#and i hate the way shoes feel without socks too

[tired-needs-sleep]

it's raining. the forcast never said it was gonna rain today and i wore the one pair of shoes that are a sensory nightmare to walk in the rain with

#i hate wet socks and these stupid knockoff uggs let water in SUPER easy #so by the time i take like 4 steps my socks are wet. #and i hate the way shoes feel without socks too #so i'm just. i'm suffering pick me up #sleepy rambles

[allurilove]

Yandere x Zombie you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Body mutilation, gore, stalking, desperate and perverted man, gender neutral reader, begging, dry humping.

*He doesn’t have a name, and is referred to as “your stalker,” He only exists for reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. Here is part two! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: It’s the zombie apocalypse, and you’re a zombie who has a little stalker/fan. He tried to offer himself to you, but you want nothing to do with him.

You’re just trying to go on about your day being a zombie, but an annoying and persistent man won’t leave you alone. He thinks he’s slick, but you see him, and best him every time.

Your stalker always hated zombies. They reeked of death, their breath sour, and their jaws claimed thousands of souls. He kept quiet as he tiptoed around, hiding his body behind a trash can as you feasted on your latest victim.

You went for the jugular, your teeth puncturing their skin, and a burst of metallic tasting blood filled your mouth. You were wild. Your whole hands, neck, chest, and face were stained with blood. You had a couple of flies around you, which you ate as a snack too.

However, with you, he was infatuated. He never once thought it was disgusting that your skin stuck to your skull, your arm twisted in an unnatural way, and how your hair was matted. Or how your clothes were torn, and you had holes in your shoes.

He tried to trap you. But unlike the other zombies, you were smart. The bear trap didn’t work, he tried to lasso you and failed, he spent time building you a cage, just for you to trap him in it.

When you went after a group of humans, he panicked. He hated when you went after a crowd, and he watched with his heart hammering. He prayed that you would survive, and rip them to shreds.

Your stalker often made sure you were well fed. He dragged an old body that remained untouched, and he purposely pushed it into your view. He winced as the body rolled down the hill and knocked you down like a bowling pin. Whoops.

After this has gone on for months, he became envious. Your attention was solely focused on the girl you trapped against the wall, he huffed and puffed, crossing his arms as the girl continued to scream. He began to wonder how it would feel to be eaten by you.

He handed himself to you like he was the best thing around. He took a shower by the lake, scrubbing his body clean from the dirt and grime. Your stalker wondered if he should just be nude so you had an easier access to him, or be clothed and make you work for it…

Your stalker whistled as he approached you, but you didn’t look at him. Your body just wandering around the abandoned building, and he waved at you. But you ignore him. He purposely laid down in front of you, but you just step on his stomach, making him groan in pain. He watched as you were on the move again, and he grabbed onto your ankle.

“Wait— please!” He tried to bargain with you, “I swear I taste good!” Your stalker whined as you just drag him around, trying to go on about your day again. He decided to do something drastic.

Your stalker needed your attention. He needed to feel your hands on him. He stuffed his mouth with his sock, and he picked up his blade. He jumped a couple of times and his joggers slipped down a bit, enough for him to pull out his member.

It hurt like a bitch. He bit down hard onto the sock as his tears welled up in his eyes, he cut his member from the base— wanting to give you the whole thing.

He handed you his cock, and you took the phallic looking thing in your hands. With some sick perversion he wanted to see you eat it, to hold it in your hands, and watch it disappear down your throat.

He’s seen you eat raccoons, rats, pigeons, and decomposed maggot filled bodies rotting away in the hot summer sun, their guts spilled open, and there was barely any flesh left to eat. He’s seen you dig through trash and shove it in your face.

He watched you tear into your own arm after not being able to find something to feed on for weeks. He watched you bite into a pee soaked leg after the human pissed itself after seeing your morbid face.

And yet you wouldn’t eat his freshly cut dick?

You looked at him with an unamused expression.

Your stalker frowned, his hands snatching back his body part after you refused to eat it. His hands were shaking, and his legs about to give out— due to his wound he haphazardly wrapped with bandages. His ego was bruised.

You continued to stare at him with disgust, as if you haven’t done something as vile as this. But to be fair, it wasn’t your fault that you were eating humans. It was the damn virus.

First, you don’t care to eat him. Second, you barely seem interested in him. And now third, you’re rejecting his offering? This was enough to make a grown man cry.

“Is it too small for you?” He pouted. “I- I happen to be a grower-“

He swore he saw you roll your eyes. For someone who barely had any mobility except for shuffling around, you had the gall to roll your eyes. You just groan. You try to wave your arm at him— to dismiss him, but you just smacked his face.

“Am I not appealing to you?” He glared at you, his face turning pale. His pants are soaked in blood, and he twitched.

The man fell down to his knees, throwing his dismembered cock to the side, and he clasped his hands together. His breath is ragged, and looked at you as if you were an angel who could take him out of his misery.

And so you do.

Most of your victims are scared, clawing at your arms and leaving red harsh marks on your skin, but he holds you closer. He moaned as your body was pressed up against his— chest to chest. You sat right on his hips. His blood tasted like nectar, it was pleasant and sweet. Your tongue swiped at his sweat.

“Oh god yes! Please eat me!” He cried out, and his fingers dig into your rib cage as you start to grind onto him.

He was already on deaths door step, his heart beat slowing down, and his grip slightly loosened. Your stalker’s moans, and the chanting of your name quiets. It wasn’t long before he let out his last breath.

Your stomach is full and you’re satisfied.

#Allurilove yandere writing #tw yandere #tw stalking #cw: gore #yandere x you #yandere x zombie reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #male yandere #yandere writing #zombie apocolypse au #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #desperate men #zombie #obsessive love #he wants you so bad #zombie apocalypse

[wcters]

𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗣𝗦 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt with a girlfriend who is obsessed with naps/naps all the time

warnings/notes: established relationships, will probably be shorter than the last one 🤍 sorry

- you need coffee all the time

- or just any caffeine

- always nursing a red bull or iced coffee

- probably stopped working to keep you awake after awhile but you gaslight yourself into thinking it does

- you have woken up in matt’s bed with chris beside matt who’s beside you

- like hello? when did you show up and it’s too squished

- slipper socks . . . you have cold feet a lot

- you force matt to take his shoes off if he’s going on the bed. no matte how clean they are

- will not let him leave your naps

- have your own pillow and pillowcase at his house

- always have bags under your eyes

- sometimes you can’t sleep without matt

- like you have to be touching him somehow: legs tangled up, hand holding, something

- have a playlist of just phoebe bridgers songs to fall asleep to (same)

- love stealing and sleeping in his boxers and his shirts

- you’re one of those girls who will just wear shorts and a shirt but refuse to put anything else on if you get cold

- you’ll either cuddle up to matt or get more blankets

- MELATONIN GUMMIES

- you take em’ if you are just not falling asleep cause that happens

- have definitely fallen asleep in matt’s lap or something while he’s playing video games and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up or tell you you’re in the way

- like that feeling when you have to get up when you have a cat in your lap

- sleep in a starfish position unless matt’s there

- nick, chris, and matt have so many 0.5’s of you sleeping

- #mouthbreather

- you’ve almost fallen asleep while you’re out for dinner

- have a shirt/sweater that says ‘i’m tired but i’m being brave about it’

- fall asleep to true crime

- talk about the most confusing and existential stuff and then fall asleep like nothing

- people complain you sleep too much? your just a girl 🎀

- when someone asks you to hang and and you say your busy your probably just taking a nap

- you and matt are always down for a nap

- you’re a sleepy couple

- you will set like 10 alarms to wake you up because you’ll either snooze them or sleep through them

- you always have cold water and chapstick near you when you’re napping/sleeping

- soooo delirious when you first wake up

- you prefer the room or wherever you’re having a nap to be cold

- not like freezing but under the temperature you’d usually have the house/apartment

- sleep focus? 🔛 no one is getting to you unless it’s an emergency

- you’ll text everyone who might try to reach you

- ‘i am having a nap, will not answer for anything cause i’ll be asleep 😌😌’

- matt has gifted toy essential oils or bath salts to help you sleep

- christmas morning with you SUCKS and you admit that. you hate waking up early

- matt will have to drag you out of the room

- all pissed at him and everyone else until you get your gifts or go back to sleep

- fall asleep during movie nights

- you can sleep anywhere and will

- the triplets will get home from somewhere and you’re just on the couch or sitting at their dining room table asleep

- if you don’t want up, matt will just pick you up and carry you to your room

- you’ve dropped your phone on your face before cause you fell asleep watching it

- you won’t admit it out loud . . . but you love asmr

- have a playlist of your favourites

- passenger princess, sleeper edition!

- has a headrest pillow you bought

- blanket ready to go and chair laid back if no one’s behind it

- matt draws shapes on your back

- will nap with best friends

- talk and talk and let everyone know how much you love naps

#emma writes #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #x fem!reader #x reader #preferences #youtube #youtuber #youtube preferences

[luvjunie]

Hey sweetie, I’ve been a real big fan. Can you write some HCS or a fic about the both Miles being twins?

a/n: ABSOLUTELY 10000% YES. i had way too much fun with this oml. and omg thank you you’re so sweet! 😭 btw, let’s just pretend that in this au they don’t have the same name since they’re ‘twins’ lmao

— headcanons. miles and miles as twins

Twins? Yes. Polar opposites? Definitely.

They both have a completely different sense of style, but one thing they have in common is that they both love Jordan’s. However I feel like miles!42 is a full blown sneakerhead. Has the better collection and often finds miles!1610 wearing his shoes, because somehow 42 always manages to win the snkrs raffles.

“Are those my brand new fuckin’ 4s?” “Uh… no?” “Take my shit off before I tweak out.”

42 keeps his side of the room squeaky clean, gets upset if there’s even a sock that does not belong to him on his side

Absolutely hates the song Sunflower. Cannot stand it, makes him wanna rip his hair out. The minute it came out 1610 played it into the dirt and 42 swears he can still hear it in his dreams till this day

1610 is the more affectionate one (outwardly) while 42 likes to pretend he’s completely devoid of that as if he doesn’t love his brother with everything in him.

“You got exactly three seconds to get off me.” “Just hug me back, damn!”

They’re the kind of brothers to open soundcloud, turn on a random trap beat and see who can go the longest freestyling. They do that thing where guys bring their fist to their mouths and squeal and shove each other out of excitement when they get a good flow going back and forth

42 is definitely the athletic type, plays football and soccer. 1610 is more in tune with his artistic side. Will play sports for fun but doesn’t care for them like that

42 is introverted as hell, doesn’t really like talking to people. 1610 is more of a social butterfly

They’ve never once liked the same girl. Ever. Their taste is drastically different

“Bro, you like a white girl?” “…Yes? What does her race have to do with anything?” “See me personally—“. “Literally nobody fucking asked.”

Used to help each other break out of their cribs when they were babies. Either that or Jeff and Rio would wake up to find that 42 had climbed into 1610’s crib after they’d been put down and slept with him instead. it was impossible to keep them apart from each other, so eventually they just broke down the second crib and let them use the one.

You can tell who is who in their baby pictures. You guessed it, 42 was the oddly solemn one who always wanted to play by himself. They worried about him for a bit. They also had to tickle him as an attempt to get him to smile in pictures, and just their luck, he’s never been ticklish

When they were eight years old, 1610 accidentally broke the wolverine action figure 42 never went anywhere without, and 42 cried about it for three days straight

They definitely ask for each other’s opinions on their outfits

“Do you think this shirt goes with these pants?” “The entire outfit is black… how would it not go together?”

They both obviously love their mother but 42 is the biggest mama’s boy. Always in the kitchen helping her cook, will watch her telenovelas with her and actually keep up with the plot. He’ll willingly follow her to the grocery store or accompany her on her ridiculously long Ross/Tjmaxx sprees because he likes hanging out with her

They terrorize the fuck outta their dad and have been doing so since they entered this world because they think it’s funny. Stupid shit like dying his boxers pink, or looking up a cracked tv screen video on youtube just to watch him nearly have a heart attack thinking they broke it. They used to twin-swap when they were younger to get out of certain things, but it’s 100% impossible to pull off now. They’re way too different, physically and mentally

Uncle Aaron took 42 to get his ears pierced when he was thirteen, something 1610 would never do. Rio basically had an aneurysm when he came home with them in and Jeff was not pleased but Aaron took the blame for it, said it was his idea. 42 made up some bullshit lie about how if he takes them out before they heal completely they’ll get infected. Still has them in till this day

42 is exactly fourteen minutes older and refuses to let 1610 hear the end of it, but 1610 is taller by an inch and weighs a little more.

“I don’t know why you’re talking shit like I’m not older than you. Pipe down lil’ bro.” “Sorry, is someone talking to me right now? Cause I sure as hell can’t see ‘em.” “Nigga it’s ONE INCH”

They’re definitely scrapping over that, and both get smacked upside their heads by Mama Rio for fighting with each other

42 needs the tv and the fan on, SIMULTANEOUSLY when he sleeps or he’ll be up the entire night. 1610 can’t stand it

1610 will try and turn the fan off after his brother’s been asleep for probably two hours, thinking he’s in the clear until he hears—

“Do you value your life? Turn my damn fan back on.”

Deep down 42 is a big ass softie and loves spending time with 1610, he has no idea what he’d do without him. He’s just not the best at expressing it. 1610 teases him about it simply because he enjoys aggravating his other half

“You still got plans with Ganke tonight?” “Nah, his mom’s dragging him to some baby shower.” “Oh, cool, cool… So what movie are we watching?” “Huh?” “Huh—Headass. What movie are we watching tonight?” “Sorry, I’m not understanding. Are you—asking to spend time… with me?” “Damn, I need to say it in Spanish? Matter fact, you probably won’t understand that either. No sabo ass.”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales prowler #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales headcanons #across the spiderverse headcanons #spiderman astv

[adoregojo]

candy ˚ 𖧧 ₊

wowowowo a rin ficcc (kinda short tho) warnings ➥ kiss

"I brought you some candy."

the voice of your boyfriend rang you out. he steps in your shared apartment after he took his shoes off carrying a plastic bag with what it looks like some candy and other items you asked him to bring on his way home.

he takes off his black jacket hanging it besides your own, ruffling his dark green locks of snow as he walks up to you. you notice he was wearing you two rabbit matching socks, the same socks he claimed it looked ridiculous and he'll never be seen wearing them.

it was cold at this time of Tokyo yet rin was willing to freeze his butt just to get your needs, even if you told him that he can get it later he had a damn thick skull and refused to take any other objection from you.

you shifted to the side with your laptop for him to sit beside you, he quickly spread in hands in a silent request for you to warm it up for him. so you gently warped your hands in his, rubbing your warm hands against his freezing once than locking you two fingers together.

"you really didn't have to go all that way for some silly stuff." you said, pressing a little peck against the back of his hand.

"you said you were carving something sweet.." rin pulls his hands away from yours, not in a harsh way. but he fears you'll somehow will hear his rabid heart pounding.

rin didn't like the cold, but it was more that he hated how it made him feel. lonely and lost, abandoned with no light to guide him to end up dying slowly. what he hated the most that it was the opposite of you, you were warm, he felt the safest in your arms. like the light was holding him.

you, you were the bright light in his coldest winter night.

he placed the plastic bag on the table, you in a swift snatched the bag to see what's inside, you raised in brow when you got a grip of an unfamiliar candy. you twisted it around to check the brand.

but overall it didn't look that bad, and didn't matter that much as long as he brought you something. "aww, rinnie, you didn't have too." a teasing smile draw it way on your face.

"shut up.." rin muttered, he felt the tip of his ear getting slightly hot at your words. "I didn't find your favourite so I brought this." he brushed off the bashful remains.

"the cashier said each one has it own flavour."

"woah cool.." honestly it looked cool, the mixes colors between red and rainbows with a cute cartoon character as the logo.

you existentially opened it. you hummed in unsureness of what to pick of too many colors with different tastes, so you just closed your eyes and picked randomly. rin was grateful your eyes were fully closed to not witness the fond smile at your silly act.

"I'll take this one!" it was a yellow one, without thinking twice before you threw the candy in your mouth.

"how'd it taste?" rin asked as your face slowly turned into a grimaced expression. he almost let out a laugh. almost.

"mmm..it's probably banana..but it tastes more like a rotten one." it wasn't that bad but the taste just wasn't for you.

you thought maybe taking a different tast would cover over this one flavour.

"let's try this one-"

before you could your words, a pair of cold lips smashed into yours, your eyes widened and you couldn't process what was happening when the soft lips against yours didn't mercy you and you felt like you were gonna faint. as rin took advantage of your flabbergasted state to slide his tongue through your slightly parted lips.

you felt dizzy as he kept digging deeper until he could feel the shape of the candy. he didn't back off immediately, refusing to break the kiss just yet. he locked his mouth with yours and you felt like you couldn't run away when it felt so good. tangling your tongues and he tasted like the same candy yet something more sweet something heavenly you couldn't get your fingers on. your hand run on his chest, you didn't know if it was for him to continue or to back him away.

he was mindlessly devouring you like starved man and you could feel the lack of the air, you were too foggy to care and all you mind was about rin, and the warmth blooming in your chest.

feeling you were out of breath, rin breaks away resulting you two to part, drawing a streak of saliva. a remains from such a shameless kiss.

for a second you two faces are still close almost as if rin was holding himself back from kissing again you endlessly, at this closeness you could count his pretty under-lashes as you let out a few breath before rin shifted back to his position.

"you're right, they taste a little rotten. but they taste better now." rin said calmly, as if he did not just suck the life out of your mouth a second ago, you tried to get a grip of yourself. you wondered what the hell was that. it's not like it was bad, fuck no, that kiss made you feel like floating.

you glanced at your boyfriend to see his neck and ears burning hot, at leats your weren't the only one who was taken off by that.

hehe, people kissing.. have a nice day everyone :3

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader

[moonstruckme]

Hello my darling

I have returned with another Peter Parker request🤭

Imagine Peter and reader are really good friends (they've known each other since they were little) and Peter just looks over at reader one day and realizes he's in love with her. It just hits him suddenly

Thank youuu

-🔮

Thanks for requesting lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 801 words

Peter whistles as you open the front door, craning his neck to look behind you at your half-decorated apartment. “First solo place,” he says, kicking off his shoes. “Not bad, not bad.” 

“For the rent? I think you mean to say excellent,” you correct him, moving into the kitchen. “You wish you had an apartment as sick as this, Parker.” 

Peter laughs, taking in the tiny kitchen, the fortunate south-facing windows spilling light across the space. “I just wish I had an apartment,” he agrees.

Your hum is half amusement, half apology. “I was about to have lunch,” you tell him, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Want something?”

“Sure,” Peter says, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

You laugh. “I’m having peanut butter with honey and banana, I know you don’t want in on that.” 

Peter wrinkles his nose. Your sweet tooth never ceases to amaze him. “Freak.” 

You turn on the stove, unphased by his disgust. “I can make you a grilled cheese,” you offer. 

He leans his elbows on the counter, raising his eyebrows at you. “You’re stocking cheese? You hate cheese.” 

“No way, I totally forgot.” You’re both sardonic and fond as you roll your eyes, ducking into the fridge and emerging a moment later with a slice of cheese. “I knew you’d be here and hungry eventually.” 

That’s more touching than it has any right to be. 

“Good forethought,” Peter says, casually as he can. “Yeah, grill me a cheese, sweetheart.” 

You nod, smoothing butter over two slices of bread in easy habit, placing one in the pan to sizzle and making the sandwich on top of it. While the cheese melts, you get started on your own monstrosity, reaching up into the cabinet for the peanut butter. The honey’s on a higher shelf, and you seem to consider it for a moment before gripping the fridge for balance and hauling yourself up onto the counter. 

“Whoa, don’t do that,” Peter says, hurrying into the kitchen to help.

“I’ve got it,” you argue, but you’re already precarious, leaning back to open the cabinet further and nearly slipping off the edge of the counter in your socks. Peter sets a hand on either side of your waist.

“No, what am I here for?” He encourages you off the ledge, waiting until you’ve got your feet under you before letting you go. 

“You can’t be my permanent solution, though,” you laugh, taking the honey from him when he passes it down to you. “I’ll have to figure it out eventually.” 

“Then you should have thought ahead and picked a place without high shelves,” Peter chides, taking over grilled cheese duties while you cut up your banana. “Now you’ll just have to call me over anytime you want something. It’s the only way.” 

You shoot him a look that’s clearly intended to be mean, but you can’t manage it, the corners of your lips twitching mutinously. Peter bumps you with his hip to let you know he sees, and your smile comes out in full force, squishing your eyes and showing off the dimple in your one cheek. Even your nose gets in on the action, wrinkling slightly at the bridge when you let out a little laugh. 

That laugh echoes in your tiny kitchen, and something happens in Peter’s chest. His heart twinges. It almost hurts, but there’s an odd pleasantness to it. His body feels too small for this hugeness, this incandescent, aching fondness that feels like it should be visibly glowing inside him. 

You bend over your work, and Peter’s struck with the loveliness of you. You’ve always been pretty—Peter’s not blind, he’s noticed it over the years—but this is different. You’re…he feels different.

“Whoa,” your voice is soft, chiding but not really as you nudge him aside, taking a spatula from beside the stove and flipping his sandwich. “Jesus, Pete, I’d have thought you’d be more practiced at this. Too used to me doing it for you?”

Peter blinks down at the pan. The slice of bread you’ve flipped over is nearly black. 

“Hey.” You look up at him, eyes wide and wavering between bemusement and concern. Pretty. Peter can just barely see the faint remains of your summer freckles under each eye, faded after months spent indoors. They’ll come back in the spring, just like they have every year since you were kids. Like you’re synched with the flowering trees. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Not really. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck. “Yeah, uh, you want me to grab us something to drink?”

“Sure. Water’s in the fridge, I’ll get cups.” 

Peter digs through your fridge until he gets to the water, emerging to find you crawling back up onto the counter, reaching for cups on the top shelf. 

“Jesus Christ.”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker x self insert #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker scenario #tasm!peter parker oneshot #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm peter parker #the amazing spiderman #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter friends to lovers

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. oral (m receiving). handjob. lots of kissing. hobie being kinda pushy. you have a list of reasons why you don't like hobie brown but you never thought being locked in the closet with him would make you reconsider if your reasons are actually all the reasons why you like him.

tags: @hoe-bie @zyonsay

You didn’t hate Hobie.

It was a claim that most of your friends made when your name and his happened to appear in the same sentence. You must make the record clear. You did not hate Hobie Brown. You found him irritating from time to time, sure, with the way he carried himself with a careless sway, the way he spoke with an undue amount of confidence in everything he said. He laughed fully and obnoxiously, he challenged people without remorse, he instigated fights that never needed to happen in the first place. Hobie was not one to keep the peace, not like you who’d rather avoid all confrontation and conflict if possible.

You watched him spread out against your couch, a joint hanging from his full lips while smoke kissed his slender face. He was in the middle of making a bet that he would wipe everyone in a game of beer pong. He talked such a big game and when it came down to it, everyone being divided up into teams, you somehow ended up with Hobie as your partner as some kind of sick joke on you. It was known that you weren’t good at games like these and Hobie insisted that it would be okay because “I’ll carry ya, it’ll be no sweat.”

You didn't know how the idea came up – probably due to Hobie's endless search to make things far more complicated than need be – but the idea of making it strip beer pong became the consensus among your friends group. “And whicheva team loses has to spend an hour in y/n’s room!” Your friends giggled amongst themselves while you stood there completely perplexed at how things had dwindled out of your favor so swiftly. He was so good at convincing others to go along with him no matter how deranged the idea. He once convinced everyone that it was a good idea to go to the roof of your building while everyone was drunk, the only reason no one died was because you were sober enough to keep everyone safe.

You jabbed your elbow into Hobie’s side, eyes alight with fury. “Why the fuck would you say that?” You hissed between your teeth at him. “Not true! No one will be spending the night in my room!”

Hobie’s arm was suddenly around your shoulders, pulling you in and shaking you gently. “Come awn. Don’ be a buzzkill, sunshine. It’ll be fun, no harm in i’.” He leaned in close, smelling of smoke, musk, and faded cologne. Your body tensed against him and without thought, you retracted from him, a scowl curling onto your lips as you looked him up and down. “Not my bedroom y’all, anywhere but my bedroom.”

“Fine, the closet.” Hobie settled the matter right then and there. “Can we get on wit’ i’?” He was already taking more plastic cups to set out on the table, rushed to get on with the fun and prove himself better than everyone else.

Turns out, Hobie absolutely sucked at beer pong too. He could not aim for shit and every missed shot meant an article of clothing removed for the two of you. It started out innocently, vests and jackets, shoes, socks, cuffs and collars. But with each ping pong that bounced off the rim of a cup, more essential clothing began to come off.

Hobie just narrowly missed a shot for one of the back cups and with a playful sigh, he grasped the hem of his torn-up, worn-out shirt and pulled it up over his head and tossed it down on the floor beside him. You glanced at his exposed torso, the smooth skin of his diaphragm leading to his firm naval. The faint outline of abs show themselves through that soft-looking skin of his. A thin line of hair began at his belly button and trailed down to the waist of his low-hanging pants which were next on the hanging line if he missed his next shot.

You turned your flustered gaze away from his toned body and focused on your own shot.

You were down to your own shirt and pants, not being all that great at beer pong yourself. You rocked between your feet, ‘I’m fucked’. You knew you were. There was no coming back from a loss like this one and when you looked to Hobie, hissing at him, “What the hell happened to you being a god at this?”

“Yeah, I guess I shoulda told’ja that I neva played this before we started.” You could have punched him if not for the way he looked at you and offered a lop-sided smile. It offered a mischievous apology, he meant it but not enough. There was something so charming about it, so easy-going.

It was almost certain that you two would lose and by the time you two were left in just your boxers in front of everyone, you had long lost hope for the idea that you wouldn’t be locked in a closet with Hobie for the rest of the night.

Your closet wasn't the biggest, especially with all the clothes in there. At best the two of you would have a few inches of space between you. You didn't want to feel his skin pressed against yours, didn't want his breath fanning your cheek, didn't want to acknowledge he was right there at all times constantly.

Hobie took it all with an air of light-hearted fun as your friends shoved the two of you into your bedroom closet and slid a nearby dresser in front to ensure the two of you couldn't get out until they chose.

Why did the closet seem so much smaller than you remembered? Why was Hobie so close to you? You hid yourself partially in your hanging clothes and crossed your arms across your bare chest. The rules said you two couldn't put on any clothes, you'd just have to sit there half-naked and embarrassed.

Hobie busied himself rummaging through your clothes, humming in approval at those he liked. “No way, you kept this?” He plucked a shirt from your assortment of clothing to reveal a shirt he had made for you. Hand-sewn and everything. “I though’ ya woulda thrown it in the rubbish as soon as I wasn't lookin’.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and snatching the shirt from him to hold it to your chest. You’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him but you regularly slept in this shirt. It was a very thoughtful gift and you didn't want it to go to waste but you furthermore didn't want to give Hobie a big head by wearing it in front of him. “Why would I do that? Only an asshole would do something like that.”

Hobie shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Everyone says ya hate me, sunshine.”

“You don't sound like you believe that.” You notice how Hobie wades a little closer to you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. A subtle smirk teased his lips as he looked at your shrinking frame. “Nah, I don'. I think ya like me, actually. A lot.”

Your eyes widened and your body reacted with vigor. “Absolutely not!” You denied it with fervor as Hobie approached further. “I- I have no idea why you’d ever think that!” you backed up until your back met the wall and you could go no further. You babbled on. “Hobie, you know I'm not–”

Your breathing shuddered as Hobie pressed his hand to your shoulder before sliding his palm to the spot between your jaw and neck. “If no’, lemme try somefin’ then.” He leaned in slowly, giving you all the opportunity to push him away from you but you don't, you’re frozen in shock, unsure of what to do. You let him ease his lips into yours and kiss you softly.

You’ve never been kissed by another man before, never thought yourself to like it as much as you did. Never thought you’d like being kissed by Hobie of all people. You shouldn't be doing this and you realize it the moment Hobie parts his lips and lets his tongue trace the seam of your lips.

It breaks you from the trance he placed you under and you push him back. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You mean to say it in anger but you can't find the conviction in your voice. You’re feeling hot and unable to breathe as you look at him with wild eyes. He looks rather pleased with what he’s discovered.

“If it makes ya feel any betta, sunshine. I like ya too.”

“I’m not gay, Hobie. You know I’m not. I’ve had girlfriends.”

Hobie scoffed. “Havin’ a girl doesn' make ya straight, ya know that. Hell, I’ve had girlfriends, don' make me like men any less.”

“I don't like you, Hobie!” You have to say it clear, say it loud to get it through that thick head of his and to further convince yourself that you don't like him either. “I think you’re loud, obnoxious. I think you're too carefree. I think you need to exercise a little caution from time to time. I find you irritating as hell. I-” You think of all the reasons why you can't stand him. He’s too nonchalant, too gorgeous, too much. “I hate the way you look everyone in the eyes like you’re ready to prove them wrong. I hate how you’re so touchy feely. I can't stand you!”

Hobie glances down and a smile crept into his face. “Ya hard as fuck righ’ now, mate. Thinkin’ a lil’ too much about me, are ya?”

You look down as well and embarrassingly find a firm bulge in your underwear. You’ve never felt so humiliated in your life because you know this all too well. You know that thinking too much about Hobie, no matter how much you tell yourself you can't stand him, it always leads to this, a hard-on more firm than any time you’ve been with a woman.

No, no, you couldn't like Hobie, not like that.

“Ya need help with tha’?” Hobie approached you once again as you turned away from him to hide your raw embarrassment. “N- no, stay away from me.” You know erections like these can last indefinitely and you know Hobie touching you would only make it worse.

Hobie ignored your pleas for him to stay away and let you handle things. His hands stroked your cheek gently and you turned just enough for him to kiss you once again. It was harder this time, more sure of what was once just a hypothetical.

You let out a shaky breath against his soft lips and Hobie took the chance to slide his tongue between your lips. This time, you do nothing to stop him. The rest of your body turned to face him and suddenly your figure is pressed against his, your cock stroking his thigh just enough to cause some friction. It was enough to make you moan against Hobie’s hot mouth, his tongue stroking and licking at yours in between pants.

“Lemme help ya ou’ here.” Hobie murmured against your lips and he parted from you. HIs lips peppered kisses against your neck and down the front of your throat as one hand settled on your hip and the other slipped past the band of your underwear to find the length of your cock.

You let out a shudder as he wrapped his hand around your member and gave it a couple of gentle strokes before pulling it from your underwear. With another kiss just below your earlobe, Hobie lowered himself down on his knees in front of your weeping cock, his hand still tugging and stroking the slick head. “Relax, sunshine, I’ve got’cha.”

You watched him kiss the aching tip and card his tongue against your slit before taking the head into his mouth and suckling softly. It earned him something of a shaking sigh of relief as you let your eyes fall shut and your head fall back against the wall. Your hand came to cradle the back of his head but you didn’t push him to go further. You had a sick feeling that Hobie knew exactly what he was doing.

He hummed softly beneath you and sank further down until his lips met the base of your length and you settled in his throat where he swallowed over and over and over. Your eyes rolled and fluttered as you tossed a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. You looked down at him to find a sultry, hooded gaze looking back at you. You could see the way he smiled with his eyes, he would have teased you if not for your dick stuffed down his throat. In his own way, he was teasing you, with the flat of his tongue and that tight throat of his.

He bobbed his head up and down your length, taking the full of it each time he pushed his head down until his lips kissed your hilt. His large, slender hands were on your hips, pulling you in each time he pushed his head forward.

God, you were losing your mind. His mouth was so hot and his inner cheeks were soft as your tip slid against them along the way down the tightness of his throat. You couldn't help but think about how gorgeous he looked down there on his knees and felt more blood rush to your groin.

You’ve never felt an orgasm come so swiftly. Your breath labored with the pull at your abdomen and your hand on Hobie’s head pushed him further down. “Please, please, please.” You whispered as Hobie licked at a vein along the underside of your cock. “‘m gonna-”

You could hardly get it out of your throat before you came. Your member pulsed in Hobie’s mouth and thick ropes of cum coated the inside of his cheeks and his soft tongue. You groaned softly, your head falling back and lulling to the side. Your knees almost buckled with how good it felt.

You had never cum so fast, so hard, and you found yourself embarrassed over the whole thing. Why had you let him do that to you? Why had you let him prove you so wrong? Why had you let him completely rattle your entire life and force you to reconsider everything you thought about himself?

Hobie stood up and kissed you, his tongue searching for yours. He forced you to taste yourself, a swapping of saliva and cum between your mouths. It was filthy, disgusting, but so hot that you let him shove his tongue into your mouth and do whatever he pleased with you.

“Stop thinkin’ for a minute.” Hobie could hear the gears in your head churning of what you had just let him do to you. You have a slow nod as he nipped at your bottom lip and pulled you closer, pressing the firmness of his cock against yours.

You kissed him sloppily, until drool began to seep from the cracks of where your lips met. His skin was so warm against yours and for a moment you forgot about the fact that Hobie was a guy. You were just two warm bodies locked together in a closet searching for intimacy.

Whatever the two of you did here didn't have to leave this closet. You wouldn't let it, no matter what. The moment you were let out of this closet, you’d go back to how things once were and let everything fall perfectly back into place.

Hobie rocked his body into yours while you reached down between the two of you to pull his length out of his underwear and stroke his cock in your hand. You were timid about it, nervous as you thumbed at his slit and rubbed his precum-coated tip.

He encouraged you to continue, pushing his hips into your hand as he moaned into your mouth. His hand was on the wall above your head, bracing himself as you flicked your wrist and tightened your grip a little as your hand traveled the path up and down the length of his slick cock.

His hips thrusted into your hand as he broke your kiss. Hobie hissed softly, looking down and watching the way he used your hand, the way you were going more and more confident in the way you stroked him and circled your thumb over his tip.

His body shuddered and you found it so much hotter than you should. Hobie used his free hand to grab your face and force you to look at him in the eyes. You shifted your gaze the moment they found his.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, look a’ me, sunshine.” He moved his head to find your gaze again. “Yer doin’ so well.” He let out between panting breaths. He could tell your were flustered, face hot at the sight of him fucking your hand. You almost stopped when Hobie grabbed your chin again and made you fix your gaze on him once more. “Don' look a’ tha’, look a’ me.”

You do as he says and look him in those pretty, deep-set eyes of his. He nipped at his lip piercing looking at you and moaned softly. He was falling apart in your hold, his eyes barely able to remain open, and yet you felt completely out of control.

He grabbed you up again, forced his mouth onto yours while you jerked him faster, harder. It was sloppy and chaotic, just how he liked it. He wanted you to want him the way he wanted you, carnally and you did. You wanted his hands all over your body, you wanted him to say your name when he came, you wanted him to be a girl so maybe this didn't feel so bad to you.

Things would be so much easier if he were just a girl. You wouldn't have to feel shame over this, wouldn't have to hide the fact that you wanted him ferally behind thinly veiled reasons why you disliked him. Those reasons just being all the reasons you really, really wanted him.

Hobie came against your stomach, still kissing you between feverish pants into your mouth. He hummed softly as he broke away from you. “Ma bad, couldn' help i'.” Even now he was so thoroughly okay with everything that transpired here, so okay with himself, with you. All the while you couldn't even bear to look at him as you grabbed one of your many shirts tucked away in the back of the closet to clean yourself up with.

You decided then and there that what happened in here would stay in here. You would say nothing to anyone about it and you certainly wouldn't be doing it again. Things could fall neatly back into place and this could fall into the back of your mind without so much as a hitch.

If only Hobie would make it so easy for you.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x male!reader #hobie smut #atsv hobie

[lovelovelovelovelove987654321]

His Knight In Shining Armor

Simon doesn't quite think this is real. You. Him. The warmth. Doesn't quite understand how he can touch you without hurting you. Yet, at the same time, not hurting you is the only thing he understands. He would rather be buried alive- again-, would rather be surrounded by the rot and death that is his brain forever than lift a finger towards you. You are his everything. His sun, his moon, his rock, his ocean tides. Everything he does is governed by the push and pull of your mere existence. 

“Time izzit?” You asked oh, so sleepily, lips pressed against his throat, nose tucked under his jaw. “Time for you to go back to sleep.” And with a small huff, you do. He still marvels at that, you know. The way you trust him so much, that you take everything that comes from his mouth as truth. The way you feel safe enough around him to just close your eyes and sleep. Near him. The monster, the demon, the husk of a human being, the creature made up of the shreds of humanity left on the battlefields once the corpses have been dragged away. The thing that can't bear to look in the mirror because what he sees there shouldn't be allowed to roam the earth. Not in broad daylight, at least. Him.

Yet you just saw a man. A closed off, emotionally unavailable, stubborn man, but a man all the same. He’d surreptitiously ask what your eye scores were after every time you went to the doctor, because maybe you were hallucinating, just a little. A lot. Because how could you see anything worthy of love in him? 

He knew that, in the conventional western view, his body was attractive. He hated this body. It works, and that's good. But he hated how it accompanies him everywhere he went. He wished he could become a fleck of dust, maybe, be breathed in by you and settle in your lungs, listen to your heartbeat for the next several centuries. 

When he looked at his hands, he saw them dripping with dirt-thickened blood. When he saw his legs, he saw them broken and bruised. When he saw his feet, he saw the harbingers of all the death that followed him. When he saw his arms, he saw simply tools of war. When he saw his torso, his chest, he saw Roba. He saw the organs that should have done the word a favor by failing him long ago. He saw the heart he could no longer feel beating. When he saw his face, he saw no trace of the man he might have become. Instead, he sees a machine. 

When he sees his scars- oh, when he sees his scars- he sees the evidence of death and pain and hate and despair that surrounded him everywhere he went. He saw nothing deserving of life. 

But you. You.

When you saw his hands, you saw the hands you held when you were happy or scared. You saw the hands that had caressed you so gently, so lovingly. You saw the hands that had picked you flowers and given you gifts and brushed your hair from your face. (“I love your hands,” You’d told him once, twice, a million times.) When you saw his hands, you saw love.

And that gave him hope.

When you saw his legs, you saw the legs that had tangled with yours as you slept. The legs that took up room on the sofa, the legs that cracked and popped every time he stretched. You saw the legs that got humped by your best friend's dog, the legs that had run to catch up with you at the carnival and the supermarket and the park and the campground and everywhere else you had ever been. When  you saw his legs, you saw love. And that gave him hope.

When you saw his feet, you saw the feet that had tickled yours in the pool, the feet that had gotten buried under the sand at the beach, that wore the stupidest shoes you'd ever seen. You saw freckles and pale skin (“They look a bit like dead fish, Si!” You’d once said as you laughed.) You saw the bad circulation and wool socks and too-long nails. When you saw his feet, you saw love. 

And that gave him hope.

When you saw his arms, you saw the arms that had kept you warm on cold nights. The arms that had held you safe as you watched movies. The arms that had kept you together, had kept you from breaking apart, when you had laughed and cried and everything in between. You saw the arms that reached things on shelves that you couldn't, the arms that were strong enough to lift you up and twirl you around. When you saw his arms, you saw love.

And that gave him hope. 

When you saw his torso, his chest, you saw the solid plane of flesh that you leaned on for support. You saw the dips and curves, all perfect places for you to rest your head. You saw the weighted blanket you used him as. You saw the lungs that breathed in your laughter and smiles 24/7/365. You saw the heartbeat that kept you on track, reminded you that it would all be okay. You saw the organs that kept Simon alive. When you saw his torso, you saw love. 

And that gave him hope. 

When you saw his face, you saw the smiles he reserved only for you. You saw the eye crinkles, the nose scrunches. You saw the lip quirks and the dimples and and the beautiful brown eyes that housed the soul of your beloved. You saw the pale eyelashes, the under-eye bags, the smattering of extra pigmentation that were scattered across the bridge of his nose. You saw the furrowed brows and the crows feet. You saw his laugh and his voice and his whispers and his hums. When you saw his face, you saw love. 

And that gave him hope. 

When you saw his scars- oh, when you saw his scars. You saw his pain, yes. You saw the gruesome stories that were carved into his skin. You saw the death and the blood and the hatred that had imprinted itself in his very being. 

But.

You also saw the proof of how much he loved you. You saw the saga of his love, the confirmation that, no matter what, he would come back home to your arms. You saw perfect trails  to follow with your lips, the perfect places to press caring kisses now and then. You saw silly shapes of animals and constellations and plants and boats and maps of make-believe kingdoms. You saw everything that he was, everything he had done. When you saw his scars, you saw love. 

And that gave him hope.

Hope that he could be a better man. Hope that he could keep you safe and happy forever. Hope that, one day, he might be worthy of your love. Hope that maybe he could be something more than just the sum of his parts. Hope that, perhaps, your goodness might seep into his pores and infect him. Hope.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod x anyone #ghost cod #you x ghost #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod fanfic

[bakubunny]

bunny can i beg for daddy izu crumbs if you have any ? whatever you’re feeling (totally can ignore this <3)

hi starr! no need to beg; i always intend to write some daddy!izu but never get around to it. you’re giving me a valid excuse to indulge that desire and avoid updating my masterlist yet again. gonna go with daddy dom izu & little reader bc that’s where i’m at rn. hope that’s okay. 🖤

here’s a brain dump based loosely off of this drabble. bc i know you’re okay with it: age play themes ahead, mention of caregiver/little (dd/lg), fluff ig?

i hc daddy izu as one that’s pretty soft; like i could definitely see him being as mean as they come, won’t put up with bratting of any kind, etc., but i could also see him being content with being soft and loving almost all of the time.

that doesn’t mean he’s not rough in bed tho; i think with him it’s a 50/50 mix, and he’ll usually adapt to what you need and enjoy it just as much.

he likes to plan his scenes out well ahead of time, but he can also do things on the fly with enough experience under his belt.

daddy izu enjoys orgasm control - delay, denial, overstim, ruined orgasms, the whole bit. he doesn’t do it all the time bc it’s not his top favorite thing to do with you, but he likes the variety it allows. he can be as nice or as mean as he wants at any given point without having to be harsh, and he knows harsh can be very overwhelming when you’re not expecting it. and more importantly, it’s all based around pleasure, which i believe a softer version of izu would be all for.

not much of a sadist outside of spanking and maybe some impact play. he really only does it if he knows you want (or need) it. he’s a fan of maintenance spankings bc they can be used for a variety of purposes - to keep his sweet thing in check, but also give you regular times to enjoy being a bit of a masochist if that’s important to you to name two.

he’s the kind of dom that’s not like… a jack of all trades? but he can adapt to what you want or need pretty easily with a little research, and he doesn’t have a specific area of interest outside of ddlg in this context? if that makes sense? anyway.

daddy izu has always known he likes to take care of people. he’s a hero, after all. it takes him a while to accept how far that actually goes. he struggles with it. it’s only thanks to the internet that he figures himself out while he’s young (early 20s).

by the time you meet him he understands dd/lg dynamics in theory, but he’s never been in one. heck, he’s not even sure if he wants that or can give that to someone with his status as a pro hero.

but that doesn’t stop him from slipping here and there and showing that side of him, especially when he sees how you melt under his care. he’s pretty sure he’s picking up hints that you might indeed be a little, but he’s way too embarrassed to ask.

izuku the kind of person that pulls the little side out of you when you’re too ashamed to show it. he showers you with sweet encouragement and doesn’t mind how needy you get. tells you, “it’s okay, sweetie. i love how much you need me. don’t ever be sorry for it.”

he feels his heart get warm and fluttery the first time he gets a real taste that his inkling might be right. maybe it’s the way you swing your feet so cutely when he “pampers” you by putting on your socks and shoes, or how you sort of melted into him and got shy that one time he carried you from the car to the bed because you were too tired.

or perhaps it was the most obvious moment, when he caught you watching a kids show, coloring on your own to de-stress. izuku had mixed feelings, ones of warm confirmation and others of pain watching you fold into yourself so quickly. he hated the way you immediately turned the tv off, snapped your coloring book shut, and tried to hide it like you had something to be ashamed of.

so izuku did the only thing he could think to do. he sat down next to you, gave you a kiss, and said, “hey, princess. whatcha got there?”

his smile was bright and kind as ever; he was trying to show curiosity rather than overwhelming excitement. but the look on your face told him you were hesitant.

“nothing, i’m just drawing,” you said. “sorry.”

his heart fell as he gave you a curious look. “no need to be sorry. can i see your drawings? i bet they’re very pretty.”

you tucked your head as heat prickled the apples of your cheeks; his tone of voice had shifted, but you couldn’t quite place it. “izuku, it’s dumb, really. don’t worry about it.”

“none of that. show me how well my girl draws, hmm? i want to see what you made,” izuku replied.

you considered it for a moment. then without looking up, you pulled the book of sanrio characters from your chest and opened to the page you had been working on. heat flooded your face. tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“baby, that’s beautiful! i love it,” he said.

“thanks,” you said softly.

izuku’s enthusiastic response was far from surprising, but what caught you was his tone once again. and it clicked - you’d heard that tone of voice before plenty of times. it was the same one he used when he bent down to talk to small children who ran up to see him. you weren’t sure if you should feel humiliated or if -

“you’re doing such a good job, little one,” he said. “i’m proud of you.”

you froze. you looked to him. though you were on the brink of tears, his smile was still bright, albeit nervous.

“really?” you said.

“yeah! of course i am. do you have another coloring book, sweet pea? i’d love to draw with you.”

you pointed to the black backpack at your feet. izuku pulled out the only hero themed coloring book you had.

“i think this one’s perfect, don’t you?” he asked.

you pulled him in for a tight hug and nodded.

#not sure i like it #but i rly tried #also i will always and forever love the ‘first discovery of something abt your partner’ trope bc it’s soft like me 😤 #hope this wasn’t too redundant #bakubunny #midoriya izuku #tw age play #tw daddy kink #💖 #🧸

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

You walk with Joel back to his house without saying a word. After the confrontation at the mess hall there is a sense of exhilaration flowing throughout your whole body; you feel so light and free like you're walking on a cloud, with your heart thumping but your mind blank, still not having processed just what happened. All you can focus on is Joel's firm hand against your back and how safe and protected you feel in this moment.

You huddle closer to Joel to shield yourself against the cold night wind that whips against your cheeks. The cold weather has not eased and the amount of snowfall that has graced the landscape recently most likely indicates that it will continue for a while yet. The warmth of Joel's body radiates onto you and you whimper, feeling like a kitten yearning for somewhere soft to sleep. When you press your face into his side and inhale, taking comfort in his familiar scent, Joel's arm wraps tightly around your waist.

At the house Joel shuffles into the living room and flops down onto his arm chair with a grunt. He bends forward to remove his boots while you slip your shoes off at the front door. Now that you are surrounded by the quiet privacy of the house, away from the din of the mess hall and the prying eyes of other people, your high begins to evaporate. The weight of reality sinks ontop of your head and pours a flurry of questions down into your brain.

You need to talk about it, you need to know.

"Why did you do that?" You ask quietly as you unwind the scarf from your neck. You hang it on one of the coat hooks by the door. "And for Rhi, too? I thought you hated my friends."

Joel manspreads and leans back into the chair, the muscles of his body visibly relaxing as he settles against the cushion. You watch him while you remove your coat, your eyes falling to the way he dangles one of his hands by the inside of his thigh, close to his crotch. It is so effortlessly and distractingly sexy - why does Joel have to be so handsome, so strong, so beautiful?

He tilts his head to the side slightly and regards you with an almost scornful air.

"You really think I'd let some asshole talk to my woman like that?" Joel scoffs. "Or to any woman, for that matter?"

You stand still by the door contemplating his words. You couldn't ever deny that Joel was overprotective, but to witness him defend you publicly - and your friend, who he had expressed disdain for in the past - had left you astonished. It was exciting to witness him assert his authority over someone else for your sake, to reprimand someone for merely speaking about you disrespectfully. It was also undeniably arousing.

"Didn't see no one else pull him into line," Joel added.

You bow your head and scuff your socked foot back and forth over the floorboard. The mention of this observation stung you more than you expected, perhaps because it was true. Oscar had not defended you; he hadn't even noticed what was happening because he was too busy flirting with Gayle. You knew you shouldn't feel disappointed. You had no right to feel failed by him, not when you and Oscar weren't even together, but especially because you were still technically with Joel. You needed to suppress these useless emotions, these feelings that were pointless to cling to when they seemed so nonsensical.

Joel had done what he vowed to do. He was trying to fix the damage he had caused, trying to show that he was sorry. He had finally given you what you had wanted all along. And although deep down in the depths of your heart you believed the destruction to be irrevocable, you now felt you had little choice but to carry on. You had a family with Joel and Ellie, and he had proved he loved you and wanted to protect you.

And Oscar, your sweet, kind Oscar...he had found someone to love, someone to spend his time with, someone who was actually worthy of him.

You had to accept that this was your life. You had to try rekindle some of the lost love you had for the man infront of you.

"Yes, that's true," you admit quietly without looking up. You toy with the end of your braid that hung over your shoulder, awkward and unsure what to say next.

"Don't matter, though. Only matters that I was there, baby." Joel assures you gently, as if offering you comfort from something that had upset you.

You glimpse at Joel from under your lashes and see how his large puppy dog eyes stare at you with sincerity, serious yet soft, silently beseeching you to understand his devotion. In this instant you can't help the endearment that tugs at your heart.

"Now come here," Joel urges with a pat of his large hand against his thigh. This command and your subsequent subservience is a well practiced dance for you and Joel now, and the resulting gratification has conditioned you to want it. You want to sit in Joel's lap, you want to feel close to his broad chest and soft stomach and hear his praise.

You saunt over to the armchair obediantly and demurely slide into his lap without saying a word. His big mitt comes to rest on your lower back to support you.

"There's my good girl." Joel murmers as his opposite hand reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Despite having been in this exact position many times, your lower belly still flutters with arousal every time you are perched on his thick thigh.

"Tell me somethin'," Joel cooes in his honeyed Texan accent. "Did you like what happened back there tonight? You liked me tellin' that cocky piece of shit to fuck off?"

You did, and he knows it.

You bite back a smile and look down at your fingers fiddling in your lap. Joel is watching your reaction intently, focused on every microexpression that passes over your features. It makes you feel exposed and far too self conscious to answer his question or look at him, but in this situation you know he doesn't mind too much. Joel is savouring the flirtatious tension buzzing between you both - all part of the addictive, intoxicating game of seduction that he loves to enact with you.

Joel strokes his thumb over your chin and smirks proudly. "Yeah, my baby girl liked it, ain't that right?"

The gesture combined with the timbre of his voice makes your inner thighs clench together and a tiny whimper slip from your mouth. It is shameful, you think, how easily Joel can coax such a response from your body with just the pitch of his voice. Joel must be thinking along the same lines because he lets out a soft chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way they do when he's genuinely amused by something.

"Just needed daddy to take control and keep you safe, huh?" He croons. You nod, certain that a pink tinge is now spreading across your cheeks.

"Show me them pretty eyes."

Joel's thumb and forefinger angle your chin upwards, directing you to look at him. The beguiling spell he's weaving has already begun to hypnotise you; your eyes are large and dreamy with desire while you chew your bottom lip, one of your hands now trailing up his chest to fist the collar of his flannel in a way that seems to beg him to keep going. Joel hums knowingly and shifts his hand to cup your jaw in his calloused palm.

"Want everyone to know you're mine, huh?Don't you worry, baby, I'll tell 'em," Joel purrs seductively, his hooded eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"Tell 'em you're mine and I'm yours. That I'm the only man who can take care of you and fuck you like you need. What do ya think of that?"

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whimper softly. You are hardly aware of the way you're already squirming in his lap from being so turned on. Joel chuckles darkly and nuzzles his nose against yours.

"Reckon you'd love that," he whispers. "Everybody in town knowin' it's me who gets this pussy wet and beggin' to get fucked. "

You are so desperate for some kind of relief from your throbbing clit that your hips unconsciously grind down into his thigh.

"Bet you're fuckin' soakin' through your panties right now," Joel rasps.

His hand snakes down your neck and your breasts and roams over your belly to the waist band of your jeans. You exhale a breathy sigh and lean back into his chest, parting your legs instinctively and angling your hips the tiniest bit upward.

"Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Know how desperate that little pussy gets for me."

Joel's fingers slip under your pants and past your underwear, the pads of his fingers immediately meeting with your slick arousal. He groans into your neck and dips two fingers lower toward your opening to collect the wetness seeping out of you. Joel brings them back up to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation of his lubricated digits making you moan softly and buck your hips. You can feel the hardness of his huge cock in his jeans underneath your ass.

"Yeah," Joel breaths. "So needy and I've barely touched ya."

Your eyes roll back and your hand reaches up to run your fingers through his hair "Yes," you whisper back. "N-need you so much."

Joel hums, a deep rumbling in his throat. He massages your clit at a steady, leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to plunge his fingers down into your pussy hole.

"I know, babydoll, I know. Need daddy to touch you and make you feel good, huh?"

Your eyes fall shut and you nod eagerly, your fingers tugging at his crown of greying curls.

"Please, please," you beg. "Make me feel good."

"I will," Joel murmers. His voice is now rough and husky with his own desire. "Get upstairs and strip, wait for me on the bed."

He retracts his hand from your pussy and pulls out of your underwear, making you whine and pout at the loss. His fingers shine obscenely with your slick.

"Do as your told," Joel growls.

He urges you to stand with a firm push of his hand against your back, then heaves himself off the armchair. You obey and scamper up the stairs to Joel's bedroom.

••••••

Not even five minutes later you are completely naked and laying your back in Joel's bed. He lays on his stomach in the middle of your open legs, still fully clothed, still the one in control despite having his head buried between your thighs.

Joel starts by licking a slow, thick stripe from your opening up to your clit. The sensation of his warm tongue caressing the most sensitive spot of your body forces a long moan to escape from your lips. You shiver momentarily and your back arches.

Joel groans hungrily and slowly laps at your clit, his thick fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs as he holds you open for him to devour. He continues the motion of his tongue over and over until you can feel the wet mess of your slick and his saliva drip down to your asshole.

Joel had always loved eating your pussy. But tonight he seems determined to take his time pulling you apart. His mouth works expertly to lavish you with such intense pleasure that you feel you'd float away if not for the tight grip of your fists in his hair.

You keen with every fat, languid stroke of Joel's tongue and then gasp when he occasionally stops to suckle on your sensitive bundle of nerves. The alternating actions have your whole body tensing and shuddering, steadily building up to what you know will be an explosive orgasm.

Joel stops and pulls his face from your exposed pussy to speak, his moustache glistening with your juices.

"Taste so fuckin' sweet, babydoll." He pants, his voice rough with lust filled hunger. "Want you to soak my face when you cum, alright?"

You nod, dazed and drunk, unable to form any words. Joel gives your inner thigh a firm swat with his hand to get your attention. You yelp and buck your hips, instinctively tugging on his hair that you still hold in your fists.

"Yes daddy," you gasp. "Yes."

Joel hums in approval and leans back in to continue eating your pussy. He presses his two thick fingers against your entrance and he swirls his tongue back over your clit, his nose bumping against your mound.

"Joel," you moan loudly. "Fuck, don't stop, please...f-feels so good."

Your hips rock in small circles, chasing the stimulation of his tongue, desperate for the tightening coil of your climax to hit its peak. When Joel slowly pushes his fingers all the way inside of you and curls them to hit your g spot, you cry out at the overwhelming pleasure. You are wrecked, totally devoid of any coherent thought and not able to utter anything but his name. Joel, Joel, Joel.

He begins to fuck you steadily with his thick fingers while sucking gently on your clit, making you wail loudly, your walls contracting tightly. It doesn't take much longer for your ecstasy to culminate in a fervent orgasm, heightened by Joel's unrelenting ministrations. You squeal and arch your back as you cum and gush into Joel's mouth, your vision bursting with stars.

"Oh my God, Joel," you choke out through panting breaths. "Fuck!"

Joel continues thrusting and sucking all the way through your climax, only letting up once your walls have stopped spasming and your moans are reduced to soft sighs. Joel cannot completely stop there, though; he prolongs your bliss with light swipes of his tongue over your throbbing clit until your legs shake and you mewl pathetically from the overstimulation. Only then does he stop and slide his fingers outside you, leaving your cunt a quivering mess.

Joel crawls ontop of your lax body and captures your mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. You are still delirious from your high but you can taste yourself on his tongue, can smell yourself on his moustache, and it is utterly intoxicating.

He kisses you and it is savage and desperate and loving all at once; nothing exists in this vacuum of carnality but you and Joel, just the heat of your bodies and the thundering of your hearts, seemingly forever entwined.

A week and a half had passed since the incident in the dining hall. Day to day life remained the same, although there were some small changes in your routine.

One of the other teachers, Mrs. Thompson, was entering her third trimester of pregnancy and had been experiencing progressively worsening morning sickness and swelling in her feet. She approached you before class one day and burst into tears as she recounted the agony of heartburn and regular episodes of vomiting, the pain of bearing weight on her swollen soles. Although Mrs. Thompson had three older children, the effects on her body from this pregnancy had been the most challenging. She confided that it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to persevere through the sickness in order to continue her work duties.

You understood right away that Mrs. Thompson needed your help in covering her shifts, and so you readily offered your availability before she could even ask. Mrs. Thompson was a good woman, always hard working and dependable, someone you looked up to in the community. You wanted to help alleviate her stress and make yourself useful, so you offered to swap your Wednesday at the library for her teaching shift at the school. You could switch your library day to a different day, perhaps even take on an extra work duty.

You ignored the sad ache in your chest and accompanied Mrs. Thompson to meet with Maria about your proposed roster changes.

Time to move on, you thought.

Joel wasn't supposed to see you tonight.

He was supposed to be spending the evening at Tommy's playing poker with a bunch of the guys that made up Tommy's social circle. Some were senior patrolmen, like Troy and Joel, while others were friends he had known since the early days of his arrival in Jackson.

Cocky, charismatic and idealistic, Tommy had always found it relatively easy to make friends and was a well liked and popular member of the Jackson committee. He cherished the commraderie of the community, ever grateful of the security and love it had bestowed upon him, and he did his best to nurture this brotherhood.

It was very clear that Tommy's personality was fundamentally different to that of his older brother's. Joel hated what he deemed as meaningless socialisation and avoided most gatherings, but for Tommy's poker nights he made an exception. Despite their differences and rocky history, Joel felt an undying loyalty to his brother and secretly treasured the time they spent together. He was also encouraged by Ellie, who threatened to kick his old ass if he didn't make an effort to participate for Tommy's sake.

Joel wasn't supposed to visit you tonight but with each passing minute he was becoming more desperate to see your face. He was falling more in love with you, losing more and more of himself in his obsession with you. He wasn't able to tolerate another night of giving you space. He refused to.

With the aid of a few shots of whiskey Joel was able to persist through three rounds of poker before making the excuse that he was tired and was going to go home. The men all protested and tried to persuade him to stay, playfully insulting his age and joking about his stamina in all areas of life. Tommy slapped him on the back with a knowing grin and told him to "get the fuck outta here".

Joel made his way directly to your place, stalking through the camouflaging vegetation on the makeshift path his boots had created from repeated trampling over the past year. He couldn't wait to see your pretty face and kiss you and run his hands all over your soft body.

Joel was about to sneak in through the side door of your cottage when he heard your voice floating along the late night breeze. He paused. It seemed to be coming from your front porch.

Why were you awake and who were you talking to?

Even with his good ear facing the direction of your voice Joel couldn't quite make out what was being said, so he skulked slowly along the wall toward the front of your cottage. He stopped at the very edge of the weatherboard exterior and peeked furtively around the corner.

Joel's entire body went rigid at the sight of Oscar standing at the end of your porch.

What the fuck is going on?

••••••

"I'm so sorry, I know it's late. But I just had to see you."

"No, it's okay, really. I wasn't asleep or anything." You sound slightly breathless.

The way you're self consciously tugging on the bottom of your sleep shorts and pursing your lips makes Oscar want to swoop in and kiss you. But he just nods and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Oh, good. Good." He mumbles.

There is a moment of silence while the two of you look each other up and down, soaking up the unfamiliar sight of the other in casual sleeping clothes. You crack a tiny smile at the fitted black sweat pants and loose grey sweater he wears, faded red block letters that spell HARVARD adorning the front. In turn Oscar's eyes scan over the length of your bare legs, the fuzzy mismatched socks on your feet, and the oversized pink sweater covering the top half of your body.

"Why are you here, Oscar?" You ask quietly. "Why do you need to see me?"

Oscar bows his head and swallows thickly, steeling himself for this very scene he had been dreaming of for weeks.

"I'm here because I just can't stop. I can't stop thinking about you. Because I hate myself for not telling you how I felt about you sooner."

Okay, this is it, he thinks. Oscar lifts his head to look directly into your eyes and the words seem to spill from his mouth before he can properly articulate himself.

Your eyes widen in shock and blink rapidly. "W..what? How you felt?"

"Yes, how I feel," he quickly corrects. "But please let me finish. I need to say this because it is eating me up inside." Oscar beseeches, his emotive brown eyes pleading with you. You nod your understanding and chew your bottom lip nervously as you wait for him to finish.

"I love you." Oscar confesses softly. "I've loved you since the first day I met you."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. He sees the glimmer of tears welling just above your waterline and resists the urge to kiss your eyelids. It feels like an eternity that you are standing face to face on the porch of your cottage, gazing at each other in weighted stillness as if time has stopped.

The moonlight is the only source of illumination around you and its beams offer just enough light for Oscar to see your features. He didn't think it could be possible but you look even more beautiful under the soft glow of the moon.

There's a sudden crackling sound nearby that shatters the moment and causes you both to jerk your heads toward the street. A squirrel darts out from a shadow and scampers up a tree across the way. You let out a breathless, nervous laugh and Oscar turns back to you.

"I know you're with Joel Miller now and I shouldn't be here. But I just needed to tell you." Oscar says solemnly. "I came to the library today to tell you but you weren't there."

You sigh and wrap your arms around your waist, seemingly shrinking into yourself. "I changed my roster. I thought you wouldn't come, anyway." You mumble, looking out onto the street to avoid Oscar's gaze.

"Really? Why wouldn't I?" He questions, frowning with confusion. "I always meet you on Wednesdays."

You huff like you're close to exasperation.

"You stood me up the last time," you retort sharply. "And you're busy with Gayle now. I didn't expect you to."

His face contorts with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Stood you up? Gayle?

"I didn't stand you up!" Oscar blurts out. "I left you a note saying sorry, that I had to fill in a patrol shift for Joel. Didn't you see?"

It's your turn to look puzzled now and when you speak your tone is significantly softer and borders on apprehensive.

"What note? And...you filled Joel's shift?"

"Yes, I slipped a note under the library door that morning apologising. Tommy was desperate to get someone to cover Joel." Oscar explains with calm sincerity. You're staring at him now and he cannot quite decipher why you appear so timid all of a sudden.

"And I'm not with Gayle. Why would you think that?" Oscar reaches out to cup your elbow, no longer able to resist touching you, needing you to see him and hear him. "I hardly know her."

You allow him to hold your arm while you sigh once more. He notices your body shivering and how your bare legs are now prickled all over with goosebumps.

Shit, you must be freezing, but you have yet to invite him inside your home to escape the cold. Maybe you're not pleased that he's knocked on your door. Maybe it's time to go.

"I promise you, I am not with Gayle. And I'm sorry, both for not telling you about my feelings earlier...and for coming tonight," Oscar mutters awkwardly, pulling away from you. "Uhm, so...have a good night."

He turns to go but before he can walk away from your porch he feels a tug at the back of his sweater, then your sweet voice uttering a plea.

"Oscar, please wait, don't go."

When he whips back around and sees your bottom lip nervously pulled between your teeth and your eyebrows dolefully knitted together he wants nothing more than to enfold you into his arms and kiss you. Oscar is positive that if he were given that opportunity, to have that moment with you as his last on this earth, he would die a happy man.

"I'm sorry, Oscar," you croak. "I don't know what to tell you. You don't know how much you've meant to me these past few months, how happy you've made me. You became the best thing in my life."

"Are you...is what you're saying true?" He murmers in stunned disbelief. "Me?"

When you sniffle and nod your head, Oscar's heart is flooded with an overwhelming surge of adoration and relief. He's made you happy. That's all he ever wanted - your happiness.

"Your friendship has saved me in many ways, you know," you whisper. There's a hard lump stuck in your throat causing your voice to come out thick and cracked. "And for that I will always love you."

Oscar takes hold of your hand and you interlace your fingers with his as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You give his hand a small squeeze.

"But I am with Joel," you affirm. "And although things...well, they haven't always been so good. They really haven't been good."

You are crying now.

"But we've been together for over a year now. And Ellie's even given us her blessing. We are a family now. I...I just can't leave that, even if I wanted to."

Oscar feels at a loss as you unleash your emotions onto him. He is torn between wanting to comfort you and wanting to tell you to forget it, forget everything he confessed to you, to forget him completely.

"Pease understand that I just can't, Oscar." You sob.

And despite his own heart beginning to crumble and perish, he unlocks his hand from yours and pulls you into his tight embrace. You fall into Oscar and bury your face into his neck and wrap your arms around him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other supports your lower back, keeping you pinned firmly against his front.

"I want you in my life," he whispers. "As my friend, as my lover...whatever you give me, I want it."

Oscar isn't sure how much time passes before he eventually extracts you from his hold. He knows he needs to leave. He bestows a final kiss on your temple and bids you goodnight, forcing himself to ignore your little whimper of sadness. Oscar leaves you alone in the darkness and retreats from your cottage without glimpsing back at you.

••••••

The unbearable pain of betrayl and jealousy crush Joel's heart like a vice. He shuts his eyes and squeezes his shaking hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches so hard that his head begins to pound.

For the first time ever, Joel is almost paralysed by an onslaught of emotion; he isn't angry or provoked into impulsive violence, but instead is genuinely hurt by what he has heard. He had given you so much, had tried so hard to change for you, and this is how you act? You're practically cheating on him right now, baring your soul to another man while bad mouthing him.

How could you?

Joel slumps against the side of the cottage and tilts his head back, trying his best to maintain control over his increasingly panicked breaths.

Fuck, not now, not now.

He loves you. You're his. When did you become so unhappy with him? Didn't you love him, too?

Joel shakes his head, willing his buzzing mind to silence itself, to allow him to breathe and rein in the hysteria that threatens to take over. He exhales a heavy, shuddering breath and feels some of the pent up pressure inside his chest disperse along with it.

He stays slumped against the wall while he rides through the wave of panic. It takes almost five minutes for the distress to abate enough for Joel to decide to abandon his plan to surprise you tonight. He goes back to his own house and gets drunk instead.

Joel meets you at your cottage for dinner the following night. You have made a lamb and vegetable stew specially for him as you've noticed it is one of the very few dishes that Joel consumes with zeal every single time. You still crave his praise - that groan of pleasure that rumbles in his throat as he takes his first bite always makes your tummy flutter and your heart beam with pride.

You aren't hungry but you join him at the dining table anyway, perched on the chair opposite him with a novel in your hand. You know Joel likes it when you are close by, keeping him company throughout even the smallest of tasks.

Joel is quiet during the meal, even more so than he usually is, but you don't pay much attention to his brooding. He is prone to sullen moods and you have become accostumed to the occasional bouts of grumpiness, now unfazed by Joel Miller's characteristic sullen sulking.

Maybe he had a bad day at work, or maybe he's just tired. Whatever the reason, you show no curiosity or concern, only paying attention to the book you're reading.

It's a paper back romance novel, a genre you had never really delved into before, but decided to take a chance on. The spine is worn and the cover is dog eared, but the picture depicted on the front of the book was enough to capture your interest. The artwork shows a woman dressed in a corseted gown collapsing into the arms of a handsome man above her. The swell of her round breasts peek out from the top of her neckline and her head is tilted back sensually as she gazes up at him.

When you had first spotted the book and studied the cover you felt a flutter inside the walls of your pussy. It was erotic, the way the characters were positioned, the passion and lust conveyed through their expressions. You thought there was a romantic quality to the scene, too, something in the way the man's hands cradled his lover, and that was what prompted you to give it a go.

You're so lost in the story that jumps to life from the pages of text that you don't even register what Joel says at first.

"Hmm?" You look up at him from the spot you were reading.

"Said I don't want you eatin' in the hall anymore." Joel says offhandedly as he scrapes his spoon against the ceramic of the bowl, not even looking at you, the words falling so casually from his lips.

Your brows crease at the sudden random remark and you look at him, confused. You lay your book open in your lap and clear your throat to speak.

"Uh, what do you mean? Why not?"

Joel doesn't respond to you right away, instead chewing the food in his mouth in an unhurried manner, then taking a long sip from the glass of water next to him. He still does not meet your eyes and it feels as though he is purposely ignoring you. You wonder if he is secretly enjoying the drawn out suspense from his lack of explanation, and irritation prickles your skin at his apathy.

"Joel?" You implore as you lean forward to catch his attention. "What do you mean?"

"Too many men there, don't want them lookin' at you." He states gruffly.

He scoops up the last bit of stew and eats it before dumping the spoon in his bowl and finally looking up at you. His expression is unreadable, almost blank.

You stare at him still frowning. As far as you are aware, no men look at you in the mess hall during dinner or any other meal times, and if they did then it did not perturb you as long as none of them spoke to you.

"No one looks at me, Joel," you say firmly.

"That's a lie and you know it," Joel spits out straight away.

The bitterness in his tone startles you. It makes you feel caught out and exposed.

Is he talking about someone in particular or is he just acting paranoid and possessive?

Regardless of what Joel is alluding to you still keep your eyes focused on him, not wanting to let him intimidate you. It seems impossible though, with the stoic way his eyes bore into you, and it takes all your will to not bow your head.

You do not want Joel to dictate what you can and can't do without a logical reason, and not wanting you to eat in the mess hall because there are other men around seems ridiculous to you. Well, it is ridiculous. Why had this not been an issue before?

Joel sits back in his chair and crosses his arms without breaking eye contact with you. He licks his tongue across his top teeth and clicks his tongue.

The atmosphere in the dining room is suddenly loaded with tension. You realise that whatever has been simmering inside Joel tonight is about to spill out from him. His jaw ticks.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say adamantly.

Joel scoffs and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you don't? You didn't see how your little friend Estrada was starin' at you the whole damn time we were there?"

Shit.

That day at lunch time the dining hall had been teeming with people; among them were you and your friends at one table, Joel and Tommy at another, and Oscar and a few patrolmen sitting at another. You caught glimpses of both Joel and Oscar staring at you from time to time and you couldn't relax at all. At the time you had hoped the men hadn't noticed the other gazing at you, but now you knew Joel had.

You understand immediately that you will need to tread carefully with this conversation.

You look away from Joel and shake your head.

"No, I didn't," you lie.

You grab your book and push your chair back to stand, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. You turn away to walk out of the room and hear Joel's chair drag as he jumps up to follow you.

"Where you goin'?" He barks.

"To bed," you bite back at him.

You hurry to the bedroom and push the door open. Joel is so close behind you that you can hear the heavy breaths of frustration huffing from his nose. He grabs hold of your upper arm and whirls you back around to look at him, your face close to his.

"Did you tell him you already got a man?" Joel asks accusingly, his firey brown eyes darting back and forth between yours. "When you were spendin' so much time with him behind my back?"

"Behind your back?"

"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about," Joel bristles. "His visits to your work, sneaking around to see you on his fuckin' lunch break."

Your breath siezes in your lungs and you stare back at Joel, incapable of masking the panic that briefly glosses over your eyes.

He knows.

Joel clocks the alarm in your expression, what he interprets as a silent admission, and snarls. "Tell me, did you tell him you're mine?"

You're suddenly struck by the absurdity of what Joel is asking you. How could anyone have known you belonged to Joel when he was the one who refused to be in an honest relationship with you? He had dictated the terms of your relationship this whole time, and yet here he was now, criticising you for keeping it a secret?

You shrug your arm out of his grip and raise your hands in an exasperated gesture. Your resolve to remain calm and navigate the conversation had completely disappeared.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" You snap. "Tell him I am taken but my boyfriend won't walk down the street holding my hand? You didn't want to publicly be with me so why would Oscar know you're my man? Seriously Joel, that is so unfair!"

Joel lifts his eyebrows, surprised at your little outburst. Just when did you become disrespectful like this? How did you get the balls to speak to him like this? Where had his good girl gone? Maybe he had been giving you too much freedom lately, was too lenient in allowing you to call the shots.

Maybe it was time to rein you in a bit.

Joel's eyes darken and narrow at you. You instantly recognise that look - the look of stern intimidation that challenged you to quickly rethink your behaviour lest you wanted some kind of cruel reprimand. The palpable change in his demeanour is disturbing but you cross your arms over your chest and boldly hold his gaze, lips pouted defiantly.

Joel runs his hand over his face and chuckles mirthlessly. "Christ, baby. When did you become such a goddamn brat?"

"All I did was ask what I was supposed to do." You argue stubbornly. "You know what? Whatever, Joel. I don't want to have this conversation."

"You really think you can talk to me like that, little girl?" Joel asks cooly, voice low and bordering on ominous. His jaw ticks in irritation.

"Like what?" You heedlessly snip back.

"Like you're forgettin' who you're fuckin' speakin' to right now."

The foreboding tone of Joel's voice combined with his icy, piercing glare causes a stirring of the familiar knot of anxious dread in your lower belly. It's all so reminiscent of the past episodes of violence he's inflicted upon you.

Was this the calm before the storm? There was no way you could do this again, no way you could endure whatever nastiness he was going to impose on you.

Your confidence deflates rapidly and you realise you need to change tact to diffuse the situation. You sag your shoulders and drop your chin in an effort to appear more submissive.

"I'm just confused about how...what you expected of me, Joel." You reply timidly. "I'm just asking--"

"No, see...you ain't," Joel shook his head. "You're bein' downright disrespectful right now. I suggest you watch your tongue."

Your strategy hasn't worked. You were too bold, too rebellious, and now you will pay the price. You gulp and instinctively step backwards to maintain some distance between you and Joel.

"I'm not," you protest weakly, hating the pleading inflection that comes across in your voice. "But you're getting upset with me for something that isn't my fault."

"And leadin' him on wasn't?" Joel growls, his fists clenching by his sides. Your mouth falls open in shock.

Leading Oscar on? By being friends and spending time together? The shock fizzles away and is replaced by anger; anger at Joel for his unfair judgement, anger at yourself for not having told Oscar how you truly felt earlier, anger at the whole fucked up situation.

"Lead him on? How? By being friends?" You retort. "Talking about...about books and-and music and whatever else friends talk about?"

It was so much more than that, you know. You're purposely diminishing the beauty of what you and Oscar shared, downplaying just how important the friendship was to you. If Joel found out just what Oscar meant to you then you would truly dread what may happen.

"Why the fuck do you need him for?" Joel booms. "I'm not good enough for you to talk about that shit with?"

You almost scoff at how ridiculous he sounds. It is like he is mocking you. Joel had never initiated any kind of discussion with you about anything meaningful - no profound conversations about music or books, no questions about your work or your passions, no display of genuine interest for anything that mattered to you.

However, Oscar was the complete opposite. He asked question after question about you and listened intently to everything you had to say. How could Joel be so ignorant to your needs and feelings?

Had he truly never acknowledged you as an individual, as a woman with a personality and dreams and desires?

"You don't like to talk about those things with me! Infact you don't like to talk about anything with me!" You argue back, rage and frustration once again swallowing your sense of self preservation and robbing you of your better judgement. "All you want to do is fuck me, Joel!"

Joel's reaction comes faster than you could anticipate. He reaches out and snatches your bicep tightly into his grasp, making you squeal in pain and surprise. He roughly drags you toward him and brings your face close to his, his lip curled into a snarl and his chest expanding wide.

His eyes appear black, pupils blown wide with wrath. It elicits a deep seated fear from within your gut, that ever present primitive fight or flight mechanism, adrenals in overdrive from the previous times Joel has unleashed his vehemence upon you. All of your courage drains from your body and you tremble, tears quickly filling your eyes.

"You better fuckin' quit this before I make you regret what the fuck you just said," Joel hisses.

"Let go of me," you whimper, "let me go right now."

"Not til you listen to what I have to say to you, you cheating little bitch," he growls.

You flinch at his vemon laced words but his iron grasp on you keeps you from recoiling away. You hang your head and begin to sob pitifully.

"From now on, you will not talk to another man. You will not look at another man. You are going to live at my house and you will come straight home from your work duties. You hear me?"

Joel gives your arm a tight shake. When you don't say anything in response he squeezes your flesh between his fingers, causing you to cry out.

"Answer me!" He barks.

"Y-yes sir," you sob in defeat, your tears falling directly to the floor as your head remains bowed.

Joel releases his hold on your arm and leans down to whisper into your ear, voice low and menacing.

"And if I see you with that son of a bitch ever again, I'll kill him."

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee @gossipgirl-03 @mandoloriancookie @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @missannfairy @bean-security

#joel miller x reader #joel miller dark #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

[1hot-mess-express1]

Ghost

word count: 1459

⋆ genre: angst

Satosugu X reader

⋆ a/n: I have posted in a million years pls be nice I will cry 😃 (also low key gave up haha)

Summary: satoru has always hated you but grief changes a man

Satoru didn’t love you. The thought had never really crossed his mind; you were Suguru’s. You were like his shadow, never far behind, always clinging to him like he’d fly away without your touch. Satoru wishes that he had done the same. He wishes he would have held him tighter, taken him out more, and laughed at his stupid jokes just to see how his eyes crinkled in the corner. He would give anything to have Suguru scold him for his childish ways, brows furrowing, leaving thin permanent indents as if Satoru had left his mark. If he thinks hard enough, he can smell the weathered pages of whatever classic novel Suguru was reading the last time he saw him. He can vividly see the way the sun kisses his hair with an orange glow as his nimble fingers turn the pages too delicately, even breaths moving his chest in a hypnotic pattern, his eyes low, scanning the pages while he chewed on his lip absentmindedly. Satoru wishes he would have let Suguru enjoy his books more often. Instead, he always found himself complaining about how boring it was and yanking on Suguru’s arm, dragging him out as Suguru held limply to the book, that same furrow in his brow deepening impossibly.

No, Satoru had never loved you. To be frank, he found you annoying when he first met you. You were nothing but the tumor his friend had picked up over the summer, always third-wheeling their hangouts and making Suguru skip games with him on Friday nights. You were annoying. When Suguru looked at you with half-lidded eyes, crinkling slightly in the corner from his boyish smile, Satoru couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten, gulping down the piece of him that wished he was in your shoes. He’s certain that if Suguru ever looked at him like that, he would find true happiness in this world. When you would get incredibly drunk at parties, Suguru would carry you on his back, little snores escaping your mouth every so often as Satoru stumbled behind. He couldn’t help but glare daggers into the back of your head, kicking rocks on the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into his pockets as his shoulders sagged with his overwhelming jealousy. That should be him. He can’t help but remember all the times Suguru had done the same for him, throwing his lanky body over his back, Satoru’s long legs poking out awkwardly from Suguru’s smaller frame, a smile plastered on his face as if Satoru couldn’t possibly be an inconvenience. He remembers how his hair smelled and how his nose fit perfectly into the crook of Suguru’s neck. Instead of enjoying the physical embodiment of warmth and comfort that was Suguru, he was stumbling behind, cold and alone, while you nuzzled into the crook of Sugurus neck, lips brushing his skin while you whispered drunken sweet nothings into the porcelain expanse of skin.

Satoru hated you. He hated how your small hand fit so perfectly in Suguru’s, your smaller hand being engulfed almost entirely by Suguru’s comfortably worn hands, your digits curled perfectly around his, tracing feather-light shapes into his skin. Most importantly, he hated how it made him question how he might fit instead. Would Suguru's larger hand slide half as perfectly with his long ivory digits, or would his hand slip, his fingers sitting at an awkward length, palms sweaty, and hands shaking?

He hated you and was sure of it, just as he was certain he loved Suguru. He loved how his hair looked first thing in the morning, uncharacteristically disheveled as he made his way to the kitchen on socked feet, steps heavy with sleep while he rubbed his eyes clear of sleep. He loved how he looked making his tea in the morning, sweat pants hanging dangerously low as Satoru tried his best not to stare at the way his back muscles flexed and protruded as he reached for the large white mug on the top shelf, stained on the inside from overuse that he refused to replace because “it’s my favorite.” He loved the way Suguru would place a hair tie between his teeth before collecting the unruly mess of hair between his hands, throwing it up in a messy bun because he simply couldn’t be bothered to do his hair this early in the morning.

He hated you, hated that you got to see this every day. You would probably stumble down shortly after, clad in Suguru’s shirt that is comically large on you, teetering over to him on exhausted feet, getting up on the balls of your feet to place a fleeting kiss below Suguru’s sunken eyes as he chuckles to himself about your rat's nest of a hair due before reaching into the cabinet for another mug. Yeah, Satoru hated you.

But

Something about how you’re curled up, engulfed by Suguru’s worn-out crew neck, in a room better described as a time capsule, layers of dust accumulated over these lonely ten years. Your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your hair disheveled, and your hands pulled close to your face with a black hair tie wrapped snugly around your wrist. Even in sleep, your face is contorted by this palpable pain. You embodied Satoru’s heart, clenched tight in pain and sorrow, melting into the mattress with the weight of your love.

Satoru is frozen in place for a moment, his eyes glossy, shallow breaths escaping his lips as his brows furrow, and he stares endlessly. Why were you here? You shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong in this sanctuary of unrequited love and boyish days spent together. You look so painfully out of place, unkempt in a perfectly tidy room save for the sand of time resting on the surfaces. A stack of books sits on the desk to your left, with a bookmark shoved in haphazardly. At this Satoru realizes you must have been coming here too, spending your lonely waking hours surrounded by the memories of everything that should have been. He’s sat in that same spot, his much larger body sprawled out messily while staring at those same books. How did he not notice it before? Now he pictures you in here, alone, curled up in the corner, book in hand, turning the yellowed pages delicately as if they might crumble beneath your small hand, chewing absentmindedly on the skin of your lips as a furrow begins to form on your brow.

With a heavy sigh, he shuffles over the mattress, letting it sink with the weight of his own heart, and places an unsteady hand on your back that goes unnoticed by you in this exhausted state. Feeling your heart pound under his shaky fingers, Satoru begins to weep. He’s not sure why now; maybe it was because he knew you would feel the same, that you would understand him. A single hand reaches up to hide his face, overwhelmed with grief and embarrassment, as guttural sobs escape his lips. Your frame begins to stir underneath him, and he can’t bring himself to care; bringing his other hand to his face, he finds himself sobbing much louder, pulling at the ends of his hair and curling up on himself as if this action would cause the aching in his chest to subside. He’s not sure when it happens, but you sit up, placing a single shaky hand on his much larger back as it wracks with grief. His cries become silent screams, and he begins to pull at his hair, sniffling and hiccuping uncontrollably violently. He doesn’t know why, but when you embrace him with tears of your own, he can’t help the way his head falls into your chest, his snot covering Suguru’s sweater, long slender fingers are slowly pried away from his hair, and instead find purchase on the front of guru’s sweater, pulling at the fabric to cover his egregious display of grief. He sits like this for a while, crying until he physically can’t anymore; no more tears will fall, and he feels as if he can’t breathe, head pounding immensely in a rhythmic pattern. His head is nearly empty, too tired to form any more thoughts, eyelids growing heavy when he realizes your tiny, delicate hands are carding through his hair as you let out soft, shaky sobs of his own. Maybe he’s a horrible person, but he finds himself inching closer to you, engulfing your much smaller frame with his tall, lanky body until you both lie back on the bed, wordlessly embracing one another. Satoru hates you, but now, feeling small in the expanse of your arms, the last living piece of the love of his life, he thinks maybe he doesn’t hate you.

#satoru #gojo x reader #gojo angst #satosugu #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #jjk suguru #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #suguru x y/n #geto angst #satoru angst

[rickfucker]

can u please just infodump about ricks autism?like his stims,his “icky sensations” etc?thank you! <3

Please forgive the informal nature of this; I obviously have not been writing a lot lately, but I'm back on my Adderall and thinking about Rick as much as I think about Astarion from Baldur’s Gate.

First of all, Rick’s love of Birdperson is because he’s so unlike anyone Rick’s ever met. He’s totally straight forward, no guessing games on his intentions. Given a theory that I just reblogged a day ago, he’s probably got familial trauma similar enough to Rick, in their distrust of love, and possibly marriage. Birdperson is serious and goal-oriented, but lets loose around Rick’s influence BECAUSE they’re both autistic as fuck LMAO.

Rick is hella stimmy. He’s big on echolalia. Always whistling, humming or singing, repeating brand new alien phrases (wubba lubba dub dub, duhh) that have a good mouth feel. Writing songs with his favorite words. Also totally makes fun of people who can’t whistle.

I’ve talked before about his food & texture sensitivities. He’s totally fine eating spaghetti made out of people, but lo mein noodles? Absolutely not; too slimy. He can rip the head off a snake with his bare teeth, yes. He's just so specific with the things he dislikes. Take a chicken breast for example - that's fine. Breaded? Fine. Gravy on chicken breast? Fine. Gravy on breaded chicken breast? Bin it. Anything attached to a bone? No, thank you. Anything that still looks like the animal (whole fish filet, for example), no, thank you. Soup? Better be vegetable and no solids except croutons only. That way, nothing gets too soggy.

He inspects every chip/crisp/french fry before eating for black or green parts. If they have any blemishes like that, they’re getting chucked. He tried once to eat one once, just to challenge himself, and nearly got sick. The texture was simply ungodly.

Some one-off thoughts:

He hates a lot of different clothing textures, which is why he’s always wearing the same outfits. He cut off those clothing tags and cloned the result so he doesn’t have to deal anymore. 

Usually wears shoes around the house. Doesn’t like walking around the house without socks on.

Clumsy when he’s not on high-alert, like on adventures. Got hella bruises on his legs from running into the living room furniture & his work areas in the garage.

Definitely particular about temperature. He keeps his room a toasty 71 degrees, but never 72.

that's all I got for now. Hope you enjoy, anon.

#anonymous #ask #rick sanchez #rick and morty #autism #rick sanchez headcanons #mesa writes

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 48

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Y/n goes a little apeshit at JojaMart lmao

Author’s Note: *Crawls out of a pit covered in dirt and blood. Slaps this chapter down in front of you, on a SUNDAY no less!*

My health situation hasn’t improved whatsoever, but I will prevail, damnit!!

I wrote most of this and posted to ao3 early this morning, and haven't had a chance to proofread really. I'll do my best to get that done soon ^.^ Sorry if there are any weird wordings. Also sorry for the complete lack of Seb and Magnus in this one, I hope the shenanigans make up for it <3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I hate that stupid, cryptic, blue note I got.

Ever since it came, I think about it every time I check the mailbox, without fail. I don’t want to, I kinda just want to forget it exists, but I just… I dunno. I have a bad feeling about it. A gut feeling. Like, something’s totally up with it. It’s just been sitting in my closet for safekeeping until I decide what to do, though.

For some reason, I’ve been too nervous to bring it back up to Magnus. He’s forgotten it exists, from what I can tell. I think I’ll do my best to keep it that way for now. It feels more like my burden to bear than his, and besides, he’s already got the whole region to take care of.

After today’s confirmation that I don’t have bills or anything important like that, I head inside to get ready to leave the farm. Reeeally hoping my routine will shake out my heebiejeebies.

I got the OK from Magnus to use his fancy shrine for Spirit’s Eve. Got an idea of what I think I want to make myself look like, too. Maybe a tiefling or something. If tieflings don’t really exist, I’m sure some sort of succubi, or imps, or some sort of creature that looks like one’s gotta, no? I suppose I could always fall back on just pretending I’m an elf… man, a tail and horns would be so fun though. 

Either way, tomorrow is the big day and I am so ready for it.

I mean, like, almost ready. Whatever.

Today I’m going to Magnus’ place to get some practice in. Just a precautionary measure to try not to, like, blow myself up or something.

I’m gonna keep my outfit cozy and easy to move around in, but I have half a mind to make sure I wouldn’t mind losing these clothes in particular if something goes wrong with the transformation. Just some leggings, some crew-cut socks, an old hoodie, and my favorite boots, since I won’t have my shoes on in the shrine anyway. All of it is in black. Sebastian cosplay. 

I’ll pop my red studs in too, gotta commit to the bit. I haven’t had time to talk to The Emo and see if he actually did get his shit pierced last night, but assuming he did, and assuming he was able to use these for it, I wanna go all out, baby.

Now, before I head to the tower, I’ve got some errands to run around town. I woke up a bit late so there’s gonna be more people out than I’m looking forward to, but hopefully I have no creepy Alex encounters or awkward conversations with Shane again.

I promised Sam I’d visit him at work sometime soon, so I might as well head there first. He hates it there, and it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, so I’ll hopefully be a welcome distraction. I’ll bring him a coffee too to keep his spirits high.

After it’s done brewing, I grab two foam cups and pour the coffee in. Knowing Sam, he probably needs this stuff sweet, and I’m in the mood for sweet too, so I pour in a bunch of vanilla-flavored creamer. To make the beverages ~gourmet,~ I add a little whipped cream to each, as well as a light drizzle of chocolate syrup. After securing the plastic lids and giving Cannoli some well-deserved love, I head out.

While I pass by the bus stop, I make eye contact with Pam. I’ve never spoken to her, but… I dunno. I can’t tell if I like her or not. She gives me a nasty stink eye and I can only further assume she’s as mean as she outwardly appears. Unless she was just cursed with an intense resting bitch face...

I smile Pam’s way anyway. She doesn’t smile back, but that’s okay. It doesn’t benefit anyone to be so judgemental of her.

I pass a few local moms once I make it to the town square. None really mind me, which could mean they either didn’t notice, or they don’t care. Either is fine by me. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but Caroline talks very animatedly just before the rest of the group bursts into laughter.

I turn my attention back ahead as I pass by Pierre’s and nearly bump into Marnie as she’s leaving the shop.

We both squeak out a little “Oh!” before apologizing in unison.

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” I double down. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I rarely ever am!” She then motions to the two cups in my hands and adds, laughing, “At least the coffee’s safe!”

I awkwardly nod in agreement. Then, a brief flash of myself actually spilling coffee somewhere down the road raids my mind, my necklace tingling against my skin and my fingers practically buzzing.

Great.

“Everything alright, sweetie?”

That probably looked weird. “Yeah, sorry,” I try to recover, “just sleepy today!”

I take a sip of coffee to emphasize my point. Plus, I might as well drink what I can before these puppies go down. Hopefully I’ll be able to save at least one of them when the time comes.

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that!” She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I need to get back to the shop, but take it easy and don’t overwork yourself, you hear?” 

I nod, thanking her and waving her off with a shy grin before I continue moving. Once I get closer to the spot I’m supposed to be spilling these drinks — just before that little bridge over the river by JojaMart — I begin to walk more cautiously. If I can just keep these steady and focus on the ground… 

A sneeze creeps up on me. Oh god. Oh god oh fuck oh no.

Just as I’m beginning to carefully place one of the cups on the side of the bridge for safe keeping, the sneeze forces its way out of me. Luckily, one beverage — the one I hadn’t drank from yet — stays safely in my hand. Unluckily, the one I was working on trying to keep safe fell to the stones at my feet, opening up and dispersing its contents fucking everywhere.

God damnit. 

“Nice one.”

God fucking damnit.

I look up to the voice. It turns out Shane’s outside having a smoke. He’s at the opposite end of the bridge watching my clumsiness unfold with an aloof look about him. He’s bent over to lean on the stone wall, his right elbow propped up and his corresponding cheek in his palm. His left forearm is flat against the structure while his left hand lazily dangles his cigarette between two fingers.

Is that pink nail polish on one of them? I wonder if that’s Jas’ doing. 

I merely groan back my response, picking up the now-empty cup to discard in the trash bin near the store. As I proceed on my walk of shame past Shane, I point out, “At least my clothes stayed safe.”

Shane follows and asks, “How many ants do you think you murdered with that accident?” 

I grin a little at his dry humor. “Oh it was a massacre,” I bounce back. “The war in Gotoro pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” Oh my god, I made Shane — the grumpiest fuck I’ve ever met — laugh?! “Right on. Seems like pointless violence anyway.” 

I turn to see if I can catch him smiling for the first time, like, ever. It’s not there anymore, but there’s a residual brightness in his features.

Shane snuffs out his cig on the ashtray built into the garbage’s lid, abandoning it there before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bright blue shorts.

“Those sons’a bitches,” he nods in the direction of my carnage, “they had it coming.”

My nose scrunches as I laugh a little, giving him a funny look. “Damn, what’d they do to you?”

There’s a playful glint in his eye, as he deadpans me. “Exist.”

I shrug and nod — I get it, they can be pretty annoying! — and follow the man as he makes his way through the white-rimmed, glass-centered automatic doors. I try not to cringe outwardly at how many self-righteous pro-Joja fliers are on them.

Shane stops a few steps into the store. Turns around. I stop too and look up, tilting my head. What’re you looking at, punk? I think to myself. Dunno if I’d be pushing my limits by trying to say it out loud. Better not.

Shane gives me a weird look too, but I can barely see it. My senses are taking their damn time getting used to the obnoxiously fluorescent lighting.

“Don’t you shop at Pierre’s?” Shane wonders out loud.

I blink a few times as I adjust to the environment and then nod. “Visiting Sam,” I explain.

“Ah.” He nods too, in understanding, and then looking the other way he continues, “Enjoy.”

Shane makes his way towards a door to the right of the manager’s office. Says “Employee’s only,” so I’m assuming it’s a break room or something. I don’t miss the incorrect apostrophe, but choose not to linger on it either.

“You too.” He looks back over his shoulder, so I pair my well wishes with a lazy salute.

“Buh.”

…Buh?

I smile. I think he’s warming up to me!

Feeling a tad lost now that I’m alone, I look around before making any advances. Should’ve asked Shane if he knew where Sam would be around now. I dunno how the shifts work around here.

The cashiers to my left — a visibly exhausted red headed woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s; and a scrawny, scruffy looking teenager, with thick-framed glasses sitting atop his freckled nose — both look miserable.

The boy is boredly leaning against the counter, zoned out on the ground in front of it. The woman looks totally spaced out on nothing in particular. It almost seems like she’s fighting off sleep, too. Poor lady. 

The woman and I lock onto each other. She looks away from my face before I can even register it, but I notice her eyes flicker longingly to the coffee cup in my hand a few times after the fact. I peer between her and the beverage twice before I all but scurry away into the aisles. I’m too awkward for this. My only option is to retreat. Never said I wasn’t a coward.

While I venture past the boatloads of boxed, bagged and canned foods in search of the resident dog boy, I observe some of the products. Some don’t look safe for consumption, while others seem like they’d be fun to try as a one-off sort of deal. It overlaps a few times as well. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to try this cereal which very explicitly states on the box that it’s more sugar than grains? It makes me stifle a giggle. I like the brutal honesty. 

I stop and stare at it for a sec. Gnawing my lip. Wondering if I should just…

No. I shan’t.

I break away from temptation and trek on. As I reach the end of the aisle, I pan across the back of the store. More shelf-stable products, a small produce section… ah!

Sam looks like he’s supposed to be mopping the floor near the freezers. To be fair, he is holding a mop, and it is touching the floor! But instead of cleaning, he uses the tool as a microphone; singing against the end of the brown wooden handle, both hands passionately gripping it as he bends his torso to quietly belt one part in particular. Sam’s eyes are shut, his bulky black headphones are secured over his ears, and he has not a single worry in the world. 

Holding his coffee in both hands now, I stop walking and lean against a nearby shelf. Observing. Waiting. Eventually he’ll have to see me.

He does a little spin move and carelessly bumps into the bucket of soapy water he’s working with, causing it to slosh around a little. Some of it lands on the floor, and some on the pants of Sam’s jumpsuit. Doesn’t faze him in the slightest. 

He does another spin the opposite way and nearly knocks over the conveniently placed display of sprinkles that are situated right in front of the ice cream freezer.

I feel like I should probably stop him before something bad happens, but he looks so damn content and so stinkin’ cute that I can’t be assed. 

Just as I’m thinking this, he opens his eyes, completely avoiding my direction while he immediately peers over his shoulder. Sam scans around, getting a full view of the proximate areas. It seems like he’s just making sure he’s not about to get caught by his boss or something, if I had to guess.

Eventually he lands on me. We both smile wide, and I triumphantly hold up his (unspilled!!) coffee in one hand, presenting it with a small flourish of the other and a bow of my head.

“For you, my good sir.” I make sure to sound extra fancy, dropping my voice an octave and annunciating my words a bit too much.

He looks around again before meeting me in the middle with a fist bump, completely ignoring my bit. Aw man.

“Hell yeah, thanks dude!” 

I shoot some awkward finger guns at him, “You got it, bud.”

“You didn’t make yourself one?”

I sigh, lamenting, “I did…”

Sam scans my face as we share a short silence. Then, the lightbulb almost visibly goes off in his noggin. “You spilled it, didn’t you?”

Pursing my lips, I nod. “I spilled it, yeah.” 

“Buuummer, dude.” He pats my head and I sigh, leaning into his touch. I’ll be damned if I don’t still love head-pats, even if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. “Wanna split this one then?” he offers, palm still on my crown. At this point he’s just trying to messy me up.

“No thanks, I’ll just grab another later if I’m really craving it.” Not having noticed the trance I’ve been in as my hair gets slowly and steadily ruined — it feels nice, okay? — I finally look up at him, cheekily glaring as I manually remove his large hand from me. I add on as I try to repair the frizzy aftermath, “Sick performance, by the way!” 

“You think so?” he beams. Makes me laugh.

“Of course! It looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

Sam’s face is a bit flushed as he takes the compliment, not even trying to hide it; he has a big goofy grin on his face, too.

It drops and Sam looks behind him as a deep voice with a bit of a southern twang booms from one of the aisles nearby. “Samson?”

“Shit, here.”

Sam hurriedly places his coffee into my hand and rushes back near his water bucket, looking around for his manager as he moves. I try to make things less suspicious by pretending to look at some nearby end caps. 

I take a peek over when I hear Sam greet the man, “Hiya! What’s up, Morris?”

Crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to try and make himself look mighty, a man in a navy blue suit, a bright red bow tie, and a poorly-applied black toupee corrects him. “That’s Mr. Saxton, son.” 

I roll my eyes. Awesome to know the guy running this Joja is just as insufferable as the dudes who work on the corporate side.

Sam puts an anxious hand on the back of his neck, and halfheartedly smiles as he apologizes, his speaking patterns much more formal than before. Poor guy… it hurts to see him having to tone it down so much for this dipshit.

I turn my attention back in front of me so as to give him some privacy. Not sure he’d want me to hear him getting his ear talked off.

This display is full of holiday cards... I might as well waste some time with these bad boys. I pick up one with a cartoon beagle wearing a birthday hat on it, stealing a sip of Sam’s coffee as I read the pun on the front: “Have a doggone good birthday!” Alright, nice and cheesy start…

I flip the card open. It starts blaring Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Fucking hell. Jumpscare me, why doncha! I shudder at how tinny the music sounds — likely made worse by its volume — then close the card and place it back in its spot, not bothering to read more.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I peer over my left shoulder, and see that Mr. Saxton is making his way towards me. A vein is popping in his forehead, but he has a toothy smile on his face that screams customer service. Not sure what’s going on and feeling a little anxious about the situation, I don’t answer with words — I just turn my body to him and watch him expectantly. 

My eyes flicker to Sam real quick, who’s closer to the opposite end of the freezers now. He’s looking over here though, and when his eyes catch mine, he mouths “Go!” and motions his arm towards the front end of the store. Maybe he got caught socializing or something… wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably heavy surveillance in here. Man.

I look back at Sam’s boss as he says, “I’m going to need you to discard your beverage.”

My brows furrow and I tilt my head. “Why?”

Ah, he’s the asking-questions-is-talking-back type: He huffs a deep breath and tilts his head as if to mimic me, clasping his fingers together in front of his ribs. The smile and vein are both still on his face.

“It is not only unacceptable to bring your own food into a grocery store,” he strains, “but I cannot have you spilling your drink all over our products.”

…I haven’t spilled anything. What does he think I am, some crusty little kid? 

Damn, this is bringing out a rage that I haven’t experienced since working behind a Joja desk. I didn’t know I was even capable of it anymore. Must be something about the overstimulatingly bright blues, or the blindingly white strips of lights. Same ones we had above each cubicle in the office.

My anxiety is rapidly replaced with a petty yearn to cause a ruckus as I realize that I don’t work for Joja anymore. I never have to even come here again, actually.

I don’t answer to this fucko! I don’t answer to anyone!

Screw this guy!

Feeling courageous, I put on my own customer service mask as I inquire, “Do you want me to spill this on your products?”

“E-excuse me?!”

I hover the cup near the cards, tilting it a little. Doing a little eyebrow wiggle too for good measure. “It feels like you dooo.”

“I— w-what are you doing?”

Seb would be so proud if he were here. Not sure how Magnus would react, but I’d like to imagine he’d support me too.

Completely on impulse, I bring the cup in front of me and splash a little coffee in the man’s direction instead of the cards’. The now-lukewarm liquid splatters onto the white button-down beneath his jacket and rapidly seeps into the fabric, leaving a light brown, unsightly splotch.

Sick, got him where it hurts and none got on the floor! Less work for Sam!

Making sure my voice is just as cheery as Morris was trying to keep his, I cap this off, “Stop treating your employees like crap and stop treating complete strangers like children, asshole.”

This feels so good. My heart is racing and my pits feel a little moist and I might just end up an anxious mess the second I walk away, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t cool as fuck in the moment. When Leah asked me last week if Magnus ever wanted to go apeshit, it didn’t even occur to me how badly I wanted to go apeshit.

I walk down the nearest aisle as Morris continues sputtering something about me leaving, paying for this, whatever.

Shane’s kneeled down in the middle of the aisle stocking shelves. He faces me for a moment and grins slyly. “That was cool as hell.” Why does this feel so validating? “A woman after my own heart.” 

HUH?

I blink that fucking flashbang away — seriously, the last time I saw him he was still being a dick, and today he’s treating every interaction like we’re fully acquainted, if not more, what the heck — as he turns away to scan items onto the shelf again.

“I really didn’t do much…” I really didn’t. Just kinda caused a minor inconvenience for the guy. 

My hands are shaking though, so it must be catching up to me.

“That still took some balls.” He glimpses at me briefly and adds, “Y’look like you might cry, though. Get outta here before I change my mind about you.”

I huff out a quiet laugh and steady Sam’s — well, my, now — coffee in both hands. “On it, boss.”

#sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius #magnus rasmodius x reader #stardew valley rasmodius #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #sebastian stardew valley #m. rasmodius #stardew valley #stardew #sve #sebastian sdv #sdv wizard #stardew wizard #stardew valley fanfic #stardew fanfic #stardew valley sebastian x reader #wizard x reader #rasmodius x reader #rasmodius #FAWY #sebastian x reader #sebastian #sdv shane #shane sdv #sam sdv #sdv sam #stardew valley sam

[daughterofcain-67]

𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (pt. 6)

(Beau Arlen x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Beau is working restlessly to get you back and it’s killing him that it’s already been several hours with no sign of you. Agent Sampson is doing his best to remind Beau to keep a level head so Beau could get you back sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, you are doing everything you can to persevere and think of a way put of your situation with the limited recourses you have- which is next to none.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: kidnapping, TW: implications of non-con (no graphic detail), mild violence, i think that’s it?

You knew that several hours had gone by since you were taken from your home. That meant today was the anniversary of your husband’s death. What a hell of a day to spend it, being kidnapped and potentially taken out of the country within a couple of days. You still had yet to formulate any plans of escape.

The worst part is that you knew if you didn’t get out of this mess, you’d likely never see Beau again. That and you had plans for a movie night with him that weekend. Plans that were gone with the wind by now if you weren’t able to escape.

You wondered if Beau had told Cadence yet. You wondered what exactly he told her. You wondered if she’d be able to handle the news, if she would be okay. You hoped that she wouldn’t worry too much or she would find some way to distract herself from what was going on. She was your little sister and you hated when she worried about you. To be frank, you hated when anyone worried about you. Obviously you couldn’t exactly blame anyone for worrying about you with the situation you’re in now.

You were leaned back against the wall of the basement and you looked down at your wrists. These handcuffs weren’t your biggest concern. If you were lucky you could wiggle your wrists out of them. Then again you’ve tried that for the first couple of hours and the skin on your wrists was already cut and scabbed. You’d handle your wrists again soon but for now you were trying to think of how to get the chain off your ankle.

A part of you was glad you were barefooted when they took you. You thought that pulling your foot out would be difficult with shoes and socks on. The other part of you wished you had some shoes though because you felt like your toes were freezing. It’s not like they had a heater in this particular basement.

“Come on, think. You’ve watched cop shows once in a while, and Beau’s talked about cases where captives have escaped before. You can do this.” You spoke to yourself. However, you didn’t exactly have bobby pins in your hair or paper clips so you could pull one of those moves like you’ve seen in the movies where people pick their way out of their shackles.

All you could really do at the moment was wait. Be patient, continue to wiggle your limbs until you were free but who knew how long that would take. And unfortunately, patience was not exactly your strong suit.

Suddenly you heard the door open and when you glanced up, you saw the King. Andre was there without his mask and he had a crown pin on the top left corner of his blazer jacket. He looked so different compared to the first day that the two of you met.

“What do you want.” You glared and Andre hummed a little.

“I just wanted to talk, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Andre sighed a little before he walked towards you. You wished you had some kind of superpower to just teleport out of here, or maybe even make yourself invisible. If you could shrink and disappear into the wall, you would. Anything to just avoid the man in front of you. Obviously you couldn’t do that though.

“Aren’t you in the wrong position to be giving demand’s like that?” He asked but then Andre looked down and saw how your wrists were starting to scab over and he tilted his head a little.

“I suppose its a good thing those cuffs aren’t any bigger.” The chuckle he let out made you feel sick to your stomach.

“What did you want to talk about so we can just get this bit over with.”

“Touchy touchy. I was just going to suggest that… maybe you can work for me personally. That way you don’t have to go out of the country soon and be sold off as a slave. You could be here although… you would have to give your business to me, and not have any contact with your little sheriff friend.” He said.

“There’s no way I’d give in to something like that. That business would go to Cadence before it could ever go to someone like you.”

“Cadence… you know, she would have made a good candidate too for this little operation. She’s such a sweetheart.”

“Shut up.” You seethed and he squatted down in front of you before he reached out, the next thing you knew he had your jaw in his hands and you could feel his fingertips keeping a firm hold of your face.

“If you were smart, you’d watch your tone with me.” He said and you spat in his face.

His eyes darkened as he let out low growl of disapproval, “You’ll pay for that. And you’ll pay dearly. So be a dear and keep quiet.”

Your eyes widened when he gripped at your shirt and tore the material….

Cadence took the news pretty hard, just like Beau knew that she would. It killed him to see the way her face fell when she found out her sister was taken. All he could really advise her to do was close up the cafe if she didn’t have anyone to keep it open for her if she needed time away.

Much to Beau’s surprise though, Cadence agreed to keep the cafe open and just keep working. Cadence said you would have wanted her to be strong for your sake. Although she did agree to take the first couple of days off just to see if you would come home and you would have someone to go home to.

After he met up with Cadence and took her home, Beau went right back to the office to find out if Hoyt or Poppernack have found anything, or even if Agent Sampson was making himself useful. He swore that if the FBI were going to drag their feet on this he may end up having to take care of everything himself, or get Cassie to help him out since she didn’t have the same rules as the FBI.

Once he pushed the doors open he saw that some other agents were there, no doubt a part of Harlen Sampson’s team.

“Pompernickle!” Beau called and looked around only to see a hand raised up.

“Right here, Boss!”

Beau walked over and stood behind the deputy at his desk, “Please tell me you’ve found something to get to Sampson.”

“Actually, the fingerprints we found over at Irene’s place did in fact match the ones that were at Y/N’s house. We just got the results from the database. Somebody was slacking here in Montana.” He said.

“And who’s that supposed to be?”

“Our guy Ace? He wasn’t the only one at you houses. There were two sets of prints. We found out that this Ace guy is related to your Andre fella. A cousin, actually. His name is Matvey, or simply Mat, Bolkonsky. Related on the paternal side.” Poppernack said just as Agent Sampson walked up.

“Another Bolkonsky, huh? He was born and raised Russian and he tried to move down here when Andre’s father started their so called jewelry company. Turns out he wasn’t really the best of the bunch and he was charged with drug dealing. He ended up getting a kid killed with those drugs about seven years ago. Naturally he was charged with second degree murder, unfortunately he got out for good behavior with parole. And we haven’t heard anything on him since, although he has been a suspect for other gang related activities and I don’t think murder and kidnapping is out of his range.” The agent said.

“So what does that mean? If he’s here and he’s with Andre, we can go over to Andre’s place and ask about aiding a suspect if he was the one that did kidnap Y/N right? Well what are we waiting for?” Beau said.

“Legitimate proof that Andre was there too. We’re waiting on the results for the second set of fingerprints. We also need to consider the idea that Andre may not have known about this.” Agent Sampson replied and Beau’s hands turned into fists.

“You’re kidding me, right? To me this sounds like enough to at least have an interview with the guy since you’re so intent on doing this by the book. We’ve gone on less even if this is circumstantial.” The sheriff reminded.

“If I may say something,” Poppernack chimed in, “If you do have that interview with him, there is a reason. He was the last known person to have seen Y/N after all so if we propose it as simply routine questions to cross him off the list as a suspect, he may be cooperative.”

“I’m on it.” Beau said and was about to walk past the desk.

“You aren’t going by yourself. Someone like you is going to go there and bite his head off and ruin everything. I’ll be going with you.” Agent Sampson said.

“No offense, Agent, but I’m pretty damn good at my job and I know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve been in this job long enough to know how to handle a situation like this. I’m not some damn rookie.”

“Fine, but I’m still going with you so it at least looks good on the papers. It is technically the FBI’s case still and we want these guys to go away for good. So try to keep that in mind while you’re trying to keep your cool.” He reminded as he walked out of the door.

Beau just glared at the agent. He knew Sampson was right about doing this by the book, but it still ticked him off. He wasn’t about to waste time on this. Sure he’ll do this by-the-book interview. But the moment things go south, Beau may need to make some plans to conduct an interview all on his own.

The sheriff went to his car and the agent ended up following him to the vehicle and they got in.

“Listen, I know you’re angry and I don’t know what kind of connection you have to the… captive.” Beau could hear the agent begin to speak, “I’ve been where you are with my wife before. It’s vital to keep your head on straight.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom.” Beau rolled his eyes and started his car.

“I’m serious, Arlen. I lost control and nearly lost my wife for good because the perps almost got away with nothing but a slap on the wrist. That’s why we need to get this done right.”

The sheriff looked down at his steering wheel for a moment. Of course he could at least take the words into consideration, but he knew that you were too important to lose. And if this Bolkonsky business were to go south, being too slow with the law may get you lost just as fast as recklessness.

“Let’s just focus on getting Y/N back to her sister. Andre’s our first stop and hopefully we’ll come across another lead like surveillance of Mat participating in suspicious activity.”

Forty-six minutes…

That worst forty-six minutes of your life and you had counted every second if it just to keep from screaming. You didn’t know what Andre was capable of if you ignored his warning and tried to scream or make any sounds.

“Well… I don’t think the clients will mind slightly used goods. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.” Andre said as he pulled up his pants.

You couldn’t make direct eye contact with this man after what he had done. Your everything ached but you were glad it was finally over.

Andre was nothing but scum of the earth, and even after what happened… you were trying so hard to be strong. But after those forty-six minutes, you were beginning to wonder what the point of strength was if something like this could happen no matter how patient or optimistic a person tried to be.

Then you heard a phone ringing, of course it was Andre’s. When he answered you could see the slightly annoyed features on his face.

“Hello, Sheriff. How can I be of assistance?” He asked.

Your eyes widened.

Beau was on the phone. He was really looking for you! He was looking for you right? You weren’t imagining all of this?

You had to do something, now was your chance! Andre didn’t take your mouth up or anything so you had to do something. This could be your only shot!

“Beau! He has me in some basement! He could go after Cade-“ a harsh stinging erupted on your face from where Andre smacked you.

“Oh no, Sheriff. That’s just some movie I’m watching at a friends house. He has a weird and nearly concerning taste in film. I can come and meet you to talk about the date in just a few moments. Let’s say… Tonya and Donno’s place? I’ve heard they have some great sandwiches. My treat.” Andre said.

The charm that Andre tried to have made you cringe. How disgusting did this man have to be to think he could use charisma like that after what he just did. And how stupid did he think that Beau was?

“Uh huh… I see. My cousin? Oh I didn’t even know he was in town. I suppose great minds of the family think alike. We’ll discuss this more when we aren’t on the phone. If we talked about everything now we’d just be limited to small talk and that’s always awkward.” He laughed.

When the phone call was done, Andre turned and glared at you.

“You’re worried about your sister that much, huh? Well maybe we ought to give you something to worry about now that you may have ruined everything by screaming.” He promised.

Then he walked out of the basement door, locking you up once again.

Your mind started racing. You hoped to what’s god was out there that Beau really did hear you. But on the other hand, you were terrified for your sister’s safety. What if Andre really would send his crew to go after Cadence like they did to you?

You couldn’t have your baby sister go through the same thing you’ve endured. You refused to let that happen.

“Please, Beau… if you heard me at all, send someone to the house to keep Cadence safe.” You pleaded, even though you knew there was no one listening.

You felt something roll down your cheek and when you lifted your cuffed hands to your face, you felt tears. You didn’t realize you were crying and honestly you thought you were a little dehydrated to do that. You supposed you were wrong but maybe the moment Andre mentioned your sister put things a little more into perspective.

“I have to get out of here.” You vowed and looked at your scabbed wrists and started to try and wiggle out of them yet again but you had even more of a reason to escape, more of a reason to try.

Hey guys, I know this chapter was a bit more intense than the previous. But I hope you enjoyed so far. Thank you to those of you who have been commenting, reblogging and liking these chapters. I really appreciate it! Love you all!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @fanfic-n-tabulous

#jensen ackles #beau arlen ff #beau arlen x yn #big sky beau arlen #jensen ackles beau arlen #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #sheriff beau arlen #beau arlen #jensen big sky #jensen ackles big sky #big sky fanfiction #big sky fanfic #big sky

[f4iry-bell]

Grayson Hawthorne x gen z! reader.

been on my mind for a while<3

After a long day of work Grayson came back to find the house empty without his girlfriend. She always gets home before him, he checks his phone to see if she has messaged him and she did. The message said she'll be home soon.

He got changed and started making dinner when his girlfriend came home holding an extra bag with her, he eyed the bag as he walked closer to her and kissed her lips to greet her.

“How was your day?” He asked with a soft smile, his hands on it’s way to grab her stuff to carry it inside but she stopped him.

“Awesome! I'll tell you after I get changed. It's okay, I'll take it with me. You go cook like the girlboss you are.” She picked his lips before going in.

After dinner they relaxed on their couch, she rested her head on Grayson's chest as he played with her hair.

“So are you going to tell me what you bought?” He asked.

“I thought you'd never ask!” She removed herself from him and went to grab the bag.

She was too excited about the thing she bought. Grayson already knew it's not something that is necessary. His girlfriend has the habit of buying the most random things.

“What did you get this time?” He asked, sitting up as she took out a beige plushie. “Four soft toys?” He asked.

“They're not soft toys, dummy!” She sat next to him again with the four plushies this time. “They're sad, fluffy, comfy pou shoes!” She said with too much excitement.

“Uh huh.” He chuckled.

“Remove your socks.” She demanded.

“Why?”

“To wear these!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes! It's so cute and sad and fluffy. You won't get the experience if you wear socks.” She kept smiling.

“I'm not wearing that. I'll look ridiculous.” He stated.

“That's the whole point!” She exclaimed.

“No”

“Please, Gray? We'll be matching!”

“I'm not wearing those.”

“I waited in line at the mall for this, please? Just once!” She pouted.

He can't say no to that. “Fine, don't expect me to wear these all the time.”

She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheeks in excitement. “Alright now Cinderella, try on your shoes.” She said and gave it to him.

They both wore it. Grayson tried hard to hate the feeling of the stupid plushie shoes but like she said it was very comfortable.

“I don't know how you find these unwanted silly things entertaining.” He said.

“It look so good, shut up. Oh my god. Let me take a picture.” She said and took a picture of them wearing those shoes. “I'm sending it to your brothers and sisters.” She said as she typed something on the phone.

“No! Don't.” He said and tried to grab the phone from her but she stood up and started running.

They were playing cat and mouse for 5 minutes before she gave up and sat down breathing heavily, totally out of breath. Grayson on the other hand was perfectly fine as he lifted her up and gently threw her on his shoulders to carry her their bedroom.

taglist: @toomanyfandomsimfanvergent (i remember you asking to be tagged)

#grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #the grandest game

[twhem]

“i said your favorite word: the backrooms!”

in which case y/n (first person) gets stuck in the backrooms with mark, who happens to absolutely hate the backrooms.

g/n reader, pretty much platonic relationship. i also added a few things that weren’t in the game, but just things i thought of

(this has been eating me up all week but basically mark played the complex and it was all “haha he’s lost and he hates the backrooms” but my brain was like “omg the stairs and the couch and the color of that wall spark something in me” and now i want to write about mark and i exploring the backrooms)

_______________

“…and if the substrituent has three carbons, it’s called a propyl group!”

mark walked in front of me, his walk being turned more so into a trudge the more we roamed.

mark sighed, looking around the room we entered. it looked identical to the one before, and i could tell he was getting frustrated.

“that’s great, y/n. really, that’s—“

rain could suddenly be heard hitting the roof above us.

rain?

we both looked at each other wordlessly, listening to the pounding rain and booming thunder. how is there a storm here? there’s a roof? does that mean there’s a way out?

“‘s kinda nice.” he mumbled. “…you know?”

i nodded. “no i…” i paused, looking at him. “…i was gonna say the same thing.

out of all the people to be stuck here with, i couldn’t have chosen a better person.

_______________

“i gotta say,” mark spoke suddenly, grunting slightly as he struggled with the door in front of him. “i don’t like the way we spawned here without shoes.”

i glanced down at my socked feet. “i do. it’s comfy… with the carpet and all…”

he finally got the door open, sighing heavily. “the doorknobs turn down.”

i nod and say a silent “ahh..”, following him up a short flight of stairs. we enter a small hallway with a little room made into the wall, decorated with a couch and a table. the table held a vase with a fake white rose.

i see the rose in the vase and laugh. “kinda reminds me of—“

“—Ib.” mark chuckles. my face reddens, hopefully not too noticeably.

he passed the couch and the vase, continuing to walk. i stop.

upon noticing this, he turns and looks at me. “you want to stop here?”

“why not?” i shrug. “it’s comfy.” i crane my head toward the ceiling. “and it’s still raining.”

“i have a feeling it’s gonna rain for the entire duration of our time here.” he says, sitting on the couch next to me with a sigh.

we sat in silence, listening to the rain above us for a while, before i found the courage to speak.

“so… what were you doing…” i began. he turned to look at me. “…when you, uhm, ‘no clipped’ here.”

“ah.” he nodded, looking at the wall in front of us. “i had… just put Chica out.” he paused. “before i put her out, i yelled at her for chewing up something she wasn’t supposed to.”

another pause, then he chuckled lightly.

“you can imagine how bad i felt when i got here.”

i nodded, not knowing whether or not to feel bad or not. my story wasn’t as sad.

“i’m… i’m sure Amy is taking care of her.” i said with a small smile.

he shrugged, frowning. “…Chica wasn’t the only one i left on bad terms with.”

i nodded slowly as my lips formed an “oh”, not knowing what to say.

another silence.

“i’m sorry, mark.”

“what about you?”

i looked at him. “w-what?”

he chuckled. “the same question you asked me. what were you doing before you got here?”

i laughed. “oh! it’s kind of a funny story. i worked for my schools nursing building, in the simulation department.”

“simulation… like—“

“medical mannequins.”

he cringed. “ugh.”

i laughed. “oh, man. i forgot you hate mannequins! if regular mall mannequins creep you out, you should have seen this things… they talk, scream, moan, blink—“

“stop.” he chuckled, putting his hand up. i laughed even harder.

“anyways, that was simulation lab, where i primarily worked. we started a new thing with VR headsets where the students would do virtual clinical sessions. one day, nobody was in there, so i put one of the headsets on, and now i’m here.”

“oh, God. it’s… it’s like that Digital Circus thing.”

“exactly!” i said. “that’s what i thought… when i had… finally stopped panicking and crying.”

____

after a while of conversation, mark eventually fell asleep. i couldn’t blame him; i was pretty sure he’d been here long before i arrived.

i had a dream that i couldn’t remember when i woke up. upon waking, i found mark, still asleep, in the same position i had fell asleep to— head laid back, arm slung around the back of the couch, and his legs entangled in mine.

… he was much handsomer when he wasn’t just a box in the corner of a screen.

i looked at his arm, which had a rubber bracelet on it with a picture and text i couldn’t see nor read.

i decided to let him sleep a while longer.

_______________

(how tf do i watch mark at least once a week but i find it so hard to write his character)

#markiplier #the backrooms #mark fischbach #platonic #fanfic #fanfiction #the complex #the complex: expedition #markiplier fandom #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier x reader