#which is why I hated losing to my weakness

[anoonimthepoorchad]

Today was a messed up day for me, as well as for many people in Kyiv, as it began with an air raid at 3 A.M., and the loud sound of explosions followed by the sound of the air raid sirens. Those were 10 ballistic missiles russia sent to our city, ruining apartment blocks and causing fire. Everything happened so fast, it was impossible for anyone to run and hide in any kind of a shelter. Now I'm afraid to sleep in my bed at night.

Yesterday I enrolled in a blood donation event at my university, all by my own initiative. I always wanted to be a donor and I finally got a chance to try this out. But I was unprepared for the food restrictions and mostly stayed half-hungry for the whole day, as well as the following morning. It also took me a lot of energy to get to the university on my own, because of the sleepless night and the lack of nutrition.

Mostly the people who were donating blood were the kids from the military department of our university, I guess it was compulsory for them to take part in this event, while I came on my own choice. I did the needed tests, got my blood type and pressure checked, drank some sweet tea and went to the classroom to have my blood drawn.

I'm not the type to be afraid of blood, nor was I forced to come here. I even argued with my grandma over me choosing to donate blood when some of my other relatives had problems with this before. Everything was fine until the very end, like 2 minutes before the needed level was reached. My body decided that hunger, tiredness and all the stress I've been under these days was enough and tried to make me unconscious. And when the doctors tried to help me, my stomach turned against my breakfast and ruined my sweater in the most embarrassing way possible. After that the pressure was normalized and I finished the donation without any complications, so I'm glad they didn't have to throw the whole portion of my blood out. The doctors made some jokes about hungry students (a funny stereotype in our culture) and made sure I had regained my strength before I went home.

The mobile service is yet to come back, so back then I only told my parents that everything was over successfully and went home, where I had a good amount of rest and washed my clothes. I still feel a bit lightheaded but mostly I'm very embarrassed. It's scary how it feels to succumb to your own body and I feel like I should have commanded it to obey and not to embarrass me in front of everyone. But I know that back then I barely understood what was going on around me, I had no power over myself at all. Still, next time I'll just make sure to eat well and to sleep well before donating blood. It just feels like I was a big child, helpless and dirty, and that I made a trouble for everyone. It ruined my happiness over finally trying to help my community.

[neonhellscape]

okay its no secret i dont buy into marazhai being the persona he puts on. so as i've officially met him in game now, im making a list of all the in-game reasons i think he's a bit of an idiot [which i love btw. i find him far more compelling if he's a bit stupid/weird and he's trying so hard not to be but you just know nobody in commorragh is inviting him to parties]

the very first time you get a glance of him on a rooftop and. 'deal with this' "of course" proceeds to just walk off like 3 seconds after the other two

ambushes you. has you cornered. is in optimal position to kick your ass frankly, high ground and better weapons and utilising shock against you. ...he bitches at you for a while, gets insulted, then runs off into the forest with a maniacal cackle

heinrix fired a mild insult [considering what he's like to everyone else its barely an insult] and he took big enough issue with it to start saying how he'll break him and turn him into a pet. oh sure dude you're responding super well to this mild comment from the guy who accidentally insults everyone and their entire ancestral line at some point

i think it says something that he's learned to speak your language fluently too. that Has to be some kind of Yikes moment to admit publicly in drukhari culture. buried family secret great great grandfather drukhari-georg learned to speak mon keigh and now we claim he just spoke oddly because was shot in the head as a child to prevent the shame

he also knows the mon keigh lore that says youre a super special little guy as rogue trader and actually LISTENS to the fact you're the special little guy as rogue trader. and he does treat you as more equal/with more respect than the other characters. thats not just a drukhari culture yikes thats what gets you checked for a concussion or brain damage

literally socially atrocious enough its believed he's working with you [read: with you. not using you, not manipulating, cooperating. this is a big difference i feel] and only he himself doesnt believe it

ignore the fact he eventually DOES work with you which. is its own follow up statement

challenges you to fight him, to give chase then and there. i made him wait while i went through english government simulator where i queued for multiple days, did multiple day/week voidship trips back and forth, got distracted by accidentally starting jae's romance, pasqal telling me to servitorise her, getting blackout drunk with her, shipwide broadcast tm, giving her a voidship, her getting me a space cat, attacked by pirates, dealt with a plague, explored a few extra systems.......................

he destroys your palace. ...its rebuilt effectively within a week. most of the damage is in bodies which are just sent to the poor district to rot [almost feels worse than the damage done good job imperium]

the throne has claw marks. he could've blown it up or shot it or piled corpses on it but no he wanted to sit on the fancy chair and so turned into a common housecat mauling the sofa arm

how long was he just sitting there lounging on that chair? again see how long i kept him waiting. he was just sitting there trying to find a comfy position on this [for him] kinda small chair JUST so he could briefly taunt, break your window with his space motorbike, jump off the chair in a dramatic [but not gunna lie not that impressive] feat of gymnastics, then fly out. he doesnt even shoot at you as he leaves

i will continue my list as i see more that entertain me

[itsseriouslyridiculous]

I really hate how my physical body looks so so so much. unfortunately there isn't much I can do about it.

[multific]

Moonlight 

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: childbirth (no detailed description)

Summary: Aemond loves his little wife, so naturally, when you give birth to your first son, Aemond falls in love even deeper. However, when a simple refusal of his breaks your heart, it will be difficult for him to win you back.

It was hard to keep you close. You were much like Aemond, a true fighter. You had a fire in you which couldn't be questioned. A fire towards him, pure love. And now, fire towards your son.

Aeren was only born a week ago, yet you protected him fiercely like a dragon.

And you refused to let the small child out of your hands.

When Aemond was allowed in the room, he saw the blood, he heard your screams and many times, he wanted to barge in but he knew he couldn't.

So, once he was allowed in, someone informed him that it was a boy and that you were in bad shape. 

Aemond could see it, you looked beyond tired, yet you smiled.

But your smile didn't last long.

Aemond refused to hold his son. 

"Give him to me." he heard your voice as he looked from the woman holding his son to you. You looked angry. Way too angry.

It was too late when Aemond realised what he had just done.

He refused to hold his own child.

And since then, you didn't speak a word to him.

You slept in a different room with your baby, sometimes, late at night, he heard the cries. He wanted to get up and go to you but he couldn't, his guilt was overbearing. 

"You should put a leash on her, brother. If I had a wife like that, she wouldn't be sleeping in another room." Aegon taunted his brother daily. 

One day, you were in the gardens, walking with your son in your arms when Aegon spoke up.

Aemond never heard his brother speak with such longing.

"I truly wish she was mine." 

Aemond looked at his brother who was watching you.

"But she's mine." was his simple and firm reply.

But you truly weren't.

You used to be, now, you just sat next to him during dinners. 

One night, you excused yourself, and he followed you.

In an empty corridor, he spoke up.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he knew why. He very well knew why.

"I'm sorry, My Prince." you turned and looked at him. "I believe you are mistaken. I'm not avoiding you, I just hate to see the disappointment on your face." this surprised Aemond. "I gave birth to a child you refused to even look at. I loved you, Prince Aemond, I truly did. But I love my child more. And if you cannot look at him, you won't get to look at me. Fill your bed with whores for all I care. Goodnight." 

"You are mistaken." he said, not letting you leave, but you did grab the handle. "You-You were in that bed, crying, screaming and bleeding for hours. I couldn't do anything. And when they let me in, the blood... so much... they told me you were weak, you survived but you needed a lot of rest. How-How could I hold my child when the love of my life almost died? How could I look at him when I was worried to even look at you? I feared you would die giving birth. I was shaking. I feared losing you and my child. That is why I didn't hold him. I was scared." you stood there, your hand on the door, you looked away from his eyes.

"Then you could have just fucking say so, Aemond! For fucks sake!"

"That is not very lady-like."

"FUCK lady-like, you made me believe you hate me and our son! I believed I disappointed you since you wanted a daughter."

"I said I would be happy either way. My emphasis was on a girl because I feared if you had a daughter, you would see that as disappointing my bloodline."

"You are fucking terrible at communicating." you opened the door and walked into the huge room in which you stayed the last couple of weeks.

Aemond followed you, and watched as you walked over to the small bed and picked up your son. "Next time, you should just tell me. Letting me assume things clearly don't work out." 

"Of course." a small smile found its way onto his lips, next time, it was the promise of a future, a promise of more, something he could work towards. He walked over to you after closing the door. "I wish to hold him." you handed him the small child who didn't even stir in his sleep. "Aeren you named him I recall." Aemond's attention was now fully on his son as you decided to leave the two alone after watching them for a couple of minutes.

You got changed and when you arrived back, Aemond was sitting on the bed, his son on his chest.

"Some nights I heard his cries. It broke my heart but I broke yours far more. I apologise for not being clear and for causing you pain. I am truly sorry."

"I'm sorry as well. I should have asked." you said as you sat down next to him. "I will have to feed him soon."

"I will stay here with you."

You smiled as the moon shined through the window, illuminating the room a little more, helping the fire so you could see your husband's face.

"I love you so much Aemond."

"I love you too, My Queen." you giggled, moving closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You two kissed in the moonlight until your son made it clear that he was hungry.

It all made you look towards a better future.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[lady-ashfade]

Eloise Bridgerton x reader! In which Eloise and the reader are friends and Eloise romantically likes the reader but is afraid to confess because she thinks she will be rejected (the reader likes her too, and sorry about the bad english, i'm using the translator 🥺)

Quite Telling

Eloise Bridgerton x Fem!reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 487

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: fluff and bit angst, pinning, short blurb.

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Book’s often portray love as butterflies in your stomach, flattering body that gets weak when you see someone, and a high feeling. Eloise hated the books about love because she didn’t care for it, thinking it was all a lie.

And now she wished she read more.

How was she supposed to get over her feelings of being near you, or seeing your smile or hearing your laugh. The pain she felt from holding herself back from the urge to kissing you was horrible. All she could ever think about was you and she was becoming crazy.

“Dear, are you alright?” Violet asked her daughter who was lost in her thoughts, standing still at the window as rain poured down on the ground. Eloise snapped out of it and grabbed the book that was now in her lap back up and gave a reassuring smile.

“No need to worry, it’s just a beautiful day.” A mother knows much about her children and violet knew her daughter well. Eloise was often to push away when she was going through things. But she could push her to talk about it, so she just smiled and nodded her head.

Just as the sun rises and breakfast was done, the routine of visiting you for morning walks was the thing that woke her up. Her head went fussy when you grabbed ahold of her arm and her heart spiked like crazy.

“There isn’t much my mama has been telling me lately. Each gentleman walking up to door is all the same and non have half the wits they think themselves to have.” rolling your eyes annoyingly, Eloise laughs at your remark.

“Thank the heavens I have no callers, the one thing whistledown gave me was keeping them away.” you glance at her, there was still spite in her voice.

“It’s their lose anyway, you’re a Bridgerton. Pretty and smart sounds like a amazing catch.” you giggle. her cheeks flush red and look away at the compliment you gave her.

Pretty? You think she’s pretty and smart.

“Might I ask you something?” Her mouth speaks on its own before she could stop herself. you humming in agreement and focus on the ground as you walk. ears ready to hear.

could you ever love her? the lump in her throat tighten as her stomach dropped. all she wanted to do was confess or give you a hint. why was it so hard? she shouldn’t be afraid of it. but looking at you and the way the sun cased it’s golden light on you, the beautiful smile on your lips. she couldn’t find the courage.

“Purple?” the excuse didn’t work out as she wanted. you turn your head in confusion to what she meant.

she was a fool. “Purple or Blue? A dress for me tonight.”

“Purple, I like that color on you.”

then she shall wear it for the rest of her days.

𐀔 please don’t repost my fics on other websites. This is my writing. And I don’t own the characters just y/n.

[artist-issues]

I love the comments and defense of the original Snow White but some people are not taking the defensive position that I would take, all things considered.

I mean, asking the question “since when is it bad to wish for love?” is one thing, but then sometimes people follow it up with, “and that’s not all she wanted! That’s not her main goal!”

Okay I appreciate you but yes it was. Let’s just call it like it is. And then don’t back down. Hear me out.

The first thing you learn about Snow-White is from that pretty opening-fairy-tale-book page, where it points out two characters: the wicked and vain stepmother who is afraid of Snow White and dresses her in rags to cover up her beauty, and uses her as a scullery maid—and Snow White herself, who is…well, used as a scullery maid.

Treated as a servant, and actively hated by the only family she has. And she’s a child. She hasn’t been alive very long to experience anything other than hatred and jealousy toward herself.

She’s even talking to birds, and the fact that they’re clustered around her from beginning to end of that opening scene indicates that they’re very comfortable with her and she talks to them all the time—because they’re the only positive interaction she gets to have.

That’s the situation that Snow White is in. But the first thing you learn about who she is and what she wants comes when she wishes in the well. And what’s she wishing for?

Love. The one she loves. A specific, male figure, who will say nice things to her and find her. She wants him to come quick. Why?

How silly. How vapid and shallow of her. How weak and one-dimensional. Please, goodness, can’t someone update her to have some depth?

NO. She is a young woman who is not given any love and is treated like a horrible nuisance who must be covered up in dirt and rags. She has no friends except birds, who can’t talk back. She is actively hated by the closest person to her.

It’s a miracle she even knows the word “love” and has the strength of character to believe in it after the situation she’s grown up in.

The song very specifically says “I’m wishing…for the one I love…to find me…today. I’m hoping…and I’m dreaming of…the nice things…he’ll say.”

She wants to be loved because she isn’t loved. Geez, she wants someone to say nice things to her. She wants to give her own love because she doesn’t have anything but courtyard doves to befriend. Of course it’s her goal. Of course it’s her wish. What wish or goal could be higher? And what wish or goal could be more natural for a character in her situation?

And even more than that, what could be stronger than believing that it will happen? This character who’s been unloved and mistreated by everyone takes a Prince at his word when he says he’ll give her that love. He promises it, and she believes him.

She has every opportunity and right to be bitter, hardened, anti-social, self-absorbed (pre-Huntsman and Dwarfs, she could very easily believe that nobody else is going to watch out for her except herself) and jaded. But instead she has this pure faith, which it takes a lot to maintain when everything has been ripped away from you. She could’ve been totally swamped by doubt and bitterness.

I mean, she could worry that the Prince won’t be able to convince her Stepmother to let him marry her.

Then when she gets chased into the woods for her life, she could fret that the Prince wouldn’t know how to find her.

Heck, she could just forget about him, give up, and say, “this is my life now, I’m living with these seven dwarfs and we’ll take care of each other, I guess that’s the most I can hope for.”

But no. She has faith in his promise, and hangs on to her dream, and sings, with total assurance, “Someday My Prince Will Come.” I mean, she won’t even let a moment of panic in the woods go by without reprimanding herself for losing that faith, for a second.

Can any of you say the same? Can any of you imagine being that kind of person: the kind of person who unashamedly wants to love and be loved in return, and when everything is stripped away and every chance at that taken from you, you hang on and believe anyway? You stay positive and even joyful anyway? For love?

Come on. Defend that. Yes, her goal was “just” to be loved. And to love in return. The fear of having her life taken from her, the necessity (not the desire for) freedoms from that, was just an obstacle in the way of being loved. And this isn’t a movie about Snow White’s natural reaction to abuse. It’s about her strength of faith in love in SPITE of that abuse. The spotlight is on her strength, not her weakness, but it’s strength of faith in love.

Anyway.

If you believe that it’s good and fine for a girl’s whole goal and fondest dream is to be loved, then don’t stand with one foot in that camp and another in the camp that says “girls want more than just love.” No, what? Love is the best thing a girl can want. I’m not talking about “romance.” I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about pure, self-sacrificial, kind love. It’s the best thing they can want, and Snow White is one of the only characters who does want it unashamedly, uncomplicated.

Just defend that. Don’t try to argue that the “Someday My Prince Will Come” Princess isn’t wholeheartedly after love. Makes it look like you don’t believe that’s as wonderful as it is.

[prentissluvr]

cabin, 3:17 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, injury, mention of stitches, 658 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : a hunt goes badly, but sam patches you up and loves on you until you can finally get some good rest.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

sam can barely open the cabin door with one hand. the lock is temperamental, and the key likes to pretend it doesn’t fit. but his other arm is keeping you from collapsing right then and there, so he has to manage like this.

finally, the door swings open with a frantic push from sam, the hinges of the old place in the woods protesting the movement with loud squeaks and groans. but he couldn’t care less about the poor state of the structure; it’s a damn miracle you were so close to one of his safehouses after getting injured like this.

“we’re here, we’re here. i got you, okay. alright, honey. you’re alright,” sam’s voice is steady and sure, but the way that assurances tumble out of his mouth tells you that he’s worried. he’s scared.

he thinks you’ll be fine. he really does, but he can’t help but feel so terrified that you won’t. it’s just that you have such a high pain tolerance after years of getting hurt all the time, but the gash in your side is pulling pained grunts and whimpers from your mouth. your head lolls on his shoulder, and there’s not a hospital close enough. he has to treat you first.

part of him prefers it; to be the one that takes care of you, the one that fixes it for you. but he knows he’s not nearly as good as a trained doctor, and that worries him.

that can’t matter now, though, as he shuts the door and locks it, then leads your stumbling form to the couch. strong arms settle you into the cushions, which kicks up a little bit of dust and makes you cough weakly.

“god, sorry, love,” he mumbles worriedly, voice plainly guilty and always so sincere. the coughing makes you wince in pain, and sam’s distress over your injury is raw and intense. all you do is grab his hand and squeeze it. he looks to your face, gaze landing on your eyes like he knows you want. all he finds is love there, a silent plea for him not to feel so sorry. your furrowed brows and downturned lips show the pain you’re in. but the look in your eyes spells out the words i love you.

“i love you, too,” he says, the words slipping from his lips without him intending it. one side of your lips quirks up. 

talking is tiring. you’re so tired, and you’re not sure why this cut is different from all the other injuries you’ve received to get you so vulnerable and weak. but to you, it’s fine, because sam is taking care of it. you know that sam will take care of it, you just hate how much this pains and scares him. so that’s why you push through the effort of speaking.

“it’s okay, sam,” you grunt out. god, it really hurts. it hurts to breathe, even. sam can see that. and he can see that you don’t like to watch him feel so worried. he puts on his brave face again.

“yeah, it’s okay,” he assures you. “i’m gonna take care of this. gonna take care of you, so you just stay awake for me, alright, honey?”

it works. his comforting words work. you relax a little, you believe in the brave front. you keep your eyes on him, and you nod. you squeeze his bicep when the antiseptic burns, you grunt in pain and grip his shoulder when the stitches make you feel woozy. you let go and lose your own brave face, because sam is there. 

because he hushes you sweetly, he murmurs soft assurances, and he holds your hand with tender love. because he dabs sweat from your brow and bandages you up, then carries you to bed. because he kisses your cheek and your lips and your forehead and fixes you right up. or most simply put, because he loves you.

[thetreefairy]

A sickly endeavor

warnings: isolation, muzan using the upper demons to keep you trapped, forced medicine intake, talks about punishments, muzan using reader's mental state against them, reader is genderfluid but in this fic she/her pronouns are used. [yes this is kinda a self-insert]

tip me

Reader hated this, Reader hated being treated like someone that could die instantly. She can, yes, but she knew that her self-proclaimed dad would turn her into a demon right away.

The question is why hasn't he yet?

Does he like seeing her suffer, does he like knowing that Reader has to depend on him?

Perhaps.

Reader hopes its the first time, because the second one would freak her out.

"Come on, you need to take your medication." Douma snapped, losing his patience, which was rather out of character for him. "Awhhh, am I finally getting to you?" Reader joked with a grin, oh how she loved annoying Douma. Douma sighed: "You shouldn't neglect your health as a way to spite your dad-"

"Not my dad."

'As I was saying, spite him in different ways." Douma sighed. "How? By getting a s/o?" Reader hissed. She was done with this, she wanted to go out and move around while she still can. "Or sneaking out."

Reader looked at him shocked. "You should really watch your mouth, Douma." Douma chuckled. "Awh, are you concerned? You're finally healthy enough to move around. If Muzan wants your love he should at least listen to you."

Reader chuckled. "While I agree with you, I will never love him."

"Douma, must I even forbid you from speaking to my daughter? Are you so pathetic that you cannot even get them to take their medicine?" Muzan's voice interrupted them. Reader groaned; "Don't you dare forbid Douma from speaking to me, he's too fun while you are not."

Douma chuckled nervously at this statement, he was acting rather out of character. But reader paid no attention to it, she wanted to annoy Muzan enough so that she didn't have to take her meds.

"Douma get out." Muzan hissed, causing Reader to whine and cling to Douma. "Nooo."

Muzan took Reader from Douma as he left. "You truly are a child." Muzan mumbled as he grabbed some pills. "Hey! I am a teenager, at least get it right when you want to insult me."

"My point isn't to insult you, but to remind you that you need me." This caused Reader to roll her eyes. "As you cannot even take your medication yourself."

"Oh I can, I just don't out of spite."

"Which proves my point." Muzan hissed. "Perhaps isolation would do you well no one speaking to you. Or being immobilized, needing help to even go to the bathroom."

Reader's eyes widened, she didn't want one of his so called punishments. "Maybe even both." He hissed as he forced Reader to take her pills.

Reader swallowed them afraid of the consequences. "Or should I take you to the nearest town, and show you what will happen to everyone if you run away." Muzan continues happily, knowing how much Reader loved that town.

"Why do you keep me sick?" She blurted out, afraid of what will happen. Muzan chuckled: "Why, are you saying that your father is keeping you ill? Are those voices telling you lies again?"

Reader is threading on a thin line, she knows it. But she asks again, causing Muzan's face to harden.

"Because how else will i keep you here, so weak and pathetic."

[faithtrickedhope]

curious abt ur interpretation, but why do u think zeus turned on athena so suddenly after she completed the games?? a lot of people say it’s just because he’s a sore loser, but i think there’s more to it!! :0

hi, hello !! i do have some feelings about this !!

for me, i think it’s sort of, like, less about the fact that she won, and more what she stood for in winning? so, like, the fact that she managed to convince five other gods to set free a mortal man, the fact that she won for the sake of a mortal man - that’s what zeus can’t reason with

so, zeus does say:

No one beats me, no one wins my game!

which gives the impression that he is, just, a sore loser. that he cannot handle being beat. and, okay, i think there is like some truth to that. he is the god king, he does not lose at things. i think he expected that this would be a lot harder for her, that the other gods would care a lot more than they probably do. it’s the shock more than anything, then, that gets him. he didn’t expect to lose

but, also, before this line he says:

You dare to defy me? To make me feel shame?

and i think this part is important to consider. let’s look at it line by line. he use the word “defy”, which seems odd, because athena did exactly what he laid out for her to do. but i think in this case it’s more, that she’s defying him by aligning herself with a mortal. it really doesn’t help that the specific man in question is one that zeus himself punished personally. in his eyes, odysseus is weak and pathetic, he isn’t worth the mercy of the gods. athena had abandoned him at one point, and i think that shows her father’s will being reflected in her. if she - someone who has befriended odysseus, taken him under her win - was willing to turn her back on him, then the likes of zeus would have no sympathy for such a man, and thus it is a defiance that athena would suddenly turn back to helping him

she defies his will by getting this far in the game for the sake of odysseus. actually, i think zeus had hoped the game would change her mind, show her the “godly” perspective. the fact she still holds her ground after it, then, is defiance

okay, and then zeus talks of “shame”, athena making him “feel shame”. again, this ties a lot back into what we just covered - zeus is ashamed that his own daughter would fight this hard for a mortal whom he hates. that she would face five gods who try to sway her opinion and still come out standing by odysseus. athena is zeus’ favourite daughter, after all. he would surely then expect that she would always align herself with him or his morals, so to see her stand before him after playing his games, games designed to force her hand, and for her still want his help - that is a cause for great shame for the father

now, looking at the wider context of the musical, we see that zeus is “fair” (at least by his own standards). he gives odysseus two choices across the course of the musical, in regards to the baby and in regards to his men. in both cases, he doesn’t force odysseus either way to choose, and when he does make his choice, zeus doesn’t interfere any further. at the start of god games, he gave athena a choice. to face the other gods OR face him. by his own standard set before, when athena chooses to face the gods and wins, zeus should stand by that. it is fair.

but he doesn’t. and for me that’s what shows that this is so much more than just a sore loser. this is a god who is going against his agenda in order to punish his daughter - that’s something that runs a lot deeper than “aw, i lost”. he didn’t expect athena to win, no, but that’s because he always expected her to come back to her senses (his reason) before the game was up. she didn’t. that is a great defiance of his will, and that is a great shame on him as her father

zeus is all about pride, we see that most clearly in thunder bringer. his daughter - his favourite, perfect daughter - has essentially just embarrassed him in front of all these other gods by beating his game for the sake of someone he has previously sought to punish. she has, in front of all these other gods, shown that his faith in her was misplaced, because she is willing to defy his will. this is a god king who could not bring someone around to see his reason. this is a father who has realised in that moment that his daughter is not who he thought

so, okay, yeah, this is very long and ramble-ly (i just woke up, so i do apologise) but TLDR, it’s about pride and shame and zeus’ sheer fury that the game he designed for athena to lose - or to, at least, bring her back to his reason - did not work. she still stands against him for the sake of one, mortal man, and that is a defiance he cannot have

[silkythewriter]

Vox and wukong with a cat demon reader!

Warnings: might be a bit OOC! Haven’t written for Hazbin hotel in a while I apologize!

Fandom: Hazbin hotel and LMK

Author note:IM SO SORRY I DONT KNOW WHY TUMBLER GLITCHED OUT ON ME AND DELETED THE WHOLE THING(｡•́︿•̀｡) BUT TYSM FOR YOUR PATIENTS AND THANK YOU FOR THE HAZBIN HOTEL ASK!!!

Summary: Wukong and Vox with a cat demon reader! :D

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! <3.❤️

🝮☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆🝮

🝮☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆🝮

Vox

In all honesty...he finds it adorable, now will he admit that is another question with a different answer..

I'm sure he's seen many upon many of cat demons in his years damned to hell, but you are different in a way he can't pin point. Maybe it's the way your tail flicks when you see him, or how your pupils grow big just at the sight of him. It's honestly a knock out for him

He finds himself curious on how your ears and tail feel. But he would never touch it unless you offer him first which he exeitedly bun-gurglingly agrees.

He's a man that's excellent at words and selling something to you. But when it comes time to actually show Affection it's...a bit rough to say the least.

He buys you special types of conditioner and shampoo for your fur, one of the finest brand might i add, which he hands to you. Simply stating "well if your gonna be seen around me of course you gotta look your best" not that he actually cares for you and wants you happy of course! He's an overlord he has a status to up hold!

Now when it comes to you actually doing cat like things he finds it very interesting and honestly adorable-

I mean look how can he not melt when your purring out words after landing on the soft couch in his office.

One time he petted the top of your head and you let out purr, when I tell you this man’s knees were weak I MEAN IT

he just has a special soft spot for you and the things you do. Like when you were over at his place about to crash on his bed but you just started kneading the soft blanket.

Look he’s a hater on the outside but a lover on the inside he has to keep a rough attitude in a place like hell. But when you guys are alone he’s doting on you more then an actual person with a cat. He just can’t help it

He loves cuddling with you at night, like the warmth you provide him is enough to make him short circuit . Hell is hot enough but your warmth is different kind of warmth, not just the overheating and overwhelming temperature of hell, but the homey feeling you get form a nice hug.

He especially loves when you wrap your tail around him or his like leg i don’t know something about it makes him lose his mind!

Although he dose have to admit finding you asleep in unexpected areas is something he doesn’t hate but doesn’t exactly like either. He quite literally has the best bed and sheets of hell just for you and you still decide to spreed out and take a nap on counter. Now that is something he will never understand

Overall though he loves you to the lower levels of he’ll and back <3

🝮☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆🝮

Wukong

Oh boy… time for our favorite monkey boy phew alright…

First of all get ready for his lil cheeky self to go around and start scaring you

You know that old trend where cat owners would throw cucumbers at their cat? Yea that’s what he dose, not only that but 60% of the time it lands smack dab on your head like it seems intentional from how many times he’s smacked you by accident.

He honestly understands how sensitive ears and tails could be so he would never yank or pull on it as a joke. Trust me he gets and understands your pain very much.

His love language is grooming, so he’s happily sit for a good while just looking through your fur and picking out small particles or maybe small dirt specs. And he loves when you do the same! Honestly a very cute bonding moment he finds it relaxing!

I feel like cat demons are a bit rare to come by, (my guess don’t quote me on this) so he finds your quite cool to look at! Especially if you have some sort of pattern or rare fur color!. He asks you all sorts of questions please don’t mind him he’s honestly curious.

He purrs too so this man dos won’t discriminate when you do it, he honestly finds it adorable just like Vox!, but unlike Vox he doesn’t mind voicing it. Although he dose it too he loves teasing you for it, jokingly of course!

Please send this man your fur care cause lord knows he probably doesn’t own the right things to take care of his fur. He appreciates if you take a day off just to show him, also massaging some of the conditioner/shampoo in his scalp will make him purr and is greatly appreciated.

Honestly I feel like he’d get jealous of those who you also let touch your fur and other stuff. He won’t cop you on it! But he loves when it feels like something only he can do and you trust him with.

As kneading this man has A TONNN of blankets collected through the years of stealing or getting gifted it. So he has tons of blankets on his bed and if he sees you kneading them he’d probably let out a loud “Awe” before tackling you. He finds it adorable! What can he say?

He has good pulse control now then when he did in his younger years but still can you really expect him not to smoother you with affection from how absolutely adorable your being?!?? (≧◡≦) ♡

Please please PLEASE let this man intertwine tails with you or make like a heart shape out of your tail’s. He just finds it so comforting and adorable!

Overall have a cat demon S/O has to be the best for him, he just loves you! And he is very affectionate, it takes him a bit to show it but after a while he’s all over you! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

🝮☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆🝮

AHHHH TYSM FOR THE REQUEST IT WAS SO FUN PLEASE REQUEST AGAIN❤️❤️❤️❤️💘💘💘💘

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

Damn we are eating a lot (Part 2):

During the battle, Baul is shooked on how Silver and Sebek are good at dealing with horses to which Sebek replies that they're part fo the equestrian club so it's a natural thing for them

Yuu and Grim were about to get attacked by an Iron Man but Lilia comes in to defend them. BUT THEN LILIA PROCEEDS TO SMACK SILVER AND SEBEK BEING ALL "This is why I hate children 😒" 😭😭😭

After the battle we reach the castle (which is the castle in the Sleeping Beauty movie) AND THEN WE SEE THE KNIGHT OF DAWN

Anyways going back to the topic, we also get Henric, who is pretty much going "Meleanor if you don't get out of that castle right now we'll invade the castle together with the Knight of Dawn" AND JESUS FUCK HIS SPRITE 💀

Yucks

It turns out the Knight of Dawn doesn't want any part of this either, cuz Henric wants Meleanor's magic orb and dragon egg (aka Malleus) since they're really precious things

Idk what's up with this chapter and their thing for turning characters into orphans cuz the Knight of Dawn is also an orphan adopted by the king 🧍‍♀️, and Henric tells him that if he can steal the orb maybe it could save the king and Leah

We then see Meleanor, WHO IS A FUCKING BADDIE SO DAMN REAL TWST YKNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR WOMEN 😍😍😍

WE ALSO SEE EGG MALLEUS AWWWW

Meleanor tells them that she was planning to take a nap with the egg but useless people interrupted that, and she refers to the egg as Malleus already 🥹. Lilia is just confused and asks how is she sure that the egg is a boy, in which Meleanor replies that a mother is always sure and knows that Malleus will grow up to be beautiful like his father, Leverne

But then she sees Sebek and Silver and makes them get down on their knees (MAAM I'LL ALSO GET DOWN ON MY KNEES FOR YOU 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️), she then goes on about how humans are weak and stuff. Lilia tries to defend them but Baul tells us about Meleanor's hatred for humans and that we might as well stay quiet

But then Lilia loses his shit as well and tries to tell Meleanor about the danger that's just waiting outside but Meleanor refuses, saying that she wants to fight because she's a mother who wants to protect egg Malleus (I swear I can't this update is making me cry 😭). So she tells everyone to escape with the egg while she fights the Knight of Dawn and we get this scene of Lilia holding on to egg Malleus

Meleanor tells them to leave but Lilia refuses. So out of anger, she zaps him which causes everyone to panic cuz he has the egg and Silver tries to stop it but Meleanor gets even more mad that she zaps him too like jesus this woman and her anger issues. Silver tries to plead with them to stop fighting because people who love each other don't fight

Meleanor replies that even if she doesn't make it, Malleus is still there. But Lilia tells her that Malleus can't hatch without the true love of a parent. BUT THEN WE GET THIS REVEAL THAT LILIA PROPOSED TO MELEANOR 200 YEARS AGO AND HE ALSO LOVED LEVERNE LIKE LILIA MELEANOR LEVERNE POLY RELATIONSHIP IS FUCKING REAL. Meleanor reassures Lilia that he will find a way to love Malleus since he also loved her and Leverne 🥹

She then summons thorns that drags Lilia and the rest away from the castle, saying her final goodbye to both Lilia and Malleus (I'm crying rn guys). Lilia tries to find a way back in to save Meleanor but Baul yells at him to calm down cuz he was still holding egg Malleus, and that Meleanor trusted them to protect the egg

Meleanor makes her appearance to the Knight of Dawn and Silver Owls, which starts another battle....

Next: Part 3

Previous: Part 1

[blairboo]

IDWT$

Noah Sebastian x Fem! Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend is a fighter, and takes you to one of his fights, which he betrays you, are you going to seek help from his opponent?

Warnings: Fights, blood, betrayal, bruises, pain

Word Count: 2k

---

Fights.

That's what my life became after I started dating Ryan. He had been fighting since he was 14, grew up in this world, and I knew that very well when I started dating him. Ryan had always been very clear about showing me that this was his life.

But then, he never let me go to any of his fights. He said it was a dangerous place for me. I never doubted that, especially on the days Ryan came back, simply broken. But I sensed there was another reason why he never wanted me to go with him. He was jealous and hated to see me near other men, and I knew that where he fought, there were only men.

It had been a few weeks since his last fight. Ryan wasn’t a weak or inexperienced fighter; he grew up doing this. But in his last fight, he lost. He didn’t want to tell me who the other fighter was, which I found strange, considering every time he fought, I always knew who his opponent was.

Today, he was going to fight again against the man he lost to. Ryan seemed confident, saying he wouldn’t lose this time. I always believed in him. Ryan wasn’t a vengeful person, but after his last fight, it seemed like he wanted revenge on the guy who had raised his hand instead of Ryan.

I found myself sitting in the living room while Ryan packed his bag to head to the Glass House, his fight gym. He grew up there and had been the best and most evolved fighter in the gym.

“I want you to come today.” I turned my head in his direction to make sure I heard him right.

“What?” I had been dating Ryan for three years, and he had never let me go to his fights. Why now?

“I want you to come to my fight today.” He came towards me and took my hands.

“Are you sure? I know you don’t like me going there,” I asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely. I want you to see me beat the crap out of that jerk from the last fight.” He had a frightening smile on his face.

I gave him a weak smile and went to our room to get ready. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear since I had never been to the place or seen how people dressed there, but I opted for black leggings and a white shirt with a jacket over it. It seemed comfortable.

I went back down to the living room, and Ryan was already ready with his bag slung over his shoulder. When his gaze met mine, I couldn’t decipher whether he liked my outfit or not, but he didn’t say anything and opened the door, extending his hand for us to leave.

Ryan was always a gentleman with me, but there was something in his behavior that bothered me a lot. His jealousy irritated me. He never let me be near other men, and if it happened, he would probably yell at me once we got home, telling me I didn’t need to be so friendly with men. And how much that annoyed me.

❦

The drive to the gym was calm and silent, just the music on the radio playing and the raindrops falling on the car. Ryan parked and got out, telling me to wait for him to grab the umbrella, and I looked at the place in front of me.

Upheaval Underground.

What the heck was this?

“Are you going to just stand there?” Ryan looked at me angrily while holding the umbrella.

I got out of the car, positioning myself under the umbrella as we walked towards the entrance of the venue.

We headed to the entrance, where there were many people drinking around the arena, and red lights flashing. A voice over the loudspeaker announced that the fights would start in 20 minutes. Ryan took my hand and led us inside. The place smelled of alcohol, smoke, and weed.

“I need to get ready for the fight; I’ll put you in the balcony, you’ll be able to see well.” Ryan pulled me through the doors of the arena.

❦

It had been 15 minutes since Ryan left, and I was looking down at where some fights were already happening. This was definitely not the kind of thing I was used to; there was a lot of blood and shouting in the ring.

As time passed, the fight ended, and I knew it was Ryan’s turn to fight. For a moment, I felt apprehensive. I had never seen one of his fights, and anxiety was building inside me.

A voice over the loudspeaker announced Ryan’s entrance into the ring. He was wearing black fight shorts, and his gloves were red. The look on his face was confident.

I looked around as people shouted Ryan's name; he seemed like a big celebrity.

The voice announced the entry of the other fighter in the ring.

“And now, my fight lovers, we have Noah Davis against Ryan Miller in the ring, two beasts, but only one will walk away with the belt tonight,” the voice said again over the speakers.

Noah Davis.

Who was he?

Noah entered the ring wearing a black cloak over his face, and his gloves were black. He was tall and in good shape, and then he took off the cloak.

I thought Ryan was handsome until I saw him.

“Focus; you’re watching your boyfriend fight,” the voices in my head warned me.

A loud whistle declared the start of the fight, and until then, the two of them just circled the ring, staring each other down.

Then Ryan tried to throw the first punch at Noah, which he missed.

Noah retaliated with a punch to Ryan's face and a kick to the side of his thigh. Ryan staggered a bit but quickly landed a punch.

The fight continued, fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was blood on the ring floor, and I began to feel nauseous. I lowered my head and could only hear the people shouting and the sounds of punches.

My head started to spin, and I could feel nausea creeping in. I needed help. My hand reached for a water bottle I had brought with me, and when I found it, I quickly brought it to my lips, drinking as if I were stranded in the desert for 30 days. At least it relieved the nausea I was feeling.

❦

The final whistle of the fight snapped me out of my thoughts, and I lifted my head to see Ryan lying on the floor, surrounded by paramedics, while the referee raised Noah’s hand and another man put a belt around Noah's waist.

Ryan had lost.

Noah rubbed his hand on the belt in circles while shouting words to the people around him.

“ i’m the fucking king!” he shout out

His eyes scanned the crowd until they found mine.

He paused for a moment, continued to stare at me, and gave me a playful smile.

Realizing what I was doing, I quickly left the area and went to look for Ryan. I needed to know if he was okay.

I walked the concrete hallways, searching for someone who could help me and tell me where Ryan was. I arrived at a room where no one was present, but I could hear voices behind a closed curtain.

I moved closer to the curtain, and the voices sounded like moaning.

I pulled the curtain aside.

Ryan was sitting on the stretcher, with several cuts on his face, and there was a nurse with her lab coat open, sitting on his lap.

“What the hell is this?” I screamed furiously at the both of them.

Ryan’s eyes looked at me with what I could only describe as desperation.

“I swear it’s not what it looks like; I can explain,” he tried, but his words and nothing were the same thing to me.

He tried to stand up, but the woman on his lap didn’t move.

I looked at him again.

“I’ll make sure to thank Noah for beating your ass,” I turned on my heels and walked toward the door.

I heard my name being shouted several times, but I continued without looking back.

I stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall.

“Problems in paradise, huh?” a voice came from beside me. I couldn’t see who it was; tears of anger burned in my eyes.

I wiped my eyes and looked in the direction of the voice.

Noah.

He was leaning against the wall, just wearing his fight shorts.

“I’m not interested in your victory story,” I rolled my eyes.

“That guy in there with my girlfriend; is he your boyfriend?” Noah asked, a slight smile on his face.

“I guess so.” I wasn’t interested in continuing the topic.

My boyfriend cheated on me with the girlfriend of the guy he just lost a fight to.

Wow, how ironic.

“Come on, I can help you get out of here,” he extended his hand to me.

“I’m not interested in leaving with the guy who just beat my ex-boyfriend,” I turned and continued toward the other exit.

“Come on, the woman in there was my girlfriend too. If you let me, I can help you forget about this. Besides, you’re not leaving here alone; well, at least not without being harassed.” His voice was playful, but I didn’t know the place, much less who the people who frequented it were.

Noah still had his hand extended to me, which I gratefully took.

Ryan had cheated on me, and he definitely deserved this.

❦

Noah led us out of the arena, where many people were gathered, and the rain had stopped, so there were definitely many more people than when I arrived.

“How did you come?” he asked.

“My car,” I pointed in the direction where my car was parked.

I even wondered how Ryan would get home, but that was now his problem. Screw it.

A voice behind me made Noah clench his fists.

“What’s this, Noah? You were just with that blonde and now you're with another?” a man approached, placing one hand on my back.

Noah stepped in front of the man.

“Don’t touch her,” his voice had changed; it was no longer soft but filled with anger.

“What’s up, man? We can take turns.” The man had a smile on his face.

The next sound I heard was Noah's fist making contact with the man’s face, and soon the place exploded into shouts, with punches and kicks flying everywhere.

I looked around and saw no way out, and I felt a tight grip on my arm.

Noah was holding my wrist tightly, trying to pull me out of that fight.

And then…

I felt a pain on the right side of my head and something burning in my ribs.

The pain was agonizing.

I felt two hands gripping the sides of my face.

Everything went black.

---

**NOAH POV**

I looked at the woman lying on my bed. Her face was bruised, and there was a deep cut on her ribs.

She was so beautiful.

I started to wonder when I decided to bring my opponent's girlfriend to my house.

Well, now she was an ex-girlfriend.

I ran my fingers along her face down to the scar on her left shoulder.

With a quick movement, the woman grabbed my hand and pulled it away from her scar.

“Don’t touch me,” she backed away.

I still didn’t know her name.

“I’m just trying to help you,” I raised my hands in surrender.

She seemed to be scanning me, looking at everything around her.

“Where am I?” she looked at me suspiciously.

“I’ll tell you, but only if you tell me your name,” I thought it was a fair trade.

She just stared at me.

No response.

---

Hellooo Everyone!!

So I decided to post earlier the story, so I really hope that you enjoy this.

Idk if this deserves an part 2, but lmk if you all want it

Thank you!

TAG LIST

@foliosgirl

Blair👾

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Jason Todd x F!Reader x Dick Grayson

Title: Your Worth

Warning(s): SEMI SMUT, MDNI. Cheating. Age difference between reader and Jason.

Character(s): Female x Reader, Jason Todd, and Dick Grayson. Dawn Granger mentioned.

Prompts are in bold print towards the end (in the smut section.) Credit goes to @ loveisanimaignarydagger3000

—————

Jason didn’t know when these feelings for you had started. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact time or place he started to fall in love with you. One drunken night, along with you being drunk, the two of you had slept together.

The bits and pieces he did remember, of that night were euphoric. But he also hated the way it happened. He hated the reasonings as to why the two of you were drunk and having drunk sex. And the one thing he hated most, was that you were Dick’s. Not his.

The two of you had a huge fight in the tower that night. Which resulted in him “going out”, and you sitting at the counter taking shots, and drinking beer.

Jason had heard the fight; it was over him bringing back the Titans. “You know this wasn’t a good idea Dick! It didn’t work the first time, and-and now we’re doing this…” you say while motioning around the tower “all over again.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Y/N.” He said as he leaned against the counter in front of you.

“Why wouldn’t I understand Dick?” You asked, and he looked down at his feet. “You were the first to quit. You walked out and away first. It was too much for you to handle. It’s one of your weaknesses.”

You laughed at his reasoning. “Me? Weak? Because I walked away?” He nodded his head at his own statement. “No. Do you want to know why I left, Dick? I left because my weakness was you."

His dark brown eyes stared into your teary eyed ones. "My weakness was you. I had to leave because I couldn't stand the sight of you and Dawn together." Angrily, you wiped a tear from your cheek. "Do you know how much it hurts— to be told you are loved and led onto believe there could be something more? And then watching the person you are hopelessly and irrevocably in love with, move on to her best friend?”

“I love you. Yes, I left before, and I’m here because you and I are together now. But this is not a good idea, and you know why.” You say.

Tears streaked your face, and a small, yet visible tear fell from Dick’s eye. “I’m going out.” He said before walking away from you, leaving you alone in the kitchen. Your heart was just ripped out of your chest, and left alone, just like he had done a countless number of times before.

Jason gave it thirty minutes before going down and seeing if you were okay. But you were sitting at the makeshift bar, a bottle of Jack to your right and two empty beer bottles to your left. You were mindlessly passing the bottle from one hand to the other, making it squeal against the counter top.

“Are you done nursing that bottle?” He asked, and you looked up at him with a smile gracing your lips. “Why? Do you want it?” You asked handing him the beer bottle.

Jason pulled up a bar stool next to yours. “You’re not going to ask me if I’m 21?” He asked and you just smiled.

“I know you are, silly.” You said before taking a drink from the whiskey bottle. “I assume you heard all of that, huh?” You hiccuped and Jason nodded.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you slapped your hand against the counter. “No. I’m not. All of this-” you swung your arm in the air almost losing your balance. Jason grabbed your chair and steadied it back on the ground. You hadn’t even noticed you almost fell. “This tower brings back memories. It brings back when we lost Garth. And how many times Dick and I have confessed our love for one another, but each time he would follow it with a ‘We can’t be together. One day though.’”

Jason took a sip of his beer, and you wiped another tear from your cheek. “And then he moves on to Dawn. Just like that. Finally, I had enough. After Garth died, and those two were still fawning over one another, I packed up and left. I went back to Gotham, worked with Bruce and Dick hated that so much. That’s why I did it.” You chuckled and you looked back over at Jason.

“I just… I can’t be his second choice anymore, ya know? I’m tired of him wanting to screw me, and tell me he loves me, to the next day wanting to pretend nothing happened the night before.” You say as you took a sip of the Jack. “Now we’re together, and he’s brought back the Titans to relive and fix the past, and it’s not a good idea. It’s going to interfere with our relationship.” You whisper.

You didn’t know how long you were talking, but Jason had already drank five bottles from your case of beer, and now was drinking from the bottle of Jack. You snatched the bottle from his hands, “Dick will kill me if he knows I let you sit here and get drunk.” You said before getting up from the stool and tossing the near empty bottle into the trashcan. “I’m going to my own bedroom. If you see Dick, tell him not to bother me. I’m really not in the mood to fight.”

But before you could walk away, Jason worked up the drunken courage to grab your wrist. “For what it’s worth…He’s a dumbass. If he can’t see how great you were then, what makes you think he sees something now?” You stood there, shocked by his words. Was he right? Were you just a last resort because Dick knew you would stay with him no matter what?

Jason stood up from his chair and now he towered over you. “You deserve someone who wants you now and not when it’s convenient.” He looked into your eyes, and you stared at his lips. Jason’s hands made their way to your hips, “You deserve someone who will always choose you. Someone… someone who won’t take you for granted.” He whispered.

Both of you were inches away from each other’s face. His lips brushed your forehead, and he could feel your eyelashes bat against his cheek. Slowly, Jason brought his lips down to yours, and he gently pressed a kiss to your lips.

He was testing the waters, but when you kissed back, Jason melted into the kiss. His hands wrapped into your hair, and your hands raced up his chest. You moaned against his lips, and Jason lost all benevolence. He picked you up and sat you on the counter, and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Jason ripped open your blouse, revealing your bustier top, and he groaned. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered against your lips.

Teeth were clashing, sloppy kisses were being pressed everywhere, and neither of you could stop. “We can’t do this here.” You managed to whisper between kisses.

Jason lifted you back up and carried you up the stairs, until he stumbled into yours and Dick’s shared room. He laid you down before climbing on top of you, reconnecting your puffy lips. Both yours and Jason’s hands were desperately clutching each other and removing articles of clothing, gasping into each other’s mouths as if you both were starved of one another. Both of your minds with fogged lust, arousal, and desperation.

“This is wrong…” you whispered, and he replied “So wrong…” while he made his way between your legs. His fingers hooked underneath your black laced panties, and began to slowly pull them down, but he stopped. “Is this okay?” He asked as his brown eyes looked up from between your legs.

“Yes…” you answered, and he looked back up to you. “Open you legs… wider.” He demanded and you followed his instruction. When his tongue delved into you, it was over.

• • •

Moans filled the room, Jason’s hands held your hips firmly, surely leaving a few bruises in the place of his fingertips. With every thrust, you felt guilty, but then again, it felt nice to be wanted. But was this just one of Jason’s many conquests and you had finally become one of them?

What Jason was doing was intimate… the way he held your body, and the way he kissed you. It was more than just some drunken escapade. When your arched your back into him, he groaned.

He was hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, and you whispered his name quietly, “Jason…”

 “Don’t be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name.” He said as he hooked his legs around his waist. “Jason!” You moaned, and then you couldn’t control every moan after that.

You were certain Dick would walk in at any moment. You wished he would. But he never did. After Jason had finished inside you, he laid down next to you out of breath. “How long did we go for?” He asked and you looked over at the alarm clock.

“An hour and a half….” You replied before both of you chuckled. Guilt weighed on your chest heavily, but Jason laid next to you and stared up at the ceiling. Little did you know, but guilt started to weigh heavily on him. At the same time, Jason was smiling inside. He loved you, deep down he did, but now was not the time to say it out loud. But he had hoped you noticed it through that entire hour and a half.

He held you in his arms, and you laid your head on his chest. Jason too had scars like Dick, and you caught yourself tracing them. Quickly, you removed your hand from his chest. This wasn’t right. But your mind was fogged with the continued lust.

Jason was definitely more energetic during sex. Whereas Dick was sensual; they both were passionate, but Jason definitely knew how to make you scream.

Your mind was fighting back and forth with itself, but you were too drunk to listen to reason. When Jason had left yours and Dick’s bed, you laid there in the dark. You were no better than Dick. What you did was worse than being led on. You found comfort in another man’s arms— and it happened to be your boyfriend’s adopted brother.

Around 3AM, the bedroom door opened, and Dick walked into the room. He kicked off his shoes, and took off his shirt and pants before climbing into bed next to you.

When the bed dipped, you laid still so he wouldn’t know you were awake. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. If you’re awake, just listen. What I did to you back then— with Dawn, I’m sorry.” He said as he rubbed up and down your bare shoulder.

“I do love you. I really do. I’m just scared to mess up things with you. You are so good for me– too good. And I’m afraid to fuck up and you lose you forever.” He whispered before pressing another kiss to your ear.

He slowly wrapped his arm around your bare stomach, and you moved in closer to his arms.

• • •

It was 4:30 in the morning when Dick had finally fallen asleep. You quickly, but quietly got out of bed and went down to Jason’s bedroom. You didn’t bother to knock; you just opened the door and quickly stepped in.

Jason was standing at his window looking out. “You ready for round two?” He asked and he sauntered over to you, and his hands went to your face, bringing you in for another kiss.

You pulled away, “Jason, stop.”

He took a step back from you, and had a confused look on his face. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Look— what happened last night or tonight— can’t happen again.” You said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Jason’s hand went in the air, “Woah, woah. Am I hearing you right? You don’t want me? Because a few hours ago you were screaming my name and practically me to finish in you.” He said and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Jay, I’m with Dick. We were drunk and everything was and still is a blur. If Dick found out, he would murder you.” You say and Jason laughed.

“I’m willing to fight for you. I want you. I wouldn’t take you for granted, Y/N.” He said, and you shook your head.

“You’re younger than me. You’re 21, I’m 26. It should have never happened.” You say and Jason smirked.

“So? Dick is four years older than you. What does age have to do with any of this? Oh, right, it doesn’t.” He said and you leaned against the door.

“Look, please, Jason, this cannot happen again. All I ask is for you to not tell Dick. I’ll tell him when the time is right…. Just not right now.” You whisper with tears in your eyes.

Jason stared at you in silence for the longest time. “Whatever. Just—just leave, please. If anyone sees you, it’ll make things worse, so just go.” He said.

You tried to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but he pushed your hand away. “I’m sorry, Jason.” You say before walking out of his bedroom.

Jason stood at his bedroom door; angry and upset. He didn’t understand why you would want to stay with someone who didn’t know if they wanted you to be a permanent fixture in their life. He knew he wanted you; he knew your value and your worth. Why wouldn’t you choose him?

• • •

When you climbed back into bed, Dick was snoring. Tears stained your pillowcase. How did you end up hurting two people at once, when you were the only one hurting.

Regret and guilt filled your dreams. Being a human was hard, but being a hurt human, who ended up hurting two people you loved, made life even harder and more complicated. You didn’t know who to worry about.

Yourself—who was at the mercy of a double edged blade. Dick— who would never forgive you for sleeping with his “replacement”, and possibly murdering Jason. And finally Jason— who had a short fuse and would more than likely try to make things worse.

What the hell were you going to do?

——-

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought. I was picturing Matthew Daddario as Jason, and Brenton Thwaites as Dick, and Minka Kelly as Dawn.

THIS WAS NOT PROOFREAD. I just skimmed through it.

Let me know what you thought in the comments!

[clairedaring]

if you're hoping for joe 2.0 to get his 'revenge' in the second half of the series...

warning: mild novel spoilers (but also not really because i'm just discussing things that have been shown in the trailer)

i really think you should either drop the series or give up the hopes of a satisfying makjang revenge storyline in my stand-in instead of setting yourself up for disappointment. because that simply isn't the story that my stand-in is trying to tell.

so what is my stand-in about really?

well, for me i think its a romance tragicomedy drama about an idiotic scum male lead losing the person he loves most because of his own arrogance and refusal to listen to his heart and the series of unfortunate events that happened consequently for our protagonist who was living a peaceful and quiet life as a stunt actor before the scum male lead entered his life.

joe 2.0 and his approach to life

i've mentioned it twice now that one of my favorite traits of joe/zhou xiang is that kindness in his strength where even if he can be choose to be mean or cruel, he simply doesn't because he has such a soft heart and he's weak to see others in pain (joe is my fellow enfp people pleaser okay) (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ which is why even in his 2.0 life, you won't get to see joe turning 180 degree and going around to hurt everyone who's ever hurt him like it's some makjang kdrama.

and while that seems like it could be fun, i think the reason why i loved professional body double (my stand-in novel) so much in the first place is because that very distinction between joe and other rebirth/second chance at life protagonists that you often see in revenge kdramas/cdramas/thai lakorns.

logically, if my stand-in was a 24-episode one31 lakorn/thai soap opera, joe would be full of hatred and burning rage after his rebirth and started his intricated revenge plot while still falling in love with ming whom he should hate the most.

and yet he isn't (or at least it seems to me so far).

if you read the lyrics 'Die For You' - the opening ost of my stand-in, i think you can have a good guess of what the second half of the story will be like.

Even running away to death can't help. If my heart had chosen to stop at you I'll have to surrender with the confusion I feel. To come back to the same old place. Even if I have to die, disappear and then be reborn But the love is still buried deep inside, even if it's been shattered into pieces Even if my life ends, I can't stop my heart from calling out to you Because this whole body, life, spirit It is yours only, for all eternity.

and even from the trailer of my stand-in, you can tell that joe 2.0 has a lot of internal conflicting feelings about whether he could trust ming again after the betrayal he faced in his 1.0 life. and i feel like essentially the journey of ming proving to joe 2.0 that he really does love joe is very much the central plot in the second half part of the story.

so i'd like to take this part to note how well the series has done to adapt the novel so far. i think a good adapted change they've made is this early realization of feelings for ming in the joe 1.0 timeline. i do think the novel made him realized his feelings a little bit later but my stand-in did well to show within ep.3 what happiness could have looked like for joe 1.0 and ming and i think it rationalizes a bit more more for why joe 2.0 would still have feelings for ming 'buried deep inside' even when he's been badly hurt the first time around. and reading the story i've always found it interesting that they took this route to focus on the re-entangled complex relationship between mingjoe rather than going for a joe-centric revenge makjang plot (i swear if this was your typical thai lakorn, joe would seduce ming while planning to take down his whole family or something).

of course, that's not to dismiss that there's a lot of character growth for joe in the second half of the story, especially in his building of self-confidence, self-worth, the ability to put himself first and the fight for his own happiness above all. but like i've mentioned above, his growth journey is not at the expense of a drastic personality change in regards to the kind hearted joe we saw in his 1.0 life. instead, we get kind hearted joe 2.0 who quickly adapts to his new life and attempts to start anew while conflicted feelings resurface for him as he is pulled back into the relationships he once had.

all in all, my stand-in is still at the heart of it, a love story. perhaps, a dark romance as my friend @dragonsandphoenix would call it, but a romance nonetheless. i think that is what also makes professional body double such a compelling read too, because the progression in the feelings and complex emotions of these characters are so tightly written that it's convincing enough for me (maybe not for others though) to believe that yan ming xiu has/will always love zhou xiang (to the point ymx would probably eliminate anyone else who dared to steal zx from him). obsessive love? yes. do they both need therapy? probably. yet i still believe in their happy ending? of course.

final note/disclaimer: then again, this is just my PERSONAL opinions based on the novel and up til 3 episodes of my stand-in (which seems to be very faithful to the novel so far), who knows maybe they can anger novel fans and adapt it completely differently later on (something i sure hope they don't but we'll seeeee) ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

[charnelhouse]

I feel like Joel would be best at ‘you almost got yourself killed and I’m so angry at you but I love you also’ fucking

A/N: Joel Miller x F!Reader. Lack of CPR knowledge. Smut. Hypothermia. I used this gif bc he looks really fucking hot ok

Joel dreams of you often. He doesn’t tell you this, refuses to admit it as if the confession of dreams would somehow weaken his defenses. In the foggy, wooly vortex of sleep, he sees you:

Dead.

Broken.

Covered in spores. 

It irritates him. He has learned the brutal, ragged details of loss and having nightmares about the girl he’s fucking is not good. It means that some tiny unconscious piece of him fears for you-to lose you would sting. It is a chip in his armor. A weakness. 

He lies in his makeshift bed as he stares up at a ceiling speckled with moss and water damage. You’re curled against him, bare ass snug against his thigh. He takes deep pulls from a bottle of dust and whiskey. Between his legs, his cock is soft and damp from fucking you into the mattress. His back smarts from your nails and he doesn’t understand how their sex is so aggressive and yet he finds you in his head afterward. He’s fucked countless people. Never cared. It’s his psyche that worries about you when it should be flat, pulse-less and numb in the dark. 

His gaze slides to you sleeping beside him. Your face is buried in the sweatshirt serving as a pillow, your mouth parted around steady, even breathing. Swamped in moonlight, you’re beautiful—the kind of beauty that would get you killed or worse out there. That’s why I keep, right? Some leftover smugness at having someone like you with someone like me?

He leans over your body, the bottle swishing its dregs of old whisky. With gentle fingers, he maneuvers your hair away from your face, he touches your lower lip before abruptly pulling away. 

Not good. 

***

Being who he is, Joel keeps fucking you. He tries to be a little meaner—colder—but he’s not man enough to release you in order to find someone less complicated to warm his bed.  

You stick by him like a barnacle. A very pearly one. Smooth and shiny. 

“We have things to do,” he declares one morning, the slip of red dawn drifting over your skin from the narrow window. 

“Alright,” you murmur as you roll out of bed and shove on your jeans. 

You don’t complain or whine, which he hates. He’d love for you to backtalk him. He’d die for an ounce of sass or bitchiness, but you’re too fucking smart for that. You know what it costs. You know that he’ll use it against you and then chastise you for wastin’ time because this is what they do now. This is how the world works. 

Someone took something from us and I intend to get it back.

Us. 

When did it become us? 

Fuck.

***

They follow the road at the edge of the forest. The woods stink of loam–sweet and dark. The first snow has powdered the ground.

The cold is wicked, binding his limbs together and reminding him of his age. He’s not really that old. It’s only been eight years since the outbreak (his birthday). 

“I hate winter,” you grumble, the subtle evidence of your frustration that you’ve been forced out here to begin with. Most of the time, he thinks he should keep you at his place when he runs these missions, but he’s decided that you’re safer with him. He doesn’t miss the way the creepy old fucks look at you and there’s no such thing as locks. Not now. Not here.

“Fuck!” you yelp and Joel hears your boots skid, knee cracking on asphalt. “Shit. Shitt.”

“C’mon,” he grunts, not even looking. He doesn’t want to. He thinks that if he sees you in pain, he’ll go to you.

You curse a few more times before your footsteps sound again.

You catch up to him with alarming speed, casting him a violent glare. “What if I’d broken something?”

“I’d come back for you after I handle the Waltons.”

“Sure,” you reply flatly. “Probably drag me back home by my ankle.”

His lips twitch. They’re making good time, maneuvering rapidly through the dense woods toward the lake. His adrenaline is spiking, his fingers curling as he prepares himself for the inevitable fight. “Hardly, sweetheart,” he replies. “I’d wrap a rope around your waist—pull you that way.”

“Cruel.”

“You’ve always known that, darlin’.”

“You’re–”

He freezes and then abruptly grabs you before pulling you against a tree. One of the Waltons is outside their cabin, chopping wood. Behind him, the smoke puffs from the chimney. Black-gray against the too-blue sky. 

“We wait until he goes inside,” he whispers against your ear. You’re bleeding-hot and his hand is secured right under your breast. Surprisingly, your heart pulses at an easy rhythm. You aren’t scared or nervous. You’re calm as can be and really that’s probably why he keeps you around.

And maybe the sex. 

***

It’s fucked. The whole damn thing. 

Joel is covered in blood, two fingers definitely broken. The man on top of him has him in a chokehold and he’s shoving back against him, trying to find some leverage to flip him over. 

He hasn’t heard you for a minute and when he lifts his head, he sees one of the Walton boys—the greasy, blonde one—pinning you against the dock. You’re too far away from Joel as he watches you kick and spit like a feral cat. 

You don’t call for him. You don’t scream his name or beg him for help and it’s because you’re too fucking proud and you probably think he’d get fucking mad at you or something, which isn’t the case. 

So, he shouts your name. Why? He doesn’t know. It bursts out of him as the head Walton punches him in the ribs.

“Ss’fine,” you yell back and then the sun catches the silver blade of your pocket knife. It flashes once before disappearing and the blonde Walton squeals.

Thatta girl, he thinks. The expression feels tender—sweet with pride and he’s so caught up in watching you stab the kid that he doesn’t realize what’s going on until it’s too late. 

The blonde snags your jacket and rolls you both into the frigid lake. 

Joel doesn’t think. He may have roared or bellowed, but he wouldn’t know. He can’t recall. Instead, he plants his hands and snaps his head back into his attacker’s nose. It cracks. Splatters. He feels heat on his scalp and in his hair. The weight on him is gone and he twists, finding his knife a few feet away in the snow. He snatches the handle, flips it and plunges the blade forward. It goes through the guy’s chest—finds bone. He rips it back and does it again. A third time in a more vulnerable spot beneath the bastard’s jaw. There’s blood on his face, but he can’t worry about that now.

He runs to the lake. 

***

“C’mon, girl,” he whispers frantically as he performs CPR. Your lips are cold as a fish belly. Your lashes wet and stuck together in clumps. He presses against your chest so hard that he worries he’ll break a rib. 

You weren’t even under that long.

He pumps and then pinches your nose and breathes into your mouth. C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. 

You twitch. Yes. You choke. Better.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he urges.

Your eyes fly open as you sputter, coughing up icy lake water that dampens Joel’s jeans. Relieved, he sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you from moving too quickly. His fingers have begun to smart, the knuckles swelling to purple.

He’s not sure what to say as you blink up at him—incredulous and a little frightened. WIthout thinking, he darts down and kisses you hard. It might not even be considered a kiss. Just an angry collision of teeth and a hint of tongue. He tries to warm your mouth with his own before pulling away. He didn’t intend to do that.

“Joel?” you rasp, lids drooping heavily.

“You almost died,” he states in a flat voice. Should he comfort you? Reassure you that you’re fine? He’s not sure how to do that. He’d done it before with Sarah, but–

He shudders, stuffing that thought somewhere he’ll not touch.

“J-Joel.” Your teeth are chattering in your mouth. Your eyes slightly unfocused. “Mm cold.”

“Well,” he replies matter-of-factly. “We can go in the cabin and figure that out.”

He says this like you couldn’t potentially die of hypothermia. 

***

Inside the house, a fire still burns. It’s orange-yellow as a Texas peach and his mouth instinctively waters. He hasn’t had fresh fruit in a long ass time. 

Your fingers are curled into his shirt, your cheek pressed flat to his chest. You’re freezing—stiff and unyielding as a corpse. He places you on the rug in front of the fire before scouring the house for blankets and sheets. When he finds them, he makes a nest on the floor and then crouches down behind you to rub your shoulders. 

It doesn’t seem to do much because you’re still trembling. Your hair is soaked and your clothes–

Jesus. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“Lift your arms,” he murmurs, but you keep on shaking, seemingly unable to move them. He does it for you. He gets your jeans off, mindful of the areas where bruises will begin to form. “Did he hurt you?”

“S’nothing-g bad.” Your words are staggering into each other like you’re drunk. Not an ideal sign.

He scrubs a hand over his face, his beard. He exhales sharply as he watches you stammer and ripple like a ribbon in the wind. 

He’s on his knees in front of you—staring like a damn fool. “What do you need?”

Your hands fumble in the blankets, your expression puzzled. Shit. What are the symptoms of hypothermia? Confusion? Exhaustion?

He says your name softly and you make a broken noise that startles him.

He doesn’t know how to provide you reassurance. He understands actions. He understands pleasure. Isn’t the best way to heat someone up through skin contact?

He wrenches his jacket off before finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it over his head . He unbuckles his belt, shimmies out of his pants. You stare up at him, your eyes glassy and red. 

“Skin to skin,” he explains and when he opens his arms, you fall into them. You press yourself against him, curling your cold body inward as he attempts to cover you with his own. He strokes your arms, legs and waist. He maneuvers you around so that he can press his front to your torso. He grips your thigh and hauls it over his hip before pulling the musty blankets over them. He doesn’t want to think about how unwashed they probably are, but they don’t have a choice. 

He settles as you relax against him. Your heart pounds a brush faster than before. Good. 

“Rest,” he instructs. “You’re okay.”

It’s the best he can do.

***

It takes a few hours for you to return to yourself. You pull away so you can stare up at him. He tips his chin to hold your gaze, his hand finds your cheek. “You almost died,” he says and, suddenly, he thinks of the dreams he’s had. He thinks of you gone from him, vanishing into the dark where he can’t find you. 

He’d saved you today, but the next time? Surely, there would be a next time and—

“Thank you.” You lean into his touch, nuzzling your nose into the creases of his palm. Not as distressed as he would like.

“You almost died,” he repeats. “I could fucking kill you.”

Your eyes widen. “Why?”

“It was a stupid move.”

You frown. “Was there another option I had?”

“You could’ve not come with me.”

Your tongue darts across your lower lip as you lift an eyebrow. “Ah–so really this is about you.”

Of course it damn well is. It’s always him. He can’t afford you getting yourself stabbed or beaten or drowned.  

“I could kill you,” he growls as he grips your hips and flips you on your back, eliciting a yelp from your lungs. He wedges himself between your thighs, sliding his mouth over your puckered nipple and then your belly. 

You wiggle, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist. 

He kisses the scar beneath your ribs and then the top of your cunt. He licks the warm crease between your folds just to tease you before he climbs back up.

He plants his arms on either side of your head as he bears his weight above your body. He’s hard, his cock full and bobbing against his belly. He feels your small hand drift over his hip, the wiry hairs at his groin before it wraps firmly around his shaft. It jumps in your hand, desperate for you in a way he doesn’t mean to show.

“You can kill me,” you whisper and he drops his head to capture your lips. He thrusts his tongue into your mouth, slipping it behind your teeth. It’s a wet kiss–dirty and panicked and i fucking hate you so much because it’s so damn obvious that i don’t. You give him an experimental stroke, thumb pressing into the head. He grunts, jerking forward. 

“I want to feel you,” he confesses and it’s the most honest thing he can say here. Not i don’t want to see you dead ever. Not i really care about you. 

Just feel. 

You smile sweetly before guiding him into the molten suction of your pussy. It takes nothing for him to claim you. He sinks inside, straight to the hilt. He shoves his hips forward so that you’re forced to take all of him. Even when he’s buried balls deep, he leans on his arms, one hand clasping the top of your skull so he can push further. Your nails bite into his ass. You arch.

“Fuck,” you rasp, breath hitching. “Fuck–oh my god.”

They’re sealed together. Breasts crushed to his chest. Stomachs flattened. He uses his thighs to spread legs wider. He pins you there, enjoying the way your heart snaps against your ribs as if it could buffer his own.

“Thatta girl,” he coaxes, managing to plunge deeper. Something low vibrates in his throat. Something half-human. He can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the scent and feel of you, and so he sits aback on his heels, grips your knees and forces them against your tits. “You gonna take it for me?”

Your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. “Yes.” 

Not loud enough. He spanks you between your legs, right against the tender flesh wrapped around his cock. It hurts both of them. You whine and reach for him. Yes. Yes. Yes. Joel. Please. 

He eases himself out to the tip before driving forward. The force knocks you up the floor, causing your back to scrape against the wooly blankets. Another sharp thrust that punches a gasp from your throat. You shut your eyes, holding your legs open for him as he continues. It’s rough in its own way. Not the worst he’s done, but his strokes are deliberate and powerful. He fucks you hard enough that he can hear it. The slick noises that accompany every stab of his cock.

He has half a mind to say what he’s trying to through sex. When he’s nearing the end, he lowers himself over you, broken fingers pinching your chin. The pain in his hand welcome, adding a bite to the act itself. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you open your eyes. He fucks you and fucks you and every slam of his hips makes your lashes flutter. “Look, darlin’.”

“What?” you hiss because he’s taunting you –holding you firmly over the edge and shit–he loves that about you. When push comes to shove, you’ll make it known when you’re pissed. He loves the fact that you never screamed for him as you tried to save yourself. He hates it and loves it and he’s really fucked up. 

He swallows hard before pressing their foreheads together. “You won’t do that again,” he warns.

“Do what?”

Another perfunctory snap of his cock.

“Fuck–Joel.”

You’re shuddering in his arms, walls spasming around him. You’re one screaming nerve of sensation. You almost died. 

“You won’t do it.”

You say nothing. Instead, you nod as you tighten around him, heels digging into his lower back. He’s certain you know what he means. He just didn’t want to say it out loud.