think, his deepest desire, is for you to always stay safe, and that he is the one to provide that safety. I mean, with him being a doctor, he is the only person qualified to look after you anyways, but he still does get jealous.

He gets really upset when he's out of the clinic for a bit, and finds out that Maru was the one who tended to your wounds instead of him.

He gets more jealous when you tell him about the work you did that day, and another person was with you.

What do you mean you spent the evening fishing while conversing with Elliott? That could've been him...

What do you mean you spent the afternoon in the library with Penny? Wha- Gunther winked at you!?

Harvey really does want to spend more time with you, but he has a duty to attend to.

Unless...

Punishments...

Maybe, one day, Harvey will stop worrying so much over your health. He'll let you do your thing as you please, though it would hurt him to see you going about your day so haphazardly. But he'll hold back on his usual worried malewife nagging, and just let you do you.

One day, your dangerous lifestyle will catch up on you, and maybe you'll catch a cold, or you'll break a bone. Harvey will be there immediately, much too prepared.

Even though this is what he wanted from this plan, he still cries. He hates seeing you so beat-up, but he couldn't think of any other way to always be by your side. At least the tears blow away any suspicion of his part in this.

It could be a tiny fracture, but he'll still insist you'd need a cast, and that you'd need a wheelchair for the first few weeks. And, of course, Harvey's there to coddle you and help you around.

Maru says she can look after you while Harvey runs the clinic, but he gets uncharacteristically hostile at the mere suggestion of this. If Maru were to keep prying, if she were to find out that your injuries aren't as bad as he says they are, then Harvey might have to resort to more drastic measures.

Murder would be a very difficult thing for Harvey to do, but when he thinks about the life you two have right now- having you rely on him for everything, taking care of you everyday, spending every single moment with each other- his heart feels like it could fall out of his chest at the thought of anyone taking that away from you two.

His access to such a wide array of chemicals and medicines would be terrifying. If anyone threatens this peaceful, perfect life between you two, he could simply inject them with a certain concoction during their routine check-ups, say they needed it, that it was medicine, and it wouldn't even show in an autopsy.

Unfortunately, his tampering with human life extends to you.

Harvey, I think, would get much too enamored by this life you two have made since you've gotten injured.

Being able to dote on you with no restraint, being by your side for every single moment, it was all he could ever dream of.

But all good things come to an end, and your fractured bone would start to heal.

He never thought he'd be capable of lying, not sure if he'd ever done it before, but it's a newfound talent to him. Worries him how good he is at it.

He tells you you need to keep that cast on. That even if you're allowed to use crutches now instead of a wheelchair, that you still need his assistance. He insists that you need him.

Any sort of push-back from you would have his heart pounding. No, no, you can't get up and go back to work. You can't be doing chores on your own, he'll do that- You cannot leave.

Munchausen syndrome by proxy from an actual doctor would be a horrifying thing to go through. Not just any other doctor either, but Harvey, a man who seems so gentle and kind-hearted, a man who is supposed to be your partner.

Sad to say, but I don't think you'd have any way out of this. Your best course of action would be to just let him take care of you as much as he pleases. In due time, he would want to see you get better, so you'll be back to having your freedom in a few months, maybe...

Rewards...

It is pretty comedic saying this after that punishments portion, but Harvey, on more normal days, really is a passive man. He doesn't really have any strange obsessive habits, though he's probably a little weird about fluids...

By that, I mean he'd probably slip a little bit of his saliva or semen into his cooking. He gets a really euphoric rush when he sees you eating that tainted food he made for you. He enjoys that idea that a part of him is mingled in your body now. The other way around goes, too.

When you're sleeping, sometimes you drool, did you know that? You probably don't, because Harvey always wipes it off and licks it. It gives him shivers whenever he does, makes him way more excited than it should.

His libido is not the highest, but that's because I think he makes an active effort to suppress himself. Wants to be good for you. Harvey does have these dirty thoughts pretty often, but he usually just excuses himself to the bathroom for a second to relieve himself when it gets too unbearable. Even then, he dislikes this, since he feels like it'd be a waste of his release, since it's not inside you.

Every day would feel very domestic, he'd tease that you two already act like an old married couple, but he'd secretly hope you'd catch on to the idea he's putting down.

Harvey really does want to get married to you. He honestly, strangely, would act a lot more normally if you two were to be wed. It's like, there is something that exists that ties you two together, so even if you two aren't always by each other's side, he at least finds some comfort in knowing you two are bound forever.

Let's just, uh, hope you don't divorce him... Honestly, at this point, he may have already taken care of Mayor Lewis, so that option won't even be open to you anymore.

Harvey would probably try to pop the question during a little picnic he prepared for the two of you. The box for your engagement ring hidden in the picnic basket, amongst carefully wrapped sandwiches and lunchboxes.

You would pick it up while looking through the basket, wondering what it was. You open it, and Harvey feels like he could faint from how fast his heart is beating.

He stutters a lot, being unable to look you in the eye, then you rest a hand on his shoulder, and he feels alright again.

"I... I'd really like to get married with you, my love. Whaddya say?"

You smile at him, you say yes, and Harvey literally shouts in joy, before roughly taking you in his arms.

He quickly apologizes for being so erratic, but he swears he's never been happier. He just loves you so much.

Even though you two were only fiancés at this point, he'd call you his husband/wife/spouse from time to time, just a slip of the tongue, but he does get shy about it.

Your life together would be relatively the same now, just with some more added affection.

He'd get more comfortable around you, kissing you more often, getting more touchy, wearing less clothing around the house.

Of course, his main core value is still there; to care for you.

When thinking of Harvey's love language, you would, rationally, expect it to be acts of service. However, I posit this; his love language would be allowing himself to be taken care of.

He does get tired, and you do notice. You try to do his chores, try to take care of yourself so he'd have some time to relax, but he always gets fussy about it.

He insists that he can still do it, that he can still do things for you. Perhaps, he's scared that if he's unable to please you, that you'll go elsewhere, fall out of love with him.

You can sense that fear, and you tell him you'll still be here. You tell him to go lie down and rest, and you'll join him when you've finished cleaning up.

The wrinkles on his forehead soften up, so does his gaze, and he nods.

"I... Alright, sweetheart. I'll be waiting. Don't take too long, okay?"

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[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak. 

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm. 

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you. 

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone. 

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything. 

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone. 

Then you found Jackson. 

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead. 

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical. 

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back. 

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.” 

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.” 

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?” 

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.” 

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den. 

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. 

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile. 

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?” 

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.” 

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.” 

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away. 

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.” 

“But—” 

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone. 

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort. 

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?” 

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones.  “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.” 

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.” 

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.” 

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.” 

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.” 

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds. 

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”  

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.” 

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.” 

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?” 

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.” 

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.” 

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.” 

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.” 

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten. 

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth. 

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon. 

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes. 

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing. 

And no one. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal. 

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things. 

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here. 

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent. 

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows. 

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest. 

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask. 

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?” 

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear. 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.” 

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”  

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway. 

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.” 

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst. 

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—” 

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand. 

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally. 

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You��re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question. 

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?” 

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.  

It’s Tucker. 

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off. 

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously. 

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian. 

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson. 

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore. 

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.” 

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.” 

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?” 

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle. 

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood. 

O W L 

A week had passed since Tucker’s death. 

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control. 

You also visit Joel and vice versa. 

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write. 

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go. 

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.” 

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours. 

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.” 

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?” 

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.” 

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?” 

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said. 

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?” 

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”  

“S-Say what?” 

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.” 

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you. 

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever. 

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock. 

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame. 

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing. 

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.” 

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt. 

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.” 

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together. 

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.” 

“Be my guest.” 

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What?” 

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.” 

“On—On your face?” 

“Where else?” 

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked. 

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails. 

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.” 

“What a noble way it would be to go.” 

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face. 

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks. 

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.��� 

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked. 

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—” 

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .” 

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?” 

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts. 

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward— 

And all hell finally breaks loose. 

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body. 

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper. 

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips. 

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine. 

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.” 

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up. 

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over. 

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?” 

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds. 

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer. 

On your second try you find something else. 

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully. 

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline. 

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel. 

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear. 

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.” 

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?” 

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.” 

“Really?” you ask and he nods. 

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?” 

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.” 

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?” 

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.” 

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.” 

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor. 

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?” 

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?” 

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask— 

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead. 

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.” 

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.” 

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?” 

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.” 

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?” 

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel. 

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.” 

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?” 

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin. 

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.” 

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.” 

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?” 

“W-What?” 

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does. 

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips. 

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?” 

“I—I don’t know.” 

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins. 

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.” 

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.” 

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.” 

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.” 

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.” 

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” 

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times. 

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love. 

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there. 

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel. 

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor. 

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way. 

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim. 

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest. 

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be. 

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask. 

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you. 

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once. 

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out. 

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys. 

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask. 

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off. 

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light. 

Joel. 

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second. 

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you. 

“Wait!” 

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair. 

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you. 

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” 

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition. 

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.” 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!” 

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.” 

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?” 

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation. 

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger. 

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.” 

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest. 

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.” 

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy. 

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.” 

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?” 

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.” 

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.  

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?” 

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips. 

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.” 

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.” 

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.” 

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.” 

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy. 

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.” 

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply. 

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame. 

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it. 

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.” 

“Does. . . Does Maria—” 

Tommy cuts you off, “No.” 

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.” 

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore. 

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes. 

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest. 

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?” 

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief. 

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them. 

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.” 

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones. 

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours. 

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says. 

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance. 

Tommy cradles your face tenderly,  urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort. 

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves. 

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach. 

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You don’t answer him. 

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more. 

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin. 

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction. 

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts. 

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.” 

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.” 

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.” 

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—” 

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.” 

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing. 

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name. 

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—” 

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you. 

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs. 

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness. 

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all. 

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Could you do something with Lewis, maybe reader and Lewis have been dating for a while but she’s famous too so they kept things really private, but they got married over the winter break and now the other drivers are finding out

Hello 🫶 lately I've been doing more smaus so I decided to make this one a smau also, hoping you'll like it 🩷

yourusername I still haven't gotten used to seeing myself on those huge ads

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georgerussell63 A supermodel and an actress not being used to seeing herself in ads? ��

↳yourusername When was the last time you were walking down the street and saw a picture of you casually hanging on a building? 🤨 Let me tell you it always takes you by surprise, George

carmenmmundt How are you so beautiful? 😭

↳yourusername I love you Carmen 😭

oscarpiastri Good job, Y/n👏

danielricciardo What an abundance of beauty you are

landonorris an amazing day to have eyes

charles_leclerc Can't take my eyes off you

zhouguanyu24 You haven't posted in months and that's what you decided to post?🙄

↳username1 AND SHE ATE

carlossainz55 See you in Vegas soon 👋

tchalamet You busy lately? We haven't been in a movie together for a while

↳username2 Co-star rizz lmao

username3 It's so weird to me how Y/n is the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen and she's SINGLE

↳username4 It's her choice

username3 And she made it while having f1 drivers and timothee casually flirting with her in the comment section

username4 Doesn't seem that much like flirting to me 🤷‍♀️ she's friends with Carmen and George so she's gonna have the drivers in her comments. And Tim is like her bestie

username3 Are you blind 😭 okay maybe Oscar's comment is friendly, but the rest is definitely flirting!!

username4 Whatever feeds your delusions I guess. I don't think she's single, she might just be keeping her relationship super private. Exactly because of fans like you

yourusername Nothing beats a date in Las Vegas

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username1 A DATE. IN VEGAS.

username2 Okay guys, which driver do we think took her on the date?

↳username3 I'm saying Lando, it's a very Lando thing to do

username4 imo he was too busy healing from this terrible crash he had lmao

username5 Plus Lando is too young for her, I'd say Danny Ric

username4 yooo y/n and danny would be a great couple, I hope you're right

username6 Do you guys remember what Carlos commented under her previous post?? "See you in Vegas" or smth

↳username4 yeah but it could be just because she was invited to the paddock

username6 Like usually. But did you ever see any driver say anything like see you there and there before other races?

carmenmmundt YOU WENT ON A DATE?

↳georgerussell63 @/yourusername reply immediately and say who took you

yourusername Mom, dad, I'm terribly sorry I didn't tell you 😭

carmenmmundt This doesn't answer our questions...

↳username1 Help even they didn't know lol

username7 It could be anybody, guys. Y/n has most of the drivers in her likes

↳username2 Then maybe it's someone who isn't in the likes? 🤭

username7 Well, then we have Alonso, Bottas, Hamilton and a few others, it doesn't make it easier

username3 She'll say who it is when they're both ready but I wish it would happen as soon as possible

username9 LMAO none of the guys from the previous post commented now

↳username5 She just subtly told them too f off cuz she's taken 😭

username8 I can't wait until the winter break, I know something is gonna happen...

yourusername He made me get my first tattoo lol

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username1 WHAT?? IS?? HAPPENING??

↳username2 idk looks like miss girl moved, got a tattoo and then decided to travel around 😐

carmenmmundt When are we going to talk about who is "he"?

↳yourusername When the timing is right ✨

georgerussell63 Whoever he is, he's a bad influence on you 🙄

↳yourusername Mom can you tell dad to quit my comment section @/carmenmmundt

username3 Y/n moved to Monaco 😭

↳username4 And how do you know that?

username3 Haven't you heard she was seen there?

username4 And? Celebs love Monaco

username3 Exactly. So she moved there. Possibly with her secret boyfriend

username5 Okay so what we know about Y/n's secret man is they live together in Monaco, he could be an F1 driver and he must have tattoos (because why would he make her get one otherwise?)

↳username6 IT'S DANNY RIC I'M TELLING Y'ALL

username7 Well there's also Hamilton who has quite a lot of tattoos

username8 And Alonso and Stroll, she didn't say how many tattoos her bf has, could be as well one or two

username5 Don't forget some drivers might have them hidden and never spoke about them

username9 To be fair she didn't say if he has any in general lol

danielricciardo What about a party in the new apartment?

↳username6 Yeah, keep telling me it's not him

↳yourusername Most likely when I'm back from my lil vacation

lewishamilton Winter break

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username1 EXCUSE ME

username2 SIR LEWIS HAMILTON, EXPLAIN THE LAST PHOTO

username3 Don't panic, guys, it is me in the 4th pic

username4 I know he's an almost 40 years old man but I'm still shocked

username5 ngl that woman's hand looks familiar...

username6 Not even a tag on the last pic? 😕

username7 Silly season starting early this year 😭

↳username4 Yeah, firstly he dropped the bomb about moving to Ferrari and now THIS

username7 Man said lemme dominate this winter break 🤠

landonorris congrats i guess?

carlossainz55 Unexpected but happy for you!

georgerussell63 I'm calling Toto, you're lucky he doesn't have social media

username8 I can't believe he kept it a secret from all the drivers lol

↳username7 And for so long too!! I mean, you don't marry someone you started dating a month ago, it could've been going on for YEARS

charles_leclerc When will we meet this mysterious lady?

↳lewishamilton I'm sure you all know her well

↳username7 Leclerc better stay away 🤺

username9 You guys don't ever know how sure I am that it's Y/n

↳username10 I won't believe it until they confirm it

username9 Yeah because it's a total coincidence Y/n recently moved to Monaco, got a tattoo because "her bf made her" and also went on a trip

yourusername Shik shak shok

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username1 I KNEW IT I KNEW IT

username2 The couple I never knew I needed

username3 Two fashion icons

username4 Honestly is anyone surprised? Like, okay, unexpected, but I'm not surprised Lewis is dating one of the most famous models/actresses in the world

↳username5 I am surprised tbh 😭 I think a lot of people expected DR3, not LH44

username6 rip to all the drivers who used to hit on Y/n in her comment section 💀

username7 So Y/n is dating LH44 and is best friends with the girlfriend of GR63?

↳username8 She copied her lol

username7 Except Carmen's bf hasn't ever won the world champion title lmao

↳username9 That's a real friendship. Going for drivers from the same team

username10 I need to know how did they mange to keep it a secret for so long 😭

↳username11 Yeah cuz I can't believe even Toto himself had no idea

username12 Something about them being married makes so much sense, I love them

username13 Imagine when we start seeing them doing ads together omg

↳username14 ads? 💀 now that they're out and married I expect lots of content together on both their accounts AND on Drive to survive and just anywhere

username11 tbh who cares about the races, they can just display Y/n on the screen for 2h and I'd watch

y/nhamilton btw we used to date but now we're just married (and thanks @/zhouguanyu24 for keeping our secret)

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carmenmmundt I was just as shocked as the fans

landonorris somehow I'm not surprised Zhou knew

↳username1 And he knew about both THIS and Lewis moving to Ferrari!! And kept quiet both times!

↳charles_leclerc I wonder what else Zhou knows that we don't

username2 Zhou Guanyu is officially the most trustworthy guy on the grid

↳username3 And I thought it'd be Oscar...

username4 Does it mean more iconic Y/n outfits on the paddock? 😍

↳y/nhamilton And matching outfits! 🤭

username2 Oh they're gonna kill it!!

username5 I need a friend like Zhou

zhouguanyu24 You're welcome 😌

↳y/nhamilton 🫶

↳lewishamilton 💜

username6 I never thought about Lewis and Zhou being friends, but...?

username7 in moments like this I go look at the old posts where other drivers would flirt with Y/n lmao

username8 This winter break belongs to Lewis

oscarpiastri Lewis' last name suits you

↳landonorris it would've been funny to see Lew change his last name to hers tho lol

carlossainz55 How long have you been together?

↳y/nhamilton Something like 5 years now

carlossainz55 And none of us knew all this time 😳

y/nhamilton Zhou knew... I've just said that

username9 All the other drivers immediately regretting everything they said under other Y/n's posts hahahah

[papriikau]

I saw your post about wanting requests for James Wilson :) thank you for servicing the community 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 I was thinking maybe something about the reader being Wilson’s wife/girlfriend and works for House. Maybe no one knows that they’re together. Perhaps House thinks that Wilson or reader are seeing someone and pesters them. Sorry about the rambling 😭

A RIDE HE WOULDN'T SURVIVE

SUMMARY you and Wilson have been secretly dating and House keeps trying to figure out who Wilsons seeing.

WARNINGS despite the title, there is no NSFW, a joke maybe but nothing bad

NOTES sry this took so long, I went home this weekend so I didn't have time to write. requests are open so pls make any requests you have!

“So who’s the honey?” House pesters Wilson in the elevator, a place Wilson can not escape.

“You don’t know her,”

“See, I think I do, because if i didn’t, you would have told me who she is,” House accuses.

“She works here but  you don't know her, I'm sparing her from your ‘curiosity’” the elevator opens and Wilson is quick to exit and walk to his office.

“So I’ll just keep asking the nurses until one buckles under pressure,” House exaggerates, earning a hum from Wilson as he enters his office. House enters his office and see’s his team discussing, so he enters.

“Patient with a-” Foreman starts but is interrupted by House.

“Anyone know who Wilsons hanky panky-ing with?”

“No, now can we take a look at this case?” Foreman sighs.

“Wilsons on wife 4?” You chime in, intrigued by House's curiosity.

“Not yet, won't be long before he begs wife number 3 for the ring back,” House looks around the room. “You know he used the same ring for 2 of his wives?”

“Seriously?” Thirteen quirks an eyebrow.

“No, so no one’s seen him sneak away with a particularly needy nurse?” Everyone says they haven’t.

“I’m ruling out the two of you,” he says to you and Thirteen. 

“That quickly? You never know,” Thirteen jokes.

“Yea, well you're not Wilsons type and you,” He looks at you, to which you raise an eyebrow, “let's just say you're a ride he wouldn’t survive.” he narrows his eyes. It sure wasn’t a compliment but you can't tell if it was an insult or not. He’s not entirely wrong though, James Wilson was definitely a little intimidated by you at first.

“You know what, maybe it could be you,” House makes a face at you, clearly not seriously pointing the finger.

“I’m seeing someone,” You tease.

“See now that rules her out,”

— 

“I think he’s onto us,” you say as you hear the door of your apartment open and close.

“Tried to corner me this morning,” James hangs up his jacket and comes into the kitchen.

“Told me it couldn’t be me because ‘I’m a ride you wouldn’t survive,’” you laugh and James comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. You lean into his touch.

“In that case, I don't think I’ll be able to come into work tomorrow,” he places a kiss on the back of your neck, moving your hair out of the way. You roll your eyes.

“After dinner, I’m hungry,” You laugh. “Anyways, he thinks it’s one of the nurses, so we're in the clear for at least a little while.” You grab his hands and turn around to face him, holding his hands by your side. You offer him a smile before placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“What's for dinner?” he asks, kissing you again.

“Take out, just waiting for it to show,” You shrug. “Didn't feel like cooking.”

“How about we see what movies are on while we wait,” he suggests and the both of you move into the living room.

—

“You have a hickey,” House points out and Wilson adjusts the collar of his shirt to cover the mark. “So are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Wilson plays dumb.

“Who your sleeping with, I want to know,”

“No, I don't think I will,” Wilson says after pretending to think.

“Not even a hint?” 

“Fine,” Wilson agrees, “she works here.”

“You already told me that!” The elevator dings and the doors open. Wilson makes his way to his office, this time with House following behind him. That's when House brings up you.

“You know she has a boyfriend?”

“Does she?” Wilson plays dumb, suddenly nervous House had figured it out.

“Jealous? I know you had the hots for her,” House teases.

“Well my new girlfriend is hotter,” Wilson teases back.

“She seemed very interested in figuring out who you're dating, and offered to talk to some of the nurses for me,” House knows.

“You know don’t you!” Wilson accuses.

“Aha! You're sleeping with her!” 

“How did you find out!”

“You just told me,” House gloats with a smirk, while Wilson holds his head in his hands.

—

You're waiting for House to arrive to discuss the case, when he saunters in with Wilson. He just mouths ‘sorry’ to you and realization hits.

“Everyone, I’ve discovered who's sleeping with Wilson!” he announces. Wilson motions to the doors with his eyes and you take the chance. Before House can say another word, you grab Wilsons hand and run for the door of the office.

“Well there goes the surprise!” is all you hear House say before you go hide in Wilson's office.

“How did he find out!?” You ask.

“I accidentally told him. He was talking about you and I thought he knew,” He runs a hand down his face.

“It was bound to come out at some point,” You sigh and sit on his desk in front of him. 

“What do we do now?”

“Fake a break up,” you shrug.

“Not bad,” He says. You smile at him.

“Let's enjoy it for a little while, I like talking to you at work.” You lean down to give him a quick kiss. “I love you,”

“I love you too.”

[squinch-depraved]

got rlly inspired by @mister-sandwich's post about schlatt pissing you off and then just burying his face between your legs and i think i'm gonna continue off of the other oneshot i posted today bc something ab it was kinda yummyyy wrote this all in one sitting so i hope it's okay anyway can you tell i'm high and have the munchies 🤭

a few days later, still chuckle week, still sweltering, you sit in front of a fan on the bed you're staying in, legs hanging off the side and slightly leaning back onto your arms. eyes closed, waiting for your best friend(?) to come back so the two of you could start watching another movie. it was your new favorite activity to do together; he hadn't seen many and you got to show him your favorite films. doesn't matter that it usually ended with someone going down on the other, or that you both were too electrically aware of the other's presence to actually watch the flick. things between you two were certainly different than they were at the start of this trip, but at this point, it was a bit too late to care how relationship dynamics had shifted, what with the shoving of his cock down your throat all the time and that stuff. and when ted joined you guys, it was even more intense. the three of you definitely had something incredible, and you planned to all discuss it at the end of the week, when all the filming was done and you guys could finally relax. but for right now, ted was out with tucker hunting down some stuff for a video they were going to film together, and then they were going out to dinner with a group of friends not well known to the two of you left. it was just you and schlatt for the rest of the day and night, and you were thrilled. not that you didn't love having both boy toys, just that you were excited to have some time alone with him again.

"this fuckin' loser only keeps some weird bougie caramel top ice cream in his freezer, so i guess that's what we're having," his voice echoes down the hall until he's finally visible in the doorframe. he continues to approach until he's standing in between you and the fan and holding out a spoon.

"that's my ice cream, j," you reply tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. "i bought that for us to share tonight because i thought it looked good. you think i'd just tell you to go steal ted's ice cream?"

he's silent for a moment. "i think if you wanted to be cute and have a little ice cream date, we could have used ted's ice cream maker and made it a whole thing."

you whip your head up to glare at him. "are you fuckin' kidding me?"

he laughs. "what? mad i came up with a better date than you? in like, two seconds?"

"no!" you lie. "get out of the way of the fan, it's so fucking hot in here." you try to push him, or even move him at all, really, but you fail. "schlatt, i'm fucking serious. move. and give me that spoon."

he yanks the spoon back before you can reach it. with a simple, "nah," he opens the ice cream and begins eating it, much to your dismay.

"schlatt! stop it! that's for-"

"our cutesy little movie date? nah, toots, i'm gonna eat all this while you sit there and bitch about it, and then maybe, if you're cute enough, i'll eat you."

a stunned silence hangs heavily in the room before you finally regain the ability to speak, jumping up to grab at his hands (which he pulls out of reach as he continues to eat with a small smile on his lips). "sch- i actually don't even fucking know what to say," you fumble, growing more and more pissed. "i don't know why you're being like this?? what did i do?"

he sniffs.

"there's no way you actually eat that whole pint." your hands are on your hips now as you shoot daggers at him. his eyebrow cocks, as if to say, wanna bet? "i hate you so much."

he grins and goes in for another spoonful.

"you're such a dick, you know that?" you speak sharply, sinking back onto the bed.

"last spoonful. you want?"

you quickly look up at him to see him offering it to you, spoon in outstretched hand. you nod greedily and open your mouth, causing him to cackle and eat it himself. your eyes go wide, and then narrow to squint at him. "YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING- WHY WOULD YOU EVEN- I CAN'T FUCKING-" you stutter, starting time after time only to stop a few words later because your anger feels like it's consuming you. "WHY???" you scream. he simply continues laughing as he leaves the room. you sit there, fuming, unable to even move as you process everything that just happened. the rage makes you blind to him coming back and standing in the same spot. a moment later you look back up at him. "get out of the way. of the fucking fan. or i swear i'm going to-"

"shut the fuck up," he says.

you go silent for a few seconds before you ask, "where did you go?"

"throw away the ice cream. i told you shut up," he says. "can you just do one thing you're told?" his voice is sickly sweet, mocking you.

"i'm gonna punch you in the balls live on the podc-" you start, but are cut off by him pushing you back down onto the bed. "wh-?"

he wedges himself between your legs and rips the clothing off your lower half. you shriek slightly in surprise, and he buries his face in your cunt, immediately swirling his tongue over your clit, sliding a finger in. his face pulls back and looks at you, staring at the ceiling, lost in the whirlwind of things you're feeling, and says, "fuckin' knew you'd be soaking for me." he punctuates his sentence by spitting on your clit and you moan. "you taste so much sweeter than that stupid, fancy fuckin' ice cream." this makes you scream through gritted teeth (really, it was him slipping another finger in and working them inside you just right, but he doesn't need to know that) and you bring your legs to wrap around his head, fingers intertwining into his hair.

gasping and squirming under him, his tongue continues to dance all over your sopping pussy while he pins you by your hips down against the mattress. he's sloppy, borderline making out with your sticky sweet folds and you can see your essence all over his chops. his eyes, dark, drag up your body to meet yours and it triggers something in your stomach. a knot, forming and growing as he works now three fingers in and out, in and out, and curling them in all the most delicious spots. you're screaming now, his name, obscenities, how much you just hate him, how good he feels. the knot in your stomach has spread throughout your entire body, enveloping you in a warm embrace as fireworks explode everywhere, and you scream more, announcing your arrival at what feels like heaven's gate, but he just keeps going. sensitive, every nerve in your body feeling like it's being abused by this man (and truthfully, they are), tears begin to flow down your cheeks as you try to pull his head away, to no avail.

"please, j! i can't handle it! 's too much!" you cry out. he hmmphs on your clit, making you gasp loudly. something is building again, but it feels different. almost wrong. still pleasureful, but in such an intense way that your legs begin kicking, trying to get him off. but schlatt holds fast, mouth glued to the bundle of nerves that makes you move under him like this. he knows you're close, and by god is he gonna get you there. something resembling fire rips through you like a shockwave, and you release all over him, babbling something about a mess and tears falling from overstimulation.

finally, he pulls back, looking up at you while you regulate and come back down to earth. when you finally speak, your voice is hoarse. "why did you do that?"

he shrugs. "you were bein' a brat."

you nod, looking at the time.

"i'm gonna doordash that ice cream, by the way," he mumbles, grabbing his phone. " it was really good and you deserve some after all that. you still up for a movie?"

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 lando and Charles finding each other after Charles took the grid penalty, awkwardly talking with y/n in the middle

bro this ended up being so much longer than i thought but i hope its okay also its not edited i just wrote it at work LOL

"Don't," you told Lando, hand going to his chest the second he stepped out of the car. His attention had already gone towards the entrance of the garage, but you were hoping your touch would remind him there were more important things at stake here.

"He ruined my lap!" Lando exclaimed after he pulled his helmet off."

"And now the FIA is investigating it so whatever you want to say, save it."

Lando didn't know that part. How could he when he had been in the car this whole time? Whereas you saw the incident when it occurred, Charles unintentionally getting in the way of Lando's flying lap. You understood why Lando was pissed, he had a right to be, but you both knew how important Monaco was for Charles.

He clenched his jaw, taking one more look at the pit lane, knowing Charles was somewhere down there. You trailed your hand upwards, pulling his face back to yours.

"Just go do media and if you're still angry after-"

"I'm not angry it's just annoying, is all," Lando scoffed. He pulled his face out of your grasp and you told yourself his actions weren't personal, he was just in a mood.

You could have let it go, had he not muttered one last thing under his breath.

"...thinks he can get away with this shit because he's from here, he's not the prince of motorsport-"

"Hey!" You snapped, your stare narrowing into an icy glare. Even a few McLaren mechanics turned to look at you with curiosity as you were never one to raise your voice at Lando, especially during a race weekend.

Lando's features only tightened more, it was clear he wasn't about to retract his statement, even if it was said in haste.

These types of moments during the races were rare. Usually, Lando and Charles got on pretty well. They respected each other and you split your time evenly between their garages. This weekend was the only time they argued over which garage you'd be in. In the end they agreed that Lando would have you for practices and Qualifying, but it was only right you were supporting Charles in the Ferrari garage at his home race.

Not like either of them asked for your opinion.

But this stupid tunnel incident was not one you had prepared for. In fact, you, along with many other people, were convinced that Lando wasn't going to get a lap in during Q3 after his brush with the barrier last session. His mechanics were magicians, apparently, and he managed to get out for a flying lap.

You texted Carlos' cousin when you heard about what happened in the tunnel, wanting to know if Ferrari was about to go up in flames. All he responses with was Xavi didn't tell Charles to move. The investigation notification came a minute later.

So yes, while Charles fucked up Lando's lap time, it wasn't his fault. And now there was a chance he was going to have to pay the price for it. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend making things worse.

Lando stood there, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to tell him that you were on Charles' side but you just shook your head, warning him with your stare alone.

"Save. It." You repeated.

And then you left, knowing that Charles would appreciate your support much more than Lando would right now. You hung out in the Ferrari garage with Carlos for a bit when he returned from media before someone told you that Charles was chatting with Fred back in the motorhome, a closed door meeting presumably.

Clips of Lando's post-quali interview was circulating on twitter and you rolled his eyes at his suggestion to disqualify Charles. It was a joke, a painful one with maybe an ounce of truth behind it, but a joke nonetheless.

Which was a good sign. Maybe Lando had cooled off a bit. He must have if he was able to flash a faint smile for the cameras. You had seen the interviews after horrid sessions and this was not that.

An hour went by and still no one had heard anything. The two hour mark came and went and the only text you got was from Lando telling you he swiped some cheesecake from the hospitality lounge for you.

And then at the third hour, Charles stepped out of the office and came walking down the steps of the motorhome. The lines in his forehead and his lips pressed together tightly said it all.

"Three places," Charles sighed, he dropped to the couch across from you. At this point, most of the team had cleared out but you and Carlos had stayed. Charles dropped his elbows to his knees as his face fell to his hands. "Trois putains de lieux," Three fucking places.

"I'm so sorry," you said, because what else could you say? This was his home race and he qualified third. He still had a fighting chance being so close to the front but now it was ripped away.

"I just want to go home," Charles shook his head.

"Do you want me to call maman? I'm sure she's already made dinner-"

"Have you talked to Lando?" Charles cut you off, head snapping up.

Even Carlos looked at you. He too was curious, but didn't think to ask, assuming that it was probably the wrong time.

"Not since he got out of the car."

"He'll probably be celebrating in a minute," he muttered, staring past you and out the window towards the paddock. At the same time, your phone got the notification of F1's statement. Charles Leclerc takes 3-Place Grid Penalty.

"Your penalty doesn't help him at all," this was a thin line you walked on, playing devils advocate. "He's pissed yeah, but he's still stuck starting from tenth. And now you're starting sixth, no one wins."

"Max will," Carlos whispered, and then glanced between you and Charles, snapping his mouth shut. "I mean, he probably will. We all knew this."

Charles chose to ignore that comment, standing up and patting his teammate on the shoulder as he walked past, "Good luck tomorrow Carlos. I'm sure they'll give you the fighting chance strategy."

There was nothing you could do except follow him out in the paddock. He didn't want advice, he didn't want a pep talk, he wanted to go home and be angry about this because this situation had fallen so far out of his control.

The paddock had emptied for the most part at this point, a few stragglers here and there, but most drivers had gone into their debriefs and strategy planning meetings.

Most, not all.

Because just up ahead you spotted Lando walking in the same direction towards the gates. Charles shot you a look, silently telling you not to say anything or get his attention and you nodded, not wanting to stir the pot any more.

Lando probably would have just gone to his car and driven back to his flat.

But you both watched as he raised his phone up to his ear and it was only seconds later when the phone in your hand started ringing. You didn't need to look at the screen to know Lando was trying to get a hold of you.

Hearing your ringtone, Lando stopped walking and turned around. Eyes darting back and forth between you and Charles as you both approached him.

You stood between them, you had to. You didn't know if they were blaming the other or if they were going to fight or if Lando was still angry or what. There were too many variables and for everyones sake, you made sure to stand between them.

Lando shrugged sympathetically, but his words were anything but, "You don't slow down in the tunnel, mate. Everyone knows this."

"I didn't know you were behind me," Charles retorted, keeping the tone respectful.

"There are mirrors on the car."

"But not headlights."

"You don't slow down in the tunnel," Lando repeated with a sigh.

You could hear it in his voice, Lando did feel bad for Charles after seeing the harsh penalty, but he still had a right to hold a bit of a grudge.

Charles nodded, "I am sorry, Lando."

Shocked, you stared up at your brother, wondering if you had in fact heard him correctly. Charles was apologizing? For something he had no control over? Something that screwed him over?

Even Lando was susprised to hear it, taking a second for himself before responding.

"Yeah I'm sorry too," Lando nodded, reaching forward and patting the driver on the arm. "Three places is harsh."

"They should have fined the team," Charles shrugged.

"It's the Monaco curse, I guess."

You slapped the back of your hand against Lando's abdomen and even Charles rolled his eyes, hearing nothing but curse this and curse that, especially from Arthur who was now convinced it was in fact real.

"Curse or not, we both have our work cut out for us tomorrow," Charles said and the three of you started off walking again, still with you in the middle.

You stayed quiet as the drivers talked amongst yourselves but when Lando reached for your hand you looked up at him and smiled. You could breathe a little easier tonight knowing they wouldn't hold this incident against each other.

You approached Charles' Ferrari first and he unlocked the doors, nodding his head at Lando, "Are you coming to dinner?"

Lando looked at you, unsure how to answer because this was the first he had heard about dinner, "I don't-"

"You didn't invite him?" Charles asked you, brows pinched together. Every year, you spent the evening after qualifying at your maman's place for a good luck dinner, even if good luck never followed. Charles was still intent on going tonight, and was surprised to hear you didn't extend the invitation to Lando.

"I didn't know I could," you answered honestly.

"Come for dinner," Charles told Lando, no longer phrasing it as a question. He reached for the handle of the drivers side door and then pointed a finger at the Brit, "But don't even think about mentioning the curse."

You leaned into Lando's side as Charles said he'd see you in a bit and you waited until he drove off before your tilting your face upwards.

"Thank you," you said to him.

Lando kissed the top of your head, "What for?"

For saving whatever bullshit comment he really wanted to make. For not starting a fight in the middle of the paddock. For putting his own annoyances aside and seeing Charles as someone was also struggling.

"Just, thank you," you repeated. Because truthfully, there were a lot of reasons. Too many to list.

But most importantly, you were thankful to not be forced into choosing a side.