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#( still alive just - going through the motions! )
cre8inghavoc · 1 day
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What are friends for?
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PT. 13
Status: ongoing!!
Updates: no set date.
WC: 2050
Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader
Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes, SMAU (not always), smut, violence
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Recap:
Megumi rushes over to you, his heart pounding with fear and desperation as he kneels beside you, gathering you into his arms. "Fuck… Y/n, wake up! WAKE UP, please," he pleads, his voice trembling with emotion. Tears well up in his eyes as he gazes down at your still form, his hands gently stroking your cheek.
"Please, angel…" he whispers, his voice choked with emotion, as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
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Not a minute later, Satoru Gojo storms in, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. But his eyes seek out Megumi first, and a pang of sorrow grips him as he sees Megumi's tear-filled gaze. Then, out of the nowhere, Haruta's laughter fills the air.
"Aw, look who's just lost his girl! What's your move now, tough guy? Gonna kill me? Heh, you wouldn't dare." Haruta mocks while still being pinned down by Inumaki and Itadori. Gojo feels his blood boil at the heartlessness of it all. Megumi's pain cuts deep, but Haruta's callous words strike a nerve.
In a swift motion, Gojo strides towards Haruta, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe he won't. But I'll make sure you regret every word," he retorts. Haruta's grin fades as Gojo effortlessly lifts him with one hand, a silent cue for everyone to clear out before things escalate further.
Without any hesitation, Megumi picks you up in his arms, rushing you out of the building. The others follow right behind, tears welling in their eyes as they take in the sight of you. Your pale, bruised face serves as a painful reminder of their inability to shield you from harm, weighing heavily on Megumi's conscience.
As Itadori slides into the driver's seat and ignites the engine, Inumaki's strained voice breaks through, his words choked with emotion. "The nearest hospital's about five minutes away. Take a right at the stop sign and keep going straight," he manages to say, tears glistening in his eyes.
Amidst the flurry of voices filling the car, Megumi finds himself unable to grasp any of the words being exchanged. They blur into a distant murmur, overshadowed by the weight of the person cradled in his arms. Your limp form rests against him, and he can't help but cling to the hope that you're still alive, still fighting. He knows you well, knows your resilience. You're not one to give up easily; you're strong... the strongest person he's ever met. As the car speeds towards the hospital, Megumi clings to that belief, willing you to hold on, to defy the odds once again.
As Megumi's fingers tenderly graze over the bruises and cuts marred on your face, his voice trembles with emotion. "Please, y/n, fight. Fight for me, for us," he whispers, his plea a desperate prayer in the chaos of the moment. His heart clenches with every visible mark on your skin, each one a painful reminder of the ordeal you've endured.
Before he knows it, the car screeches to a halt at the hospital entrance, snapping Megumi out of his silent plea. With urgency fueling her voice, Maki rushes forward, her words a frantic plea for help. "Please, she's been drugged! Our friend needs help, now!" she shouts, her voice echoing through the bustling emergency room.
Still holding you in his arms, Megumi remains rooted to the spot until the medical team rushes in to take over.
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Inside the hospital room, tension hung thick in the air as doctors and nurses worked tirelessly to stabilize you. The sterile scent of disinfectant filled the room, mingling with the urgency of their efforts.
"We need to stabilize her, now! She's been injected with a heavy dose of fentanyl, 2mg," one of the doctors yelled, urgency lacing every word.
"Reverse the overdose, stat!"
"Come on, we need to push more naloxone. Keep monitoring her vitals," her voice edged with determination as she directed the team.
Nurses rushed to fetch additional supplies while others adjusted the settings on the monitors, their movements precise and purposeful. The beeping of the machines was a constant reminder of the gravity of the situation.
"We're losing her! We need to act fast," another doctor exclaimed, his voice tinged with desperation as he administered another dose of medication.
Megumi, Nobara, Yuta, Itadori, Maki, and Inumaki stood just beyond the door, their hearts pounding in their chests as they listened to the frantic activity inside. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them like a heavy burden.
A glimmer of hope emerged as the monitors began to beep more steadily, their rhythmic cadence a welcome reassurance in the tense atmosphere.
"Her vitals are stabilizing," a nurse announced, her voice cutting through the tension like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
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As the tension mounted, one of the doctors emerged from the room, her expression grave. Megumi's heart leaped into his throat as he stepped forward, his voice trembling with urgency. "How is she? Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his eyes pleading for reassurance.
The doctor's gaze softened as she met Megumi's desperate gaze. "She was injected with 2mg of fentanyl," she explained, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "But we managed to stabilize her by administering naloxone to reverse the effects of the opioid. She's okay now."
Relief flooded through all of your friends as they absorbed the doctor's words. Gratitude welled up within them as they all nodded, a sense of overwhelming gratitude washing over them. "Thank you," Megumi murmured, his voice choked with emotion.
With a shaky exhale, Megumi leaned back against the wall, his legs feeling weak with relief. Beside him, Itadori and the others let out sighs of relief, their tense expressions softening as hope began to bloom in their hearts.
"It's gonna be okay, man," Itadori said, clapping Megumi on the shoulder with a reassuring smile. "She's a fighter, just like you said."
Megumi nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, she is," he replied, his voice filled with determination.
As they waited for further updates, the minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the door to the room opened once more, and a nurse stepped out with a small smile on her face. "She's asking for you," she said, her voice gentle.
Without hesitation, Megumi pushed off from the wall and made his way into the room.
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FRIENDS POV:
As Megumi rushed into the room to see you, the nurse's attention was drawn to his hurried arrival. With a gentle smile, she turned to the rest of the group and asked, "Her boyfriend?"
"Kind of, but not exactly," Itadori hesitated before responding.
"No, not officially," Maki clarified.
Yuta chimed in, "Well, they say they're friends, but it's not a typical friendship."
The nurse's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise at the varied responses from your friends.
"I've known Megumi for like forever, and I mean NEVER seen him act like this with anyone. Not even us?" Nobara exclaimed with emphasis. "He's like a 'cold-hearted' emo boy, but he's not exactly emo? Not goth emo at least, he just gives off these dark, moody emo vibes."
Maki gently interjected, placing a hand on Nobara's to calm her enthusiasm. "Alright, babe, I think she gets it…"
The unexpected honesty of Nobara's response sent waves of laughter rippling through the group. They all chuckled, caught off guard by her candid observation.
"What? It's true!" She states.
"I see," she replied, her tone tinged with amusement. "Well, whatever their relationship, it's clear he cares deeply for her."
"They're basically in love with each other they just won't admit it... not even to themselves." Inumaki says.
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His heart soaring with relief at the sight of you awake and alert, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.
"Hey. I'm here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he approached your bedside, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face.
You managed a weak smile, your fingers curling around his hand with a strength born of determination. "I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Megumi shook his head, "You have nothing to apologize for," he insisted, his voice firm with conviction. "All that matters is that you're okay."
But as he looked into your eyes, the weight of his own guilt pressed down on him like a heavy burden. "I'm the one who's sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I let you get hurt... I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
His confession hung heavy in the air, the weight of his remorse palpable between you. For Megumi, the thought of you in pain was almost unbearable, each bruise and cut a painful reminder of his perceived failure.
"Please, Megumi, don't blame yourself," you pleaded, your voice soft with regret. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I made a foolish decision, following you when I shouldn't have. I should've stayed out of it… but I didn't, and now… here we are. I don't even know how Haruta managed to escape from your dad…" Your words faltered briefly before you corrected yourself, "I mean… Toji, sorry."
His expression softened with empathy as he listened to your words, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "You weren't being stupid," he insisted, his voice gentle but firm. "You were just trying to help. I can't fault you for that."
"But then I yelled at you and accused you of shit without knowing the full story behind it"
Megumi's heart clenched at the pain in your voice, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin as he pulled you closer. "It's okay, y/n," he murmured softly, his voice filled with understanding. "You were just trying to protect me. I understand."
"But then I got mad at you, made it seem like you're the reason Haruta became the way he was… but he was planning on killing me all this time… but I blamed it on you! Oh my god, I'm so stupid. If I just stayed in your car that time, none of this would've happened. I wouldn't have worried you, I wouldn't have worried my friends…" You trailed off, your words becoming increasingly frantic as your breathing quickened, teetering on the edge of an anxiety attack.
Before you could spiral further, Megumi's lips pressed gently against yours, silencing your worries with a tender kiss.
"What was that for?" you asked, feigning innocence.
"To shut you up," he replied teasingly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You placed a hand over your heart in mock offense. "Ouch," you pretended to gasp, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips.
His expression softened, his gaze locking with yours. "And because I missed you…" he confessed, his voice soft and sincere.
Your smile widened at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "I'm sorry…" you began, your voice filled with genuine remorse.
"You're here now… with me… that's what matters," he interjected, his words washing away any lingering doubts or worries.
Your friends burst into the room, their energy filling the space with warmth and laughter, Megumi quickly withdrew his hand from yours, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"Looks like Megumi's hogging you from us!" Nobara exclaimed with a playful smirk, nudging Megumi in the side as she joined the group.
"We're so happy you're okay, y/n," Maki said, her voice soft with relief as she made her way to your bedside, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friends gathered around you, their concern and love palpable in the air. Despite everything that had happened, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for their unwavering support.
"We were so worried about you, y/n!" Itadori exclaimed, wrapping you in a tight hug.
Yuta's gentle smile warmed your heart as he leaned in closer, his hand resting reassuringly on your arm. "We're just glad you're safe," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"How long will you be staying in the hospital?" Inumaki asks, his voice soft but filled with genuine worry.
You glanced at the nurse, who had been quietly observing the group, before turning back to your friends with a small smile. "I'm not sure yet," you admitted, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "But hopefully not too long."
Inumaki nodded, his expression thoughtful as he processed your response. "We'll be here for you, no matter what," he assured you, his words a silent promise of unwavering support.
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NO this isn't the end i still have more chapters after this (cant give an exact number and say how many but i will say were about 70% done? maybe....???)
i wanted this chapter to be all happy and sweet instead of dark....
i know this is short buttttt bare with me
anyways i hope you guy enjoyed this chapter :)
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TAGLIST <3
@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo @hazedganyu @skunabby
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atmothart · 1 year
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Wouldn't lizard fashion be something like spikes and scales and a frilled lizard collar?
Like so?
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(Bonus art under the cut)
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resurgencee · 7 months
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Takes a bite out of a lemon while remaining expressionless.
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morganski-19 · 1 month
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part 1
The next day, there’s someone new to visit Steve. Making Wayne stop in his tracks on his third coffee run. The rumors were true, the Chief isn’t as dead as he was a year ago. Just lost what looks to be half his body weight and all of his hair. Looking gaunt and malnourished. 
But he’s alive. That has to count for something.
Wayne wishes the Chief was there to see him. Give him the key to unlock the chain around Eddie’s wrist. So he’d be able to wake up to a clean slate. That his record will be clear and he won’t get carted off to jail as soon as he’s stable. So Wayne will be able to bring him home. 
Once he has a home to go to. Not just a shitty hotel room that costs more than it should for a night. But it’s right next to the hospital, so Wayne can be here in five minutes if something happens. When his boy wakes up. He has to wake up. 
It’s been five days since Eddie was brought in. Twelve since Wayne saw him last. All he wants is to hear his obnoxiously loud music blaring down the hall while he’s trying to sleep. Or the laughter that could make him smile even when he didn’t want to. Wayne wants his Eddie back, the boy he watched grow all of these years. He’s not ready for the day Eddie wakes up and the light is gone from his eyes. 
Because it will be. Wayne’s seen enough people come back from combat a completely different person. With the scars that are sewn into Eddie’s torso, up his neck, one on his cheek. There’s no doubt that he’s been through something unimaginable. Life changing. 
As much as Wayne wants Eddie to wake up. He’s not ready for him to wake up changed. 
There’s a knock on the hospital door before it opens. Wayne’s expecting a nurse to check Eddie’s vitals, tell him the same shit they have for days. That all is good and he’s progressing. It should be any day now that he wakes up. If the damage to his body wasn’t too much for him. Those words of hope lack their meaning now. 
But instead of a nurse walking through the door, it’s the Chief. 
“Can I sit?” He motions to the chair next to Wayne.
“I suppose.”
The Chief sits next to Wayne, not looking at him. “I hear he’s been in a coma for a few days now.”
Wayne nods, not much in the mood for talking. Civilly at least. Push the right button and the volcano is about to burst. 
“I’ve known a few people who’ve been in medically induced ones like this. They all wake up in the end.”
“I’d like for the cuffs to be off his wrist when he does,” Wayne snaps. Knowing that the Chief has the key to unlock them. “That way he can recover as an innocent man. Like he should.”
The Chief takes a deep breath. “I’m not fully reinstated yet. I don’t have the authority to do anything about that. Even if-”
“Even if what?” Wayne looks at the Chief. Anger filled his voice. “Even if he’s innocent. I know he’s innocent. My boy, my boy could barely hurt a fly, let alone a living, breathing person. He was kinder than people gave him credit for. This town gave him so much shit that he didn’t deserve. Still is. When I’m afraid he might never wake up the same again. So I’d like the cuffs off, so he knows that some part of this town sees him as something other than a villain.”
Finally looking Wayne in the eyes, the Chief takes a second to think. Nodding his head in thought. “You smoke?”
Wayne scoffs. “That really what you're thinking of right now?”
“Answer the question.” Something about the Chief makes Wayne believe there’s more to his words. 
“I do.”
“Great,” he stands, waiting for Wayne at the door. “Come on, let’s go.”
Wayne gets up, mainly because he doesn’t really have a choice but also because he wants to see where this is going. They pass Harrington in the hall, talking to someone on the phone. 
“Yeah, I’m free tomorrow. Can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. No don’t do that. Cause I don’t think it’s time to throw a party yet, not while.” He makes brief eye contact with Wayne as they walk by. Before turning away. “Just won’t feel right without all of us.”
Wayne has no clue who he’s talking about, but it’s probably not Eddie. Hopes it isn’t. He still doesn’t know how he feels about this kid, even if he knows Eddie’s innocent. Doesn’t forgive him from his past, if rumors are true. And knowing who his dad is, Wayne wouldn’t be surprised if they all were true. 
The Chief leads him to the side of the hospital, where there’s no foot traffic. No one around to hear. Wayne suddenly understands what this might all be about. Something not for wandering ears. 
“What I say does not leave this conversation,” he starts, handing Wayne a cigarette. Lighting his own before passing the lighter to Wayne. “Got it?”
Wayne nods. 
“I know Eddie’s innocent. But there’s some weird shit that was happening around then that I cannot tell you about it. All you need to know is that the Feds are involved, and they’re looking for a fall guy. And I’m trying my hardest to make sure that the fall guy isn’t your nephew. So while it might not seem like it, some progress is being made. Your nephew will be a free man when he wakes up. I give you my word on that.”
“I don’t even know how to start processing what you just said.” Wayne takes a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke blow out into the alleyway. 
The Chief laughs. “That was all of us the first time this happened. I’d say it gets easier but it really doesn’t.”
“The first time?”
“There’s a lot more to this town than meets the eye.”
“How do I know your word is any good?”
The Chief considers this for a moment. “You don’t really. But who else do you know who can fix this?”
With that, the Chief nods goodbye and heads to the parking lot. Leaving Wayne with more questions than answers, and a little flame of hope he’s wishing won’t get put out.
part 3
I don't know how many parts this will be but I do know they will be posted sporadically whenever I have time to write them. So, no promises of consistency.
also, tag list. I tagged anyone who asked/seemed interested in a part two. please let me know if you would like to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar
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gigabyte-flare · 1 year
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Insatiable (Part 1)
Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.
Word Count: 2k
Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.
A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee
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“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”
You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.
Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.
Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in. 
Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”
Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.
You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”
You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.
“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”
“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.
“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak. 
“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”
His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.
“How are you feeling, Leon?”
Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”
“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice. 
You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman. 
“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”
“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”
He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”
“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”
“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”
You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”
“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.
Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you. 
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“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”
“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk. 
“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”
“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.
“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”
“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”
“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”
The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.
“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”
“Which is…?”
Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”
“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”
“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”
You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”
“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you. 
You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.
“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.
You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.
“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”
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How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?
But then you came, awakening something in him.
Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.
God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.
You came back to me, baby, where you belong…
“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder. 
With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.
Curse these fucking chains…
“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.
“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.
He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”
Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”
You take a deep breath, ��if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”
His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.
You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him. 
“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”
Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”
“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”
“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”
“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.
“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”
“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.
“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”
Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.
“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.
You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.
“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.
You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.
“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”
Part 2
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gojoux · 3 months
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『 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 』
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· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader
· Summary: Gojo is absolutely enamoured by you, even from the smallest thing you do, he’s always there to compliment you.
· CW: 5.2k // Fluff. Slight hurt/comfort. A bit suggestive. Being Gojo’s girlfriend means having a whipped boyfriend.
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When you’re training by yourself.
You took a deep breath as you adopted your fighting stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised and ready. Focusing your cursed energy to enhance your physical prowess, you began your training regimen, flowing through the intricate movements you had practiced countless times before. Your body twisted and turned gracefully as you performed each strike and kick with perfect form, having honed your skills through years of diligent work.
Sweat dripped down your forehead as you moved through the rigorous routine, not allowing yourself to slow down. With each punch, you visualize an enemy being struck down. With each kick, you imagined yourself growing stronger and more agile. The exertion left your muscles burning, but you pushed through, determined to improve.
After finishing the last set, you finally allowed yourself a moment of rest, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A sense of satisfaction washed over you at having completed such an intense workout. You knew all that effort was making you a better sorcerer.
“Look at you go,” a whistle was heard behind you.
You turned to see Gojo walking up, an admiring grin on his face. Even with his eyes obscured, you could tell he was looking you over appreciatively.
“Thanks,” you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Just trying to stay in shape.”
“You kidding? You’re in incredible shape!” he said. “The way you moved was like watching poetry in motion.”
You smiled, flattered by his high praise, and happy to have your efforts recognized. As one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers alive, compliments from Gojo meant a lot.
“I still have a long way to go before I’m anywhere near your level.”
“Of course,” he grins cheekily.
“But your dedication to training is really paying off, you know? Just look at how toned your arms are now,” he emphasized his point by gently grasping your arm, squeezing your bicep.
“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away.
He laughed playfully. “What? I can’t help but admire my girlfriend’s incredible physique.”
You shook your head in amusement. Only Gojo would be shameless enough to fawn so openly over your body. But his compliments, as ridiculous as they were, filled you with motivation. Knowing he was watching and supporting your efforts spurred you to work even harder.
“Alright, lover boy, as much as I’d love to hear more about how attractive you find my sweaty post-workout look, I need to get cleaned up.”
“Need someone to wash your back?” he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.
You shot him a pointed look.
“Kidding, kidding,” he said, raising his hands.
You gathered your things and started heading towards the showers. As expected, Gojo fell into step beside you, seemingly not done singing your praises yet.
“In all seriousness, you’re really good. I mean it,” he continued earnestly.
Warmth rushed through you with his heartfelt words. “Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “But honestly, it’s not anything extraordinary, stop complimenting me too much over that.”
“Heh, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied. “My girlfriend’s a total badass who’s only getting more incredible every day. What can I say, I’ve got an eye for talent,” he added with a cocky wink.
You laughed, giving him a light shove. “You’re too much.”
“And you love it,” he retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.
You leaned into him, smiling up at his handsome face. “Yeah, I really do.”
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When you’re on your mission.
The dark alley was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cramped passageway. Your footsteps were light and cautious as you scanned the area, senses on high alert. You were tracking a cursed spirit that had been terrorizing this neighborhood, attacking innocent civilians.
As a jujutsu sorcerer, it was your duty to stop threats like this.
Up ahead, you spotted your target—a grotesque, hulking creature with twisted features and elongated claws. It had a young woman pinned against the alley wall, ready to strike. With no time to lose, you leaped into action.
“Hey! Over here, ugly!” you shouted, firing off a blast of cursed energy to get its attention. The creature turned with an angry roar as you placed yourself between it and the cowering woman. Adopting a fighting stance, you are prepared to take it head-on.
The cursed spirit charged, swiping at you with ruthless force. But you were ready. With agile movements, you dodged and weaved, avoiding its attacks while looking for an opening. When you saw your chance, you struck—aiming your cursed technique at its chest sending it stumbling back.
Not letting up, you pressed your assault, pummeling the creature with your attacks. It tried to fight back but was no match for your superior speed and skill. With a final, devastating blow, you landed the finishing move, obliterating the cursed spirit in an explosion of energy.
Panting, you turned to check on the woman you had rescued. “Are you alright?” you asked gently to calm her down.
She stared at you with gratitude. “Th-thank you! You saved me!”
You smiled warmly, helping her to her feet. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
After escorting her from the alley, you headed off to report your completed mission, satisfied at having eliminated the threat and protected an innocent life.
As you walked, a familiar voice suddenly spoke up behind you.
“Great moves back there,” he grins, walking towards you with his hand in his pocket. Looks like he got it easy on his task.
You turned to see Gojo beaming at you proudly. “When I felt that burst of energy, I knew it had to be you kicking some cursed spirit booty. And I was right.”
You laughed at his dramatic phrasing. “All in a day’s work. I’m just glad I got there in time.”
“Let me guess, you finished earlier and spied on me ‘kicking cursed spirit’s booty’,” you crossed your arms playfully, earning a chuckle from him.
“Yeah, it was a good show.”
Gojo stepped closer, gazing down at you admiringly. “It’s also that compassion that makes you such an amazing sorcerer,” he said. “You’re always focused on protecting people, even at great risk to yourself.”
His tone turned a bit calmer. “Watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like that… it scares me sometimes.” He gently caressed your cheek. “But it’s also one of the things I love most about you. Your drive to help others.”
You placed your hand over his, touched by his heartfelt words. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep people safe. I just have to.”
He smiled. “I know. And you do it with such skill too. The way you took down that cursed spirit was awesome. Your technique control has gotten better.”
“High praise coming from the strongest sorcerer around.”
“I’m just being honest here. You would’ve given me a run for my money, I bet."
You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is and take me on sometime?” you challenged playfully.
A devious grin crossed his face. “Is that a date? You know I love any excuse to get handsy with you.”
You laughed, giving him a light shove. Even after a tiring day, he could always lift your spirits.
“Maybe later,” you said, taking his hand. “For now, how about lunch? Fighting cursed spirits really works up an appetite.”
“It’s a date then!” he instantly entwined his fingers with yours. As you walked off together, he added, “You take my breath away, you know that?”
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Aww, aren’t you my own personal hype man?” you teased.
“Always!” he declared with his usual wide grin.
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When you’re dressed up for a date.
“Satoru, can you come here for a second?” you called out from your bedroom.
“Be right there!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Gojo stepped into the doorway, a signature grin on his face. “What’s up?”
You turned to him with a shy smile. “I just finished getting ready for our date tonight. Wanted to get your opinion on the outfit before we head out.”
It was your anniversary, and Gojo was taking you somewhere nice. You had agonized over what to wear, trying on ten different dresses before finally settling on the dress you’re wearing right now with delicate jewelry and heels to complete the elegant look.
Gojo’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses as he took in your appearance. “Wow…” he breathed, staring openly. “You look… beautiful.”
Your face heats up at his praise. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely stunning,” he affirmed, moving closer. His hands came to rest on your waist, head tilting as if to see you better from all angles. “This dress is perfect on you. It hugs your body just right.”
One hand slid sensuously down your side to emphasize his point. You hold his hand still with flushed laughter. “Down. boy. Keep it PG for now,” you chided playfully.
He held up his hands in acquiescence, though the desire in his gaze was palpable. “PG. Got it. I’m just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend’s breathtaking beauty.”
You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but his compliments made your heart flutter.
“The way the fabric drapes over your body…” he continued to admire you, “It’s like each detail was designed to accentuate your natural assets.” His voice dropped an octave. “Truly mouthwatering.”
“Satoru!” You swat his chest this time from embarrassment.
He grinned unrepentantly. “What? Can you blame me for being so captivated by you? You’re a vision right now. I’ve got the hottest date in town tonight, that’s for sure.”
You smiled, mollified by his sincerity beneath the teasing remarks. No one could make you feel as special and desired as Gojo.
“Think you can control yourself through dinner at least?” You asked archly.
He laughed. “I make no promises. But I’ll do my best to keep public groping to a minimum,” he replied with a wink.
Taking your hand, he led you downstairs and out the door, ever the gentleman. As you slid into the car though, his composure momentarily slipped.
“You look unbelievable in that dress,” he blurted, eyeing you up and down. “The things I want to do…”
He trailed off with an exaggerated groan. You dissolved into laughter, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. Only Gojo could be so simultaneously sweet and shameless.
Dinner was an intimate, romantic affair. Gojo was on his best behavior, focused entirely on you. His compliments came often, praising everything from your smile to your witty banter. By dessert, you were practically glowing under his constant stream of adoration.
“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” He murmured, grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “Because you are dazzling, baby. I’m the luckiest guy here.”
You bite your lip, smile stretching wide. No matter how many times he said it, those words never got old.
The ride home was charged with anticipation. Gojo’s hands, so well behaved earlier, now roamed your body eagerly. Your pulse quickened as desire ignited.
Once inside, his control broke entirely. You found yourself pressed against the foyer wall, his mouth hot on your throat.
“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night,” he rasped into your skin. “This dress should be illegal… even the way you walk in it got me feeling hazy.”
You sighed blissfully as his lips and hands explored. When Gojo wanted you, he made sure you felt cherished, beautiful, and desired. It was intoxicating.
Later, lying enveloped in his arms, he nuzzled into your hair. “Have I mentioned you look sexy as hell in that dress?”
“Only about a hundred times tonight.”
“Well let’s make it a hundred and one,” he replied, rolling you beneath him to properly worship every tantalizing detail.
No matter the occasion, Gojo never failed to make you feel like a goddess. His passion and praise knew no bounds.
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When you failed your mission.
The cursed spirit’s claws tore through flesh and bone before you could react. The young boy’s scream pierced the air, then suddenly went silent as his broken body hit the ground. Shock rooted you in place for a critical moment before rage took over. With a cry, you unleashed the full force of your power, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant.
But it was too late. The child was gone, his sightless eyes accusing you of failure. Sinking to your knees, anguish crashed through you in waves. You were supposed to protect him. Instead, your hesitation had cost an innocent life.
By the time Gojo arrived, you were numb with grief. He assessed the situation swiftly before kneeling and enveloping you in his arms. You collapsed against his chest, finally releasing the tears you had been holding back.
He didn’t speak, just held you close and let you cry. There was no judgment in his embrace, only compassion. So you wept bitterly for the life lost, for your mistake, for the cruelty of this world.
When the torrent finally passed, Gojo gently wiped the moisture from your cheeks. “Talk to me,” he said simply.
Haltingly, you explained what happened. The guilt was a crushing weight on your heart.
“I should have been faster. I could have saved him,” you choked out.
Gojo gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me. This was not your fault.” His voice brooked no argument. “You didn’t hesitate from incompetence or cowardice. It was empathy. You saw a scared child and your first instinct was to protect, not attack. That compassion is what makes you an amazing sorcerer.”
You shook your head bitterly. “A lot of good it did him.”
“You can’t save everyone,” Gojo said sadly. “As much as we try, we can’t prevent every tragedy. What matters is that you care so deeply, that you refuse to harden your heart, even when it hurts this much.”
You wanted to believe him, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, a constant reminder of your failure.
Sensing your doubt, Gojo took your hands in his. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Don’t let this make you afraid to keep caring. There are so many people out there who need that compassion.”
He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “This pain… means your humanity is still intact. That’s something to be proud of.”
A sob caught in your throat as you clutched his uniform jacket, anchoring yourself in his steadfast strength. The grief was still raw and raging, but his words lit a faint glow in the dark. Not of absolution, but of hope. That you could keep fighting and caring, without losing yourself.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”
The next few days were filled with more tears, self-doubt and sleepless nights. But Gojo remained your constant companion, providing reassurance when the shadows loomed.
His praise never wavered. Each time you began slipping back into despair, he was there with an uplifting word.
Slowly, the light began to return to your eyes. Gojo’s unrelenting positivity and belief in you provided a lifeline to cling to. He reminded you of your own strength, even when you doubted it.
Not long after that day, Gojo took you out to dinner. Upon returning home, he presented you with a single white lily.
“This is to honor that boy’s memory,” he explained. “But also to show you that beautiful things can still grow, even from tragic circumstances.”
You accepted the flower, eyes stinging with bittersweet tears. Looking up at Gojo, you found no trace of pity there, only love.
“Thank you,” you whispered, for this gesture, and for everything he had done to see you through the darkness.
He kissed your forehead tenderly. “You never have to go through anything alone. I’m always here.”
Clutching the lily close, you rested your head against Gojo’s heart.
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When you’re happy.
You stared down at the official letter, reading the words over and over. You have been chosen by a revered sorcerer in Hokkaido for a mission that requires your skill. Better yet, you have always admired this sorcerer.
One in a million opportunity. It makes you feel special to have someone notice you to the point they requested for you because they need your skill. Just maybe, you’d have the opportunity to be trained by that sorcerer to improve yourself.
Hands shaking, you looked up at Gojo, seeing his face lit up with a brilliant smile. In an instant, you were swept off your feet as he spun you joyfully around the room. You clung to him, dizzy with euphoria.
When he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m such a proud boyfriend,” he said. “All that hard training paid off, huh?”
Happy tears pricked your eyes. Having Gojo’s wholehearted support and belief in your abilities meant everything.
You can’t help but pull him down into a fierce, grateful kiss. His arms immediately enveloped you, lips curving into a smile against your mouth. When you finally broke for air, foreheads touching, the depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away.
In the weeks that followed, Gojo went out of his way to celebrate your accomplishment at every opportunity.
There were bouquet deliveries to your door, with notes reading:
“To the future best jujutsu sorcerer!”
Gifts would arrive filled with your favorite treats:
“For my hardworking girlfriend who deserves something sweet!”
Even when you were curled up on the sofa, just spending a quiet night, he would randomly take your hand and announce:
“I’m the luckiest guy alive to be with you.”
His little displays of pride and support never failed to make you smile. Gojo genuinely reveled in your success as if it were his own. Your joy brought him joy, a sentiment you fully reciprocated.
On the morning you were to start the intensive program, Gojo made you a lavish breakfast in bed. As you ate, he detailed an elaborate training regimen to prepare you for the challenges ahead.
“And I’ll be your personal sparring partner of course. Have to keep those combat skills razor sharp!” He grinned. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my girlfriend.”
You laughed. “I’d be insulted if you did.”
His expression turned serious then. Taking your hand, he met your eyes earnestly. “You’re going to do amazing things, I just know it. And I can’t wait to stand back and watch you shine.”
Emotion clogged your throat. No matter how far you go in this field, Gojo will always be your biggest supporter.
“As cheesy as it sounds... as long as you’re by my side, I know I can handle anything,” you told him with a rather bashful smile.
He smiled softly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”
Leaning in, he kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, his usual cocky smirk was firmly back in place.
“Now finish up. Time to go show off why you’re the badass jujutsu sorcerer they’re lucky to have!”
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When you’re sick.
A violent cough wracked your body as you huddled under the blankets, trying in vain to get warm. Your head was pounding, your throat raw, and your limbs heavy with fatigue. The flu had hit you hard and fast, leaving you miserable and bedridden.
A light knock at the door heralded Gojo’s arrival. He poked his head in, his usual playful grin replaced by a look of concern.
“How’s my girl doing?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.
You offered a weak smile. “Been better,” you croaked out before dissolving into another coughing fit.
Gojo rubbed your back soothingly until the spasms passed. “Sounds nasty. Let me get you some water.”
He returned swiftly, helping prop you up to take small sips. The liquid soothed your inflamed throat but did little for the chills wracking your body.
Noticing your shivers, Gojo piled on more blankets and slid in behind you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body enveloped you, finally easing some of the shudders. You sank gratefully into his embrace.
“There we go, just rest,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking your hair. You sighed, comforted by his presence.
Gojo wasn't usually one for tender quiet moments. His boundless energy and shameless mouth tended to dominate any interaction. But now, he was the picture of care and concern—keeping his touch light, his voice quiet and soothing.
You were moved by this rare glimpse of his gentle side. Having someone see you like this—sweaty, sick and pathetic—would normally make you self-conscious. But with Gojo, you felt safe letting your guard down completely.
“Sorry you have to see me like this,” you mumbled.
He tilted your chin up. “Nonsense. You’re beautiful no matter what.” His thumb lightly caressed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to be vulnerable.”
Warmth bloomed in your chest, and not from the fever. Even wrecked by illness, he could still make you feel cherished.
“What did I do to deserve you?” you whispered.
He grinned. “I ask myself that every day.” Dipping his head, he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “Now, hush. No more talking, just rest.”
You settled against him once more, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart. Time passed in a haze of fitful sleep and coughing fits, but Gojo stayed dutifully by your side.
When the chills returned, he bundled you uptight, acting as your own personal furnace. He patiently fed you soup and medicine, made sure you were hydrated, and kept the tissues handy.
True to form, he also kept up a constant stream of praise and encouragement.
“There’s my tough girl, fighting this nasty bug off.”
“Even under all those blankets, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
“Look at you powering through these coughs like a champ!”
His little comments never failed to make you smile. Only Gojo could find something positive even in your current state.
After two days of attentive care, your fever finally broke. The aches and fatigue gradually receded until you were able to sit up without assistance.
Gojo beamed at you. “There she is! Knew you could kick this flu’s butt.”
Taking your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and his eyes shone with affection. “I’m so proud of you for pushing through this. You’re strong.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without you.”
He waved it off. “I just gave you a nudge. You did all the hard work.”
Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed at you earnestly. “Never doubt your strength, or hide your struggles from me, okay? Ask me anything, I’ll give them all to you.”
You nodded, heart brimming with love for this man.
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When you’re annoyed at him.
“Satoru, I swear if you don’t stop messing around I’m going to—argh!” you yelled in exasperation.
The infuriating man just laughed, dancing easily out of your reach as you swiped at him. He had been pestering you all morning with juvenile pranks and teasing remarks, fraying your last nerve.
“Aww, is someone a wittle gwumpy today?” he taunted in a baby voice.
You saw red. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground. Caught off guard for once, he landed hard on his back with a grunt. You pinned him in place with your body weight, glaring down at him.
“Call me grumpy one more time and I’ll show you just how nasty my mood is,” you growled.
Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
“Well, damn, baby. I love it when you get feisty with me,” he purred. His hands came up to grip your hips suggestively.
You swatted them away in irritation. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still mad at you.”
Rolling off him, you crossed your arms with a huff. Gojo sat up, smile fading.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for riling you up too much,” he grins. “Didn’t realize you were actually that annoyed with me.”
Your anger deflated at the apology. He may act like a brat sometimes, but Gojo is always quick to make amends when he crosses a line—well, only for you, at least. (Don’t tell Geto and Utahime about this!)
With a sigh, you uncrossed your arms. “It’s fine. I overreacted too.” Glancing over at him sheepishly, you added, “And I know I’ve been… prickly lately. The stress has just put me in a bad mood.”
Between juggling studying, missions, and training, you had been spread thin. Gojo’s antics had been the last straw.
He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve realized you needed me to dial it down and help you decompress.”
Leaning into him, you gave a tired smile. “Well, tackling you did feel pretty therapeutic, actually.”
Gojo’s laughter rumbled against you. “See? Violence solves everything!” he joked, squeezing you playfully.
You push his chest slightly, but couldn’t help chuckling too. Only Gojo could vex you one minute and make you laugh the next.
He pressed a conciliatory kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, why don’t you go take a nice long bath to relax while I make us dinner?”
The offer was extremely tempting after the high-stress week you’d had.
“That does sound really nice,” you admitted. “But you don’t have to cook, I’m sure I could throw something—”
He held up a hand. “Nope, you just focus on unwinding. Doctor Gojo’s orders.”
The mental image of him in a doctor’s coat and nothing else briefly distracted you. At your silence, he grinned knowingly. “I’ll take that as an agreement to my plan.”
Rolling your eyes, you stood and stretched. “Fine, you win this round.”
“I always do,” he retorted cockily.
True to his word, Gojo prepared a delicious meal while you soaked in the tub. The aromas wafting in from the kitchen made your stomach rumble eagerly.
By the time you made it downstairs, the table was set with your favorites. Gojo greeted you with a flourishing bow.
“For the lovely lady, a feast fit for a queen.”
You laughed at his antics, touched by the effort. Over dinner he kept the conversation light, making you laugh recounting silly stories. For the first time all week, you felt your tension finally easing.
Later, as you lounged together on the couch, Gojo spoke up softly. “Feeling more relaxed now?”
You nodded, snuggling closer. “Definitely. Thank you for all this, it was just what I needed.”
Strong arms wrapped securely around you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even when you get grumpy and violent with me,” he added teasingly.
You groaned. “Ugh, I’m sorry for tackling you like that.”
“What do you mean? I loved it,” he said, weirdly eager about it. “Seeing you all fired up and feisty was incredibly hot.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You know you love me,” he shot back smugly.
Rolling your eyes, you stretched up to kiss him. “Hmm, you’re right.”
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He just loves everything about you.
“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
Gojo’s voice boomed across the crowded hall, quieting the others in this luxurious restaurant he took you on a date with after high school graduation.
“Thank you. Now I know speeches aren’t usually allowed during meals, but I convinced the manager here to let me have the floor for a few minutes.” He flashed his most charming grin. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets to proudly proclaim the love of his life to a crowd.”
Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled you up to stand up with him. Taking both your hands, he continued earnestly.
“This person right here is the most incredible human being I’ve ever met. Smart, strong, kind-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful.”
Murmurs spread through the hall listening raptly. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the public praise. Trust Gojo to be so shamelessly romantic.
He went on, tone utterly sincere beneath the dramatics. “Her passion for helping others inspires me daily. The way she fights with skill and compassion in equal measure is a marvel to watch.”
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I could spend hours listing all the reasons she amazes me, which is why I wrote it down.” Winking, he unfurled the lengthy scroll with a flourish, clearing his throat.
“Ahem… ‘The top 100 things I love about my girlfriend, revised edition’. Reason one…”
Your jaw dropped as he proceeded to read the entire list out loud to the captive audience.
It was mortifying. It was ridiculous.
It was so utterly Gojo.
As he extolled your praises, you buried your flaming face in his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” you mumbled against his suit.
He just chuckled and kept reading. “Reason 37, The way she scrunches her nose at me when I tell a bad joke…”
Despite your embarrassment, warmth blossomed in your chest. Trust Gojo to turn a simple dinner into a grand spectacle of devotion.
When he finally finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and grinned down at you. “Of course, the list could go on forever. But I think I’ve sufficiently made my point.”
Cupping your face in his hands, he said loud enough for all to hear, “You are the love of my life. My soulmate. My one and only.” Then he brought his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate kiss.
Catcalls and applause erupted from the watching audience you (and him) don’t even know. But you were deaf to it all, lost in Gojo’s embrace.
When you broke for air, faces still inches apart, he murmured, “I’ll spend every day finding new reasons to love you.”
Emotion clogged your throat. You had gotten used to his easy affection and endless praise over the time. But this loud, public proclamation was on another level entirely.
“I love you too,” you whispered back, your feelings laid as bare as his.
Ignoring the continued hoots and chatter around you, Gojo lifted you effortlessly in his arms.
“Now then, I believe we have some private celebrating to do,” he purred suggestively in your ear.
“You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” You laugh in happiness.
“I can think of a few ideas,” he replied with a sly wink.
As he carried you out of the hall, you shook your head in amusement. Life with Gojo was never boring, that was for sure.
In between chaotic battles and daily life responsibilities, your relationship has grown into something truly profound. A partnership built on unwavering trust, passion, and laughter.
Gojo adored you loudly and unapologetically, just as you loved him.
And you wouldn’t want it any other way.
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Also writing this as a practice dump for my upcoming English creative writing competition lol
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going to bed to avoid getting caught up in The Sadness
#idk where i heard it but there was a comment ‘i don’t know how to live in a world where my dad isn’t here’ or something and it’s so true#that is so true. ​n e way a lot of things have not felt real since he passed like my life does not feel like my life#‘but j it’s been over a year and 7 months’ I know.#i still feel more like im just going through the motions than actually living#the strongest feelings i have are usually grief or terror so.#terror is abt covid + is kinda extending to disease in general a little but mostly covid#when ur haunted by ur memories of what covid took from u ig it kinda makes sense#grief + stress bc im doing things that i was preparing to do with my dad by my side but now im doing it alone n i have no idea what im doing#my mum wants to celebrate stuff like my birthday and some big stuff coming up this year but i can’t because my dads not gonna be there#plus i usually can’t stomach my birthday bc he died 2 days after and my last birthday where he was alive on the earth he was in the hospital#and supposed to be going to a recovery center (which he went to but was then transferred back into the icu. long story) but everyone was#telling me that he was gonna recover and that we’d celebrate again when he got home n everything would be ok#and then 2 days later he was dead and he’s never coming home#so i have a lot of trouble celebrating#the grief never stops it just recedes sometimes and then roars back in a wave so strong that you’re debilitated by it#vent tw
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hyperfixat · 7 months
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hehe here's this 2k brain rot that @suiana's post gave me (permission proof - not a thief!)
i turned caelus into a they them not sorry. also if the formatting is odd, i’m on my pc and i usually use my phone so.
They’re back.  Again.  
March has to stifle the screams of anger she wants to let out as the shackles of stillness finally free her.  Like ice melting Caelus and Dan Heng begin to move around, continuing where they had left them stranded and abandoned, left to stay stagnant at their whim. 
The worse thing is that she can’t even complain, not for lack of desire to do so, no, no she physically cannot voice her complaints.  And March knows she isn't crazy, she’s caught the twinge of annoyance in Welt’s eyes when he unpaused; seen the ghost of a scowl on Seele’s face; even the carefully controlled hardened gaze of Dan Heng has cracked before.
The Trailblazer is the only one who hasn’t cracked, obediently stopping when they will them to do so, and ever so happy to come back at their will.  March wants to corner them and ask how and why, if they know what's going on, but alas: she must trot along with her friends at their wicked will.
Dan Heng doesn't know what you are, because surely you can’t be an Aeon.  Aeons don’t hold the powers you do, even if they did surely there would be some record of you in the archives, right?  No Aeon dead or alive has the ability to puppeteer humans, and it frightens him that there is something out there that is using him in such a way.  It embitters him, both the unknown surrounding them and the way he is treated; how his whole world is put on a pause while he remains aware.  Aware of how the breeze stills and the stars stop twinkling, how the world goes silent.  What could hold such power? 
A shudder runs down his spine as he follows the Trailblazer’s party.
Welt has witnessed a lot in his time.  Nothing quite like them, though.
Himeko has witnessed a lot in her time.  Nothing quite like them, though.
Bronya, Seele, Sampo, and Natasha have witnessed a lot in their time.  Nothing quite like them, though.
Yukong, Loucha, Fu Xuan, and Jing Yuan have witnessed a lot in their time.  Nothing quite like them, though.
Kafka, Blade, and Silver Wolf have witnessed a lot in their time.  Nothing quite like them, though.
The different paths they all walk may intervene, as their personalities and beliefs may differ but there is one truth they can all agree on.
They hate you.
Caelus doesn’t.  Rather, Caelus can’t help but love you; you gave them life and led them through their trials.  You keep them safe and armored. You help them find the words to face others when their mind goes blank. 
To Caelus you are the world.
The Aeons came to know of you when Dan Heng’s frantic searches focused on them for a little too long.  While he was scanning the records they saw you.  You were intriguing from the get go, a pretty thing, sitting comfortably as a figure in the sky. The Preservation and The Nihility, whose current forms allow for more ease with floating went as far as they could to reach you.
Yet you remain just out of reach of the Aeons.
The Abundance uses one of her many arms to steady herself as she crawls along the very fabrics of their reality to get a closer look at you.  And what a darling thing you are!  Excitement that she hasn’t felt in a long, long time, perhaps for the first time ever fills her up inside.  With a shaky hand, she motions for the other Aeons to take a closer look at you.
From there the… shall we say, worship, began.
Nanook, The Destruction, takes note of your fondness for certain characters, and what his darling likes, he likes, so when the Antimatter Legion he has blessed come across the ones you are fond of, their attacks are lighter and they lose his blessing temporarily.  Sure, he wished some of the gushing from beyond the sky was for him, but you so rarely see his face on the screen (only ever in the Simulated Universe you put that Caelus through) he can’t blame you.
IX, The Nihility, will not change in their ways, not even someone like you can shift the nihilism they embody, but, perhaps you don’t notice it, your teams deal better damage over time, don’t they?  Don’t take their blessings lightly, it took a lot to bring them there.
Yaoshi, perhaps makes it the most obvious (despite you never noticing), your favorite vessels get a wonderfully boosted health bar.  You never knew to question how Blade managed to get nine thousand hit points.
It’s hard to pinpoint who thought of it first, perhaps IX or Fuli, but the Aeons, the strongest Aeons, gathered to pull you down from beyond the sky.  Through a (top secret) ritual you find yourself being hurtled down like a meteor into the freezing snow of the Outlying Snow Plains. 
You wake to the kind face of Caelus, which is a bit odd because he’s not supposed to be so… high res.  Or real.
“Are you alright, My Lord?”  The title doesn’t immediately resonate with you, so you disregard hearing it.  When you don’t answer right away they frown in worry, hands moving to yours, gently covering them with their warmth.
“What happened?  Why am I here?”
“You fell from the sky, do you not remember?”
“No,” what sky would you have fallen from?  You tend to stay on the ground.
Caelus worries their bottom lip and helps you sit up.  “Oh.”  There’s a pause.  “Did you not mean to come here? I thought….”
“Hm?” You prod, gently encouraging them to talk.
“I thought you were coming to see me,” their face is tinged pink and facing down in their lap.  Caelus’ hands feel hot and you rush to reassure them.
“I’m glad to see you, but I don’t know how or why I’m here,” you pause, cringing internally.  “Caelus.”  Fuck, that is their name right?  No last minute changes?
Luckily their face lights up when you say it and you find yourself pressed into their soft chest, their arms around you in a bear hug. 
“You’re really them.”  A breathy, ecstatic phrase.  Their face buries into your hair and Caelus doesn’t loosen their hold until a knock at their door.
“Trailblazer!  Pompom here, requesting an update on Their Grace’s status.”  
Caelus gently detaches themself from you and opens the door to reveal the tiny rabbit-oid conductor.  Pompom bashfully rubs their hands together when they catch sight of you awake and looking at them.
“Hello, Your Grace, Pompom is glad to see you awake and healthy.”  
What a cute creature, you think.  “Thank you, Conductor Pompom.”
They let out a squeak at your words and nod.  “Pompom needs to go check in on the other passengers, but let Pompom know if you need anything, okay, Your Grace?”
“Oh, thank you Pompom.”  They hurry away, stubby feet padding quickly down the carpeted halls.  You turn your head to Caelus, “what was that about?”
“Hm?”  Their golden eyes meet yours, head tilting.
“Why did they call me those things, Your Grace?”  
“Because you are our God above Aeons.  Do you… were you somehow unaware of that?”
The words hit you like a freight train.  “No, I’m not.”  It’s all you can think to say.
Caelus sits next to you on the bed, placing a hand on your knee.  “Yes you are.  We can feel it.  You are the one that controls this world and gives us life.”
Controls this world… and gives them life… fuck, the game… you’ve been playing these sentient beings.  Your tummy hurts at the knowledge . 
“Oh, I’m— I’m sorry.”  Your eyes prick with tears, the gravity of what you’ve been doing; how you’ve dragged these people into battles for fun.  You couldn’t have know, but it doesn’t stop the guilt eating at you.
“No, no, what are you apologizing for?”  Caelus’ hands cup your face, a finger catching the tears that drip over the brim of your waterline.  Their voice drops to a whisper, “please don’t cry, My Lord.”
You suddenly feel very watched, like a million eyes are on you.  Caelus never closed his door.  You look up and catch sight of March 7th’s glare.  The intensity of it makes you flinch back, making Caelus look up, over to:
“March, don’t give them that look.”  They scold the girl, who turns the withering look to them.
“Why are you taking care of that monster?  We told you to leave them to freeze in the snow.”  The words make your heart sink.  Being on this side of such venomous words stings, especially from someone you never would have pegged to be so hateful.
Caelus bares thier teeth, a mix of offense and hurt on their face.  “And I told you I would do no such thing to our God.”
“That is no God.”  Her voice shakes as does her head, before turning around and walking away.
“Don’t listen to her.” Caelus shakes their head in disappointment. “She doesn’t understand what all you do for us.  Please don’t hold it against her.”
They, the Astral Express, do not like you.  Caelus and Pompom do, they hold you in reverence, which is better than how March, Himeko, Welt, and Dan Heng treat you.  It’s all dirty looks and only partially veiled insults.  Caelus gets into arguments with them over you.  
You hate to think that you’re harming the friendships between them, and when you brought your concern up, Caelus dismissed you saying you are worth it all.  
Yeah, there’s that.  You’ve tried to explain that you are not God, but they won’t hear you out.  :(
It’s a perfectly normal day on the Astral Express when the Aeons come. 
Nanook is the first one to descend into the Parlor Car; Caelus and Dan Heng immediately drawing their weapons, The Destruction laughs once, eyes moving to focus solely on you.
“It’s so good to see you, My darling Lord.”  His voice is low and deep, and the gold flowing freely from the wounds (?) on his arms leaves a trail on the carpet as he approaches to kneel in front of you.  From your peripheral you see Dan Heng and Caelus share a look before lowering their respective weapons.
Nanook, you recognize him from the Simulated Universe blessings screen, grabs your hand, gracing the back of your palm with a chaste kiss.  His golden eyes peek up at you from behind long lashes.
“How has the Express been treating you?  I regret not being able to welcome you to this existence, but alas the ritual took a lot out of us…”
What.
“Oh, uh,” your eyes flicker around the cabin nervously.  “I’m doing alright, th-thanks…”
“Now, now, don’t tease the poor thing,” a beautiful woman (Aeon) walks in, one with many, many arms draped in soft looking, white cloth.  Yaoshi’s eyes soften when she meets your gaze.  “Hello, Your Grace, it’s an honor to meet you in the flesh.”
Caelus, Dan Heng, March, everyones’ (save for you and the two Aeons) bodies droop, posture faltering.  IX, The Nihility, has arrived.  An odd feeling, akin to that of a weighted blanket, is pushed onto your body.  It’s them, their astral, cosmic form much smaller than what should be made of their status, laying on your body like a boa.  They don’t speak, though you aren’t  sure they could in this form.
Yaoshi’s eyes flicker with amusement, and Nanook pulls himself up.  “The others were unable to make it, but,” her gaze chills and is directed at the crew of the Express.  “We all wish to make it known that disrespect, anything short of reverence toward Our Grace, will not be tolerated.”
Welt visibly shudders at the threat, and Himeko shares a look with Dan Heng.  They need to reflect on how they feel towards you, tha much is certain.
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punkshort · 30 days
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i know who you are | 6. the fight
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Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: Word of Joel's indiscretion spreads quickly through town, leading to a vicious fight. When Joel begins to worry you may never forgive him, he sets into motion a plan to win you back.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, previous infidelity mentioned, violence (fist fight), blood, bruises, jealousy/possessiveness
WC: 8K
Series Masterlist
The thought of leaving your bed was excruciating.
For nearly three days, you could hardly do much more than use the bathroom and drink some water. When you heard Joel leave for patrol, his footsteps always pausing hesitantly on the other side of your door before begrudgingly going down the steps, you would eventually drag yourself downstairs and force yourself to eat something. Anything. It didn't really matter. You didn't crave anything. Didn't look forward to a single thing except the sweet embrace of sleep. But by the fourth day, you knew you would have to go back to work or else Nick would make a house call to check on you.
You had lied and said you hurt your back so you could get out of working for a few days, but enough time had passed, enough tears were shed, enough pity was wasted when you finally forced yourself to get up one morning and take a shower.
It helped more than you thought it would. The steam billowing around you in the confined space, the warm water pummeling your shoulders, working out the kinks in your muscles from too many hours hunched over in agony. If you had any self-awareness, you might have asked yourself why you had such a powerful reaction to Joel kissing someone else. If you had a clear enough mind, you might have remembered you didn't even react this badly when you woke from your accident only to discover your whole family was dead and the world went to hell.
No, you only seemed to fall into a deep depression over Joel finding comfort from another woman.
And not just any woman. Angie.
It still made your blood boil as you slipped on clean clothes for work. You should have known she was a shark, smelling blood in the water that very first night when she cornered you in the bathroom.
And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to accuse you of not caring. Not giving a shit about him, to be exact.
That fucking asshole.
When you came down the stairs and spotted the coffee maker still on with your favorite mug next to the carafe, you scoffed and kept walking to grab your coat. As much as you wanted some coffee, you were too stubborn to accept Joel's shitty gesture.
The winter sun was blinding against the snow. Or maybe your eyes were just too swollen and dry, too accustomed to staying in the darkness of your bedroom for days on end, but whatever it was caused you to wince and rub your face.
"Hey! You're alive!" you heard Ellie's voice call out from the driveway. She was walking up the path at the exact same time as you with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her winter jacket unzipped.
"Yeah, barely," you replied, wishing you had some of the coffee Joel had left behind. You took the porch steps carefully and met her out on the sidewalk, your pupils finally adjusting to the brightness. "How's it going, kid?"
She opened her mouth to reply but paused, giving you a funny look.
"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to read her expression.
"Nothing, just that nickname... took me by surprise," she laughed with a shake of her head, "you used to call me that before. Haven't heard it in a long time, I guess." You shielded your eyes and shrugged.
"Common nickname, I suppose," you reasoned, and she nodded in agreement.
"How's the back?" she asked with a point, and you almost had to ask her what she was talking about before you remembered your lie.
"Oh! Much better, thanks. Must've pulled a muscle or something, who knows."
"Well, that's good. Listen, I gotta get to school, but do you wanna get dinner later with me and Dina? Seth's making mac and cheese, and it's like, the fucking best, dude," she said excitedly, and you didn't have the heart to say no.
"Yeah, sounds great," you smiled, then gave her a quick wave before heading in the opposite direction towards the infirmary.
It was only a short ten minute walk to work, but the fresh air combined with stretching your muscles for the first time in days really did something to improve your mood. By the time you pushed open the door to the infirmary, you were actually looking forward to working again.
And so was Nick, apparently, because his eyes lit up and his body sagged with relief when he saw you.
"I was a few hours away from sneaking you the good pills and begging you to come back," he joked, then his face turned serious. "Everything alright? What happened?"
"Oh, I'm fine," you said, waving off his concern, "I slipped on some ice and pulled a muscle, it's all good now."
"Well, be careful out there, alright? You're the best aide I have."
"I'm the only aide you have," you corrected him before hanging up your jacket. "What do you need me to do?"
The morning went by fast. Nick had told you in the few days you were out, the clinic wasn't terribly busy, but he unfortunately did fall behind on housekeeping. So you busied yourself running loads of sheets and blankets to the laundry, then sanitizing equipment until Mr. Phillips came in after lunch with a laceration on his arm from working in the stables. It wasn't a bad injury, but it required some cleaning and a few stitches, which you were secretly eager to observe. You wanted to get more exposure to stitching in the hopes of being able to take care of non-emergency injuries by yourself one day.
It felt good to feel useful again. Staying busy forced your mind off Joel and the whole mess waiting for you at home, and you were grateful for the distraction. So much so that you decided to stay a little longer than usual and fold the linens that came back from the laundry. You were killing two birds with one stone: staying busy and avoiding going home in between work and dinner. By now, you knew he'd be back and likely waiting for you, and you still had no idea what you would say.
As the sun began to set and the world outside the infirmary grew darker, you slid your coat back on and locked the door behind you before heading for the dining hall.
Shoving your hands deep into your pockets, you tucked your chin against your chest, feet carrying you swiftly through the streets, eyes cast down and avoiding others as best you could. When you arrived at the dining hall, it was packed, per usual, but you did manage to spot Ellie and Dina holding a small table in the back of the room. As you weaved your way through the crowd, you noticed they were sharing some bread and butter and you felt your stomach rumble. For the first time in days, you felt excited to eat.
"Hey," you said in greeting as you dropped your coat over the back of an empty chair before giving them each a half hug. "Freezing out there."
"Give it a second. It's hotter than hell in here," Dina joked before pushing the basket of bread in your direction. You plopped down into your chair and moaned when you felt the bread was still warm, then tore off little pieces and popped them into your mouth.
"Hungry?" Ellie asked, only partially joking as you nodded vigorously.
"Did you order the mac and cheese yet?"
"Yeah, didn't want him to run out," she replied as she eased back into her chair and turned her head toward Dina. "Do you see Chris and Holly over there? What are they thinking? They know that shit'll get back to Claire. What a bunch of assholes."
"Who?" you asked, your voice muffled around the bread.
"Couple of kids in our class," Dina explained, nodding towards the other side of the hall. You twisted around, your eyes scanning the crowd until you saw a younger couple sitting together, the girl sitting on the guy's lap and toying with his hair. "That's Chris, and he's been dating this girl, Claire, for like, what? Six months or so? And look at him. Letting that hussy crawl all over him. Men are pigs."
You choked on your laughter and took a swig of water. If only they knew.
Ellie's eyes lit up as she looked at something behind you, and you turned around to follow her gaze, spotting Seth as he made his way through the crowd with three plates of mac and cheese. However, just over his left shoulder you happened to notice Joel for the first time since you arrived, but by the looks of it, it was not the first time he noticed you.
He was sitting at his usual table with Tommy and another guy from patrol you vaguely recognized, the other two men engrossed in conversation while Joel pinned you with his stare. You quickly turned away, your cheeks feeling flush, and tried to focus on your dinner.
"Shit, this looks amazing," you said, distracted by the cheesy, piping hot dish set in front of you.
"I'm telling you, man, it's the fucking best," Ellie told you before digging in. You had to stifle a moan when the food hit your tongue for the first time, eternally grateful for the impeccable timing because all you could think about in that moment was how good it tasted, Joel temporarily forgotten for the first time in days.
"Didn't you eat today?" Dina asked, her lips twitching into a grin, and you shook your head.
"Not really. Haven't had much of an appetite this week," you told her, and Ellie tilted her head to the side.
"Your pain was that bad?"
"Huh?" you asked, then it dawned on you once again. The Lie. "Oh, yeah. I mean, I ate a little, I just wanted to sleep, I guess."
"Joel didn't make sure you ate?" she pressed, her eyes flicking over your shoulder. You dropped your fork, scrambling to come up with yet another lie when her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, making you twist around to see what made her demeanor change so suddenly.
As you expected, she was looking in Joel's direction, but he was no longer looking at your table. It was impossible considering Angie was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view with her body, her hand resting on the back of his chair.
"What is she up to now?" Dina murmured to Ellie, but you could hardly register her words. The way your anger ignited deep within your chest and licked up your throat, it was a miracle you even remembered to breathe. Joel's legs shifted, knees turned away from her, but that was all you could see. You couldn't see the look on his face or hear what was said. You couldn't see where his hands were. But you could see Angie flick her long, straight hair over her shoulder with a flirty laugh that was clearly meant to pull attention onto her.
If you didn't have tunnel vision, you would have noticed she was successful. A few heads turned, men's eyes lingering on her backside while women's eyes darted in your direction, but you were incapable of processing any of it. Ellie was saying your name, but you couldn't hear her over the ringing in your ears.
It was less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops, and she walked away from him with a sickly grin plastered across her face, her two friends returning her mischievous smile before flanking her side, making their way towards the exit like a swarm of bees.
Without even thinking, you stood up.
"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, but you ignored her. Instead, you pushed your way through the crowd in a trance, shouldering people out of your way without so much as an apology, too laser focused on your target to care.
"Joel!" Ellie called out to him. He was rubbing his face angrily, trying to avoid his brother's eyes glaring at him in disbelief over what he just overheard Angie say when he heard Ellie. Great, she knows, too, he initially thought, but when he looked up and saw Ellie and Dina, panic-stricken, making their way towards the exit, he realized something was happening. He didn't see you until you emerged from the crowd and reached for the door, swinging it open and allowing a cool blast of air into the room before disappearing outside.
"Oh, shit," Joel mumbled, snatching his coat and forcing his way through all the people as quickly as he could. Tommy followed, confused at first, until he realized you were no longer at your table and then it clicked.
By the time you made it outside, you nearly missed where they went, but luck was on your side because her high-pitched giggle danced through the bitter cold air and you twisted your head to the left, just in time to see the three women in the shadow of night round a corner and head down a residential street.
You were nearly running to catch up with them, but you couldn't feel your feet hit the ground or hear the gravel crunching under your boots. And neither did they, because when you found yourself less than ten feet away, they were still giggling and talking animatedly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to your presence.
Skidding to a stop, you shouted, "Hey!"
All three women swirled around in surprise, their eyes wide and their smiles slipping from their faces when they sensed the rage radiating from your body. But even still, Angie tried to play dumb.
"Can we help you?" she asked sarcastically with a dry laugh, but when you took a step forward, she went quiet.
"Yeah," you sneered, fists clenching at your sides, "I had a question for you, actually."
Angie looked perplexed, not expecting that, so she held her hands out to her side, urging you to continue while Ellie and Dina caught up, standing a few paces back.
"Did you run out of dick to suck in this town or are you just that fucking bored you thought you'd give home wrecking a try?"
Dina snickered behind you and Ellie gasped.
"Home wrecking?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Is that what you'd call your man following me into the ladies room at the bar so he could shove his tongue down my throat?"
Your nostrils flared and your ears began to make that buzzing noise again, so you dug your nails into your palms, desperately trying to ground yourself.
"Can I even call him your man?" she taunted, feeling like she got the upper hand. "Are you even together anymore? You clearly don't fuck him if he was looking for it from-"
You couldn't even remember moving. Your feet had a mind of their own as you closed the distance between you with two long strides and swung your arm back with as much force as you could muster, backhanding Angie right across the mouth.
Her hands flew up to her face and her two friends stumbled backwards in surprise, but all you saw was red. Before she could recover, you grabbed her by the coat and threw her down onto the muddy street, knocking the wind out of her with a sharp gasp. Quickly, before she could get up, you straddled her midsection. With your left hand pressing down on her chest and your right balled into a fist near your head, you landed a punch right on her perfect little nose with a sickening crunch, causing a trail of blood to trickle out of her nostrils seconds later. But that didn't stop you. You kept going, your knuckles, now bloody, marring her flesh over and over again, but when you made contact with her jawbone, you flinched, a jolt of pain shooting down your middle finger making you pause.
That was when Angie saw her opportunity.
She vaulted you off her with her hips and she rolled to her side, pinning you to the ground with blood dripping down her face. She scratched desperately at your eyes and mouth, your hands coming up to protect yourself with a yelp, before she began landing weak punches against your cheek and mouth. And even though they weren't as forceful as your hits, her weight pinning you down kept you from reclaiming the upper hand.
Ellie and Dina were shouting your name, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Angie, blocking her punches as best you could while you waited for your opportunity to take her down.
Then, Angie's hand wrapped around your throat, her fingers pressing into your windpipe. Your hands grabbed her wrist as you fought for air and violently thrashed underneath her.
"Face it," she hissed, leaning down and putting more pressure against your throat, "If it was that easy, I was doing you a favor. He never really loved you, you were just an easy fuck before your brain got all scrambled."
Her words were exactly what you needed to get your second wind.
With an angry roar, you punched her right in the throat, and although you couldn't get much force behind it, it was enough to make her loosen her grip in surprise. And just as Tommy and Joel were running up the street, you tossed Angie to the side and scrambled back on top of her. But this time, you didn't stop.
You were merciless, your hands were a blur. Fists rained down blows upon her face while she desperately tried to shield herself, but it was no use.
"Stop!" she sobbed, begging, but the fear in her voice just egged you on.
Blood began to stain her yellow hair, her perfect skin began to turn red and purple while your fists never stopped, each blow creating a new mark or cut. You couldn't stop if you tried. Something snapped and you unlocked a part of yourself you didn't know, or didn't remember, existed. Some part of you that was a warrior. A fighter. A survivor. And it wasn't until Joel hooked his arms underneath yours and hauled you back that you finally stopped, your chest heaving and your eyes wild.
"Y-you crazy b-bitch!" Angie sputtered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth as Tommy knelt in front of her.
"You haven't seen crazy!" you screamed as you kicked and struggled to get out of Joel's grip. Tommy reached down to help Angie up and he motioned for her friends to come forward. "Stay the fuck away from us or I'll fucking kill you!" you shouted, "You hear me, you fucking whore? I will fucking kill you!"
"Calm down!" Joel yelled from behind, but your blood boiled as you focused your rage on him.
"Get your fucking hands off me," you snarled, wrenching your arms out of his grasp. "This is your fault!" you continued, pointing your finger in his face and backing away, ignoring the tortured look he gave you. A sick part of you was pleased to see the sting of your words land.
"I think she needs to see Nick," Tommy said as both of Angie's friends struggled to help her up.
"She's lucky she's alive," you snapped as you wiped the back of your hand over your bloody face.
"Holy shit, dude," Ellie murmured as you turned around, her eyes all wide with shock.
"I'm going home," you grumbled, wiping more blood from your cheek as you began the journey back to your house on shaky legs, wondering how on earth you were expected to share a space with Joel after tonight. Dina and Ellie exchanged some quick words as you left before Ellie quickly caught up with you.
"I'll clean you up."
"You don't-"
"I know. But I want to," she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and it took everything in you not to lean into her and let her drag you home.
You were exhausted. Mentally and physically. And you just wanted to go to bed. But you were grateful for Ellie. Someone who cared, someone who saw you were hurting and needed help without having to ask for it. So you let her clean you up in your bathroom when you arrived back home, her nimble fingers delicately pressing against your wounds, cleansing them as best she could before pressing band aids and butterfly bandages against your cuts and then making you an ice pack to help with the swelling.
She tucked you into bed and made you drink some water before sitting down on the edge of your mattress with a sigh.
"I had no idea," she began, and you quickly waved her off.
"I know. It's... I know," you said, at a loss for words.
"You didn't really hurt your back, did you?" she asked, and you slowly shook your head. "That motherfucker," she seethed, "I can't believe him, I'm going to kill him, I swear-"
"Just leave him alone," you told her, "Let me handle it."
The two of you sat quietly for a moment, each of you lost in your own thoughts before she spoke again.
"It wasn't like that before," she began, and at first you weren't following, but then you realized: she was talking about before your accident. "You were crazy about each other. Angie was never an issue. Neither of you paid her any attention. She just saw an opportunity and took advantage," Ellie said as her fingers tangled in her lap. "I shouldn't even be saying this, it feels like I'm defending him, but I swear. I was with you guys all the time. You were in love, man."
"Things changed, I guess," you said sadly, but she shook her head.
"You guys are what inspired me and Dina to go for it," she said softly, avoiding your gaze. "We were scared, but I saw how you two were together and how you made it work and, I don't know," she said, picking at her fingernail, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I look up to you guys. And it's kind of fucking with my head right now that all this is happening."
"Ellie, no," you said, shifting a bit in bed and reaching out to her. "Don't say that. Don't question what you and Dina have because of me and Joel."
She swallowed and looked at you, her eyes soft and worried.
"Why did he do it?" she asked quietly, and you could hear the pain in her voice. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged.
"It's complicated."
She nodded and looked away. "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Would you give him a chance? Just hear him out and let him explain?" she begged, and you immediately bristled. "You don't have to forgive him. Just... don't give up yet. Please. He loves you, I know it, and... and I think you love him, too."
You scoffed then cleared your throat, your fingers coming up to press gently on your tender neck. "I don't love him," you croaked, but she shook her head.
"If you don't love him then why do you care so much?" she countered, and you fell silent, unable to give her an answer, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. "Why did you almost kill Angie for sleeping with him if you didn't love him?"
"Sleeping with - no, Ellie. They didn't have sex. He kissed her," you quickly explained, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You rearranged her face because he kissed her?" she asked in disbelief, then laughed softly and stood up. "I'm not saying he didn't fuck up, but dude. Come on. You gotta see it, now, right?"
You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.
"Alright. For you, I'll... talk to him, or whatever," you grumbled half-heartedly.
"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding more like herself once again before turning to leave and allowing you to rest. If you had any inkling she was trying to manipulate you into forgiving Joel, it was quickly expunged because you awoke an hour later to her arguing with him in the living room when he arrived home, the conversation ending with her storming out of the house and then his weary footsteps slowly climbing up the stairs.
Once again, you watched as he paused outside your room, two narrow shadows cast by his legs breaking up the thin beam of light under your door until he thought better of it and kept walking, his own bedroom door closing softly with a click.
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The pain was worse the next morning, but you refused to admit it. The cuts burned and the bruises throbbed, but you were too stubborn to let any weakness show, although one look at your bruised neck would tell anyone the truth. You forced yourself out of bed, feeling too guilty to bail on Nick after already taking so many days off to wallow in your own misery, and washed up before heading downstairs. Much to your surprise, Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, his big hand cupping a mug of coffee while he stared blankly at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. When you first saw his face, the bags under his eyes evident, even from across the room, it was clear he hardly got any sleep.
Good, you thought. Then you remembered your promise to Ellie and bit back whatever nasty remark you were getting ready to toss his way. Instead, you dragged yourself to the coffee maker, ignoring the mug Joel left out for you and choosing your own, unable to resist the urge to be just a little bit spiteful.
He cleared his throat as you poured your coffee, a warning he was about to speak, and your shoulders tensed.
"How're you feelin'?"
"About as good as I look," you muttered, bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a tiny sip before turning around. He looked up at you, for the first time seeing the extent of your injuries and he jolted forward in his chair, fighting back the instinct to stand up and inspect your wounds. He blinked rapidly, gaze skirting over your face and neck, worry etching his features until you sighed.
"It's not really that bad," you admitted, looking down at your feet.
"Tell Nick t'give you somethin' when you get to work," he said, voice strained. You nodded and took another sip of your coffee. He swallowed nervously before inching forward in his chair and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, the words laced with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, I fucked up. But you gotta believe me, I didn't go out that night lookin' for her or anyone else. I just wanted to drink and be alone for a little while." He rubbed his palms over his face while you still stared down at the floor, listening.
"I believe you," you finally said after a tense stretch of silence. He dropped his hands and looked up.
"You do?"
"Doesn't mean I forgive you, but I believe you didn't run out of here looking to shove your tongue down someone else's throat."
He grimaced and dropped his chin to his chest.
"D'you think-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look at you again. "D'you think you could ever forgive me?"
You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line.
"I don't know," you said quietly. Your head was pounding, so you rubbed your forehead, his eyes trained on you anxiously from across the room, knee bouncing slightly as he waited to hear you say anything that would give him a glimmer of hope. "You really fucking hurt me, Joel," you said, trying to hide your lower lip as it trembled, but he heard the pain in your voice and it broke his heart.
"I know, I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you. I never did. Not after what happened at the hospital and definitely not now," he said, standing up and taking a few hesitant steps in your direction, stopping when he reached the kitchen island. "But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll wait as long as I need to, I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you, prove to you that-"
"I don't want to lead you on, Joel," you said solemnly, eyes watering. "I can't promise I'll ever move past it. I'm not sure we're strong enough to get through this."
"Yes, we are," he told you adamantly, "I don't want anyone else. I only want you. You ain't leadin' me on because I don't wanna go anywhere else. I don't care what that looks like in the future, I'll take whatever you give me, that's all I want."
You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice, and looked into the living room, the framed photo of your house that Ellie drew for you several Christmases ago, the same one you read about in your journal, catching your eye, and you felt yourself tear up.
I just want to go home, you thought, but home no longer existed. This was your home, like it or not.
You turned away, looking out the window over the sink blinking back tears, but Joel had already followed your gaze to the photo.
"I should get going," you said, voice thick. You chugged whatever coffee you could and dumped the rest in the sink.
"I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, following you to the door, "I'm gonna make this right." You scoffed.
"Yeah, okay," you mumbled sarcastically, shoving on your boots and coat before swinging open the door and heading out into the frigid winter morning, big flakes of snow slowly swirling and falling from the sky as Joel watched you trudge down the street, hunched over and curled in on yourself. A shell of the person he knew you to be.
He did that. He caused you pain. And it made him sick.
But at least he finally thought of a way he could prove how much you meant to him.
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Sweat covered your forehead by the time you made it to the infirmary, your wool knit cap to blame for the excessive heat pouring from your head while your face was ice cold. You yanked it off your head and shed your coat before making your way to the back, your hair sticking to your forehead. Nick was nowhere to be found, but one of the exam room doors was closed and you heard voices murmuring on the other side. Assuming he had an early patient, you pulled your hair back and got to work. It was supposed to be a quiet day. Nick wanted you to work on an updated inventory list after getting a big batch of supplies two weeks prior from an unexplored hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.
The exam room door swung open, the voices clearer now, and your shoulders stiffened when you recognized the patient. You should have assumed Angie would be there that day, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to you.
Your anger had diffused a bit since the night before, that raw, exposed nerve quelled by time, but that didn't stop you from glaring at her as she passed by the inventory closet. Her swollen eyes widened with fear when she saw you and for the first time, you got a good look at the damage you inflicted. Her nose was clearly broken, she was missing a tooth and both eyes were black and blue, but the cuts on her cheeks and lips were superficial, at best.
She kept walking, not daring to say a word in your direction as your eyes followed her out the door. When she left, Nick turned around with a sigh and crossed his arms.
"How're you feeling?"
You shrugged and turned back to your clipboard. "I'm alright."
"You look like shit," he said, sidling up next to you and plucking the ibuprofen from the shelf. He tapped out two pills and dropped them into your palm before closing the bottle, putting it back where it belonged. "Did you eat?"
With just a shake of your head you popped the pills, swallowing them dry before turning back to your task.
"You gotta eat something with those, it'll tear up your stomach," he said, disappearing down the hallway and coming back a few minutes later with an apple. You grimaced but took it anyway, unable to stop your mind from replaying the memory of peeling apples with Joel just a week prior. Before everything went to hell.
Nick watched you quietly for a moment as you chewed your apple slowly and read down the list of medications on your clipboard.
"Do you, uh," he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "do you need someone to talk to?" You glanced up at him in surprise and he dropped his hand back to his side. "We don't have to talk about it. But I know you still feel like you're a stranger in this town, and that's gotta be tough." He scratched his greying chin as he glanced around the room and you had to fight back the laugh that bubbled up your throat. You couldn't help it.
He noticed the amused look on your face at his discomfort and pretended to be annoyed when he muttered, "just come find me if you wanna talk or whatever," but you knew it was just an act. Nick was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and hardly ever spoke to his patients, let alone you, his employee, about personal matters. The fact he was trying now must mean he really thought you needed it.
The older man disappeared down the hall to his office and you smiled to yourself, then focused back on work, grateful for something that took your mind off your misery, even if it was just for a moment.
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"What the hell do you want?" Tommy scowled when he flung open his door to find his older brother waiting on the other side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, weight shifting foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.
"C'mon, Tommy, I'm gettin' it from all angles, here."
"I don't give a shit," he spat, turning on his heel to retreat back into the house, but left the front door open. Joel took a step inside and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing around the entryway and peering into the living room as he took off his outerwear.
"Maria home?"
"No, she's down at the stables with Violet. Showin' her the horses, gettin' her outta the house," he grumbled, angrily putting away dishes as he spoke. Joel sighed and flattened his palms against the counter.
"I gotta ask for a favor."
Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, y'know that?"
"Yeah, I fuckin' know. Jesus Christ, Tommy, I made one goddamn mistake!" Joel yelled, slapping his hand against the cool countertop. Tommy twisted around, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms.
"Don't take an attitude with me," Tommy said through clenched teeth, "I don't give a shit if everyone's gangin' up on you. You deserve it! I thought she was the one you wanted to spend your life with? The one you'd do anythin' for?"
"She is!" Joel exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. Tommy's eyes softened while he watched his brother struggle, the enormity of what he did clearly taking its toll.
"Then what the fuck were you thinkin'?" he asked after a few moments, tone pleading. "Everythin' was goin' so well. You guys were havin' a nice time at the party, laughin' and smilin', we all saw it. Then you take 'er home and step out like that?"
"It's not- I was drunk and misread some things," Joel replied, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I tried to kiss her, she shot me down and I didn't take it all that well, alright?" Joel dropped his hand, exasperated, and looked at Tommy once again, taking a deep breath. "Went to the bar to drink and Angie sunk her claws into me. I got the hell outta there and confessed the second I got home but... didn't matter," he said, hanging his head between his shoulders.
"Angie said you followed her into the bathroom, Joel. Don't bullshit me, I was sittin' right there."
"I know, Jesus, it's my fault. I was drinkin' and upset and she was just... there. Pesterin' me and pushin' my buttons. It was only a second, Tommy. Nothin' else happened, y'hear me?" Joel's eyes were wide and desperate as he stared at his little brother across the kitchen.
"It's no excuse, Joel," Tommy said sadly. Joel pushed off the counter with a huff and yanked angrily at his disheveled hair again.
"I know that. I'm just tellin' you how it went down. But I gotta make it up to her. I gotta make it right."
"How the hell do you plan on doin' that? 'Cause from where I'm sittin', only way she could move past it is if I take her back out into the woods so she can hit her head again and forget," Tommy said.
Joel rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.
"I got an idea. Don't know if it'll work, but it's all I can think of to prove what she means to me," he said softly, staring down at his fingers twisting together in his lap.
Tommy sized his brother up and down before taking a few steps closer, his hands coming to grip the back of a chair as he leaned forward.
"Let's hear it."
Joel sighed and tilted his chin up. "I need a week off from patrol. I gotta leave Jackson. And I need a horse."
"What?" Tommy asked incredulously. "In the middle of winter? Absolutely not. You'll die out there."
"I survived out there before I came to Jackson, I'll be fine."
"Been a long fuckin' time and you weren't alone when you did it," Tommy argued.
"You offerin' to help?" Joel asked, and Tommy laughed dryly. But Joel continued to stare at him.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"'Course I am," Joel replied, "she ain't ever gonna forgive me but I gotta do somethin', Tommy. I can't lose her, and right now, it really feels like I'm gonna lose her." Joel's voice cracked and he turned away, looking out the window so Tommy couldn't see the emotion behind his eyes.
Tommy groaned and yanked a chair out to sit down.
"What'dya need me to do?"
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It was a long day on your feet and your face hurt more than you cared to admit, so by the time you arrived home, you decided to make yourself a sandwich and go to bed early, skipping an appearance at the dining hall where you knew half the town would be gawking at you and your wounds, anyway.
Fortunately, Joel was up in his room with the door closed when you quietly snuck upstairs with your sandwich. You were still emotionally exhausted from your brief conversation that morning and you were grateful he wasn't looking to have another one.
Nick had sent you home with one of the good pills, as he called it, so you took it with your meal and within the hour, you were out cold. Maybe if you hadn't taken the pill, you would have been awake to hear Joel's bedroom door squeak open, the rustling of fabric and the tinkling of metal cutting through the quiet hallway as he gripped his sleeping bag in one hand and his backpack stuffed with supplies in the other.
Like he usually did, he paused outside your room, his eyes lingering on the doorknob, ears straining for any sign that you were awake, that maybe you had a change of heart and he could call the whole trip off, but he was only met with silence.
He swallowed and turned towards the stairs, quietly tiptoeing down and packed another bag with food from the pantry before setting all three items by the door. At the last minute, he decided to leave a note, not even certain you would notice or care he was gone, but he knew Tommy would be furious when he found out he lied to him earlier and he really didn't want his brother to waste manpower trying to hunt him down in the wilderness. So he grabbed a pen from a drawer and an old envelope. The tip of his pen hovered over the paper as he struggled with what to say, then finally decided to keep it brief before scribbling his note, leaving it by the coffee maker where he knew you would see it.
Lastly, he strode into the living room and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his backpack before piling on his layers and heading out the front door, giving the house one last forlorn glance before slipping quietly into the night.
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It was your day off, so naturally you allowed yourself to sleep in a little, hoping that the extra rest would help your bruises to heal. At the very least, you were pleased to discover the pain around your throat was significantly better than the day before.
You didn't hear Joel when you got up, but that was typical. He usually had early morning patrol shifts and was back by the afternoon, but when you came downstairs and saw the coffee wasn't made like it normally was, you froze. Your eyes drifted around, noticing his coat and boots were missing.
Maybe he was running behind and just didn't have time to make coffee.
As unusual as that might be, it was the only logical conclusion until you walked over to the coffee maker and saw an aged envelope sticking out of your favorite mug. You frowned and picked it up, eyes quickly scanning the words once, then three more times before the panic set in, your stomach churning worse and worse each time.
Tell Tommy I'll be back in a week.
He knows why.
No matter what, just know I love you with my whole heart, in this world or the next.
Joel
Boots unlaced and coat unzipped, you raced down the street towards Tommy's house, the envelope gripped tightly in your fist.
What the hell did that mean? Where did he go? What is he doing? And why did he sneak out without telling Tommy?
You banged on the door, the wood rattling violently under your clenched fist, only afterwards realizing you could have been waking their daughter but fortunately when the door opened, you saw Violet and Maria playing in the living room over Tommy's shoulder.
"What's goin' on, sugar? You okay?" he asked, voice filled with concern when he saw the look on your face.
"Joel's gone," you said hurriedly before pushing past him and entering the house, yanking off your hat and exchanging glances with Maria from across the room.
"Gone? What'dya mean, gone?"
"I mean I woke up today and he was gone, Tommy!" you exclaimed, handing him the note. "Where did he go?!"
You were aware your voice was panicky, that your eyes were wide with fear and your breath was fast and shallow, but you didn't care how it looked to them in that moment.
Tommy scanned the note and sighed, rubbing his forehead before urging you to join him in the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.
"That idiot," he murmured under his breath, handing you back the envelope.
"Where is he, Tommy?" you tried again, hoping to sound less frantic this time.
He glanced at Maria before meeting your gaze.
"He was here yesterday afternoon. Told me he needed a favor. Said he needed a week off from patrol and a horse."
"To do what?" you pressed, sinking down into an armchair next to the couch.
"He said-" he cut himself off and looked down at the note in your hand, ticking his jaw to the side as if he was contemplating how much to tell you.
"Spit it out," you demanded, and his eyes snapped back up to you.
"Said he had a plan to make things up to you. For, y'know," he waved his hand in the air, not wanting to say it. You shook your head.
"What was his plan?"
"He wouldn't tell me everything but I offered to help," Tommy admitted, glancing guiltily at Maria who shot him a surprised glare. "Said he needed to go to California, that he wanted to bring a piece of you back. I'm guessin' you're from out that way?" Tommy asked, and you nodded slowly. "He said he would wait 'til I talked to Maria and worked out the schedule but I guess he decided to fuck off-"
"Tommy!" Maria scolded sharply, covering Violet's ears, and Tommy cringed.
"Sorry," he said softly before turning back to you. "Guess he decided to lone-wolf it."
Your eyes drifted back to the note in your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat while your mind raced to catch up.
"What if he doesn't make it?" you asked, eyes still glued to the envelope, "what if he dies out there and it's all my fault?"
They heard your voice waver and exchanged sympathetic looks.
"He made a choice, he knew the risks," Maria said, "but he's a capable guy. If there were anybody who could make it out there alone, it's Joel."
"Listen, I'd send a couple guys out there lookin' for him but there's a storm brewin'," Tommy said, rubbing his chin and glancing out the window. "Been watchin' those clouds build up over the mountains all week. Told Joel as much and he agreed to wait but reckon he changed his mind and wanted to get in front of it."
"Or it was his plan all along to leave alone and he just made sure no one would come after him," Maria said, making the three of you fall quiet.
"God, what do I do?" you murmured, burying your face in your hands.
Tommy glanced at Maria and she subtly nodded towards the kitchen. He stood and cleared his throat before reaching his arms out towards his daughter.
"C'mere, let's get you somethin' to eat before naptime," he said, lifting Violet and taking her into the kitchen to give you both some privacy.
"What's going on?" Maria asked softly as she sat down in Tommy's place on the couch. You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap.
"I don't know," you said truthfully, "I'm so fucking angry at him, but..."
Maria pursed her lips knowingly. "But you still care."
You groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Yes."
"It's not like you're telling me or anyone else something we didn't already know," she said, "not after what happened with you and Angie in the middle of the street. I mean, look at you," she pointed to your bruised neck. "No one fights like that for someone they don't love."
"I don't love him," you said sternly, eyes flashing angrily in her direction. "You sound like Ellie."
"Okay, so if two people are telling you-"
"I don't want to talk about it right now," you abruptly stood up, brushing your palms on your jeans. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm actually looking forward to a week of quiet," you tried to say confidently despite how tight your throat felt as you headed towards the door.
Maria called your name as she trailed after you, urging you to stay and talk, but you just pressed your lips together and shook your head.
"Seriously, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile across your face. "I have some stuff to do so I'll see you guys at dinner or something."
Before she or Tommy could say anything else, you slipped out the door and rushed down the street, back towards home.
It wasn't until later that afternoon, after you had scrubbed clean the kitchen and bathrooms, doing anything and everything you could to stay busy, that you noticed the missing picture from the wall in the living room.
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atomicami · 8 months
Text
quick fix
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contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader
- summary: in which joel and jerry have a constant rivalry with their contracting businesses. as a result, you’ve had to abide by your dad’s rule to stay away from jerry’s daughter, abby. you follow along at first, but when your TV stops working on the day you’re hosting a movie night, you might have to break that rule.
- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are both alive (he’s not a doctor in this), contractor/engineer!abby (women in stem 🔛🔝), reader has a business degree, family and work drama, oral & fingering (r!receiving), squirting, kinda softdom!abby, reader and abby almost getting caught, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything
- author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do an abby fic with this specific pairing for a while now so i hope y’all like it! if this one goes well i might make a second part to it.
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Your father was never the competitive type when it came to his job. Joel’s been known to be a humble person while still taking pride in his hard work. In all fairness, he did spend so many years of his life forming one of the biggest contracting companies in Texas alongside with his brother, and ever since you were a kid, you’ve wanted to take part in it as well. Business was running perfectly for your dad, he felt like everything was going according to plan every single day.
That is…until about four years ago, when a contractor from Washington moves into your neighborhood with his daughter with the intention of expanding his company to a second state. Joel didn’t think of anything at first when this happened. Texas is known to be one of the best states for business, he completely understood the other man’s intentions to come reside over here.
However, things started to go downhill a couple of weeks after the father-daughter pair moved in. You were at work with your dad doing customer calls for him. Things were going good so far until the phone began to ring from your end. You reach over to your desk and pick up the phone, holding it up to your ear.
“Miller Contracting, how can I help you?” You greeted into the phone. “You’d like to speak with Joel?“ Your dad was in the same room as you, working on some blueprints, lifting his head up towards your direction once he had heard his name. You had done the same, motioning for him to come over. “Yeah…Yeah I can put him on with you.” He was now by your side by the time you finished that sentence, taking the phone from your hands and answering it. “Miller Contracting, this is Joel.” he addressed into the phone, turning around so he’s slightly leaning back onto the edge of the desk.
“Mr. Jones! I was just workin’ on the blueprints for the project you wanted—wait, what?”
You remained seated at your desk next to your dad as the conversation kept going, seeing his expression change completely over what the client was telling him. You were even able to hear what the client had said through the receiver of the phone:
“I’m sorry Joel, but we’ve decided to go with Anderson Contracting to work on the project for us…We’ve heard so many good things about Jerry’s work in Seattle, and we really want what’s best for—“
Your dad didn’t even let the man finish his sentence as he immediately hung up the phone. You could tell that he was already fuming after finding out what had just happened. He was totally fine with Jerry settling here with his company, as long as he’d find his own fucking clients to work with instead of stealing his. Joel knew at that moment that in order to prevent himself from losing any more clients, he needed to take action. Ever since that day, he’s had a four year long rivalry with the other contractor, both of them making the attempts to see who can not only get the most clients, but also the best ones to work with.
Fast forward to today, and you’ve graduated from college this year with a degree in business administration, now dedicating yourself full time in helping out with your father’s contracting company. And as you’d expect, Jerry Anderson, the man your dad refers to as his competition remains living across the street from you with his daughter Abigail, who also stuck with the same plan as you after graduating college in terms of helping out her dad with his company as well. But given the bad blood that your dads have with each other, you two had to abide by their rule to not be anywhere near each other.
“Listen to me sweetheart, you stay away from Anderson’s kid, alright? Her daddy can take away as many clients as he wants, but I sure as hell ain’t letting his daughter take you away from me.”
“Abby, I don’t care who you end up with, as long as it’s not with Joel Miller’s daughter. Can you promise me that?”
And so you both did. For four years and counting, you and Abby have made the efforts to stay as far away from each other despite how difficult it may have been for you both.
However, you might have to be the one to break that streak when your living room TV stops working.
“So you’re sayin’ that it just won’t turn on?” Your dad asked you through the phone.
“Yeah…I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” You replied, pressing the on button of the TV remote again. You could see the little red light flashing on the remote, but the TV still wouldn’t budge.
“Did ya try flippin’ the breaker outside?”
“No…everything else in the house is working except the TV…I think something’s just wrong with the outlet that’s it’s plugged into. Do you think you can try to come by for a moment and fix it?”
You heard your dad let out a sigh through the phone. You already knew what he was going to say next.
“M’sorry sweetie, but I’ve been so caught up at work today…been trying to perfect a project for this client lately. N’ I don’t want Anderson to try n’ steal this one from me. I’ll try n’ see if I can stop by real quick durin’ my break, alright?”
“Yeah, I get it…I’ll just…try and wait til you get home. Love you dad.”
You sighed as you hung up the phone, completely helpless. It could’ve been any other day where the TV stops working and you wouldn’t really care about it. But today you were hosting a movie night with your girlfriends. You took the day off from work ahead of time to prepare and had already spent the past hour making a large charcuterie board that was currently taking up space in the fridge. You had been planning this movie night for weeks with your friend group only for it to possibly get canceled.
All because the stupid TV wasn’t working.
You looked back down at your phone, opening the group chat with your friend group to break the news to them. As your fingers hovered over the keyboard, an idea came upon your midst. You turned around to look through the window, eyeing the cream colored house that stood across from yours.
Now, at this very moment you have two options:
You could tell your friends that movie night will be postponed, and wait for your dad to come back from work to fix the TV outlet.
Or…
You could make the attempt to cross the street and ask Abigail Anderson, the girl you’ve been keeping yourself away from for over four years per your dad’s request, to come by and fix the outlet for you.
For some reason, part of you was leaning towards the second option. Except you really didn’t want to break your dad’s promise.
But then again…Abby does have a lot of experience with the actual hands on work in contracting. After all, she did graduate at the top of the class just like you, except with a degree in civil engineering instead. Not to mention she has her contractor’s license just like her dad and yours. Fixing an electrical outlet should be a piece of cake for her.
You hesitate for a moment, pacing around your living room as you try and gather the courage to leave the house and cross the street. This task shouldn’t take long…it’s just a quick fix, right?
Walking over to the front door, you take a deep breath and step outside, making sure to lock your door in case anything happens before crossing the street. Once you approach the driveway of her house, you see the two Ford pickup trucks parked outside. This meant that both Abby and her father were home right now.
You make it to the front door of Abby’s house, and hesitate once again before ringing the bell. You pray silently to yourself that it’ll be her answering the door, and not her dad. Once the door opens, you look up to your prayers being answered as she stands right in front of you, her eyes widening in shock once she sees you.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” she exclaims, trying to keep her own voice down to not get her father’s attention.
“Look, I know we’re supposed to be away from each other, But I really need your help.” You let out a sigh before continuing your explanation. “The outlet in my TV isn’t working, and I need it to be ready for a movie night that I’m hosting this evening… but my dad’s been too busy at work to stop by and fix it…could you please fix it for me?”
Abby shook her head in response. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you right now, let alone be inside your house. Can’t you just call an electrician or something?”
Damn, why didn’t you think of that as an option? Could it be because you wanted Abby to be the one fixing the outlet for you instead of some random guy? Probably….
You shook your head, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “These electricians take forever to arrive, and my friends will be here any minute now. Please…? It should just be a quick fix….”
Abby opened her mouth to say something before she was interrupted by the sound of her father calling her from inside.
“Abby! Who’s at the door?”
“Shit…” she muttered, quickly looking over her shoulder before back at you. “Okay, I’ll do it…just stay there for a moment.” She briefly closed the door before soon returning after a couple minutes, now with her tool belt wrapped around her cargo pants. “I had to tell him it was Manny…you know that my dad doesn’t want me to be seen with you.” she said in a slightly stern tone as both of you began to cross the street to your house. Once the two of you arrive at your place, you look both ways, making sure no one else was seeing you two together before unlocking the door and stepping inside, Abby soon following after and closing the door behind her.
“The outlet’s over here…” You walk over to where the TV was, and push the display table away from the wall, revealing the hidden outlet that needed fixing. Abby stepped past you to get to the broken outlet and got down on one knee, already getting to work as she began to unscrew the plate. “This shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” You nod in response, heading over to the kitchen to set the table for when your friends arrive.
Those ten minutes fly by like thirty seconds, and you can already hear the sound of the TV playing from the kitchen. You enter the living room to see Abby flipping through the channels on the TV, making sure that everything’s working perfectly before handing you the remote.
“Thank you so much, Abby…” You turn the TV off and set the remote on the display table next to you before looking back at her. “I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem…” There’s now a brief moment of silence between you two. You notice her looking out the window and eyeing at her house. “I should uh, get going now…” She tells you this, but she doesn’t move. For some reason…Abby didn’t want to leave just yet. And you didn’t want her to either.
Noticing this, you start to feel a sense of boldness spike through and take a step towards her direction. “Do you think that…you could stay just a little longer?” Abby then turns her head and looks down to face you, noticing that you were just inches away from her now. The two of you realize that this is the longest amount of time you’ve spent together, and this is the closest you two are to each other right now. Who knows when this could happen again…Might as well take advantage of the time, right?
Abby doesn’t even respond to your question. Instead she takes the risk and leans into you, enclosing your lips with hers into a kiss. You can’t help but kiss her back and grab at the collar of her open muscle tank, pulling her closer to you. By instinct, Abby brings her hands down to the back of your thighs and signals you to jump. Once you do, she gets a grip on each of your legs as you wrap them around her waist. Abby brings you over to the couch and slowly sets you down before parting her lips away from yours and bringing her head down to kiss at your neck, causing you to whimper at her touch.
“Look at you…I’m barely even touching you and you’re already so desperate for me…” she murmurs in between kisses. “I wonder what your dad would think…knowing that his precious daughter is with me right now…”
Abby was right about that. What would your dad think of you right now? You promised him that you’d stay away from the daughter of the man that was competing with him and his business. And now she’s in your house, in your living room, planting kisses all over your body and marking you as hers.
All because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed.
But was it really because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed? Or because you couldn’t wait for Abby to fix the arousal that was starting to form in between your legs?
You snap yourself out of your thoughts once you feel Abby’s hands trailing down your body and stopping once they reach the hem of your shirt. She grabs onto it and pulls herself away to take it off of you, tossing it to the side once it’s off of your head. You reach over and do the same with her open muscle tank and remove it off of her before she goes back in to kiss at your exposed chest. But then…she stops. Why was she stopping?
You give her a confused expression as she pulls away to look at you, her blue eyes piercing through yours. “Listen…I’d be lying right now if I said I didn’t want to be doing this. I’ve been wanting you ever since I first saw you from across the street.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “But I need you to tell me, right now…Tell me you want this, and if you don’t, I promise I’ll leave and won’t come near you again.”
You were shocked over what Abby had just admitted to you. But then again, you understood why she would tell you this. This is by far the closest and most intimate you’ve ever been with her, and she didn’t want to go overboard or past your boundaries. She needed the green light. She was seeking the reassurance from you. She wanted to know if you were okay with this, because you both were about to break the rules, and there’s no turning back once it’s done.
But little did she know that you’ve been wanting the same thing. You’ve been wanting Abby in the same way she’s been wanting you. Hell, you’ve even touched yourself at night before with her on your mind. But she doesn’t need to know that. Instead, you just shake your head and grab onto her broad shoulders, pulling her in towards you for another kiss. “I want this, Abby, please…you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”
And before you know it, she’s stripped you from the rest of your clothes until you were just in your underwear. Abby was completely taken aback by the sight of you right now. “God…you’re so beautiful…” She mutters out as she begins to kneel down in front of you. “It should be a crime to keep this away from me.”
All you could do at this point was whine in response. The ache that was growing in between your legs was making it so difficult for you to even comprehend what Abby was saying to you right now. You desperately needed her to alleviate that feeling.
“Abby…p-please…need you so bad…”
You heard the blonde let out a chuckle in response. “I know baby, I know…Let’s see what I’m working with, yeah?” She then reaches up to your waist and grabs at the band of your underwear removing it off of you in one pull before spreading your legs open, revealing your pussy to her. The view that was in front of her right now was a sight for sore eyes. You were completely soaked for her, she could easily see the wetness gushing out of your pussy and trailing itself down to the leather of the couch. You tried to hold back a moan as you felt Abby’s fingers gently press against your folds and slowly spread them open to get a better look.
“Fuck, you’re so wet…is this really all for me?” She asks in surprise, looking up at you. You nodded in response. “It’s all for you Abs, please….need you to fix this…”
“Don’t worry angel, I’ll fix it for you.” she murmurs in response as she begins to scatter more kisses on your inner thighs, slowly inching her face closer to your heat. “I’ll make it all better for you, yeah?” And with that she begins to insert one of her fingers into your tight pussy, causing another whimper to escape from your mouth. You were so wet for her that she was easily able to slide her finger into you without struggling. It didn’t take long for her to slide a second finger in. “Atta girl…you’re taking my fingers so well…I wish I could’ve fixed this a lot sooner.” Abby then leans in and wraps her lips around your throbbing clit, not stopping the movements of her fingers.
You grab onto the armrest once you feel the sensation of her mouth on your clit. Her fingers were curling themselves into your cunt so hard that it’s practically causing friction in your g spot. Feeling heavy in your head, you slowly bring it down to see the sight of her beneath you. You spread your legs out a little more to give Abby some room, with your right leg hooking itself over the armrest of the couch. She’s been so fixated on eating out your cunt that the movement slightly startles her a bit. With her mouth still sucking onto your clit she looks up at you once again and you could’ve sworn that her fucking pupils just dilated. Abby was getting completely drunk on your pussy, and you were getting drunk from the overstimulation she was giving you.
You feel Abby’s mouth briefly remove itself from your clit, quickly replacing it with her thumb to keep you stimulated. She then brought herself up to tend to one of your tits, gently kissing and biting onto it as she continued to finger your cunt senselessly. It came to the point where the all of contact that Abby was giving you right now was slowly starting to consume you. Your pussy began to clench and contract around Abby’s thick fingers, indicating that you were starting to get close. She immediately noticed and took her mouth off of your breast, and went back down to your needy cunt to finish you off.
“Abby…” you moan out to her, your voice getting tense. “I-I’m getting close.”
“I know you are, angel. I’m gonna help you get there, yeah?” She tells you reassuringly as she presses her free hand onto your lower stomach. “Just ride my fingers out for me, baby, just like that.”
Abby then brings her mouth back to your swollen clit as she speeds the pace of her fingers. You follow her instructions and grind your hips against them, desperately trying to approach your climax.
However, you start to get an unusual feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as you began to get closer. The pressure was more intense than what you’re used to, for some reason it didn’t feel right. You felt like your body was on fire.
This led you to tell Abby to stop right at the last minute. “W-Wait, Abby, stop I— Fuck!”
But it was too late. Your body already did its deed before the words could get through your mouth. Your cunt pulsed hard against her fingers before going completely overboard on its climax. You throw your head back in pleasure and shut your eyes, whines and whimpers escaping your mouth as you cum all over Abby’s mouth and fingers. Her fingers soon start slowing it’s pace right after. She then removes her mouth and fingers from your pussy, gently stroking your trembling thighs as you slowly recover from your climax.
“Fuck, Abby…that was—“ You slowly tilt your head back down and open your eyes, only to be shocked by the sight of the blonde in front of you, completely drenched in your release. “Oh my God…Did I just…”
She nodded in response, wiping the bottom of her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think you did…”
You start to feel your face heat up in embarrassment and completely avert your gaze from her. “I’m so sorry Abs…I-I didn’t even know I could do that…” She only shook her head in response. leaning in to give you a another kiss, which allowed you to taste a bit of yourself on her lips. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did so good for me.” Abby then brought her gaze down to your cunt, still twitching after it’s intense orgasm. She gently ran two fingers down to pick up the rest of your release before bringing them to her mouth, sucking them clean. “This was definitely worth the wait.”
You let out a giggle in response before leaning in to give her another kiss. “You were definitely worth the wait for me.”
Abby smiled back at you, before noticing something at the corner of her eye. She looked out through the window, her eyes widening in shock at what came across her vision.
“Oh shit…Isn’t that Joel’s truck?”
You quickly turned your head around to see your dad’s truck passing through the roundabout of the neighborhood. It looks like he was able to stop by from work after all. “Oh my God, I completely forgot I told him about the outlet.” You look over to Abby and began to pick up your discarded clothes from the ground. “You need to go, now before my dad sees you.”
The two of you scramble around the living room for each other’s clothes, quickly dressing yourselves again. You then sprint over to the kitchen to get a rag before coming back to the living room to wipe what was left of your release off of the couch. Once you do, you look up to see your dad’s truck now parked in the driveway. Thank God he was still sitting there and on his phone, probably talking a client out of doing business with Abby’s dad. You then look over to her, now fully dressed. “Come with me, I’ll take you out through the back.” You grab her hand and bring her outside to the backyard, opening the back fence for her. “Just go out through the left and cross the street, that way it won’t look suspicious.” She nodded in response, quickly turning back to briefly kiss you on the lips before heading out. This gave you the feeling that it wasn’t going to be the last time that this would happen.
But for now you felt a wave of relief wash through you. As Abby began to head back home you closed the fence and went back inside, only to hear the sound of the front door opening and your dad’s footsteps entering the house.
“Hey kiddo, m’home!” You heard him call out. “Was able to stop by real quick from work to check on the TV. Is it still not workin’?”
Well, Abby might be out of your hands, but now you’ve encountered a new dilemma: trying to explain to your dad how the TV got fixed.
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author’s note: i pray that this doesn’t flop 🙏🏻
part 2 here
requested tags 🏷️: @aouiaa @whorn3y @pretty-prrincess-13 @elliewilliamskissr
2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.
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oookay68 · 4 months
Text
An Unexpected Plus One
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Luke Castellan x gn!reader
Word Count: 1186
Summary: Luke sneaks into your bed after a particularly bad nightmare only to find something unexpected
Warnings: none
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
A hot night in August followed an even hotter day. As Apollo’s golden chariot descended, Artemis’ silver took its place and with it, the stars. The once loud and busy camp is now deserted, traces of the day’s activities evident on the ground. Disturbed grass, arrows strewn messily by the targets, unorganized climbing equipment by the lava wall. In the dead of night, Camp Half-Blood was silent. 
Save for the cicadas buzzing throughout the night. The mixture of the familiar bugs and the humid air brought a smell of warmth and comfort to one Luke Castellan. He quietly crept out of Cabin Eleven, cautiously avoiding puddles of mud and cringing every time his shoe squelched in the wet grass. 
It was common for him to sneak out of the cabin in the black night. Nightmares plagued every demigod and every one dealt with them in different ways. Luke’s favorite way was to crawl into your bed and seek the comfort of your arms and smell. It was a ritual that you both did. Falling asleep with each others’ warmth was the only way you guys could rest after whatever demigod dreams you had. 
Luke thought about his dream on the way to your cabin. A disembodied voice whispering in his ear to steal. The object itself was unclear. But it wasn't like stealing was a foreign concept to Luke or that he felt it was a moral wrong. He was the son of Hermes, he and his siblings had a knack for thievery and were kleptomaniacs to varying extents. 
He ducked behind the front porch of your cabin when one of the lights turned on. He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for a harpy to come out and bust him for breaking curfew. When nothing came he continued on, muttering something about a stupid motion light. 
Luke pressed his face to your window. It was one he could find in his sleep, in fact, you once woke up to him repeatedly sleepwalking into your window. It was a memory that you would never let him forget no matter how hard he tried, a swim in the River Lethe wouldn’t be enough to erase that from your mind. He peeked through the window and smiled when he saw your face, peacefully asleep facing him.
Quietly sliding the window open, Luke stepped in and slipped off his shoes, knowing how much you hate dirty sheets. Your small bed faced the wall so he had to awkwardly throw his sneakers onto the wooden floor before he gently stepped onto your bed. You turned onto your back and mumbled something in your sleep that sounded a little bit like a cat’s meow. 
Luke stroked your hair softly and pressed a warm kiss on your forehead before crawling underneath the covers with you. When he laid down he was met with strong resistance. Sleep deprived and uncaring, he persevered and wrapped his arm around your frame. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off before being rudely jolted awake with a kick to his side.
He bit back a groan of pain before shoving your light limbs over onto your side and snuggling into your neck. Another hit to his side disturbed his attempt at falling asleep. But you were still blissfully asleep, unaware of your sleeping jabs. 
Luke did his best to ignore your kicks and just assumed that you were having nightmares too. With that thought he kissed your head again and pulled you into him. But his mind wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Vigilant of your sleepy assaults, Luke stayed awake and stared at the bottom of the bunk above, focusing on your breathing. 
Your heavy breathing reminded him that you were still alive, that you both were still alive. Usually he lets you sleep and waits until the morning to talk about the nightmares but something about this one disturbed him. Your chest moved up and down, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling and then exhaling again. 
Wait, what?
Luke sat up and looked at your rising and falling chest. A sleepy, “ow” drew his eyes to your face. You were still knocked out as if you were Hypnos himself. A sharp punch into his side startled him. Luke lifted the sheets up quickly and let out a surprised, “oh” when another pair of eyes stared back at him. 
“Who are you?” the quiet voice asked him groggily.
“Oh, uh I’m sorry I think I wandered into the wrong bed by mistake.” Luke said. It wasn’t like your relationship was a secret but it was private. And he had to think of a fast explanation for the seven year old currently occupying your bed. 
The little girl sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Why are you here?”
“Uhm…”
You started stirring awake and lifted your arm to crack your knuckles and elbow. Slowly opening your eyes, you stroked your little sister’s hair before Luke’s red face caught your attention. Even in the darkness of the night you could tell how embarrassed he was by the sheer heat his body was radiating, preparing his body for a fight or flight scenario. 
“Baby?” You croak, voice deep with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
Luke smiles sheepishly and pats your sister’s head. “Just uh, wanted to make sure that you guys were sleeping well.” He shoots an awkward glance at the seven year old sitting on your leg. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”
It hits you slowly that there’s only one reason as to why he’s sneaked into your bed in the middle of the night. And no, it wasn’t to do any nefarious activities. “Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, uhm…this is Lacy, she’s my little sister. She was a little homesick so I let her sleep with me.”
Luke smiles genuinely, you’re always there for your younger siblings, taking on a parental role for the young ones who miss home or have never felt that kind of love. He looks down at your sister and pats her shoulder, “You’re lucky to have Y/N as a sibling, Lacy.”
Now fully awake, Lacy gives him a toothless smile. “I know.” She says sweetly and lays back down to snuggle into your embrace. 
“I’ll uh, I’ll head back.” Luke says.
You shake your head, “I’m sorry Luke, we can make some space.” You pick up Lacy easily and move her to the wall. It was no wonder why your leg felt so light to Luke. Lacy was so small and looked five rather than seven.
“No no, it’s fine.” He looked at the small single bed that held the three of you, “Three’s a crowd, I didn’t know that I’d be an unexpected plus one.” 
“Are you sure?” You ask. You’d hate to leave him alone especially after he just had a nightmare. “It’s no problem at all.”
Luke shakes his head, “Nah don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He gingerly kisses your lips and Lacy squirms and shies away from you two. “Sleep well you two.”
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sinsirellaxx · 1 month
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hello! 🌷 can i request a slytherin boys x reader headcanons? it's a little angsty, though: about the reader (that has an established relationship with them) getting hit by an unforgivable curse that brings unbearable pain to her even though it doesn't kill her? just reader screaming and crying of pain on their arms and begging her boyfriend to kill her because the pain is unbearable !!
also i don't think that the slytherins would be able to do that, even though it pains them to see you in so much pain— so they try to find a solution or something that reverts the spell ? they can't bear the thought of losing you. ☹️
Slytherin Boys – You are hit by an unforgivable and they have to watch you suffer
Warning: Angst, murder (don't worry, the reader is not dead!)
Thank you for the request! x
 Mattheo …
… whips around to face you when he hears your pained scream. His whole body tenses, his chest tight as he struggles to breathe while his eyes search for you. The moment his eyes land on you he feels a stinging burn behind his brown orbs, his heart threatening to combust inside of his chest. He feels like he is trapped in slow-motion as he quickly turns to your tormenter, casting an unforgivable himself and taking the life of the cause of your pain. His feet then turn towards you, taking off to run to you – to hold you in his arms. He falls to the ground, gathering your stiff body and pressing your head into the crook of his neck – all the while stroking your hair. He knows how much you love it when he does it – you always claimed it was the most comforting thing he could do. He listened to you scream and cry in his arms, your hands gripping onto his shirt as you bit back another scream.
“I’m sorry, love. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” Mattheo brokenly whispered as he rocked you back and forth soothingly, “We’ll be fine.” He added quietly, wondering if you really would be. His heart broke when you begged him to kill you a pained sob forcing it’s way up his throat as he shook his head. He’d rather die than lose you.
“No, no, no. Baby, no. It’s going to be fine. Stay strong for me, baby. Please.” Mattheo choked on a sob as he begged you to stay strong. He wouldn’t let you die.
Theodore …
… watched as you stumbled to the ground, the force of the curse sending you backwards. His eyes widened as he watched your lifeless body, anxiety spreading through his whole being as he watched for any sign of life – he did not dare to move. The silence was broken by your piercing scream of agony as your body spasmed. Theodore gasped for breath as he felt brief relief wash over him – you were alive. Yet at what cost? Another scream from you brought him out of his reverie, whipping out his wand he quickly immobilized your attacker before running towards you. Kneeling down next to you he checked you for any injuries, the frown on his face deepening when he couldn’t find anything.
“Hush, Tesoro. Everything will be fine – you’ll be fine. Try to take deep breaths for me, alright?” He hushed you desperately as he softly brushed the hair from your face with his trembling hand. He ignored your pleas to kill you as he stood up, with his wand in his hand. He turned to look at your attacker who was still stunned on the floor. Pointing his wand at the man on the floor he leered at him. “Tell me, what kind of curse was that?”
Theodore would find a way to stop your pain and after that he’d end the life of the man who caused you to suffer.
Lorenzo …
… roared like a wounded animal when he saw you writhe in pain. He cast curse after curse until he was sure your attacker was dead. He had never been this glad about his upbringing before. Turning around Lorenzo immediately ran to you, one of his hands gripping onto one of yours as he cupped your wet cheek with his other.
“I’m so sorry, princess.” He apologized, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he listened to your pained cries. “Please, be strong for me, love.” Lorenzo’s voice broke as another wave of pain crashed through your body, your grip on his hand tightening uncontrollably. The first tear rolled down his cheek when you told him to kill you. “No.” He managed to grit out as he lifted you into his lap, holding your head to his chest. “You can’t die.” His lower lip wobbled as he racked his brain – thinking of any charm or any curse that might help. Squeezing his eyes shut he tuned out your screams – gasping when he remembered hearing of an ancient spell that could take someone’s pain. He had read about it, and he was very well aware of the possible consequences. But he’d rather you live without pain than wishing to be freed.
“Don’t worry … I got you.” He murmured as he whispered the incantation – hoping it would work.
Draco …
… wept as he held you in his arms. He couldn’t bear the sight of you in pain. Your body was convulsing, your head thrown back as another scream got stuck in your throat. He shouted for help when you momentarily stopped breathing, his voice raw with emotion as he looked around himself. There was no one there to help him. He was all alone.
“H-hang in there, doll.” He touched your cheek with trembling fingers, leaving bloody fingerprints on your dirtied skin, his body relaxing as you started breathing again.
“I’ve got you. I ‘ll help you.” He shushed you, crying along with you as another rush of pain overcame your tired body. “I’m sorry – I’m so sorry!” His voice broke as he kept apologizing for pulling you into his dark world.
Blaise …
… briefly shut down when he saw your writhing body on the wet floor. He thought you were dead. His grip on his wand loosened, his world threatening to turn upside down. He felt nauseous, his chest tightening until he couldn’t breathe – until he could. You had gasped for air, obviously alive. His short moment of relief didn’t last long, for you started screaming bloody murder, your fingers digging into the floor beneath you. That’s when he remembered: You got hit by the Cruciatus Curse. Blaise immediately ran to you, a deep frown on his face as you screamed in agony – you wouldn’t stop screaming. Kneeling down in front of you he stared at you helplessly. He couldn’t help you – you had to endure it. When you told him – no begged him to kill you, he shook his head quickly. “Be strong for me, love. Please.”
Tom …
… immediately took down the death eater who had dared to hurt you within the blink of an eye. He briefly checked his surroundings before turning to your hunched over body. You were screaming, your fingers gripping onto your head. When you saw his feet in front of you, you immediately looked up at him, teary eyes red as you parted your trembling lips. Suddenly, you threw yourself forward, clinging onto his legs as you begged him to stop it. To kill you. Tom stared down at you coldly – if he was worried or pained by your misery he didn’t show it. He sighed deeply, knocking you out with a charm before pulling your body into his arms. He could never kill you – he needed you more than he wanted to acknowledge. He disapparated to his home – he’d find a way to help you. There was no doubt.
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gloomwitchwrites · 10 days
Note
could you do one about all the members of 141 if the reader is super sensitive during sex, squeaks and squirms, cries but she likes it she’s just very responsive
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Sensitivity during sex is subjective as everyone is different in that regard. So, here is my little offering to you, anon.
Content & Warnings: unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty talk, missionary, established relationship, teasing, overstimulation, cowgirl, mirror sex, vaginal fingering
John “Soap” MacTavish: Soap is a bit of a tease. (wc: 374) Kyle “Gaz” Garrick: Kyle talks you through it. (wc: 457) John Price: Wants you to watch. (wc: 404) Simon “Ghost” Riley: Simon pins you down. (wc: 391)
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist
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John "Soap" MacTavish
Johnny is a tease.
“How’s that feel, love?” he croons with a mischievous smile.
You whimper. Gasp. His hands upon your skin are simply too much.
Without an answer, Johnny goes down on one elbow, changing the position. He’s not even thrusting anymore, simply holding himself inside you, keeping your legs spread wide over his large, muscled thighs.
“Can’t use your words?” he mocks lightly as the tips of his fingers tenderly graze over a hardened nipple.
At the same time, he sinks a bit further, thighs spreading slightly, pushing your legs even wider. You’re unable to do much but writhe and wiggle beneath him. He always does this. Always teases. He loves how sensitive you are, and how your body comes alive beneath him. All the little sounds you make, all the sharp shakes and shivers, only motivate Johnny to draw forth more.
“What will happen if I touch you here, hm?” he asks, his hand dipping between your bodies. When Johnny says “here,” he runs his finger around the place your bodies meet.
Your cry is loud, and it only becomes louder when he trails upward to circle your clit. His name is there, on the very tip of your tongue, but each touch is a zap, stealing your voice.
But this touching and teasing isn’t cruel. You love every second. It only makes the end that much more electric.
“And here, love? What would happen?” he murmurs.
While still moving over your clit, Johnny leans forward, his tongue circling and then sucking your nipple into his mouth. Your body immediately contracts, every muscle tensing then relaxing. A little shiver rattles up through your spine and out to the edges of your limbs. It causes you to squirm, the sensitivity nearly overwhelming.
But there is nowhere for you to go. You are not only pinned to the bed by Johnny’s upper body but by his cock.
Johnny releases your nipple, his mouth forming a smug smile. “Suppose you need some relief, yeah?”
You curl into him, fingers digging into his skin. Johnny brushes your hair out of your face, and that too makes you tremble.
“Lie back,” he soothes, and you melt, molding to the bed as he flattens himself above you.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Kyle talks you through it.
“That’s it. You’re doing so well.”
“That’s my girl. Look at you.”
Kyle delicately guides your legs toward your chest. You’re bent at the knees, trembling, breathing coming fast and heavy. Every touch of his is like a brand against the skin. It is an overwhelming tsunami.
“Kyle,” you beg. “Please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Maybe for it all to end even though you crave the sensation.
“Gotta control that wiggling love.”
“I—I can’t,” you whimper, thighs trembling as he puts you into position.
Kyle parts your pussy with his fingers and you cry out. He tuts and then inserts two fingers. Your hips instantly buck and your back arches, wanting to escape from him.
“No no. None of that, love.” Kyle lightly presses down on your stomach, holding you still as he curls his fingers up and drags them, repeating the motion.
Again, you cry out, and then tears sting your cheeks as you claw at the bedding.
“Control your squirming and I’ll give you what you want.”
“You’re awful,” you whimper, every muscle in your body twitching, wanting to move.
“Do what I say, love. Know you can.” You inhale and Kyle chuckles softly. “That’s it. Good. Exhale. Again.”
He has you repeat the process until the muscles in your limbs calm.
Kyle’s hands retreat, and then he reclines beside you, rotating onto his back. His hand palms the base of his cock, stroking gently.
“Get on top, love. Hands on my chest. You control the pace.”
With a gentle tremble, you swing one leg over Kyle’s thighs, straddling him. You do as he instructs, placing your hands on his chest and angling your hips. He guides himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pushing in, stretching you wide, the sensation shooting up your spin and as well as to the tips of your toes.
“I know you can take it. Fuck, love. That’s it. Good.”
You slowly slide down on him, groaning loudly, nails digging into his chest as you impale yourself on him.
“Oh—fuck.” Kyle’s hands are on your thighs, running up and down them in a caress.
It takes every bit of your concentration to focus on the rhythm of your hips. You’re overly sensitive, and this position reaches deep, hitting that sweet spot every time you come down on him.
“Kyle,” you beg, but it’s without meaning. You just need to talk, to say something, to verbalize your need in whatever way you’re able.
His answer is a groan. “That’s it. Fuck, love. You feel amazing.”
Slowly, your eyelids open, and you’re greeted with a beautiful sight.
“Don’t fucking stop,” he says, one hand sliding between your breasts.
John Price
“Look at yourself, love.”
You are unable to move. Unable to squirm.
John has you spread wide over his thighs like a sacrificial offering. His knees are bent toward the ceiling and just parted enough that you cannot move your legs while draped in his lap. He’s got you impaled on his cock, and he is downright fucking smug about it.
While the motion of your legs is useless, you also don’t have your arms. John has them propped above your head because he doesn’t want you touching him or himself. His own muscles forearms snake up and over your upper arms. It allows you no control, but allows John everything. He can touch your breasts like this. He can touch your clit, your neck, and whatever else he wants.
John rocks and rolls his hips, dick appearing and then disappearing back into your pussy. All you can do is flex your hips a bit but it isn’t enough. You are completely trapped. At his mercy. And the sensitivity is overwhelming.
Without any control, you have to submit to John, and while you love it, it only rockets every ripple of pleasure that much higher.
“See what I have to do,” he murmurs into your ear. “You can’t stop moving.”
Tears bloom in the corners of your eyes like tiny dewdrops. You are far too sensitive for this. John is pushing you into overstimulation.
John nips at your earlobe and you gasp. “Look,” he prompts.
The closet door is open. Not by much, but enough that the mirror that hands on the inside faces the bed. Within, you see yourself, and John. You see how splayed out you are, how needy and pathetic you look in his arms.
“Look,” he says again. “Want you to watch.”
It takes all your effort to focus. Every time John rock his hips upward, his brush of skin against you is fire. It causes everything in you to react and jump. But you cannot writhe. Cannot move.
And that only makes you more frustratingly coiled with untamed need.
Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyelids heavy as you gaze upon the spot where your bodies meet, and how much your body stretches to accommodate him. You can see how your chest heaves, the tightness building and overwhelming your senses.
“Now you see what I see,” murmurs John as his hand delves downward to give you some relief.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
“Quit your squirming.”
“Then don’t be cruel,” you moan, nearly jumping out of Simon’s arms when he sharply thrusts upward.
Simon’s teeth nip at your throat and this time your body jerks, almost sending you out of his lap.
“Stay still,” he growls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.
“You know how sensitive I am.”
“I do. Fucking love it.”
Simon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s an embrace, and yet there is power behind it, the muscles there tensing with anticipation. You inhale, and your exhalation is stolen from you.
Simon twists, and you go with him, rolling onto your back.
You squeak loudly only to be pinned against the bed. “Simon—”
He crushes his lips to yours, his tongue delving for your taste. The only sound you make is a whimper. “But sometimes,” murmurs Simon against your lips. Your squirming gets in the way.”
Using his body weight, Simon drives in at a harsh angle, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. That vibration of pleasure ripples outward, and your body reacts as it always does. But you cannot writhe and wiggle. Simon is too heavy, and he knows this, which is why he’s pinned you.
“Oh—fuck. Simon. Plea—. Please.”
“Please what?” laughs Simon softly before moving inside of you again.
The only reply you can make is a strained moan.
Simon grins, completely smug. “Tuck in, love. I’ll give you something to squirm about.”
Simon wraps your wrists up in one hand, pinning them above your head. He starts to thrust in earnest, his free hand holding the side of your throat. He watches on as tears come to your eyes. Your body wants to move, to buck and arch against him, but you are completely trapped.
Simon leans in, kisses the spots on your cheeks stained with tears. The only thing you can move are the bottoms of your legs. You wrap your ankles over his bulging calves and cling.
Every stroke and brush of his skin against yours is a roaring fire, rocketing you toward overstimulation. Words fall from your lips but they are elusive, just white noise in your ears. You know that you’re crying, that you’re speaking to him, that you’re attempting to move.
But Simon is relentless, claiming every inch of your body like he always does.
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poge-life · 1 year
Text
𝕍𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝔽𝕒𝕚𝕣 ~ 𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕨 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕪
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“ I’m (y/n) (l/n) and we’re the cast of Outer Banks and today, we’re going to test how well we know each other.” You smiled looking between the camera and the group to your left. Carlacia raised her hand as she motioned between you and Drew, “Drew shouldn’t be allowed to answer any of these because none of us will even have a chance.”
Everyone let out sounds of agreement as you shook your head, reading the first question, “I don’t know. These are questions that made me think about my answer.”
“Okay, oo. This is a good one. What movie animal is my dog named after?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this.” Drew told you but you shook your head in disagreement, “I’ve mentioned it before but I think it was when you guys first met him.”
“The adventures of Milo and Otis?” Chase asked and Madison agreed but you shook your head. Both Austin and Drew leaned forward to try and read the car but you quickly pulled away, tucking the card against your chest, “Cheaters!”
“What movie has a dog named Milo in it?”
“Oh! The mask! His dogs name is Milo!” Rudy answered and you flipped your card, showing ‘The Mask’, “I’m a huge Jim Carrey fan and since Milo is also a jack russell, it was fate.”
“Oo, you guys are never going to get this one,” you laughed, reading the card, “it literally took me so long to even think about this one. When I was 5, I jumped off the banister and had to get stitches. Where were the stitches?”
Everyone looked over at Drew, who would be the only one to remotely know the answer but he just tilted his head at you in thought.
“Your head?” Madelyn asked but you shook your head, “Nope. My sister did though. Cracked her head open.”
“How are you and your sister still alive?” Austin asked, looking at you in surprise as you shrugged before writing your answer on the card.
“Your legs?” JD asked, snapping his fingers at you
“Nope. Not even close.”
Drew clapped his hands once as he looked over at you, “Your tongue. You bit through your tongue and had to get 6 stitches.”
“Your tongue?!?” Madison asked, looking over at you in shock as you flipped your card, showing the answer, “Yes. I smacked my chin on the arm of the couch and bit right through my tongue. My tongue was stuck and I had to get stitches.”
“You just need to live in a bubble at this point, girl.” Carlacia laughed as everyone agreed with her.
“What do I think is the grossest thing a person can do?”
“THROWING UP!” Drew and JD shouted at the same time as they high fived. You cringed as you showed your card that read ‘throwing up’ as the answer.
“I hate throwing up. I hate the way I feel before, during, and after. It’s just so gross and gives me the ick.” You shuddered as Austin patted your leg, “The first time she threw up in front of us, she cried because of how grossed out she was.”
“That was traumatizing for all of us,” Rudy explained, “we were out on a boat and she just went very pale and threw up. Everywhere. We had no idea what had happened and then she just started bawling her eyes out. We all started panicking, thinking something was wrong but then she said how she hated throwing up and it just…it killed the whole vibe.”
You chucked the marker cap at Rudy, who ducked but went to retrieve it, “Sorry that being seasick killed the vibe, dillhole.”
Letting out a laugh at the nest question, you looked over at Drew and shook your head, “you’re not allowed to answer this one. You’ll get the answer right away.”
“I’ve known all of these, baby,” he winked and your face went red as you hid it behind the card, “just trying to give them a chance.”
“You guys gross me out.” Madelyn teased, looking between you two
“What is my favorite show to binge?” You asked, but you wrote down two possible answers.
“That 70s show is one.” Chase answered, “I always hear the theme song in your trailer and you quote it constantly.”
“You also watch the walking dead a lot too.” JD added, pointing to Chase, “you yell at your laptop a lot.”
“Dude, you have no idea how long it took me to get used to her yelling at the tv.” Drew told him, “the first time she did it, I thought she was pissed at me for no reason but she was just watching the walking dead.”
Everyone started talking about how into your shows you get, causing you to hold up your hands in protest, “Okay, okay! There’s nothing wrong with being passionate about movie and tv shows. But yes, that 70s show and the walking dead are my go to.”
“Two complete opposite shows, by the way.” Madison pointed out
“Oo, how many tattoos do I have?”
Everyone went quiet as they stared at you, no doubt picturing the tattoos that laid under your clothes. You had been purposely asked to wear a long sleeve top and pants to not let them get the answer so easily.
“I wanna say…12?” Carlacia asked, tilting her head at you, “Most of them are on your right arm but I know you have a few on your left. You have the fairy wings on your back…”
“I know you have a dinosaur on your leg because I drew a hat on it last week.” Austin answered, causing you to look up from writing your answer, furrowing your eyebrows at him, “you drew a hat on Terrance?”
“You named the dinosaur Terrance?” JD laughed as you nodded, “Terrance the triceratops.”
“Terry, for short.” Drew added, pointing at you as you nodded
“I wanna say 10 or 15.” Madison said, leaning forward, “I know you got P4L after season 2 came out.”
“You only had like 2 when the show started.”
“There’s a few you guys don’t know about cause they’re always covered.” You told them, going over your answer. Drew didn’t even miss a beat with his response, “Well, they don’t. But I do.”
“Okay! Who’s next?!”
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tadpolebrains · 3 months
Text
Touch-starved Gale Dekarios
• He spent what, a year in self-isolation in his tower with only Tara for company? You bet this man is touch-starved
• When you take his hand to pull him out of his unstable portal, he’s more focused on the relief than the lingering warmth in his palm
• He doesn’t really know it at first. Doesn’t understand that his longing to be closer to you as you’re traveling isn’t only because it’s his first bit of companionship in a long time.
• It’s when he’s first showing you the Weave that he gets physically closer, taking your hands to guide you through the motions… and realizing that your touch holds a similar grounding warmth to the hug of the Weave’s presence
• He starts to find excuses to bump into you as he walks, blaming it on his usual clumsiness. Or setting a hand on your shoulder when explaining something, or pointing something out.
• When he reveals the truth of his condition, your hand against his chest, his hands shake slightly as he holds your hand there. Because that very well might be the last bit of physical contact from another person he’d ever have if you cast him out. He’s accepted his fate, his loneliness, his isolation. This short amount of time was a nice reprieve before the end
• But then you don’t, and he realizes he doesn’t have to let this go. You don’t pull your hand away until he lets it slip away, and his gaze might linger on it for a little too long
• And then Elminster gives him his ‘mission’ from Mystra, and he’s forced to resign himself to his fate yet again. He figures it might be easier to pull away. If he starts distancing himself again, the end will come easier.
• You hug him that night, and that mindset is quickly shattered.
• But despite his best efforts, he can’t truly bring himself to pull away entirely. Because even if it might make the end hurt more, he wants that warmth. That connection. That comfort.
• He’d phrase requests for affection like facts. “Are you aware that is is a proven fact that a consistent access to physical touch improves mental health? Fascinating, no?”
• Hugs last for long moments, not just a quick thing. He’d bury his head against your shoulder, inhaling deeply to ground himself with your scent. Thumb brushing over your back as if to assure himself that you’re there, and this is real. He hasn’t completely lost his mind in isolation in his tower and made all this up.
• He complains one day about his hair getting in his face during a battle, and you offer to braid it back. The sensation of your fingers coming through it, rhythmic strokes, blunt nails against his scalp… he is practically melting by the time you’re done, leaning back against you and murmuring something about how he tried to braid his hair once with a mage hand and failed.
• He falls asleep in your arms that night, and sleeps better than he has ever remembered. Waking up surrounded in the warmth of your embrace instead of by scattered papers and books is the calmest he’s felt in a long while
• He feels guilty asking to do it again. After all, why would you? What are you getting out of this? He isn’t providing anything, and he’s selfishly asking this for his own comfort- but when you continually say yes, he starts to consider that perhaps… perhaps this is something he can have without guilt
• Ultimately, when the netherbrain fight is over and he’s still alive, it truly sets in for the first time that… he can have this life
• Days spent waking up in your arms, lazily draped across your lap while lost in reading, or holding you in his, chin hooked over your shoulder as he reads aloud, holding the book in your lap. Holding your hand as you walk down the streets of Waterdeep.
• Suffice to say, he’ll never need to go without contact again
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infamous-if · 5 months
Text
Spicy Snippet #3: M!Seven
VICTORIA - ORION - F!SEVEN
The high you feel hearing the crowd after a performance is one that can’t be replicated. Not even the strongest drugs can make you feel this…alive. Nothing else in the world can make you feel this alive. 
Aside from Seven, of course. 
But if the danger of the drug is measured by how strong the addiction is, you fear Seven Lawless is definitely the worst. 
Or best, depending on how you look at it.
That thought runs through your mind now when Seven takes your hand and motions to the bathroom. Your friends are too busy riding that post-performance high by dancing together, and you look away from them to give Seven a nod.
The sly, evil smile that rises on his face makes a shiver run down your spine, and you allow him to pull you through the crowd. 
When you two reach the bathroom, Seven looks under each stall as you throw cold water on your face. You’re panting, sweaty, and your skin still burns with heat from the performance. When Seven is satisfied that you two are alone, he turns to look at you through the mirror. The secret smile on his face makes your skin burn hotter, and you’re certain that performing on stage to a stadium of people won’t ever hold a candle to how he makes you feel with one look.
He keeps his eyes trained on yours when he walks over to you, stopping to stand behind you. A lump forms in your throat, and a swell of excitement and nervousness rises in the pit of your stomach when he puts his hands on the sink, looking away from the mirror to tilt his head at you, gazing at your face. 
“Hi.” 
You manage a smile when you drag your eyes away from the mirror to turn your cheek, meeting his eyes. “Hey.” 
His humor fades away once his eyes settle on your mouth and you subconsciously lick your lips. Doing the same to his own, he appears debate something for a brief moment. Then, with heated eyes, he leans forward and presses his mouth to yours. 
The action is cautious, delicate, which is funny considering Seven was just head banging on stage minutes ago. You can taste the strawberry chapstick on his mouth, and the heat of his tongue against yours makes your legs feel like goo. Kissing Seven is still something completely new to you. 
After being best friends for years, you thought you knew all there was to know about Seven. It’s only recently that you discovered there’s a version of him you were completely in the dark about. Like how he kisses. How, sometimes, you look at him while you two are singing on stage and feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes. Or how he makes a certain sound in your mouth when you kiss him just right. A sound only you can pull out of him. 
When he pulls away, it’s too soon. He smiles at you. “You did really well on stage tonight.” 
“Is that why you brought me to the bathroom?” you say with a smile of your own. “To compliment me?”
“Maybe.” Your nose brushes his when he moves his head to kiss you again, chaste and brief. You ache for more. “Are you disappointed? Is it not enough?”
“Not nearly,” you admit, the words leaving you in a sigh. 
His eyes glitter with happiness and he chews on his lower lip in thought before saying, “I like when you want me. For a long time, I wasn't sure if you did. Well...I hoped you did."
You hate how easily saying things like that come to him. “So do I.” 
“Well, I want you all the time so that’s not really anything special…” 
You sputter out a laugh, looking around the bathroom. Like most club bathrooms, it sits in disrepair from lack of maintenance. It’s dirty, and hardly romantic. When you look back at Seven, he’s looking at you with half a grin, already knowing what you’re going to say next. “Even now?”
“Especially now.” He looks at you. “Sweaty from performing and we’re alone…”
You snort and Seven smiles before he leans in again. All pretenses flee, and your skin grows hot when you turn fully to face him. He presses his body against yours, pushing you against the sink. 
You deepen the kiss, your hand going to his neck, pulling him closer. Seven’s chest vibrates against yours when he groans, his palm reaching under your shirt to swipe across your stomach, the heat of his skin against yours making your desire shoot up until you feel yourself reaching between you two, your fingers toying with the zipper of his pants. Feeling exactly just how much he wants you.
Seven pulls away, putting his hand on yours, stopping you. When you look at him, he shoots a pointed look at the door. Understanding, you smile and push yourself off the sink, grabbing his hand. It’s your turn to lead him and you do so to one of the empty stalls. 
The moment you lock it, Seven is on you. He pushes you against the door of the stall. He stifles your gasp with another kiss, this one hurried and urgent as if time is running out. 
When he pulls away to kiss your neck, you bring a hand to his hair to guide him. The strands are soft between your fingers, and Seven smiles against your skin. And then, between kisses, he says, “When do you think we’re going to tell the band about this?”
“Never,” is your immediate reply, and his kiss melts into a bite that makes you stifle a moan. You drop your hand from his hair to the waistband of his pants, forcing it down his hips. “They’d never let us live it down.” 
You and Seven have been hiding away for the past few weeks. You don’t remember the exact reason why you two agreed not to tell anyone, but it had something to do with “not ruining the delicate ecosystem of the dynamic” whatever that means.
“Do you think they already know?” he manages, the words coming out strangled when you hook a finger over the band of his boxers, pulling them down. "They must have an idea." Seven swallows when he follows your gaze to the space between you two.
“Don’t know,” you say, kissing him again. He bites your lower lip in playful warning and you pull away to spit on your hand. “And right now, don’t care.”
“Eventually we’re going to have to tell the—oh.” You know exactly how to shut him up. Your hand wraps around him and he jerks his hips forward, unable to stop the moans from leaving your lips. 
You kiss him again, and he puts two hands on your cheeks. You've barely settled into the rhythm he likes most when the bathrooms swing open, and Seven’s eyes widen. Sensing another groan from him, you put your hand on his mouth and his brows furrow together in panic. Then you quicken your pace and his drops his head against the door, his face melting back into that expression of carnal pleasure you like to see so much. Seven completely forgets what he was worried about. 
“…you think we’ll be able to come back next week?” You almost choke the moment the voice rises in the air, and your hand falters. Seven makes a frustrated sound in his throat and he puts a hand on your arm, urging you to continue. 
“You heard that?” Iris asks. 
You look at Seven with wide eyes, and his brows furrow in faux innocence. “Mfhfnmf?” he mutters against the skin of your palm. You want to scream in frustration—at Devyn. At Iris. At their impeccable timing. 
You hear the doors of the stalls slamming open and Seven shoots you a look. Ah. Shit. The last thing you need is for your friends to find out you and Seven are…whatever you are right now. 
You step back and Seven fumbles for his pants, grumbling in disappointment as he buttons it closed. You look around, uncertain at first, before you step on the toilet so only one pair of feet are seen in the stall. Seven spins around in confusion, not knowing what to do with his hands and...with himself, and you point at the door so he understands. 
“I swear I heard that,” Iris says. “What if someone is dying or something?”
“It’s…me,” Seven calls out. His voice is thick with desire, still hoarse from what you two just finished doing.
Well, finished isn’t exactly the word. 
“Seven?” Iris ventures. “You alright?”
“Yeah, just felt sick,” he responds, looking back with a shrug. The heat in the pit of your stomach hasn’t gone away, and when he looks at you, it takes everything in you not to tell Iris and Devyn to fuck off somewhere. 
“You need a hand?” Devyn asks.
"A hand?" You hear Seven snicker, and you want to kick him. Though you can't stop your own smile. "Nuh-huh. I'm not throwing up or anything." Seven puts a cheek on the door, then his hands. He looks like he’s getting irritated. You understand—you want them gone.“I’m alright. I’ll meet you guys back outside.” 
Your legs are starting to hurt, you shift in order to give your muscles relief, but the toilet seat moves with you, making you slip. 
You scream, because what else is there to do when you're slipping face first off a toilet seat?
“Wha—” Seven barely has time to spin and catch you before you’re crashing into him, making his head clatter against the door. The sound echoes against the bathroom, and your friends are gasping.
"Ow..." Seven groans.
“Seven?!” A moment later you see Iris peeking out from under the stall, her eyes widening. “[MC]?”
“Heyyyy,” you drawl out casually, your body slumped over on Seven’s as he uses his arm to hold you up. He uses the other one to open the door, and it swings open pathetically until Devyn and Iris are looking at you with twin expressions of surprise. 
“Hey.” Seven nods his head in greeting, smiling awkwardly. He puts his hands together to lock his fingers behind your back, holding you to his chest.
Devyn glances at the both of you, lips parted. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”
“I…uh.” He swallows. “Thought I had a bowel problem. [MC] was just helping me in making sure nothing wrong’s down there.” He forces out a laugh. "All good."
You look at him, wanting to beam your disappointment into his brain. Really? That’s all you could come up with? 
“Ugh.” Iris waves a dismissive hand, walking away. “You two are so fucking weird sometimes. Go to the doctor! It's not normal to be that close!"
"You have no idea how close we are," Seven mumbles, and you nudge his rib. He coughs, and then smiles again.
Devyn stands there, not so easily convinced, but then she follows Iris out anyway. Not without shooting you two a look. 
When they’re gone, you two glance at each other. "I think it's time we tell them." You detangle yourself from him, adjusting your clothes.
Seven lets out a laugh, letting his head fall back against the stall wall.
“You think?” 
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