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sailor-aviator · 8 months

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Don’t Hang’em Til Noon: Chapter Four

Don’t Hang’em Til Noon: Chapter Four

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Assault, Fighting, Violence (against women and others), Jake Seresin, Firearms, Blood. I think that’s it?

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I hope you guys appreciate me neglecting my job to write this lol I’m kidding, we were so slow, I would have been bored to tears otherwise. Just giving you guys a heads up now that I’m going to try and pre-write as much as I can over the course of the next couple of days in preparation for next week when I’ll be attending my best friends’ wedding. As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

“I swear, that man would lose his head if it weren’t attached to his shoulders,” you grumbled to yourself, as you made for the front door of your home. You had just finished cleaning up the mess from preparing breakfast when Benjamin had come running down the stairs in a frenzy.

“Benji, come eat,” you had said, gesturing to the table that was already set. He had shaken his head, turning in circles as he searched for his dress coat.

“I can’t, Scout. I’m running late for a meeting with a client,” he had said breathlessly. You rolled your eyes, plucking his coat off the back of the chair he had set it on the night before when he had gotten home. You held it out for him, and he shot you a grateful smile as he shrugged it on.

“At least grab an apple on your way out,” you had argued. He plucked a granny smith from the bowl you had set out on the table, gesturing at you with it before making a beeline for the door.

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home tonight,” he called over his shoulder before the door closed with a thud behind him.

Now, here you were hours later with his case files clutched in your hands and scowl plastered across your face. You slipped past the door, and making sure it was secured behind you, you made your way into Maverick.

It was nearing the end of summer, and a surprising chill was beginning to creep its way into the air. You made your way quickly to Benjamin’s law firm, giving polite smiles to those you passed.

You stepped into the firm with the files tucked tightly in your arms. Natasha came strolling out from the back with a polite smile that turned genuine at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, Scout!” She grinned, gesturing for you to join her in the seating area. You did so, taking a seat on a leather armchair as she sat in the matching one opposite you. “What brings you by today?”

“Benji forgot some of his files,” you sighed, showing her the file. Natasha chuckled with a roll of her eyes. If anyone understood how exasperating your brother could be, it would be her.

“He was up late working again, wasn’t he?” She asked. You shit her a knowing look before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. “That man will blow away with the wind, I swear. How he manages to keep this place in order is beyond me.”

“He may be a tad bit scatterbrained, but he takes his job very seriously,” you smiled. You were surprised he hadn’t come out to see what the commotion was about yet. “Is he around?”

“No,” she grimaced. “His client insisted on meeting at the saloon.”

“I see,” you said, standing up. Natasha followed suit, reaching her arm out to you.

“I can take the files and give them to him when he gets back?” She offered.

“That’s alright,” you declined. “I could use the exercise. You said he was at the saloon?”

“I did,” Natasha confirmed hesitantly. “But Penny isn’t there today.”

You stared at her. “And?”

“It's just that,” she started nervously. “The patrons can get pretty handsy when Penny isn’t there. Not that I don’t think you can hold your own, but I don't want to see anything happen to you should they get any ideas.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Nat,” you smiled. “I’ll just be in and out. I don’t plan on staying for long. I still have things I need to do back at the house after all.”

Natasha chewed on her bottom li, seeming to contemplate her best course of action. Finally, she sighed. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” you stated firmly, already moving towards the door. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”

“Spending time with you is never a bother, Scout,” she grinned. “Stay safe, and give your brother hell for me when you see him!”

You offered her a final wave before stepping back out onto the street. You turned right onto the street, setting your sights on the saloon.

The atmosphere differed from your first time inside the large building. Instead of Penny standing behind the bar with her usual easy going smile, a tall man with glasses stood and waved a greeting at you.

“Welcome in, miss!” He smiled. You recognized him from the other day.

“I know you,” you said carefully, slowly making your way up to the bar as you studied him curiously. “You’re a member of the Dagger Posse, correct?”

His smile turned sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes’m. My name is Bob, and you’re Scout right?”

You hummed in affirmation. “And Penny trusts you to run her business?”

He laughed at that, almost catching you by surprise. “I get why you find that hard to believe. If I was in your shoes, I’d think that Penny had lost her mind or something.

You chuckled at that. “I suppose it says something about your character that Penny trusts you enough to leave the saloon in your hands.”

“She does,” he nodded. “I don’t take people’s trust for granted.”

“That’s good to know, Bob.”

He smiled at you and then moved like he was going to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. You arched an eyebrow at him as he shifted on his feet, a blush crawling up his face. “What is it?” You asked.

“Penny doesn’t trust just anyone, ya know?”

“I know that,” you nodded. “What of it?”

“The reason Penny trusts me is because I keep the others out of trouble.”

You laughed at that, and he frowned. “I’m sorry, Bob. I don’t mean to offend. It’s just that, well, if they’re out robbing banks and breaking laws left and right, I’d hate to think about what they’d be doing without you.”

“It’s not like that,” Bob sighed. “They aren’t as bad as you may think, Scout. I know Hangman can be…a lot, sometimes. But, everything they do is out of survival.”

“Right,” you scoffed, causing the frown on Bob’s face to deepen.

“I’m serious, Scout,” he continued. “Penny mentioned that you came from Baltimore. I don’t know much about how things are done over there, but I know enough to know how different things are there compared to here. Work isn’t as steady out here as it is back East. Good men do bad things in order to keep their families safe and fed.”

“What’s your point, Bob?” You asked with a heavy sigh. He offered you a kind smile.

“Try not to be so hard on him? I know you’re used to things being a certain way, but believe it or not, he is trying.”

You didn’t have to ask who he was referring to. You mulled over his words carefully before nodding slowly.

“Alright, Bob,” you smiled finally. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His own grew, and he knocked on the wooden top of the bar as he leaned back.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now what brings you by here today?”

Before you could answer, Bob suddenly straightened up to his full height, a cool look on his face as he looked past you. Your brows furrowed in confusion before you felt a warm body push up against you. You whipped around to find a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair leering down at you. The cold, empty look in his black eyes was warmed over by a look of unbridled lust. He gave you a once over, eyes pausing along the curves of your breasts and hips.

“Howdy, darlin’,” he drawled, making the hair on your arms stand up.

“Can I help you?” You asked him coldly. You saw Bob shift in your peripheral as a couple of more men crowded you on the opposite side. The man let out a low whistle.

“Why so cold, honey? I jus’ came over here to introduce myself. Name’s Isaac.”

“Charmed,” you bit out, glare intensifying as he leaned in closer.

“Y’ain’t gonna gimme yours?” He laughed.

“I don’t see why you would need it,” you state simply, clutching the folder in your hand tightly. You cast a glance over to Bob who was eyeing the group of men wearily.

Isaac smiled, the gesture hollow. He reached up and tapped your cheek lightly, and you balked at the gesture. “Eyes over here, honey.”

“I’m going to ask you once to please stop calling me that,” you bit out between clenched teeth.

“Or what?” He grins.

“Or you won’t like what happens.”

Isaac let out a booming laugh, his companions letting out chuckles of their own. You saw movement in the corner of your eye. You once again chanced a look over and saw two of the men had crossed over to the other side of the bar. The two men had Bob caged in between them, and his eyes darted rapidly back and forth between the two of them. Isaac grabbed your chin tightly in his large hand, forcing your head back to look at him. “What did I just say about those eyes?”

“Let go of me,” you hissed, earning another chorus of laughter from the group of men.

“A feisty little thing you are,” Isaac chuckled, leaning so that his breath fanned over you. It reeked of cheap liquor and stale tobacco. “I see why Hangman has his eye on you.”

“What?” You asked, brow furrowing at his comment.

“Just so you know,” he grinned, “you have him to thank for this.”

Before you could question him further, he grabbed you by your hips and slammed you up against the bar. You felt the air leave your lungs and a flash of pain shoot up your spine. You saw Bob struggling against the two men beside him as they pinned him back. His eyes blazed and nostrils flared as he tried with all his might to break free of their hold. Your brief moment of confusion allowed Isaac to push his way in between your thighs. You felt the hot length of him press against you, and you started to struggle, clawing at his arms. Tiny ribbons of blood began to flow down his arms as he bared his teeth down at you in a crazed grin.

“That's alright, Kitten,” he laughed. “I like a bit of pain with my pleasure.”

He leaned down, slanting his lips on top of yours, and you felt the hot sting of tears behind your eyes. He thrusted up into you, causing you to gasp and cry out. He took the opportunity to force his tongue into your open mouth, and you almost vomited at the action. Without thinking, you bit down on the offending protrusion, the taste of blood filling your mouth. Isaac lurched back with a yelp, grabbing at his mouth. He glared down at you.

“Bitch!” He spat, backhanding you. Your face flew to the side, a flash of white hot pain radiates from your cheek where one of his rings had made contact, cutting you in the process. You felt blood begin to trickle down your cheek, and your tears threatened to spill over. Isaac gripped your hair roughly, slamming you back down onto the counter.

“You’re going to regret that,” he hissed at you as you fought against the dizziness that threatened to consume you from the force of his actions. Your tears began to flow freely down your cheeks as the larger man grabbed at your shirts and skirts, ripping them in a bid to get them off of you.

“No!” You screamed, renewing your efforts. Isaac ignored you as he licked up the column of your throat. Your sobs racked your body violently, legs kicking at him as he moved to undo his belt buckle. You closed your eyes in an attempt to shield yourself from what was about to happen.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a resounding click sounded in the room. Isaac stilled against you, and you cracked your eyes open to see the barrel of a pistol pressed to his temple. Turning, you saw Jake on the other end of the weapon.

His green eyes were filled with the intention of murder as his lips curled in a sneer of pure wrath. His body was drawn tight, deathly still as he waited for Isaac to make his move. He looked every bit of what you imagined an avenging angel would look.

“Let. Her. Go,” he ground out. Isaac spared a glance at you, and the gun pressed harder into the side of his head. Slowly, the older man pulled away from you, and you scrambled to sit up on the bar. You now saw the rest of the Daggers standing behind him with their hands on their own pistols. The two men behind the bar had let go of Bob who was now moving to your side. You heard footsteps begin to descend the stairs, and you looked to see Maverick, Benjamin, and an unfamiliar older man stop as they took in the scene before them.

“Scout?” Benjamin said, eyes widening in shock. You let out a shaky breath, turning back to watch Jake who had yet to take his eyes off of Isaac. The two stared each other down.

“Hangman,” Isaac finally sniffed in way of greeting.

“What are you doing here?” Jake snapped. Isaac rolled his shoulders back casually as if there wasn’t still a gun aimed at his face.

“Well,” he drawled, “I came to collect retribution for what you took from me, but then I saw you with this pretty, little thing the other day, and I figured this would make for a good trade.”

Jake’s nostrils flared, a dangerous glint in his eyes as Isaac spoke. “I didn’t take anything that you couldn’t replace.”

“I disagree,” the other man hummed, picking a piece of lint off his shirt. “You wounded my pride, Hangman. And what better retribution than taking your woman?”

Jake’s jaw clenched, and you saw Maverick move out of the corner of your eye.

“Jake,” the older man said gently. Jake spared him a glance before focusing back on Isaac. Maverick continued, “Not here, son.”

Jake looked at him, and when Maverick gave a pointed glance at where you sat, frozen, he turned his attention to you. You must have looked a sight because Jake’s jaw clenched again. You could feel the tears still streaming down your face and mixing with the blood that still dripped down your cheek.

“Jake?” You called to him softly, uncertainly. He took several deep breaths.

“The only reason you’re leaving here alive,” he rumbled, nodding his head over at you, “is because she’s here.”

Isaac watched him for a moment, the two of them not breaking eye contact. Isaac huffed out a light chuckle before turning towards the door. He gave you one last glance before smirking, gesturing for his men to follow.

“You best keep an eye on her, Hangman,” he called over his shoulder. “Would be a right shame if something were to happen to her while you weren’t lookin’.”

Jake said nothing as they filed out. One man stopped beside Bradley, casting him a sideways glance. “Rooster.”

“Jeb,” Bradley replied coldly. The two shared an unspoken conversation before the man followed the rest out the door. As soon as they were gone, Benjamin rushed to your side.

“Scout, what happened?” he cried, checking you over. You looked down at yourself, noting how the collar of your white, cotton shirt hung by mere threads off your shoulder. You frowned at the tiny drops of blood that had fallen onto the ruined fabric.

“I,” you swallowed thickly, “I was coming to give you the casework you forgot at home this morning. I thought it might be important, so…”

You trailed off, your eyes taking in the multiple tears of your skirt, a new wave of tears pouring from your eyes. You jumped when Jake appeared in front of you. His eyes were still blazing, but you saw worry mixed in with the rest of the emotions still swirling within the different shades of green.

“What the hell were you thinking,” he seethed.

“What?” You blinked. He took your shoulders in his hands, surprisingly gentle for how angry he seemed.

“How many times do I gotta tell you that you need someone with you? Especially in here?” he growled.

“I didn’t think-”

“You’re right,” he snapped, his grip slightly harder as his frustration with you grew. “You didn’t think, and you almost got hurt because of it.”

You felt your own temper start to build as you stared up at him.

“Stop treating me like I’m some helpless child,” you snapped at him. Jake barked out a humorless laugh.

“You’re not a child, Scout,” he flung back at you. “And, that’s why it’s so damn frustrating when you do stupid shit like this.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly you can’t,” he seethed. Your jaw clenched, and you practically threw yourself onto the ground. You pushed past him with a glare and started for the door.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, already moving to follow you. You whirled back around, stopping him in his tracks with a finger to his chest.

“I’m not going to sit here and let you insult me,” you spat at him. He grabbed your hand, and pulled you in to him.

“Have you learned nothing from what just happened?” he glared down at you. “If we hadn’t already been on our way in to see Mav, well shit, Scout. Isaac would have had you every which way and then passed you around to his crew. Don’t you understand that?”

“Let go of me,” you ground out, trying and failing to pull your arm free of his grip.

“No,” he stated firmly, eyes set in a determined bid to win this argument. You gave another tug, but his grip didn’t falter.

“You don’t seem to get it, darlin’,” he sneered. “This ain’t Baltimore. People don’t hide their ugly nature behind polite smiles and fancy clothes. People here take, and they sure as shit don’t care who sees them do it."

He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "Tell me you understand.”

You nodded, still glaring furiously up at him. He shook his head with a wry smile. “Uh uh, sugar. Need to hear you say it.”

“I understand,” you snapped. He finally let you go, and you wrenched your hand back. The two of you stared a beat longer before you heard Benjamin clear his throat.

“I’ll take you home, Scout.”

“No,” you said automatically. “You’re busy. I can see myself home.”

“Not happening,” Jake said. “I’ll walk you home.”

You went to say something, but he fixed a hard stare at you, cutting you off. “Don’t even try to argue with me right now, Scout. I’m taking you home, and that’s final.”

You huffed, turning on your heels and stormed out of the saloon, Jake hot on your tail. The two of you walked in silence, townsfolk casting you wide-eyed looks as you passed. When you reached your front door, you whirled around to face him.

“I’m home,” you spat. “Safe and sound. Are you happy now?”

Jake stared at you, his lips set in a hard line.

“The boys and I were plannin’ on leavin’ for an excursion tomorrow,” he said, “but I think I’ll stick around.”

You scoffed. “If you’re worried about what Isaac said, don’t be. It’s you who should be worried, actually.”

“Oh?” Jake chuckled. “And why is that?”

“I’m only telling you this as a way of thanking you for your help in the barn the other day,” you began, Jake arching an eyebrow at you. “But there’s a U.S. marshal after you and the other Daggers.”

Jake barked out a laugh, and you stared at him in confusion. Jake looked at you with a wide grin. “I ain’t worried about a U.S. marshal, pretty girl.”

“How are you being so cavalier about this?” you snapped, placing your hands on your hips.

“Because they’re always after us,” he shrugged. “Besides, I can take care of myself. You on the other hand-”

“I can take care of myself just as well as you can,” you huffed. All humor dropped from Jake’s face as he gave you a look that said he clearly didn’t believe you. You scowled at him, stalking into the house. He followed you as you marched into the kitchen. You grabbed the rifle that Benjamin insisted you keep by the back door “just in case,” and walked out the back door. Jake kept following, and you stopped just outside on the porch.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” He chuckled. Wordlessly, you scanned the yard, finding a forgotten bucket sitting on the fencepost about fifty yards away that you must have left out that morning. You raised the rifle to your shoulder, took aim, and-

BANG.

The bucket went flying in the air, a hole where you had hit it dead center. You let the rifle drop from your shoulder as you held it by your side. Turning, you caught the look of shock and intrigue that graced his face.

“He caught me off guard today,” you said. Jake looked at you, wonder shining in his eyes. “He won’t do it again.”

Jake studied you for another moment before nodding his head slowly.

“Alright, Scout,” he relented. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Night terrors; Mild illness; Minor sexual themes; Allusions to abuse; Mention of scars

A/N: I somehow banged this out with a migraine and a horrible bout of depression, so it may receive further editing. If I change anything major, I’ll highlight it and make it known that there is new content. I’m never confident about my work but even less so this time. This slow-burn is really burning slow because our two damaged, adorable idiots. But they’re making progress! Thanks for sticking with me anyway. 💙

Carol was able to pull Daryl aside early the following morning. When she stopped just below the top step, she could see you were sound asleep on the mattress, curled in on yourself in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. Her heart ached with the knowledge that your trust in her had been damaged, if not destroyed, by two loathsome snakes.

Beside you, atop a sleeping bag on the floor, Daryl was awake with one arm behind his head while the other hand was busy twirling a bolt between his fingers. He already knew she was there, that came as no surprise. He held a finger to his lips that moved to make a shooing motion as he quietly got to his still booted feet. Carol descended and waited on the bottom step.

His hand came to rest on the small of her back to guide her to the main door and outside. No way he’d risk anyone overhearing this conversation.

“What’s up, Pookie?” She grinned at him when he scowled and grumbled under his breath. Why she insisted on calling him that was beyond him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Maybe it had just settled into their own form of banter and he didn’t really mind at all. That’s not why he was here though!

Focus, dumbass. “Need ta talk ‘bout Y/N.” He felt his cheeks begin to warm, finding himself pleading with any deity that it was too early and there was too little light for her to see.

“So I gathered after that hug I saw.” His gaze snapped up to hers, more surprised than angry. She was immediately holding up her hands to bid him pause. “I wasn’t snooping! I had just come inside and you apparently were so wrapped up— literally —that you didn’t notice me.”

He held his intensity briefly before he deflated. “Th’fuck am I doin’, Carol?” He valued her opinion. She hardly ever steered him wrong, fearing he’d be hurt either emotionally or physically and that was not something she was willing to risk. He knew that.

“I told you before. I think you like her. Here, sit down.” He huffed a breath through his nose but obliged nonetheless, climbing on top of a table with his boots on the bench. Carol took her place beside him. “I think you’re feeling connected with her somehow. Maybe like you and me.”

“Nah. Well…maybe.” He growled and propped his elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know I want ‘er ta be safe, wanna protect ‘er. Feel responsible fer ‘er.”

“If you’re asking my honest opinion, and I think you are or I wouldn’t be out here right now, I don’t think this is a question of responsibility, Daryl.” He let his left hand drop and tipped his head to face her, fingers of his right hand still in his hair. “You want to be her friend and even though she’s scared, she wants that too.”

The archer opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a clicking of teeth. He suddenly felt self conscious, worried that his best friend, of all people, would judge him for the explicit thoughts he was having about you. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t divulge that portion of his plight. It made most of the conversation asinine but why did he ever think he could fess up to something so perverse?

“I don’t think spending a little more time with her would be such a bad thing. If anything, maybe you could help her feel safe again.” Carol looked down at her hands, picking idly at her nails.

“Ya gon’ try n’ patch things up with ‘er?” Truthfully, he was grateful to take the focus off of himself for even a moment.

Carol nodded, looking out over the trees at the first light of the morning that began to stretch across the sky. “Yeah, I will. Maybe when she’s in a better headspace.”

Daryl tipped his chin down in a nod, unable to manage any words of support before the prison door burst open. Maggie called out, most likely for him, but he was already moving at the sound of your screams, passing over the threshold in only a few large strides. He cleared two steps at a time on his way up, no hesitation before kneeling beside the mattress.

Nightmares were a part of trauma with which he was intimately familiar.

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Wake up, girl.” He made sure not to touch you. The presence of hands on you when caught between awake and asleep after a night terror would result in nothing good. He knew from experience. Your head rolled back and forth, tears cascading down your temples, your face red from screaming though you had quieted to moans and whimpers.

“She woke up the whole prison.” Carl muttered from beside Rick on the steps, clearly annoyed.

Distantly, Judith had begun to wail; several voices were raised. Daryl turned toward the audience gathered in his space, the discontentment in his glare enough to send them scattering to do damage control. Carol stayed behind, her presence acting as an anchor when he seemed to falter.

He blocked out everything else, his entire focus on you. He usually woke from his nightmares on his own and retreated, but watching you struggle— watching you suffer —wasn’t something he could sit idly by and do nothing to at least try and help you. It was a long shot, but he carefully leaned across to where you laid, as close to your ear as he could get without touching, and whispered so low that Carol could only watch his mouth move.

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul n’ sings the tune without the words n’ never stops at all.”

He felt ridiculous once the first word fell from his lips, but when you began to settle, he blinked and watched you for any indication that you would wake or fall back into your terror. You did neither. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he stood, careful not to disturb the mattress.

Carol appeared just as surprised. “What’d you say to her?”

It was a reflex to become defensive but the sharp words died on his tongue. Had it been anyone else, surely he wouldn’t have held back. He never meant to be cold or cruel to anyone. It was in his hardwiring, and he had been actively attempting to alter the circuitry since finding a place within the group.

“Was a, uh…a thing I read once in school. Kinda stuck with me. Ain’t important.” He was scratching the back of his head absentmindedly, more concerned with the flush he knew had assumed residence on his cheeks.

Carol leaned around him to see you snoring softly. She smirked and patted his cheek, leaving him there to go help with the calamity in the cells. He was chewing his thumbnail seconds after her departure, watching you from the top of the stairs.

He removed his boots there, afraid the noise would disrupt your newfound peace. A sudden exhaustion settled over him, his sleeping bag feeling like the plushest mattress at the fanciest hotel— not that he knew what that felt like anyway. He assumed it would probably be more of a distraction than a comfort. He’d rather have a cot or the hard ground deep in the wilderness any day.

Daryl stared at the high ceilings, barely visible in the darkness that had consumed the space without the flashlights and candles of the perturbed residents. Try as he might to focus on the most trivial things, his thoughts continued to circle back to you.

There was a rustling of fabric and he let his head roll toward the mattress. You had turned toward him, face still relaxed in peaceful slumber. His blue eyes narrowed, the pinched expression he always had when trying to piece something together. Rolling over, he turned his back to you and scrubbed a hand over his face.

He was beyond fucked.

Over the span of the next week, you could take apart a gun, clean it, and put it back together. You struggled with remembering the order of reassembling at first but, to your pleasant surprise, Daryl was alarmingly patient. His jaw would tick once in a while, obviously holding back the urge to rush you. You had smiled gratefully, stifling a giggle at his mumbled curse.

You still hadn’t spoken, aside from the first day in Daryl’s perch. No, not even to him. He didn’t seem to mind but you caught the few times he’d speak and look at you from the corner of his eye, almost like he was hopeful that what he’d said would merit a verbal response.

Regardless, it was as if your voice had just locked itself away somewhere dark in the fissures scattered across your mind. You were even more damaged, more broken than before.

When Daryl was leaving to hunt, you tried to follow. It was one of the few times in this new dynamic between the two of you that he seemed to lose the composure he had gradually been building around you.

“Hell nah! Ain’t takin’ ya out there and babysittin’ ya when ya don’ know shit ‘bout wha’ yer doin’ in here! Get on back inside!”

You flinched away with your lip quivering. He didn’t apologize. With a growl of annoyance, he yelled for the gate to be opened and stomped into the forest. His demeanor was different when he returned, a few rabbits in hand. After prepping and dropping off his kills with Carol, he approached you and said it was time for you to become familiar with a gun.

You thought that pointing and firing was the jist of it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just like the ‘stab and pull’ at the fence, you would now ‘disassemble and reassemble’. It wasn’t clear to you why learning this step was important but if Daryl was uncompromising in teaching you, then you would learn.

You worked hard to familiarize yourself with the weapons, scrutinizing each surface, weighing them in your hands, meticulously examining the parts to see how they fit together. You’d catch the archer watching you while he busied himself with other projects; sharpening his knives, carving bolts, tending to his crossbow. There were a few times that you could have sworn you’d seen him smile.

The man had become a steady presence, allowing you to follow him and learn the more hands-on aspects of protecting the prison. Once you had healed and felt like accompanying him outside, he had trained you for another day with your knife before allowing you to start helping him clear the fences daily. The meals he didn’t skip were spent eating silently beside you, disappearing long before you had finished. He showered daily, sometimes twice. You overheard Maggie and Carol make mention of how they’d never seen him so adamant to remain clean. At the end of the day, sometimes he’d join you in the perch. Other times, you fell asleep alone.

Those nights were when the men that had hurt you would penetrate your dreams, painting them thickly with a suffocating shroud of black and gray. They would corner you, reach out with their filthy fingers like claws, and you’d cower in anticipation of the pain. Always before a single inch of your skin could be marred, a wall erected itself in front of you, protecting you. A warmth would seep from the structure, enveloping you in a safety that forced the darkness from your dreams. You would wake up feeling rested but always still alone.

Daryl, on the other hand, always looked tired. The days he appeared haggard and sluggish were when his patience flagged. He would raise his voice before he would seemingly think better of it, walk a short distance away for a cigarette, and return with that kindness again present in his exhausted gaze.

Today was one of those days.

You hadn’t done anything to set him off, simply cleaning the .22 pistol he’d given you while he sat on the other end of the picnic bench hunched over the table. He didn’t look at you or even check your progress, simply sitting with his elbows on the table and a hand on each side of his head. It was likely better to leave him be, just continue with your task. Attempting to engage him would most certainly lead to nothing good.

Then he coughed.

You made quick work of the reassembling, placed the weapon down on the cloth, and folded your hands on your lap, eyeing the archer for several minutes before he noticed no sound coming from your side of the table. Daryl dropped a hand to the flat surface and squinted red-rimmed eyes at you. He was quite pale compared to just that morning when you’d found him outside. He didn’t seem like he was sick very often. Maybe battered, bruised, and bloody but not sick.

You pursed your lips and slid down the bench, stopping across from him to lean forward with your arms folded on the table.

“Wha’re ya doin’?” His voice was more raspy than usual, a rougher edge that sounded uncomfortable. Your head tilted even though he seemed less than thrilled to be under your scrutiny. “G’on. Work on the gun.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, a deep sigh shifting into another cough. Daryl turned his face into his elbow and waved you toward the other side.

You refused to budge.

“S’wrong with ya? Got a hearin’ prob—” You could see the moment he caught himself and reined in the hostility. “Jus’ take the day. Ya done good. Work on handlin’ the thing tomorrow.” The hunter didn’t wait for you to move. Probably just assumed you would. With his arms now folded similarly to your own, he laid his forehead on top of them with a groan.

Your concern only grew when he didn’t sense you were still present. With a deep breath, you slid back over to grab the cloth and gun, tucking the weapon into the waistband of your jeans and the cloth into your back pocket. You would be lying if you didn’t admit to feeling a small amount of anxiety while approaching him. You needed to repeatedly remind yourself that it was Daryl and he would never hurt you.

When close enough, you placed a hesitant palm against the back of his head. The archer flinched and quickly bolted upright, startling you in the process.

“Th’fuck, Y/N?” He barked hoarsely. Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers loose on the too warm skin in case he pulled away. You motioned for him to follow you with the slightest tug of his arm. He was definitely confused but without knowing what you needed, he followed obediently. Your hand remained around his wrist.

The gloom inside the prison only made Daryl look worse. He was clearly exhausted and battling what seemed to be a cold. Hopefully nothing more than that. He said nothing as you guided him up the stairs and stepped out of his way upon reaching the top. Brow knitted, he pressed the heel of his left hand against his forehead.

“Gon’ explain or ‘m I gettin’ three guesses?” His voice strained at the end when he tried and failed to subdue a cough. Ducking your head to catch his eye after the spell, you pointed to the mattress. “Huh?”

You deadpanned. Daryl was anything but dense. He had to be sick if he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to accomplish. You realized that your hand still held his wrist and walked backwards to urge him along, stepping up onto the mattress with what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

Daryl did not appear to be encouraged. Wide blue eyes vibrated as he attempted to look between your own. “Y/N.” He was gentle when he extricated his arm, stepping backward with a shake of his head.

It was your turn to be confused. You simply wanted to get him to lie down on the— oh. It started as a giggle but soon you were actually laughing, damn near startling yourself. The befuddled alarm he was wearing so exposedly gradually recast to a warm focus. You placed your palms flat together and positioned the back of a hand against your cheek with a tilt of your head, closing your eyes.

The archer’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, his face taking on a pink hue that you definitely noticed before he ducked his head and knelt to pull the laces on his boots. It was possibly the first time you would attach the word adorable to any description of the man in front of you. Daryl was quick to redirect your regard with a finger toward your own boots on the mattress. Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you hopped off, removed the gun from your waistband, and plopped onto the sleeping bag.

“Yer stayin’?”

You stared, incredulous. Of course you were staying. He was sick, no matter how mild. He had stayed with you while you recovered. Why wouldn’t you return the favor? You nodded and patted the mattress.

There was an obvious uncertainty in his approach, movements hesitant, deliberate, as if you would spook and bolt. You wished you could find it in you to speak, to reassure him you were okay and you wanted to stay.

Your confusion regarding the archer was slowly resolving into a confident trust. You were still plagued with doubt and sometimes overwhelmed with questioning curiosity that would result in a reluctance to be near him. It was that gentle luster that would appear in those pretty eyes, subtle and carefully concealed behind an opacity but easily discernible by someone who had been shown nothing by cold cruelty continually for so long, that would coerce you to stay. There was so much more to Daryl than he allowed the world to see.

He sighed when he finally allowed the side of his face to sink into the pillow, turning his head to cough into the softness. You’d have to wash it once he was feeling better. Quick work was made to settle the blanket over him before his shoulders had stilled from the minor fit, his eyes appearing heavy when he rolled his head back toward you.

“Don’ hafta stay.”

Your smile and gentle tilt of your head said where else would I go? Daryl hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut. He was asleep within moments. Maybe his lack of rest was responsible for the cold. As far as you were concerned, he could sleep until he could physically sleep no longer. Maybe you could persuade others to let him rest.

Your knees pulled to your chest, one arm around them so you could rest your cheek there. The other hand ghosted across the fringe that had fallen over the side of his face. His skin was warm but not enough to frighten you. Maybe you could ask Carol for some tea and broth, if there was any available. You needed to speak with her anyway. Well, not really speak. Regardless, you wanted things to go back to how they were.

Dainty fingers continued to stroke across the archer’s forehead, finding an odd sense of comfort in the ability to touch him without inhibition. His demeanor while in your company was in constant fluctuation but rarely relaxed. He appeared younger in sleep, face slack without creases or pinched skin at the corners of his eyes.

You wanted now more than ever to find your voice. You wanted to tell him how hard you would try to learn quickly. How dependable you would be once you could take care of yourself. How valuable you’d make sure you would become. You wanted to thank him. Others in the prison had done so much for you, but none more than Daryl.

Daryl was the reason you were no longer under Big Jazz’s thumb. He was the reason you were there at the prison at all. He was training you to protect yourself and to protect others. He made you feel safe. Even with the sporadic apprehension, there was the constant blanket of safety when Daryl was near. If he hadn’t looked for you that day not too long ago… You pulled your knees impossibly closer to your body, a dull ache inside at the reminder.

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake, even with your fingers now carding through his hair. In the quietness of the moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate how handsome the archer actually was. You had seen the first day, when he had bargained for you. Rugged, rough around the edges, but handsome. For the first time in a very, very long time, you pondered intimacy that didn’t involve subjugation and pain. You wondered how it would have felt if Daryl had taken your offer that first night. Would he have been gentle? Would he have tasted you?

Those potentially pleasant thoughts couldn’t last once your mind pulled forth the images of him under the spray of water in the showers. Regardless of your name groaned from his lips, you could only see the raised ridges and puckered flesh littered across his back. What had he been through? Had it happened after the fall of the world? Who had hurt him and why? Carol had told you nothing and it was not something you felt you could ever ask him about. It wasn’t your business.

Still… the thought of someone hurting him, it made you feel something you weren’t sure you remembered how to feel.

Anger.

You had spent so much time being conditioned to submit, remain quiet, please, you had forgotten the burn of bitter hostility toward another person. Someone you didn’t even know. You were more than justified in your hatred of the men that had taken you, tortured and defiled and humiliated you. Justified but felt so strange. Finding resentment toward an unknown person for a wrong against a man you barely knew was stranger still.

Yet, that’s exactly what it was. You wouldn’t hesitate a single second to drive your knife home into their skull, living or dead. You’d stab them over and over, one for each raised mark on Daryl’s flesh.

A sound from downstairs startled you from your thoughts, a simple day to day chore of some sort that was not meant to raise alarm. Still, it frightened you. Most things did, but it was getting easier to control your reactions. You realized moments later that your face was damp, the hand hovering just over Daryl’s forehead was trembling. More than that, you suddenly felt drained with an exhaustion that left you dizzy.

Needed nowhere around the prison— your only focus meant to be training with Daryl —you decided it wouldn’t be frowned upon if you were to rest while the archer did. Most knew that wherever he was, he would be instructing you, and would only seek him in the event of an emergency. In that case, the hunter would want to be disturbed.

Sliding down the sleeping bag, you reclined onto your side and faced Daryl, worrying your lips against one another before you reached onto the mattress and placed your palm on this forearm. He didn’t stir but inhaled deeply, seemingly settling deeper into slumber. The contact was comforting and hopefully a level of noninvasive that he wouldn’t mind. Either way, it was enough to allow you to easily follow him into a restful, dreamless sleep.

** What Daryl whispers to reader is an excerpt from “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson

Taglist:

@royaltysuite @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @callmeyn @lilyevanstan1325 @the-lonely-abyss @gutsby @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @hutchersonsgurl @the-milk-is-rotten @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @richardsamboramylove55 @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @atyourmomshouse01 @bultamer @mia051 @memphiscity69 @flowerspetalsthorns @riya12044 @ariacraigggg @morgan556 @carley12041 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @twdislifee @bae-live-0 @elbellmam @aleemendoza2425-blog @ramdomhoe @ren9sstuff

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netherfeildren · 1 year

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FEAR OF GOD : Chapter I : I dreamt that time had ended

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

-OR-

Big bad Joel Miller falls in love and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Mentions of suicidal ideations, unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal fingering, breeding kink kinda, Emotionally Constipated Joel Miller ™️

A/N: Hello, this is my first foray into posting my writing publicly. To be honest, it feels fucking weird and scary, but alas, here I am, pretending to be brave. Art is Botanica No. 23 by Gail Potocki.

Word Count: 6.2K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER I: I dreamt that time had ended

I'm most dangerous when I’m hungry. I’m most hungry

when I’m hurting. Seems like I’m always hurting. Nothing

but teeth. Nothing but the same words calling out to me

in my sleep. Grief asking its ghosts not to leave. Please.

It’s not up to me when I get to stop crying. Or hurting.

Or holding memories in my mouth, gentle as bees

I promised not to eat, but oh, the hurt is so sweet.

- Saeed Jones, from “Date Night,” Alive at the End of the World

Loneliness and being alone were two things you’d always thought to be one and the same — a pair sitting side by side on the spectrum of human suffering. Now, at the end of the world, you knew differently. You’d gotten in bed with both. A kind of intimacy that made your bones ache.

After Beth, your sister, you’d been alone – out beyond the protection of the community you now called your own in Jackson – where you’d carved a little place for yourself. Then, you’d been so entrenched in your grief and shock, that you’d not been lucid enough to really feel loneliness at all. You were alone, but were too far gone to feel the specific melancholy of loneliness. It was all a vicious, almost unthinking, clawing for survival. That creature out beyond the walls was you, and sometimes you liked to pretend and tell yourself you left her out there, but in moments of stark honesty, when you let go of the lies you comforted yourself with, you don’t feel very sure.

Looking back, it’s almost a surprise that it never occurred to you, in those delirious days, in the aftermath of watching Beth get ripped to pieces by infected, to ever think to follow her in death. You think you’d just been too numb and shocked at the time to even consider the tidy solution a bullet to the head would’ve provided you. You can’t even tell if you regret the lack of foresight at that time or not. You suppose now, looking around yourself, at the somewhat full life you’ve settled yourself into, you’re grateful.

But in Jackson, in Jackson you’d found loneliness. Despite being surrounded by a community that wanted to help you from the first moment, to care for you. Most especially because, in the light of this new life, you remembered everything about the aftermath of your sister’s death – with vivid clarity. The details were glaringly bright in your mind, and the peace and fullness of this new life you’d been afforded made those memories hurt all the worse.

Your father had been a physician, a surgeon, before the outbreak, and early on he’d decided it was essential to pass on what he could. That he needed a protege. You fit the necessity nicely. You’d had a mind that absorbed knowledge at a rate that wasn’t necessarily useful in a world like the one you’d now found yourselves in, but he’d made good use of it, made a tool of you in the manner of an extension of himself. He’d started early trying to train you as best he could, given the circumstances. You’d had a fairly peaceful childhood up until you were eighteen living in the San Francisco QZ, given his position, and at around twelve years old he’d started a demanding study regimen. He was determined to make you into the closest semblance of a doctor he could through his own personal means of teaching. You’d always been well suited to a life of taking orders, doing what you were told, being who you were told to be. At the end of the world it was easier, you’d found, to do and be what you were told to – it came easily to you, and after all, your father knew best. You liked the security of being able to follow a set of directions without the anxiety of conjecture or uncertainty. A clearly laid out path was a safe path, and you found comfort in that. So you’d learned what he’d told you to learn. He said it was necessary, and so it became a necessity to you. Practiced what he’d told you to practice. And eventually, become what he wanted you to become. After your mother and father were killed in a raid shortly after your eighteenth birthday, it was just you and Beth, and you’d taken on your studies and training yourself. It wasn’t as efficient, especially after the QZ had fallen and you were forced to leave, could have been more thorough, but you felt well versed in the knowledge you’d gained thus far. Secure in the fact that you had the ability to help people as best you could with what you knew. It gave you purpose and allowed you to follow that path that’d been laid out for you. Provided some sort of comforting reminder of your father, your childhood, as well. The two of you had wandered for several years up until the time of her death.

When you found Jackson after Beth, after days and days of wandering, of savage fear and a desperate clawing to just stay alive, just make it a little further, it was like coming upon paradise. An Eden safer and more cherished than anything before in all history. Connie, their resident doctor, who they were so lucky and grateful to have, had taken you under his wing. Connie and his nurturing comfort. Doing everything he could to build on the knowledge your father had instilled in you over the years. All the knowledge and practice he was so desperate to pass on to you. To build on your foundation. Doctors were few and far between, hard to find and even harder to keep, and Connie was old. Now well into his seventies, he was tired. His mind and body, nowhere near as agile as they’d once been. Your arrival in the community had been seen as a benediction, once he’d found out what your father had started in you. It was difficult to build a comprehensive curriculum, to find the right means of practical training in a world like this, but the two of you had managed fairly well. A deal had been struck with the leaders of the community to provide donated cadavers when they became available, if the families so allowed, if they had families. This allowed the two of you to practice hands on general surgical techniques he felt were essential for you to know. He’d tried, so far, to build a curriculum that was generally comprehensive – general surgery, obstetrics and gynecology, and internal medicine. In your spare time you read everything he’d ever found on botany and herbology. Everything else you supplemented with a collection of texts and scientific literature he’d been collecting since the outbreak, and had guarded and cared for fiercely . He saw his collection of medical texts as the key to the preservation and furthering of knowledge, and you agreed with him. After losing your father you couldn’t have asked for a more caring or dedicated mentor.

But not only was his caring practical, for he’d brought you back to life with his patience. He’d lead you out of that hazy numbness you’d lost yourself in after Beth. Something you’d have stayed lost in the rest of your life if not for his guidance, the loss of her so devastating it was something molecular. The feeling left you so tired, almost emaciated in your grief – the only instinct was survival, no thought for perpetuation or preservation. And then, of course there was Ellie and Dina, Tommy and Maria. All who’d done their best to welcome you into the embrace of their friendship. You were grateful for them in ways you couldn’t ever put into words.

And yet, and yet, despite all this good; a caring community, a giving teacher, loyal friendships, things you now knew you’d die to keep and protect, you were lonely. An aching kind of desperate loneliness, it’d blanketed you with a film of numbness that you hadn’t even really noticed, until one night you’d gotten home to the lovely warm house that’d been assigned to you, a place you’d been able to make a home, to realize, you had no one that was only yours. No one waiting for you. No more sister, no parents, no blood. No one to give yourself to. No one you’d always belong to, no matter what.

You’d felt a level of desperation in that moment worse than many of your worst moments in this horrible thing the world you knew had come to be.

But then there was him.

Joel.

Joel who was cold and stern and who had, at first, seemed so wholly disinterested in your existence you’d never thought there was any way he’d ever even think of looking at you as more than the girl he went to for stitches every now and then. As anything more than the person who patched up his never ending litany of scrapes and bruises. But who, at first sight, you’d seemed to take in and then never again look away from. Who you’d felt you’d known, recognized, at first glance. It was everything about him, really. His countenance – the air about him, slightly threatening, but in a way that told you you’d always be protected, safe,cared for if held in the circle of his embrace. And then his physicality – his face, his body, his smell . The feel of his skin beneath yours when you were closing or covering his wounds. The broad, thick planes of him, his long legs and tall frame that towered over your own. The man could overtake you if he chose to. You’d look at him and couldn’t help but think how hard he’d fuck. And you thought about that often. What it’d be like to cradle the heavy weight of him between your thighs, inside of you. What his skin would feel, taste like beneath your tongue. How you’d map the smattering of sun freckles on his chest and shoulders. And his eyes, deep and dark, and you knew they saw everything. That they were ever aware of what was going on around him. Wondered at what they’d feel like roving the hills and swells of your naked body – just for him. That he could probably see the yearning coming off of you like heat waves off the hot pavement.

Joel who seemed to care fiercely about Ellie, who he saw as his daughter from the little you’d been able to garner from her and others about their connection, and not much else. He’d come to you on more than one occasion after Ellie’d been into the clinic for attention demanding an update on her condition, asking if there was something wrong. Ensuring she was alright, that she’d remain alright. And being completely taken aback and offended when you’d refused to disclose patient information. There was a rift between them, so it seemed, not that anyone had been brave enough to talk about it aloud. The unspoken elephant in Jackson was the current ongoing estrangement between the two. Something that, without knowing him beyond being his doctor, you could see hurt him worse than anything you could’ve ever treated him for. And there was Tommy, his brother, and his wife Maria – who it was also obvious he appreciated and cared for.

He was cordial and helpful and always willing to be a good neighbor to those in the community. But he was set apart. A man estranged in a way you could see was self imposed. You could recognize it for what it was, the same shroud of loneliness that blanketed you. And what was it they said about the experience of loneliness? It creates a vicious cycle that only further perpetuates itself the more alone you become. You start to reek of it the longer you enshroud yourself in it. Contagion spreads. But then one day, you’d seemed to distract him from maintaining that self imposed exile long enough to entice him into looking at you, even if for a second, really looking at you.

It was like this: he’d never looked at you. Until he did. And then it was like fire, like a natural disaster or disease, like cordyceps . Uncontrollable, and as hard as you both tried, or didn’t try, it could not be put away once it had been set upon. You’d circled and circled each other – blood in the water – him in reluctant silence, you almost desperately, until you’d come together in a clash of limbs and tongues and teeth, and then he was shoving you onto your desk in the small space of your examining room and then shoving, hard and savage into your cunt, and that was it. You’d given him as much as he was willing to take, and if he’d wanted to take more, you’d have given it willingly and gladly. It was not a question of how much you were willing to do, or how much of yourself you could part with. If in that instant he’d asked you to open your vein to him and let him drink you think you might have invited him to gorge himself. The way he’d moved in your cunt that day, hand wrapped around the column of your throat as he drew a thin helpless sound out of you – like he owned it already, like he’d always owned it, and it’d just taken him a second to come and claim what’d always rightfully been his. The way he’d brought his fist down, hard, on the desk beside you as he emptied himself inside your pulsing walls, growling the start of your name between clenched teeth before it turned into a guttural wordless snarl. You knew there was a part of him angry at you in that instant. Furious at how fucking good it felt to take him inside you, to finally give in, to ravage and take and fuck the way both of you had wanted to for so long.

You’d wanted him with a kind of anguish that frightened you for the fervor of it. Something you’d never experienced. There’d been others before, well, one other, but that now seemed laughably pale and tepid compared to this. A blight of inconsequential nothingness in your past, that had in no way prepared you for what you’d come to experience with Joel. This was something to cause terror if examined too closely. But he’d peered at you one afternoon, opened his arms to you and invited you in, and how were you ever supposed to resist sinking your teeth into his flesh? Ripping out a piece of him all for yourself.

He’d promised that’d be the only time. That it could only ever happen that once. You’d both taken the lie for what it was. You knew this couldn’t be stopped once it had been started.

You’d always been a girl willing, glad, to do as you were told. To abide by the space allocated to you, to take what you’d been given with gratitude and accept your limitations. But loneliness makes monsters of even the best of us sometimes. And in a world now filled with monsters, it was easy to assimilate into one if given the opportunity, to let greed render you into what it may.

Joel watches your wonder at the sight of the little bird through the window, and he considers his own monstrousness. Your naked form is draped over his bed, tangled in his sheets, the loveliest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. The soft afternoon sunlight swirling along the planes of your skin, warm and buttery, and he accepts that he’s been deformed by his own brutality and violence. That he’s done a lot of truly heinous things in this life, but taking a little bird like you for himself, is perhaps the worst. The sparrow flits away and your eyes follow it– up, up, up. There’s a soft gleam in them, and his heart and gut twist at the sight of you moved by the sparrow. It’s been months of this, of the two of you tangled together. He hopes he never sees an end in sight, but at the same time, feels it pull at him. A vicious self sabotaging need to bring his fist down on this tenuous house of cards you’ve built together. Watch it smash into pieces.

There’d been times where he’d look at an infected, right before killing it, and felt an understanding so poignant.

That is what I have become.

He never needed to have been bitten to lose himself. To have been overtaken by something beyond his control. The viciousness of life had done it for him. Infected him all the same.

He was better now. He could acknowledge that. Ellie, and all that came with her, had served as a balm to his ragged edges. Jackson and its people. Having Tommy back, and the family he’d built with Maria. But he wasn’t naive. He’d known his day would be up eventually. His reckoning with Ellie would come, and it had. Nothing stayed buried forever, and eventually she’d discovered what he’d done. To keep her alive, to keep her for himself.

Perhaps his greatest sin was always trying to keep the women he loved. Always a failure.

Sarah, Ellie. You.

And now here he found himself again, on that same field in the middle of the night, surrounded by the end of the world, and clutching his whole life in the circle of his arms. Failing. Losing again and again.

Ellie had always been his reflection. A more hopeful, innocent mirror to all his cynicism and violence. But the same, nonetheless.

But you. You were his opposite in every big way that mattered.

Good and soft and honest. Strong.

And yet, there could be violence within you, when you so desired it. You’d let him have a peek of it on occasion.

Like the sun that burned his eyes from their sockets.

Violent, but necessary for survival.

You’d dedicated yourself to saving lives and healing, for Christ’s sake. All Joel’d ever done was destroy and kill. Even what he and Ellie had was on the precipice of death now.

And despite all of this. Despite everything he’d done to push you away. To hurt Ellie, no matter his intentions, he wanted. Savagely.

He wanted Ellie to understand why he’d done what he’d done. To forgive him. And even if she couldn't agree, then to just accept it. To set it away and let things be between them. To let it go .

What a selfish fucking thought, Joel Miller.

But he couldn’t help it; the goddamn world was over. Couldn't they just accept the bad things they’d done, or not done, and put it all away. And yet, at the same time, he could not hold it against her. Not even fault her. Because he knew her– he’d always known that the road would always inevitably lead them here. And still, he’d made the choices he’d made. In a way, he knew he deserved her ire. And so he bore it. Accepted it. Waited. But then– something new. You had come.

And he wanted you.

With a violence he’d never felt in a life filled with little other than violence. He could sanctify you with the fervor of his wanting. If he wondered at your own desires, he’d ask if there wasn't ever something you’d wanted so bad it pushed you into the depths of selfishness. A selfishness that bordered on cruelty to the outside world, but you just could not help yourself. You just had to reach out and take. He wanted to be that thing for you, that thing that turned you cruel and selfish.

And maybe that’s what this was, him taking you for himself; cruelty– like taking Ellie’s choices from her. But he couldn’t have helped it. He’d tried. God, he’d railed against this vicious want. But after the first time he’d touched you, tasted you, hell, the first time he’d fucking looked at you; all sense of choice had been taken from him.

All that was left after that was what would happen. What was inevitable. The thread that connected them was deep and dark and red. Not to be ignored.

The two circumstances were one in the same. And he couldn’t help but compare the present destruction of him and Ellie to what would become an inevitability between the two of you if he tried to be with you in any real way. Things always ended in one place for him.

And he’d ripped out so much of himself to cure the pain of Sarah’s loss, he now felt he had nothing left to offer, and what little he did, had gone to Ellie. The feeling of inadequacy was suffocating. Of missing some essential part of himself. He didn’t know if he was capable anymore, of that, of giving himself to someone new.

But he was afraid.

“C’mere, Birdie.” You crawl into his lap.

“Birdie?” A sweet, shy laugh. There was something about you, so akin to that sparrow. So small and fragile, but with the enviable ability to fly away if necessary. Within yourself, within your heart. There was a space within you he found unreachable to him. And he hated it and envied it all at the same time. Raged at himself for even wanting it in the first place. Knew that it only existed as a form of self preservation, of protection, against him. And the sound of your voice – lilting like the song of that sparrow – it fucking haunted him, it haunted him, it haunted him. Maybe he was a little like that bird, as well. Hollow.

Sometimes he just wanted you to hate him. To yell and scream and gnash your teeth and fucking demand something from him. Demand he let go of his cowardice and hesitations and fear. But he knew that very well of self preservation also allowed you to intellectualize his actions, parse together his motives and follow the thread to his root. Understand him in a way he shied away from.

He existed in different spectrums of himself. Different shades of a past that all coalesced into this man he was now trying to be and remain. Which was, perhaps, the hardest part of it all. To maintain that semblance of a good man he was fighting his hardest to be. A good father. A good brother. Helpful to his community and neighbors. Open to the world. It was fucking hard. Falling into old habits, letting the past crest up like a wave and drown him, that was the easy route. Staying on the straight path was the true test. And he knew– he knew how much he had to hold on to now, and all the responsibility that came with that. To cultivate and maintain his relationships, his friendships. He was appreciated, respected in this place he’d made a home. He’d lived a long time without respect from anyone, the world – or himself. He wanted to hold on to that.

But he was also aware that there was something missing. Something he still wanted, and before he’d met you, he’d been unsure of what that was. But the feel of a woman beneath him, around him– someone to know him as a man, and not a father or a brother or a friend– yes, that was definitely missed. And then, not just any woman, but you, you, you. Your appearance in his world had changed things for him. A burst of blinding light, an inferno creeping in his veins, without preamble or warning – the intensity of it almost unendurable for its sudden unexpectedness. It was empirically impossible for one to turn away from a change of that magnitude.

He thought of Tess sometimes. Her easy companionship. Her friendship. It was simple being with someone who never expected anything from you except to not get yourself killed. To stick to what was expected of you and not fuck up too badly you couldn’t keep your end of the bargain. But then… that wasn’t necessarily the truth of what they’d had either. Something still difficult for him to confess, even after all these years. And anyways, he was too old for that now. Shied away from getting into something like that again. A small curl of self consciousness making the appeal of it unsavory now. And this, between the two of you, he couldn’t codify it. Didn’t know what to make of it. Knew what he wanted of himself, of you. Knew what he would like to be able to give you and to take from you as well. Saying it out loud, confessing that, following through on it, was harder though.

Birdie, Birdie, Birdie

You reach up to scratch gently through the underside of his chin. The soft, thick bristles catching beneath your nails. Just one more inevitable thing in a world full of inevitabilities.

Sarah. Cordyceps. Ellie. Taking you for himself. His unwillingness to accept a thing, never made it any less true. Stubborn ass that he was, still after all this time, he could not kick the bad habit.

You settle your plush bottom into his lap and weave your arms around his neck, his hands coming up to curve around the bend of your elbows, pull you in tighter, as if he could stitch you to his very skin with the intensity of his wanting.

“You’re like a little bird,” he nuzzles the soft space behind your ear, sucks on the edge of your jaw, breathes you in. “My Birdie.” The soft sound you make goes straight to his hard cock and you spread your legs wider across his lap, grind yourself down onto him.

You bask in his attention, mind hazy and floating. You’re drunk on his touch, his scent, the sound of his voice, and you feel like you need to give him something. Give him some more tangible piece of yourself. Something you wish he could put in his pocket, tuck in his memory, carry with him always like a small, smooth stone, the weight of it knocking gently against his thigh as he moved about the world. You slink down the bed, settle yourself between his strong legs.

His middle is soft and thick, and you press a kiss to the swell beneath his belly button, further down to nuzzle into the soft thatch of hair around his cock. You breathe in the heady musk of him, and he’s restless, verging on aggressive beneath you — his control held on by the grace of a snapping thread. You take him in hand, show him you’re merciful, and give the hard thick length of him a slow tug. His size is obscene, held in your small hand, you can barely get your fingers around his girth; it makes you cunt clench and weep jealously. You gaze up at him, and the look in his eyes is feral, teeth bared in a gleaming snarl at you. You often think that he unmoors you, but in this moment, you have the power to unmake him.

You press small kisses to his thigh, the jut of his hip bone, nuzzle your nose at the soft skin there. And then finally, you offer him your tongue, tap the broad, dark red head of him once, twice, and then soft little kitten licks, across the crown, down his shaft. Not yet ready to give him the reprieve of your hot suctioning mouth. You lift yourself up on your arms to hang your head over his erection then, letting salvia pool on your tongue you let it dribble down in a long obscene thread onto his waiting cock, slide down. “ Fuck – fuck, fuck,” he growls then, savage: “Fucking swallow it or come up here, and give me that cunt. No more teasing, Birdie.”

You bend back down to tongue the slit and he hisses, snaps his teeth together; he’s harder than a fucking rock. You start to jack him slow and tight in long pulls, from the very base, up, up to twist your fist around the weeping head, pressing soft kisses to the tops of his thighs. And then finally, finally you wrap your puckered mouth around him and start to suck, hollowing your cheeks and laving your tongue all around the thick girth. It’s sloppy and so wet, your saliva dribbling down to slide over his balls and into his hair. Messy little girl . He grips the back of your head, fingers fisting in your hair. You look up at him in permission, and he starts to fuck your mouth in earnest. The muscles in your throat tightening around his head with every thrust. “Shit, shit, that’s good.” He lets his head fall back, and you take in the strong column of his throat. You can feel your pussy leaking onto the sheets beneath you at the sight of him and you squirm, rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He’s so fucking hot. And you want him so badly, always.

He feels your desperate squirming between his thighs, “Play with that little cunt, baby. I know it hurts.” You moan in response, suck him deeper, swallow around him as you slide your hand under your belly, down between your thighs and play with the wet mess there. You cup yourself and start to rock your hips, you know he’s watching your movements, the rise of your ass, letting the heel of your hand grind against your throbbing clit and then slide down to your entrance, dip your middle finger in to penetrate you there, gentle and shallow. You pick up the pace of your grinding, everything is so slick and wet, and your mouth opens on a shallow gasp, his throbbing length slipping out of your mouth and falling wet and heavy onto his belly. The two of you watch each other as you fuck your hand slowly, and then he’s rolling you over with the strength of his thighs, quick as a viper, as he manhandles you to his liking. He’s sliding on top of you, and then he’s got you on all fours, face pressed down into the pillows and ass up, up in the air, pulling on your hips and spreading you wide for his eyes to feast on. You feel his big hands grip your ass cheeks and pull you apart, your pussy wet and aching, you’re sure he can see your hole clench desperately. He bends to give your flesh a sharp, painful nip and you keen in response, his tongue soothing over it after.

“Please, Joel – please.”

“What do you need, baby? Hmm?” he croons. “You need my cock to fuck this little pussy?”

“Please–” you cry, a mess of tears and spit covering your face.

He runs a gentle knuckle over your soaked, puffy lips. “So red… so needy… Say it, wanna hear it.” He gives you his thumb, catching just over the edge of your opening, your mewl is high and whining.

“ Please, please, please–”

“ Tell me, Birdie.”

Hitching breath, he pulls out his thumb, swipes over your clit, just barely. “Please, fuck my pussy.”

And then his hand is gone and he’s giving you the whole unrelenting length of him in one quick thrust, and he’s fucking huge and harder than stone. Pressing up against your cervix until it hurts and holding there, and you want more, more, more. It feels so fucking good and you’re so wet – dripping down your thighs, you can feel it pooling in the crevices behind your knees, mingling with the collected sweat there. It’s lewd. Your walls clamp down on him, tight as a fist, and he lets out a snarl: “Don’t move.” A shudder wracks through him and you can feel him throbbing inside you, holding him heavy and hard in the deepest part of your cunt. You mewl, high and desperate, “Don’t move, don’t make a sound—” You can’t help the whimpers, he pulls them out of you forcibly.

“ Fuck–” and then he’s ramming into you relentlessly, over and over, kissing your womb on each thrust, and you see stars behind your eyes. His hands hold you open to watch where he impales you. “Prettiest little pussy, fuckin’ perfect and tight, Birdie” he says through gritted teeth. He pulls out suddenly, bends to swipe a long wet lick from your clit to your asshole. Oh, he’s filthy. You can only moan in response, flushing red and hot from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Your breasts are heavy and aching, the tips furled into tight points. And then he’s fucking back into you. “Gonna fuck it full of my come, baby. You want that? Want me to stuff you full, pretty girl?”

“Yes– please, please. I need it–” His hand slides up the length of your back to curve over your shoulder, pulling you back onto his impaling cock harder. His balls slap sharp and wet against your clit, and then you’re coming around him, something so deep and sensitive inside being rutted against unrelentingly. Your cunt pulls tight, almost painful, a hot little furl around him, milking his own orgasm out of him. He groans deep in his chest, torso folding over your back pressing you deeper into the mattress, and you can feel the heavy throb and jerk of his cock spitting inside of you. The fist in your hair jerks your head to the side and he swallows your pleas, tongue licking deep into your mouth. “Good– good girl,” kisses the tip of your nose, your brow.

“Little bird… s’soft” he whispers later. “ Who’s gunna look after these fragile wings that dream so big and want to fly so high?” The tips of his fingers ghost up and down the length of your spine, over the fine wings of your shoulder blades. His skin is rough, his trigger finger thickly calloused, and each pass makes you shiver.

“Can’t you?”

“Don’t think so,” he mouths at the tender nook behind your ear, along your hairline, “Ain’t got it in me. Not gentle enough, don’t think.” But how could that be true when no one in all your life, in all the world, had ever touched you as softly as he was now?

“My Birdie,” he murmurs, and he’s still semi hard inside of your sore, stretched out cunt. Leaking out of you. Messy. The both of you had stopped being careful a while ago. Stopped caring, really. And you know it’s an unspoken point of resentment in him, the fact that he can’t control himself. That he feels an instinct to fill you and mark you. To make you his in the most primal way he can. The fact that he can’t pull away from you, in this most precarious of moments, despite all the other ways he can, it chafes . The both of you look away from it, like so many other things between you – turn your faces away. Unwilling to stop, and do the right thing. Unwilling to consider the possible consequences.

Sometimes you wonder if the thought of those consequences appeal to him. Appeal as a form of subjugation. If that were to happen then he’d be forced to stop forcing himself to push you away. He’d be able to keep you the way you know he really wants to.

It is a delirious and precarious situation, the business of believing in something that’s constantly denied to you.

You wrap your hand around his thick wrist and bring it to your nose, breathe him in deep, press a kiss to the tender skin over the blue hued spidering of his veins. His heady scent of soap and sweat and musk, all mingled with your own scent on his skin. It makes you clench tight around him and he groans deep and wanton in his chest, grinds his hips further into you from behind.

“You know what I think you’re missing?” he murmurs into the sensitive shell of your ear– your messy hair moved by his breath. “Besides more of my cum–” He laughs – and oh, he thinks he’s so damn funny– another thrust, sharper now. Regaining strength. He grasps the inside of your thigh and pulls you open, hooks your leg back and over his hip. Moaning low, you say, “What’s that?” You wind your hand up and back to clutch his hair while he starts to fuck you slow and deep. You want all your conversations for the rest of time to be just like this, whispered into each other’s ears always.

His other hand slides down your belly, to slot his fingers over the place where he fits inside you, feeling the tight stretch of it. He cups you there and anchors you to roll your hips more deeply on to his hardening erection, the mound of his palm grinding into your oversensitized clit. This sort of stamina’s not normal for an old man, you want to tease. But then he says: “Some selfishness,” a little bit like a question. A little bit like an admonishment too. And you pause, he’s serious and it makes you afraid that it’s also posed like a warning, just for a second. “Be selfish, Birdie. Be selfish for me, just a little bit.” For me, he says, and it appeases you, comforts you. You think you may agree.

“Who says I’m not already?”

Chapter II

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #FOG fic

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outro-jo · 1 year

Text

wayv saying “i love you” first

pairing: wayv members x reader

type: scenarios

summary: the wayv members and when they can’t help but say those three words

warnings: mentions of food, also bella for those afraid of dogs, dejun being bullied a little in yangyang’s, use of their actual names, fluff

masterlist | info

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kun- the boys were exhausted. their comeback was pushed back for a third time but they continued to train and practice like it was still happening as scheduled. your boyfriend had texted you earlier that they were at the dance studio all day and that he may not get to see you today. little did he know that when he and the boys walked back into the dorm that you had other ideas. upon entering, the whole place smelled of incredible food and each of the boys walked in, breathed deeply, happily groaning in excitement. “hi!” you greeted them from the kitchen. kun made his way over to you as you explained, “i made all your favorites!” you started listing them but was cut off by the impact of kun falling into your body, pulling you into him. “thank you, baby. i love you.” he sighed out. he said it without a second thought. he was so worn out and so grateful that you not only cared about him but the other boys too. your generosity warmed his heart. kun didn’t think much of it as he said it but he noticed you were stiff against him and pulled back. “oh, baby, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean—“ now it was your turn to cut him off, but with a kiss this time. “gross. can we eat now?” you heard yangyang say followed by a smack from ten.

ten- chittaphon was beyond excited for this concert. wayv was getting to perform in bangkok which meant he got to see his family again, and you were getting to go with him. the downside was that he only got to be home for less than twenty four hours. they were flying in, performing, and then leaving on an early flight. but he would take what he could get, especially if they were letting you come along. he was giddy in the days leading up and the flight there. he called his mom as soon as they landed and headed to the venue. a smile was permanently etched on his face and his hand held yours every opportunity he was allowed. though some would think it might have been too early to meet parents but with the distance chittaphon would take any opportunity he could. also he knew you were the one from the moment he met you so it didn’t matter. his phone lit up again while he was getting dressed. “they’re here! can you go meet them at the door and bring them back here?” he asked you. the nerves began to bubble up in your stomach again but you smiled and nodded. when you returned, chittaphon heard your voice but hearing you speak a language he’d never heard you speak before. the two of you usually spoke english or korean when you were there but when you were speaking thai with his family he froze. he watched from the other side of the room as you and his family smiled and conversed. his heart raced and a love struck grin spread across his face. the fact that you learned his native language to speak comfortably with his family was so heartwarming to him. of course you struggled some but you took it in stride and he found it so endearing. after a few moments he joined all of you. the group reunited with hugs all around and catching up on the time missed for as long as they could until it was time for chittaphon to take the stage meaning you all had to take your seats. it all ended too soon and before you knew it the amazing night was coming to a close. you and chittaphon sat in the back of the van with your hand in his once more as you gushed over the performance and shared about your time with his family, still riding the high of the show. chittaphon watched you with what others could only describe as heart eyes because of how full his heart was from the evening. it couldn’t have been more perfect for him and he couldn’t help himself. “i love you.” he said in his native language making you stop mid-sentence. you knew quite a bit of the language and your certainly knew that phrase, you just weren’t quite sure he even said or meant it. “what?” you looked at him wide eyed. he scooted closer to you in the backseat of the car and reached up to caress your cheek. “i love you.” he repeated louder and more assured. you knew it was for real, just as you had learned it. he really did know how to take your breath away. you softened from your surprised, rigid state and smiled back at him. “i love you too”

winwin- he definitely didn’t mean to say it as soon as he did but the poor guy was so sick and tired. you could tell days before that he was staring to come down with something but a few days later when he texted you he was sick, you rushed right over to take care of him. kun had been doing the best he could until you got there with all the supplies you needed to care for him. though sicheng preferred being taken care of by you, he still fought you once you arrived, insisting he would be fine and you shouldn’t risk getting sick. you of course ignored him and went right to work. you made sure he was propped up, given the right medicine, warm enough, and even started making his favorite soup which you fed to him when it was done. he was honestly so touched at the way you cared for him and tried so hard to keep it together. once he was fed his eyes started to feel heavy and droop. you helped him get settled and tucked in when you headed him say it. it was so soft and with the rustling of the bed sheets, you almost missed it and sicheng was so tired he went right to sleep before you could even ask him to clarify. he looked so peaceful and beautiful in his sleep, you started to understand the way he felt. you smiled to yourself softly before brushing his hair back and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “i love you too, sicheng.” you whispered. when he was recovered he doesn’t really remember saying it and even later on in your relationship he denies that he was the first to say it, but you’ll never forget it.

xiaojun- you paid attention to pretty much everything dejun did but he never realized how observant you were. he just assumed you were like most everyone else and the little things he said and did went unnoticed to you. boy, was he wrong. when he came home from a long day of practice, he collapsed on the couch. suddenly bella came running into the room and hopped on to the couch next to him. he rubbed her back but began to notice she looked cleaner than she did earlier that day and she smelled nice too. as he looked around, he also noticed that the living room was a bit cleaner than before and the poster they’d bought months ago was finally hung on the wall. a few more things were put into place and projects they had put off in their living space were done. before he knew it, you came into the room. were you always here? he wondered. “baby, when did you get here?” he asked. “oh, yangyang let me in while you were gone!” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “ok, bella is clean, i got some stuff done in here, your clothes are folded and on your bed. i’ll go ahead and start dinner.” you rattled off the checklist to yourself out loud. dejun looked up at you confused and reached out for your hand to stop you. “wait, wait, you did all of this?” “well, yeah, you were saying the other day how some stuff needed to be done but you didn’t have time. i thought i’d help you out.” you shrugged. his eyes softened at he looked at you and he stood to his feet to pull you into a hug. “i can’t believe you did all this for me. i love you.” he’s so sentimental. “awe, jun, it’s nothing. i love you too” you pecked his lips and went off to the kitchen.

hendery- when kunhang entered your apartment that evening, he was worried when it was full of smoke with the detector going off. “ohh no!!” your loud groan filled the apartment. “y/n?!” he called out, worry lacing his tone. “in the kitchen.” before coming to find you, he opened the window in the living room to air the place out. “are you hurt?” he asked, fanning around the smoke alarm with a book he grabbed off the coffee table. “no, but our dinner is.” you said sadly. it was finally clearing out enough so that he could see you. he walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist as you looked down at your burnt meal. “what where you cooking, baby?” he chuckled lightly. “it was supposed to be your favorite. i called your mom for the recipe and everything. i wanted to do something special for you because you were a little homesick.” you spoke in pout. to kunhang, you were so adorable. you worked so hard to try and make him feel better and even though you failed it was still touching. he leaned down and kissed your lips then rested his forehead on yours. “i love you for trying.” his fingers laced with yours. “c’mon, i’ll take you out.”

yangyang- it really didn’t take much. as much as he tried to deny it, he was feeling it pretty much from the moment he met you. he tried so hard to push it from his mind and take things slow as not to freak you out. in all honesty, it freaked him out too that he was feeling like this. one afternoon you were with him and the rest of the boys of wayv in their apartment. he was already swooning because all of the pets loved you from the jump. bella currently laid in your lap, dozing as you rubbed her head and it was pretty much the cutest thing he had ever seen. if that wasn’t enough, you also managed to get in a clever, well-timed jab to dejun that earned the respect from all the boys. combine all that with just how gorgeous you looked in the hoodie your stole from his room, he was pretty well smitten. after another well executed joke, the laughter had died down and before he even knew it, yangyang let out an “i love you” with a sigh. all the boys looked around in confusion and then the teasing began. “ahh our little baby is in love!!” his older brothers gushed, reaching to pinch his cheeks. yours burned and you tried to hide the smile on your face. yangyang did his best to play it off but it was far too late for that. after quite a bit of teasing you got up from your spot and sat down in the youngest boy’s lap and kissed his lips, silencing the room. “i love you too.” you told him. the boys started hyping him up but he wasn’t even pay attention. all he could see was you.

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melvolkman · 9 months

Text

Happy September 🍂

It feels as though an eternity has passed since my last post.. I'm overjoyed to announce that after a very long search, I've finally found a place where my heart can rest and my soul can thrive. Last week we closed on a c. 1800 antique colonial lovingly preserved in idyllic mid-coast Maine amidst picturesque mountain views, forests, and wildflower fields. We even have a small, centuries-old apple orchard to explore and care for 🥹

From the moment I arrived, I knew I had discovered my sanctuary 🕯️ Antique homes have always held a special place in my soul and now I find myself living out the dream that has danced in my imagination for years.

There’s a sense of timelessness that lingers in the air.. The walls adorned with stories of days long gone. The wavy panes of the window glass, gently distorting the world beyond. The large fireplaces bearing witness to the warmth and laughter that once graced these rooms. The worn wide wood floors, aged with a beautiful patina — a testament to centuries of lives and dreams that have unfolded here.

Every crack and creak an invitation to embrace the imperfections of life.

I can't begin to express the depth of gratitude that fills my heart as I embark on this new chapter. I’m excited to share with you the beauty that surrounds me in this special place, and I’m eager to dive back into photography and the studio — to paint and create once again.

This week, we began clearing out what will soon become my art studio, housed in the barn converted workshop that was built c. 1800 and is situated just beyond a majestic weeping willow.

To those who have stuck with me throughout this journey, your support means the world to me, and I am forever grateful for your continued encouragement.

So here we are, at the beginning of a new chapter. This is my return, and I can't wait to share more with you 🤎

Instagram — @melvolkman

#autumn #fall #September #happy september #cozy #cottagecore #autumn aesthetic #moon autumn magic #melvolkman #antique #vintage #antique house #colonial #colonial home #New England #Maine #downeast #autumn 2023

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harlowsbby · 2 years

Note

Angst request: gf yn is on tour with Jack and one of the tour mates is crushing really hard on yn. Jealous Jack. Possessive Jack. Sweetheart yn.

She’s taken

Jack loved you with all his heart he truly did you were the girl of his dreams the sweetheart he’s been manifesting but at the same time he hated the fact that you acted so clueless to when other guys were flirting with you or trying to get at you.

Jack had asked if you wanted to join him on tour and you of course said yes you were beyond thrilled to see everything that went on behind the scenes of everything and seeing your man before every other night was something you wouldn’t wait to see.

You were all in Denver Colorado for Jack’s show that night you were currently sitting with Neelam and Jt just looking at different types of nail designs and hairstyles you all wanted to do for tonight’s show. You were so into the different designs that you didn’t notice one of Jack’s band members trying to get your attention till Jt tapped your shoulder.

“I think he’s trying to talk to you girl.” Looking up you smiled seeing Earl, he was apart of Jack’s live band he was really and always kind to you.

“Oh hi Earl how are you doing? You ready for tonight’s show.”

Neelam and Jt smirked at one another noticing a certain curly headed boyfriend of yours now inspecting Earl and You.

“Yes most definitely I’m always ready to go out there and show out like we always do.” There wasn’t not one mean bone in your body you just loved to spread love and positivity and that was something Jack loved, you always judged by the mind and heart never by how a person looks like or acts like.

“That’s good I’m really excited you do so good on the drums I always wanted to play the drums back in high school.”

“I can always teach you whenever you’re free if you’re down.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled and the two of you continued to talk about anything and everything.

“You just gonna let him sweet talk your girl.?” Nemo came from behind Jack and rubbed on his shoulders. Jack was trying him best to work on being less possessive and protective with you because the last thing he wanted was for you to think he controlled you and controlled who you talked to.

“What am I gonna say Nemo? You know how Y/N is she’ll get mad at me instead of Earl and besides she doesn’t really see the issue I guess.”

“All I’m saying is the way he’s touching up on your girl and being all friendly with her wouldn’t slide with me.” Nemo walked away from Jack leaving him alone in his thoughts as he watched Earl brush his hands on your arms a few times but what did it for Jack was when Earl leaned in to say something in your ear which caused you to start giggling like a fool.

He quickly flung off the couch and started walking towards the two of you.

“Uh oh here comes trouble.” Neelam and Jt both laughed and watched how Jack’s face held a stern and jealousy look.

“May Earl rest easy he lived a good life.” Jt joked the two of them ready for what was about to go down.

“What’s going on over here?” You jumped a bit at the sound of Jack’s voice since you didn’t hear him walking up from behind you.

“Earl was just telling me how he can teach me how to play the drums sometime when we all have downtime that is.” Earl smiled and nodded up at Jack but his smile was quickly replaced by a frown.

Jack rolled his eyes at Earl and held a stern and cold look with him till he felt you tugging on his hoodie, his face softened when he made eye contact with you, something about you always managed to calm him down and he was grateful that you were his light when he had bad days.

“Jack? What’s wrong baby did something happen, did someone say anything to you.” You looked up at him with your big doe eyes your voice sounding so sweet and fragile that Jack almost forgot what he was mad about.

“Uh nothings wrong baby I just came over to see if you wanted to get something to eat before the show?” Jack sighed mentally he knew he should’ve brought up what was bothering him but he wasn’t about to stress the small stuff, he knew you were loyal to him and only him so there was no need to worry.

Smiling you nodded and took his hand in yours before quickly giving Earl a hug goodbye.

“Bye Earl I’ll see you later before the show.” You waved him goodbye and he smiled back before waving bye as well.

“What do you feel like eating Jack?”

“Whatever you want baby.” He brought the back of your hand up to his lips and kissed it before wrapping his left arm around your shoulder and brining you into him.

“This man sure is whipped.” Jt told Neelam as the two of them watched Jack and You leave to go get food.

“He sure is he sure is.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n

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rowsdelusions · 7 months

Text

Flatline (Luke Hemmings/reader)

Flatline (Luke Hemmings Imagines)

Title: Flatline

Rating: None

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Reader

Word Count: 2116

Warning: Language

Summary: You're the guy's tour manager for their new tour

Author's Note: I am entirely grateful for all the love and support my last story got!! >_< It means the world to me that people like my stories! I hope this one is to your liking as well. I've got a few ideas for the other guys so don't worry!! I'm in the making of a few but wanted to ask if anyone is up for a series of imagines based off of their songs?! I did my Older one and this of course is Flatline, but just wanted to ask if people would like that?! Again, thank you so much for the support!!!

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“You guys are on in 5 minutes. So do any last minute touch ups and rituals; and if you need me for anything I’m always here you just have to get me.” I say smiling at the group of 4 men who I have grown to love over the short period of time I've been their tour manager. Their personalities and them as people just make it so easy to fall in love with them. Except for one; Luke. Anytime I would try to be close and nice to him like the rest of the boys I am not even given the cold shoulder I just get a blank stare or just a nod yes or no. It’s like he’s numb. If he had given me the cold shoulder I would at least know he just doesn’t like me, but I just get a blank stare.

I’ve asked the guys if I did something that offended him and why he didn’t like me, and they would just look at each other with the same look they are having right now when they see I’m waiting for a confirmation from Luke after I announced they had 5 minutes left and I got nothing back not eve a blank stare this time just nothing. He doesn’t look at me at all. Not looking up from putting his makeup away into his makeup bag even with the uncomfortable silence that wafted over the dressing room once everyone knew he wasn’t going to respond back.

It was like he was in an entirely different world that no one else was privy to except for him. But his face didn’t show the bliss that you get when you're daydreaming. It held nothing but concentration. Not knowing what had him so concentrated that made him look like he was about to explode into a million pieces, I walked over to him to see if there was anything I could do to help him. He might not like me, but I'm still his tour manager and bottom line I will do anything to make this tour more magical than the last even if talking to him has me on an edge of a cliff from nerves.

“Luke, is there anything I can do for you? You guys are on in a little less than 5 minutes.” I said to him softly, barely over a whisper looking at him with so much sincerity that a tour manager probably shouldn’t have for the lead singer of the band she is managing, but I couldn’t help it. Even with all the blank stares and nods. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him, going beyond the platonic love that I have for the other guys. He was just perfect with all his flaws, although I don’t think he has any he might be standoff-ish with me, but I can’t help but see how he interacts with the other guys, the crew, the fans during a show or in general, and his family when they come to some of the shows.

He always gives anyone he’s talking to his full attention sometimes looking like a puppy while doing so but it’s endearing. It shows he cares even if what you're talking about isn’t all that important. I can’t help that when he does his makeup how beautiful he looks and the look of being alive and doing what he loves while he's on stage makes me feel like I’m in the presence of an angel. Suddenly getting caught off guard from my thoughts by the man himself. When he abruptly stands up pushing the chair he was generally sitting on while cleaning up his makeup. I back up not out of fright but more out of shock looking around for a moment noticing all the guys are not in the room anymore.

The look of confusion crossed my faces wondering when they left, but before I could get too far in my wondering, Luke asked, “Are you going to be on the side of the stage for this show?” Even more confused, I answer in an unsure tone.” umm… I guess?” It sounded like more of a question than I intended. I tried to recover from it.” I was going to get the schedule for our next stop situated during this show so I wasn’t planning on it but if you want, I can just do it after the show.” Not even a second passed before he answered me,” Can you do it after the show? It will be easier if you were by the stage tonight.” I stare at him for a moment, questions in my head that I’ll never asks run through it before I ponder any longer on them though I see that he’s waiting for an answer looking almost nervous but I see on the wall clock that he has to be on stage in 2 minutes so leaving my questions in my head I answer him,” Yeah I'll be there on Cals side.” Without anything more said between us he leaves the dressing room leaving me with nothing but his presence and the questions in my head left unanswered.

By the time I composed myself in the dressing room and went to my designated spot on the side of the stage on Cal's side, the boys were already on their third song. When I got there, I was handed an earwig from one of the workers on tour so I can hear the tech crew and everyone else if there's a problem that needs to be fixed. Getting a weird look from the crew around me made me self-conscious, questioning why everyone was giving me that look on top of the questions I have from my discussion with Luke.

Putting all my focus back onto the show, I see that instead of Luke having his talking part first like usual it’s Michael who is doing his. Confused, I turned to the closest person on the crew besides me and asked,” Why is Michael doing his talking portion at this moment and why was I not informed by this?” The crewmate looked nervous when I asked, not knowing if it’s because there scared on losing their job or something else, I try to clarify more for them trying to ease their nervousness," I’m just asking because any new changes need to be made through me, you're not losing your job and I’m not mad I’m just wondering why this decision was made without at least talking to me.”

Seeing their nerves not lessening, but answering anyway in a rushed stutter manner,” The guys asked for this request and said not to tell you.” Turning towards them like they had a second head I see the crewmate walking briskly away stopping where a bunch of the other people apart from the crew where and talking heavily with them before they all stopped once they saw I was looking over them. Why is everyone being secretive about something and why did no one tell me about the last-minute change on the show.

I questioned myself, getting madder by the second once I saw that even more people were looking at me. Staring ahead after I get tired of the stares that are burning holes into my head every passing second, I try to focus on the show making sure it goes off without a hitch. Even though I see that each of the guys are going in a different order for their talking portions than what we’ve planned in the start of the tour, I see that after Michaels talking portion and a few songs, Ashton went next for his talking portion.

Why are they going in a different order than the one we picked even when there's a different order Luke always goes first so it’s easier on the guys and the crew to switch out guitars. Why did the guys not tell me about this or Luke when we were talking in the dressing room earlier. They clearly knew it was happening from what I’m seeing on stage and what the crewmate told me when I asked about it. Worrying even more, questions ran through my head that I was going to ask the boys once the shows were done. I didn't realize how much time went by with all of my worrying.

Until I heard Luke doing his talking portion missing all of Cal’s one, I tried to pay attention pushing the worry and questions till after the show. I hear Luke make a nervous laugh continuing the nervous streak while talking like he did with me earlier in the dressing room,” I know that you all have realized that we're doing things in a different order on this show and that is because… I have something special I'm going to do for this show.” he laughs at the end when he hears the fans screaming at the top of their lungs. “As I know how exciting this is. I need you guys to do me a favor. Can you do that?”

He questions the fans in an exciting tone, the nerves still blatantly present though how much he’s trying to hide it from the fans covering some of it up. I've spent enough time with these guys to see all of their tell-tell signs. Coming back from the fans screaming yes. Luke laughs again, "okay, good so for our last and final song I would like you all to please be courteous because I'm going to be bringing someone out for this song and I would love it if you all sing along with me.”

Drowning out all the exciting screams from the fans I grab the closest crewmate to me,” What is he talking about bringing someone on stage?” I asked hurriedly. When I don’t get an answer from them, I hear Luke start to talk again this time with an almost desperate tone that you wouldn’t have catched if you didn’t know him well.” Now can I please get are ever so brilliant tour manager on stage please.”

Looking confused I see Cal walking towards where I am on the side of the stage walking towards him in an almost run. When I reached him, I asked in a hurried manner,” What the hell is going on?” looking down at me he says in a calm tone,” Everything is going to be explained but you just have to trust me and go on stage please.” Looking into his eyes, seeing them have a pleading look, I slowly nod my head.

Walking with Cal on stage was the most nerve-wracking thing I’ve ever done. My admiration for the boys is growing. When we met Luke in the middle of the stage all the fans were screaming. Blocking them out I turned to Luke asking what I’ve been dying to ask him this whole evening. "What the hell are you doing and what the hell am I supposed to do up here?” Giving Luke my must baffled look and all I get in return is him saying, "Just please listen to the lyrics it will explain everything I promise and all you have to do is stand here looking beautiful.”

Before I can question him anymore, I see him giving a nod to the other boys, and next thing I know I’m hearing the strums of Cal's bass and Lukes's voice combining into their song Flatline. Hearing it before and loving it like any other song they release. I still don’t understand why I'm out here in front of 10,000 fans until Luke turns towards me walking, chest to chest singing the chorus of the song looking nowhere but my eyes, and all I can do is be hypnotized.

Not once looking away from him even when everything clicked into place. He likes me, that's why he has been acting the way he has. The man who made me hypnotized in every sense likes me, and I've never noticed. Without thinking I lean up to his face, wrapping both of my arms around his neck, my hands reaching into his beautiful blonde hair, curling my fingertips into the curly pieces I move his head down to my own. Looking into his eyes for permission but instead of him giving me one he grabs my hips and crashes his lips against mine. The kiss felt nothing like I’ve ever had before, like everything was aligned. Breaking apart when the fans' screams reached a new level, I looked into his eyes with the brightest smile on my face, “I fell the first day I met you.”

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AHHH, I hope y'all like this one because I do!!! and if you guys want to see the song series pleaseee let me know!!! thank you for the love and support!!!! >_<

#5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagines #5sos imagine #luke hemmings imagines #michael clifford x reader #ashton irwin x reader #luke hemmings fluff #5sos #ashton irwin #michael clifford #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #calum hood #calum hood x reader #5sos fluff

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anashins · 1 year

Note

i love your idol!au so much 🥰🥰 that’s why i’ve come up with an idea where in idol!reader suddenly gets shipped with another idol/actor she worked with and jaehyun get jealous and tries so hard to drop hints here and there that they’re together so people can ship them instead lol

Pairing: idol!Jaehyun x idol!reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary: When an incident during your first collaboration stage leads you to get shipped with his group's leader, Jaehyun decides that he has to nip this rumor in the bud.

A/N: Thank you so much, I hope you like this one 💗

“Did you see me, Jaehyun? It was amazing!”

You had just gotten off the stage, still in your outfit in which you had performed alongside Taeyong and several other SM artists for a collaboration song, and still in high spirits with the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You had been preparing for your first stage outside of your girl group for weeks, and the first live performance was a full success despite minor technical issues that luckily got quickly resolved thanks to the other artists in the unit.

Jaehyun was lurking backstage, having to wait another few stages until NCT would get their chance to perform, and even though he must be pumped as well by now, he didn’t give off the impression to be actually excited for the concert today anymore despite him having expressed his anticipation before.

In fact, he looked enormously pissed.

“What was going on with your microphone?” he barked, walking toward you. “Why was yours the only one not working?”

“It’s okay!” you tried to calm him down. “It worked shortly after, right? I didn’t even have to sing first until they noticed, so it’s okay, it can happen!”

“But not during your first collaboration stage! I’m gonna find the one responsible for this.”

You didn’t know what was up with him, Jaehyun looked utterly angry, almost beyond the point of no return. You had never witnessed him turning into such a borderline menace for everyone around him. Usually, your boyfriend was kind, warm and reserved. Only seldomly, he expressed upset over something, most likely only brooding, and even more seldomly, he raised his voice. So what was going on with him now?

“Hey.” Before Jaehyun got the chance to turn around and stomp away, you grabbed him by his arm and held him back. “I promise you, it’s alright! There is no point in going off on that person, we cannot turn back time. Taeyong noticed it right away and fixed it, didn’t you see? Next stage, I’m gonna have a double check beforehand.”

“Of course he noticed it and fixed it right away,” he repeated, and you didn’t miss the slight mockery in his voice as it dawned on you what was really going on behind his boiling surface. “He always does.”

“Jaehyun…” Your hand slid down his arm until you reached his clenched palm and gently wrapped your fingers around his in a comforting and reassuring gesture. “Are you jealous? Of Taeyong? One of your best friends?”

It took him a while to reply and eventually admit to his feelings that he had never shown you before as he slowly shifted around to face you with defeated features. “It’s not that. He’s a great leader and a professional, which was why he noticed the malfunction right away and was able to fix it.”

“See, he’s the one who saved me from an embarrassing moment. So, what’s your problem?”

“My problem is…” You could almost hear Jaehyun grinding his teeth together. “...the internet. You have probably not seen it yet, but it’s full of people shipping you with Taeyong, and it’s making me mad!”

You frowned in confusion. “Why would they do that?”

“Apparently, it was heroic and utterly cute how he immediately went over to you and helped you, touched your face while fixing the microphone, and how you looked at him gratefully, earning a bright smile back.”

“I was only grateful for his help, and you know Taeyong, he-”

“I know,” Jaehyun sighed deeply. “I know.” He cupped your face, all anger suddenly gone, wiped away and replaced by something you had never encountered in his expression before as well: insecurity. “If it were me, I would have done the same, you know that, right? I’m capable of that too.”

“I’m sure about that. Please don’t listen to the internet and who they want to see me with, because they have only witnessed one interaction. I barely interact with other male artists. If they saw us close together as well, their opinions would surely change.”

“Okay.” Jaehyun's shoulders relaxed and he now appeared less tense, wiping a strand of your hair that had gotten loose out of your face. “I’m sorry about that.”

You giggled quietly. “Jeong Jaehyun, I didn’t know you could be this jealous.”

____

Having changed into the concert’s official shirt, you went to the goodbye stage with all the artists that had performed today. You were supposed to get on the same cart as your group’s leader, waving goodbye to the audience, but when you arrived at the spot, someone else already waited there.

“Where is my leader?” you asked, tilting your head.

“I switched carts with her,” Jaehyun explained with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, you did?” You approached him slowly. “And she allowed you to do so just like that?”

“Well, I owe her one bucket of chicken every week for one month straight, but it will be worth it.”

“You know you never had something to be jealous of in the first place, right?” you wanted to assure him.

“I’m very well aware of that. But I cannot let everyone believe you and Taeyong would make a greater couple than us. My ego just won’t let me.”

“What are you planning on doing then, Jaehyun? We cannot be too obvious.”

“Get on this cart.”

In your heels, it was a bit tricky to get up the steep stairs, and that was when you felt Jaehyun’s hand on your forearm. A tender touch that only lasted one second or two, but was obvious enough to get noticed by the endless cameras in the audience.

He hadn’t chosen to support you by your waist, because that would have been too intimate to be shared between artists from the same label, and he hadn’t chosen your hand either, because it would have been too obvious how close you actually were.

Jaehyun had done the right gentlemanly thing to spur some fan content that was just in character for him.

“Sneaky,” you whispered to him when he followed you to the top of the cart.

“I know,” he answered, smiling the brightest for the entire ride, waving to the crowd.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x you #kpop x reader #requests

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mykoreanlove · 4 months

Note

heyyy i’ve been missing taemin sm lately and ur latest fic has me wanting more domestic taemin 🥹

Your boyfriend was a little rascal.

Showing you love and appreciation were his favorite things to do but annoying the fuck out of you came second.

„Babe, I’m sorry“, Taemin laughed, „it’s just, you look way too cute when you get irritated. I have to tease you a bit. Have to.“

His mischievous acts were always followed by his shiniest smile, which made him resemble a child.

He loved teasing you while cooking or reading but especially when you tried to meditate.

The first few times he just observed, not really understanding what you were doing.

„Babe?“

„Not now, Taem. I’m meditating.“

He used to sit next to you and simply watch, observing your breathing pattern and the peaceful look on your face. It didn’t take long for him to gaze at you intensely, he always was mesmerized by your unique beauty.

You let out a chuckle and waved your hand at him. „Stop staring at me. It’s distracting.“

His cheeks changed colors as you were able to detect his fondness for you, even with eyes closed.

You didn’t move for several minutes, so he got bored. Suddenly, you felt his plush lips on you - he plastered sweet, little kisses all over your face.

„Taem, I swear to god“, you laughed out loud. Your eyes were still closed but you felt him hovering over you. His musky scent filled your nose and his silver chain dangled on your chest.

„Don’t mind me, baby. Do your thing“, he teased as he left kisses on your neck.

„That’s it“, you exclaimed boldly and put your arms around him, pressing his body close to yours. He was lying on top of you and had no chance of escaping now.

„Just lay here and breathe“, you commanded.

He relaxed into the pose and smiled happily. Taemin was beyond grateful to have you in his life. He loved being close to you like this, hearing your heart beat underneath his ear.

„Why do you like it so much?“, he whispered.

„Why don’t you actually try it?“

He rolled off of you and lay on his back next to you.

„What do I do?“

„Just observe.“

„Observe? Observe what?“ He thought this was a peculiar activity.

You chuckled as you answered. „Your breath baby. Just focus on your breath.“

He did his best but struggled a lot at first. The most random thoughts came into his awareness: did he put on the dish washer? what’s for dinner? why was he so bad at math? how did his knee heal so quickly? should he buy you a present? Ah shit, focus on your breath.

„I don’t think I can meditate baby. Maybe I’ll just leave you to it.“

Taemin was already halfway up as you grabbed his hand, stopping him.

„Just a couple more minutes, babe.“

He laid back down and held your hand, relaxing again.

This time it was actually nice as he felt some tingling in his fingers.

„Do you feel it?“

He was surprised that you noticed it, too.

„The tingling?“

„Yeah, that’s energy.“

He thought about it for a minute. „So, you and I are exchanging energy?“

„More like sharing energy.“

He smiled soundly.

„Just like how we share our love then.“

Finally you opened your eyes and turned to look at him, he was smiling peacefully like a kid on Christmas.

„I love you Taem.“

His eyes were still closed as he brought your entangled hands up to his lips, placing a chest kiss on them while agreeing. „I love you more, y/n.“

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 years

Text

[10:26 am]

Contrary to what many of the people close to him believed, Renjun was a touchy and cuddly person. Of course his actions of kicking, hitting, and beating people up gave them the idea that he hated any kind of physical contact, but with the right people he had his clingy moments. People like his best friends got to witness this, and as someone who was treated as just a friend you hadn’t witnessed this yet. It became even harder for you to believe as someone who had been on the receiving end of a swift smack to the hand when you tried to hug him once almost two years ago. That occasion had been lesson enough to not try anything else.

Though others around you would tell you that he was softer with you. Yeah he smacked your hand once, but he had more patience and spoke extremely kind to you. These were all words that just went in one ear and out the other for you, Renjun had no reason to treat you more nicely than anyone else, right?

Well, this morning was serving as a counter argument for all your previous thoughts about Renjun. Last night, at the sleepover at Chenle’s house you had fallen asleep on the floor right in between Renjun and Jaemin. This morning you woke up under Renjun with no sight of Jaemin or anyone else who had also spent the night at Chenle’s for that matter.

You tried to inch out from under Renjun, but with no luck you were trapped under him. You huffed, how were you going to get out of this? With some careful maneuvering you managed to get the majority of his body off of you the only thing that remained was his arm. With slow and soft movements you raised his arm just enough to allow you to slip away. You held your breath, it was finally time to get away and you felt almost excited- maybe that was your full bladder talking. Then, almost as if he was reading your thought his arm came down quick and wrapped around your waist like a boa constrictor to its prey.

You could no longer hold back your groan of frustration, “Renjun, let me go.” Nothing. “Renjun.” Again, nothing. Only 8 times later did you get a response, “shut up” and a blanket over your head as his head came to rest in the crook of your neck. Now, you really had to use the bathroom and you needed breakfast.

“I need to get up now, let me get up.” You ordered.

You tried as hard as you could to pry yourself loose, to get away. Every time you managed to get even half a percentage closer to getting free, Renjun somehow managed to pull you back. How someone who was seemingly so deep in sleep was so strong was beyond you, it was confusing to no end. Every time you even thought he might be acting like he was asleep just to be a massive pain in the butt, he let out a snore. It was starting to grate your nerves.

You getting helpless, any lick of niceties went out the widow. You wanted to use the bathroom! “This is your one and only warning Huang Renjun. If you don’t let me go I’m going to start screaming.”

You gave him a very generous ten seconds to respond or show that he had even heard you, nothing. Here goes, “Help me! Someone help!”

You heard a rush of footsteps coming close as Renjun’s head shot up from your shoulder. His hair was sticking up in every direction with bleary eyes as he squinted at the light flooding the room. “What’s going on?” Renjun asked in a deep, raspy morning voice. Oh.

“What happened?”

“Who’s hurt?”

“Is everyone ok?”

“Did someone break in again?”

“Again?” Everyone questioned.

“Never mind that, we you screaming for help,” Chenle waved off.

“Renjun here, won’t let me go and he’s snoring right in my ear,” you answered with a cold glare.

Mark started cooing at how cute it was that you and Renjun were cuddling as Jaemin whined about how Renjun never cuddled him. Haechan pulled out his phone and started taking pictures of the both of you as blackmail. Chenle and Jisung seemed to be in their own world as Jisung interrogated the former about the “break in.”

Jeno seemed to be the only one that caught your look that screamed for help, worming his way through the chaotic group to help you get free from Renjun who’s hold had not loosened in the presence of your friends. All it took was a stern look from Jeno and a scoff from Renjun before you sprang free, running off in the direction of the closest bathroom before you had an embarrassing accident.

The room went silent as soon as you were out of earshot, all eyes snapping to Renjun who was still laying comfortably in the tangled mess of pillows and blankets on the floor. “Sneaky Junnie,” Mark teased.

“Yeah, since when do you wake up so late in the morning?”

“Or snore?”

“We need to think of a better way to get you two together, no more trapping people to force them to cuddle.”

Renjun groaned, covering his face with his hands, “I am never taking Donghyuck’s advice again.”

“That was you asking me for advice? I was telling you what I would do to you!”

Then Haechan’s life flashed before his eyes as Renjun lunged up to tackle him. Half of the guys moved to split the two of them up as others moved to record what they could. They all froze when you waltzed in unbothered by the scene in front of you, it was nothing shocking to see,“Have you guys eaten breakfast yet? I’m starving.”

“Renjun makes the best pancakes,” Mark started. “Yeah, they taste so good because his special ingredient is love, so I bet the pancakes he makes you will taste out of this world,” Jisung added.

Renjun really needed new friends.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #renjun timestamps #renjun imagines #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun blurbs

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

Text

Puppy Love 4

Find my CoD masterlist

The flirting is finally going somewhere!! Sorry not sorry these two are too cute.

Also we are now half-way through this fic!

Warnings: Swearing, cuteness overload, fluff.

Word count: 1.3k

John was still awake when he got a text at 1:30 in the morning. He was surprised to see it was from you, but he opened it quickly, half-fearing the worst.

Instead, he found a video. Curious, he pressed play.

Warbling puppy howls met his ears, along with muffled laughter. Another dog barked once and set the puppies off again. John's shoulders shook with the effort to not laugh.

The next text came through, reading simply: I told you they're all menaces.

John smirked as he typed his reply. It is a very good thing they're cute.

It is.

Wait, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry!

John chuckled softly at the back to back texts, shaking his head. I was still awake, don't worry. You didn't wake me.

John! It's very late, why are you still up? Sleep is a good thing, I promise.

His lips curled in a smile, warm and fond. He was briefly grateful nobody was around to see it. I know. I'm going to sleep soon. Just trying to finish up some work.

It was a few minutes before you replied, this time with another video. John pressed play, hoping for something entertaining.

He was not disappointed. The video started peeking around a corner, where Sasha stood barely visible on one side of the baby gate. She barked once, wagging her tail, and a chorus of little puppy barks and howls responded to her.

"Sasha," you groaned on camera. "You're such a brat, I swear. Go on, go to my room. Go. Shoo."

Sasha bolted past you at full speed, skidding on the floor and hitting the wall before making it around the corner. The video followed her progress until you sighed.

"One of these days, John, I swear, I'm going to be down one dog." The video ended, and John had to put one hand over his mouth to get his snickering under control.

Then he had an idea. He sat up a little and took a picture of the edge of his desk, his lamp, and the clock on the bare wall beyond that. He sent the picture to you with a simple caption: Trade you.

You need pictures on that wall, it's so boring. Also, go to bed. Your paperwork will not rise from your desk to strangle you in the middle of the night, I promise.

John gave up, standing and letting out a huff of laughter. "Whatever you say, sweetheart," he murmured to his phone. But he did send a reply. You get some sleep too.

He locked his office and walked back to his room, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn't even realize he was still smiling until he was back in his room and caught sight of himself in the little mirror he used for shaving. Shaking his head at his own damn self, he got ready for bed.

But he did check his phone one final time before turning off the lights.

Sleep well, John.

–

Today was pickup day. You were excited for the families taking home a puppy, but also just a little bit heartsick. You'd miss the little furballs.

Half the pups were gone already. You'd sent each one off with their last shots from you, paperwork, and well wishes. Three more were still coming.

Including Kyle and John. You couldn't deny that your heart fluttered a little at the thought of seeing John again.

The knock on your door sent Sasha barking, and the puppies followed her example. You chuffed a laugh and jogged to the door, peeking out before pulling it open.

"Hi!"

"Hi." Kyle grinned. "Is he ready?"

"Just about. Come on in." You held the door open wide for them both. "I just have to give him one last booster shot, and your paperwork, and he'll be ready to go."

You led the way back to the family room, picking up Kyle's puppy and handing him over. "Here you go."

"Hello Cupid," Kyle murmured, cuddling the pup close to his chest. "Hello cutie boy. Yes, you're gonna be my sweet boy, huh?"

John snorted and muttered something about "softie", but you grinned. You knew better. He was totally soft on those puppies, too.

It took you only a moment to get the booster shot ready, and you injected it quickly and easily. The puppy was so distracted with his new owner that he didn't even notice.

"Nicely done." John smiled at you.

The warmth of that smile and that approval curled through you, and you ducked your head a little. "It's not too hard with these guys, they're so distractible." You peeled the sticker off the booster and stuck it onto the paperwork. "This has his bloodline information. There's a sheet in here with the puppy records too - shots and such. And if you want to register him, that paperwork is in here too."

"Very organized." Kyle didn't relinquish his puppy, though.

"Yes, well, I've put together six of these already, I better be organized about it by now," you agreed, laughing. "Obviously you have my number, and you're always welcome to text or call me with questions or concerns."

"Brilliant." Kyle smiled, rubbing his puppy's head. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." You smiled and reached over, tweaking the pup's ear. "I know he's going to a good home."

"Probably be spoiled rotten," John muttered.

"Oi!" Kyle spluttered. "I'm not planning to spoil him that much!"

"Soap."

Kyle paused. "Fair."

"Soap?" You looked between the two, confused.

"A coworker. His nickname is Soap." John answered, still amused.

"I don't think I want to know." You chuckled, shaking your head. "Although I'd love to see, someday."

"Bet we can arrange that, eh, Captain?" Kyle shot John a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Gaz." John made a motion with his hand, and Kyle nodded once.

"You still have three pick ups?" Kyle was very unsubtle, but you rolled with it.

"Two more, they're both coming tomorrow." You smiled down at the little puppy with the yellow collar. "At the moment, she's staying with me."

"Maybe we can arrange play dates, then." Kyle shot a sly look to John that you had the feeling you weren't supposed to see.

You chuckled. "Maybe," you agreed. "That would be good for both of them."

"We'll make it happen." Kyle grinned. "Any last bits of advice?"

You shrugged. "Start training early and you'll have no problems. Probably."

Kyle chuckled. "Right. Thanks."

You walked them to the door (after making sure John had the paperwork). Letting the puppies go was always bittersweet, but this time… well. You'd come to look forward to seeing these two. You were upset at the loss of potential with them as much as you were the puppy.

Kyle walked back to the car but John lingered on the door step, looking around. You paused next to him.

"Did you have any more trouble?" He asked, looking back at you.

You shook your head. "No. No trouble."

"That's good." He stroked one hand over his mutton chops, eyes sharp and fixed on you. "Now that your business with Gaz is concluded… can I take you to coffee sometime? Or tea?"

You smiled, slow and hopeful, heart beating fast. "I'd like that," you agreed, risking taking a step closer to put your hand on his arm. "Very much."

"Good." He smiled, turning to face you fully. "Let me know when is good for you. My schedule can be a bit… chaotic."

"Will do." You squeezed his arm gently. "I look forward to seeing you again, John."

He pressed forward, a brief, bristly kiss landing on your cheek before he turned and strode to the car. Kyle waved to you out the window, puppy situated in his lap, and you waved back.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't an ending, but a new beginning.

#puppy love #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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