#i have a lot of thoughts on him tbh. i should write about it eventually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beardedjoel · 5 months

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smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night.

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for?

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him.

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something.

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway.

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it.

Your underwear.

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs.

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut.

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder.

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows.

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you.

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these.

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in.

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements.

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him.

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now.

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out.

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood.

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire.

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion.

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts.

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first you seen one like mine?”

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice.

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel.

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it.

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you.

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do.

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel.

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck.

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg.

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides.

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my forties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday.

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you.

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips.

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving.

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves.

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air.

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest.

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response.

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.”

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace.

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest.

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out.

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat.

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in.

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways.

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you.

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall.

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear.

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…”

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now. “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences.

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man.

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance.

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it.

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention.

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation.

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek.

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours.

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response.

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks.

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened.

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job.

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear.

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp.

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin.

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm.

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you.

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek.

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you.

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly.

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident.

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved.

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip.

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing.

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet.

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you.

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now. You’d tried alcohol once, and you remember feeling a bit like this - cloudy and out of control of your own body.

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #x reader #tw: blood #<<< for the cover photo

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angelbarelywrites · 27 days

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda)/ Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; Billy Lenz, mentions of violence and general slasher activity, kidnapping, stalking

♡ notes; i didn’t include Bubba last time, so i slipped him in with the pt 2 team :v

also for ghostface i went with Danny over Billy + Stu, just because i’m more comfortable writing older characters tbh. and he’s very attractive to me. maybe i can do a college au fic of them in the future?

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> you were lost

> utterly, hopelessly lost without a map, compass, or even your backpack

> you were out camping with a couple of new friends when you wandered off to pick flowers

> well, acquaintances more like- they weren’t particularly nice to you, but you knew one from your home town

> before you knew the sun was starting to set and you had no clue which way to go

> you’re kicking yourself for being so dumb but try to make the best of it, continuing to collect flowers and pretty rocks

> soon enough you find yourself on the edge of a lake

> that couldn’t have been good- there weren’t any lakes near the campsite at all

> maybe this was that old summer camp they’d mentioned?

> either way you turn around and try your best to retrace your steps

> but even with a full moon it’s just too dark and too dense and you’re exhausted

> holding in tears, you find a small meadow and finally sit to rest

> you’re still sniffling and rubbing your eyes when someone walks up to you

> you were so oblivious that Jason was able to get a few feet in front of you before you noticed

> he seems…perplexed to find you there

> he thought he’d gotten all of the campers

> and you didn’t really look like you belonged with those fornicators

> (or at least that’s what he told himself to justify leaving you alive)

> he’s holding his machete and soaked with your companions’ blood, but you don’t seem to notice

> “…can you take me back to my friends?”

> well he most certainly cannot do that, not if he wants you to like him- though he’s not sure why that matters

> he’s still staring so you, exhausted, do the only thing you can think to

> “…do you want a flower? I picked a lot”

> he’s delighted and takes it before finally gesturing for you to follow him

> you can’t keep up, so eventually he picks you up

> and like that you’re nearly dozing off

> you don’t even notice he’s taking you back the way you came from

> and he’s glad- he wasn’t going to give you much of an option anyway

Bo Sinclair

> single travelers are so much easier to deal with

> so when Lester gives him the call that some college kid was stuck on the road, he’s eager for an easy catch

> you take your sweet ass time getting to the station- even though Lester drove you most of the way you let him drop you off just outside of town

> the smell of the truck was really getting to you, and you’re happy to let the dog lead you

> when he strides out you’re cooing over Jonesy and giving her a belly rub for her troubles

> he’s seen his fair share of attractive victims

> men, women, and folks that didn’t fit either category

> and he’s slept with most of them

> but you… there’s something extra special about you

> he decides right there he’s not taking care of you without at least getting a taste

> you’re not too impressed by his flirting- or at least you try and act like it

> but he catches your pink cheeks and quiet giggles as he takes you on a walk

> because of course he’s got the part down the road at his place

> by the time you get there he’s decided he’s marrying you - or maybe keeping you tied up, beggars can’t be choosers

> he’s impulsive but he’s never wanted to keep anyone before

> “hey sugar-“ god your face heats up just hearing him call you that “turns out I don’t have that part you need. It should be in by tomorrow, if you can stay the night?”

> you say yes before you can think critically- he’s good at getting folks wrapped around his finger like that

> “Good. Cause I’m just dying to show you some real southern hospitality…”

Danny Johnson

> he knows you long before you know him

> he’s a natural nosy guy- he’s a journalist after all

> and a serial killer, of course stalking is on his to do list

> originally you were going to be a victim

> you’d make a good story, a young person taken tragically early

> but you were too cute to die just yet- he had to at least meet you, just once

> if you were a dick no one would say anything nice for your article, right?

> so he just happens to bump into you outside your work one day

> literally bump

> when you spill coffee all over yourself he smoothly apologizes and offers to help clean you up

> “What a mess- I’m so sorry sweets. Let me take care of all this”

> and you fall for it, hook line and sinker

> he’s a handsome guy, he’s used to that but he’s smug anyways

> he gives you a spare shirt of his, though you still skip work

> he buys you another coffee and you sit in his car chatting

> you’re innocent enough to trust him like that- to get in a vehicle with a strange man?

> a strange man that’d been stalking you, no less

> it’s adorable- if he wasn’t so attached he could kill you right there

> but you’re just so damn sweet, and genuine

> and you’re so fascinated by these Ghost Face killings…

> maybe you’re worth keeping around for a bit

> just a bit

> that’s what he says to himself anyways

> when you meet him as Ghost Face, it’s after you’ve already got him all figured out

> and he’s lucky that you like a bad boy

Billy Lenz

> it’s a given that you first meet him over the phone

> you’re renting out a spare room from Mrs Mac, not in the sorority but a good enough tenant that she keeps you around

> you get along well with the girls and cook them meals, run study sessions and help clean

> it’s almost parental at times, even if you’re not far off in age

> Billy hates you at first, for taking such good care of ‘filthy piggy whores’

> he tells you just as much over the phone, but you’re not bothered

> you never seem to be bothered by his calls

> and that pisses him off more

> but you’re so so cute… it quickly becomes an obsession

> he’s in your walls constantly, watching you

> and the calls from the moaner start coming more and more frequently at times you’re home alone

> one day you just start giggling at him, tipsy “you know, you scare the girls,”

> “good i—“

> “but your voice is sooo nice. that’s why i pick up so much”

> you didn’t mean to confess that , and you hope he takes it as an awkward joke

> when he hangs up you think that maybe he did take it that way

> its not until late that night that you realize that he knew he was sincere

> before you can register that there’s anything wrong he’s covering your mouth and pinning you to your bed

> “hi there, baby doll,”

> his grin gets huge when your still horrified face goes bright red

> he always knew you were perfect

Bubba Sawyer

> you pick up Nubbins hitchhiking one day, and he’s just dumbfounded by you

> you’re nonplussed by his rambling and you don’t squirm at his yucky pictures. you don’t even kick him out, just drop him off at the gas station.

> you’re not really his type, but you’re fascinating

> he’s gotta get you home to meet his brothers

> so he pops your tires when you go inside- all four

> when you come back out Drayton is cursing him out and smacking him upside the head

> he makes him take you back to the house to rest up while he gets you tires

> of course he intends for Bubba to kill you

> but Nubbins doesn’t pass the message along, because he’s Nubbins

> “Here Bubba! I made us a new friend!”

> you shyly greet him, but he’s an oddly calming presence

> let’s be honest you’ve gotta be okay with a lot fast to like the Sawyers

> so maybe you’re just in denial about the material

> but you tell him you like his mask- and you do

> he obviously worked really hard on getting the makeup just right- and it compliments his suit

> he stares at you a long while before taking your hand and giving you a grand tour

> well, more a tour of his favorite spots

> the chicken coup, a patch of wildflowers out back, and his room full of trinkets collected from victims

> you’re strangely enamored by this big, quiet man

> and you don’t get the sense you’re allowed to leave

> especially when Drayton comes home and goes on and on about witnesses

> but you didn’t really even have an end goal in mind on your road trip anyways

> and now you’ve got Bubba to protect you

> maybe it’s not so bad, stuck with those weirdos

237 notes · View notes

jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 4 months

Note

Hii i saw you have requests open and I was wondering if you'd write about DILF!Jean falling for his son babysitter (he's divorced already and he was when they met) or DILF jean headcannons in general

Hope u can and if not it's okay,have a nice Christmas!! Take care♡

pairing: dilf!jean x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

content + warnings: nothing really. just fluff & some kissing.

a/n: this was sooo fun to write tbh! thank u for ur request!! i hope you had a nice christmas!!

not too long ago, you started working for jean kirstein. well, more like baby-sitting. jean kirstein was a rich, recently divorced dad of one. he had a son who was about two years old and cute as all hell. despite jean not needing to work one more day in his life, he chose to. he wanted to set a good example for his son and quite frankly, he’d be too bored sitting around his house everyday. that’s when he found you, a nice young girl who had experience in babysitting.

when jean first met you, he could tell you were an ideal hire. you were well dressed. you weren’t wearing anything ‘slutty’ or too comfortable. plus, you were easy on his eyes. and his son had taken an immediate liking to you, which was the most important thing to jean. he didn’t hesitate to give you the job and he promised to pay you handsomely. hell, even if he didn’t pay you, you’d consider the job due to the fact of how good looking he was. you thought every woman in town should be jealous of you.

as time went on, you and jean developed a more than professional relationship. you two became friends. he liked you particularly because you’d listen unlike all of the douchebags at work. he liked that he’d come home to a clean house, a fed and in bed baby, and a pretty girl, although he told himself he’d never admit that to you. jean appreciated that you never complained about the hours and always offered to help out with other things around the house. jean knew he could count on you.

there became a time jean started looking at you differently. you weren’t sure quite when it started. the first time you noticed was when you were doing the dishes after you and his kid had just finished dinner. jean had gotten home early unexpectedly. you didn’t hear the front door open due to the running water. the sound of jean clearing his throat was enough to make you jump and drop a dish in the sink. luckily for you, it didn’t break. you turned the water off and turn around to find your boss leaning against the counter, with his arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.” your words fall out in a rush. to your surprise, jean just laughs. his eyes are shimmering with something you can’t quite put your finger on. that was the first night you suspected something was up with him.

after that, jean started paying you more. you weren’t going to complain. jean kept that glint in his eyes, at least whenever he was around you. you couldn’t help the feeling that his eyes were always on you when he’d come home. then, he started having you help out with his son when he was home. he said something along the lines of, “i want to work from home more to be more available for my son but that doesn’t mean i can always keep the best eye on him. i’d appreciate your help more than you’d know, (y/n.)”

how could you say no when he’d say your name like that?

eventually, staying during the day turned into staying for dinner. jean’d cook and you’d watch the baby while he did. jean’s son was an easy baby and you were grateful. you were being paid a lot more than you deserved. you liked staying for dinner. you liked playing housewife even if your fantasy was just one sided. or at least that’s what you thought.

you and jean continued on with this charade for a few months, blissfully unaware of the other’s feelings. you wish you could be with him. you’ve seen the type of man he is. he’s thoughtful, caring, a great cook, a great dad and incredibly handsome. the list goes on. on the other hand, jean was noticing all sorts of things about you. like the way you’d tie your hair up before getting a head start on the chores. or the way you’d blush when he’d pull a chair out for you. or how natural you looked holding his son.

everything changed one night. you had stayed extra late this particular night. jean had meetings all night long. he was doing them virtually but insisted you stay incase his kid woke up. you obliged, secretly hoping he’d ask you to stay. eventually, you pass out on the couch with the baby monitor on the coffee table in front of you.

you wake the next morning to find a blanket covering you. you start to panic, realizing you had fallen asleep on the job, when you were supposed to be keeping an ear out for cries. you dart up, looking for you phone to look at the time. it’s bright in the room and you know it’s the next day. you wander in the kitchen to find jean sitting at the table, reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. he’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajamas. you had never seen this look on him and quite frankly, he looked as good as ever.

he set the newspaper down at your arrival. immediately, you began profusely apologizing for your carelessness. jean smiles.

“i wouldn’t have let you stay if you weren’t wanted.”

these words make you blush. they make you realize how bad you want him and how you’d do anything to be his wife. was there a chance he wanted you too?

jean got up from his chair and pushed it in behind him. “you don’t have to apologize. you aren’t in trouble. the boy was just fine all night. it was unfair of me to ask you to stay so late.” he admitted, leaning against the counter next to you. “truth is, the real reason you were here is a little…selfish.”

your heart was beating so fast. your ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing. and god, your eyes could not stop looking at him. his kind, hazel eyes. his messy brown-blond hair. and his scruff. and his pink, perfect lips. “why was i here?” the words somehow find a way out while you hope you know the answer.

“because i wanted you here.” he moved closer to you. your stomach was in knots, twisting and turning. jean reached a hand up to hold the side of your face. your cheek where his hand rested was burning. you weren’t sure if it was you or him that was so warm. you can’t find anything to say. there’s nothing moving around in your brain except for him. “(y/n,)” he started, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “why do you think you’re here so much?”

“to do my job.”

“no. try again.” jean whispered.

“i don’t know.” you whispered back.

“i think that you do.” jean leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. instinctively, your hand went up to grip his wrist. he was looking right into your eyes. his gaze never faltered. it was that look again. the one from all those nights ago. he pulled away. jean turned his head away and sighed. “(y/n), don’t make me say it.”

“you’re falling for me.” you whispered, your forehead and cheek still burning from his gentle touch. he turned his head back to you, eyes now filled with hope.

“are you…falling for me?” he asked but it came out as more of a plea. you nodded your head. you couldn’t believe this was happening. you were sure you were still asleep and going to wake up soon. “you’re certain?” he tilted his head.

“yes.” your voice still came out as a whisper, afraid the moment would end if you spoke any louder. this was all the confirmation jean needed to hear. it was music to his ears. he took a step closer. you’re afraid your heart might actually beat out of your chest.

jean’s face was leaning in towards yours. you closed your eyes, afraid but wanting. needing. his lips met yours. they are soft and gentle. they’re warm. you felt jean’s hands wrap around your waist as he pulled his mouth away from yours. you opened your eyes finally.

“i’m a cliche, aren’t i?” he asked. “falling for the babysitter?”

you can find my jean fic by clicking here

194 notes · View notes

namazunomegami · 3 months

Text

Into the Void

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: Geto is so succumbed to his ideals that you have no choice but to run. But the hunt for you is more than a simple chase. It's resurrection. It's repentance. Just like in the parable of the lost sheep.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, predator/prey, injuries, blood, toxic dynamics, heavy religious symbolism, emotional distress, dissociation, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, yandere behavior, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising

WC: 5.2k whoops

Credits: my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading but tbh I should start calling you my editor from now on lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed my sneak peeks so much 💕

Song rec: since I can't control myself, I picked 3 songs by Nine Inch Nails that gives the perfect vibes to the story. For the exposition, I recommend Heresy, mostly because the lyrics resonates with the reader's thoughts about Geto. For the escape/chase part, I picked Eraser for the creepy vibes and reader's slowly deterioriating sanity. For the closing part, I picked A warm place because it's a comforting yet a bit gloomy track

A/N: Saying that this idea possessed me is an understatement. Initially I only wanted to put effort into the whole chase scene but obviously I started to add lore into the whole thing. And since they grew on me and I simply love their dynamic, a part 2 is on the way yaaay.

Minors shall not interact unless they wanna get punched.

And a usual warning for dark content. I wanted to keep it mild but I couldn't. Maybe I'm a lil bit too skilled when it comes to writing about fear.

It’s all too painful to think that maybe running away with Geto wasn’t the best idea.

Of course you loved him, you loved the twins too and the makeshift family you created, it really healed some of the wounds you received in the past. But you wished it would’ve stayed that way. Living together, somewhere far away, isolated, in peace. Have a fresh start, build a nest for the four of you and fill it up with love.

But he had other plans.

There were a lot of improvements in the initial phase of your plans. Building community, uniting the herd. You enjoyed some reverence from the followers too. Eventually the initial number of breakthroughs began to stagnate, despite all the effort. It became routine, like you were being dragged through the same day for years and years without end. When you were faced with even more setbacks, you started to realize that you basically never left the temple and it soon began to feel like a cage. Golden and holy. It was draining to see people lose their sense of individuality and how he became their only source of validation. It was torment. Living life as an idol of worship tucked into a forgotten corner of a church. Praised like a twisted Gothic Madonna with a blue cloth over your head, but in reality you weep, you’re their Mater Dolorosa, with swords piercing your sorrowful heart.

The most devastating thing about realizing you’re not fit to run a cult, is the fact that you lack the most understated yet important aspect of it: believing in the agenda you want to spread. How could you guide all those helpless, simple-minded sheep while questioning whether your destination is real or not? Maybe that Canaan has nothing to do with milk and honey, instead it’s just a pile of rubble.

You soon got tired of it all. His drive, his goal, all too impossible to achieve. Maybe he knew he could never make it happen, but it consumed him regardless. You’ve lost the most cherished parts of him to his hatred, his deeply repressed rage against any injustices he had to deal with after the infamous Star Plasma incident.

You weren’t sure about your feelings towards Geto anymore. Were you afraid of him? Angry at him? Bitter? Disappointed? Worried? It all turned into mush, a grotesque, black liquid as the thin walls of the temple slowly made you feel like they were closing in on you. You had no idea how much time you had, until your unresolved feelings will taint the whole place.

You always circled back to the worst possible action to protect your soft, aching heart… When you thought that nothing will change for the better, you wanted to run away. You wanted to hide. The ambivalence of your feelings towards him weighed on your heart and conscience, like a thousand stones. You loved him, yet you loathed what has become of him. Despite that you trusted him with the map of your soul, made it through all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, all the deep abysses of pain and suffering.

Maybe you should run, just for the sake of it. To test how it will make you feel. Will it make you feel freed? At ease? Will it lift the weights on your chest? Will this sense of incoming doom vanish?

Maybe you should find Gojo. He wouldn’t condemn you, but he would be disappointed. If you set your judgement and resentment to aside, he’s the only one who can talk with the higher ups to scratch your name off the list of curse users who are on death row.

How much time did you need to forge your plan? Not even a single minute. It was only natural for you to memorize everybody’s routine, how to distinguish the sound of their steps, to pick a timeframe when nobody is lurking around the halls. The first (and probably last) time you were glad those who have hurt you gave you a skill, besides the ability to harness cursed energy of course. They made you stealthy, alert, observant.

And when Geto left you to cater to his followers, you decided to put your plan into action.

Your body is strung tight with the tension of waiting, agitation making you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams - but something deep inside of your mind pleaded for you to stay. Agony and anxiety were plaguing you until you’ve found enough courage to get up and sneak out. Now, you had the chance to show off everything you’ve learned: sliding the doors shut so slowly that they don’t make a noise, walking down the corridors with socked feet, carefully putting the middle parts of your feet on the floor, instead of your heels, easily avoiding those parts that creak.

Sometimes, when he was immersed in his thoughts, he was amused by how faint your steps sounded.

An involuntary instinct warns you. It’s trying to convince you that he can see you through the eyes of bodhisattvas residing in the thangka paintings decorating the walls. You almost give up your quest as you glance at the depiction of Vajrabhairava. In all its anger, with its six faces and twelve limbs. A dreadful beast that defies death itself.

You don’t want to do this to him, do you?

You look away from the painting, focusing on getting your shoes on and climbing out through the window. As you’re squatting on the windowpane, you can see all of Tokyo stretched out beneath you. You’re a little bit annoyed that all temples are built on a mountain. A long way to go, but you can never know when this place will turn into a funeral pyre.

It’s a little bit too easy. There’s no sign of surveillance curses nearby, you only need to slide down on the wet tiles, jump up high, land in the mud and let yourself be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. You specifically picked your least conspicuous clothes to blend into your surroundings perfectly. And the cold and murky night will let you go safely. The leaves will conceal your tracks.

So many things are working in your favor tonight.

You know there’s no need to rush. You can only draw attention to yourself if you are running around, creating noise and disturbing the wildlife. You don’t even use a flashlight, you have to get used to the darkness, the full Moon will guide you with all her dazzling light. And after that, Tokyo will do the same, with its crowded streets and all its places to hide.

There’s a weird kind of tranquility in your heart. How the cold prickles your skin, the moisture in the air, the faint noise of the creatures dwelling under the leaves, up in the trees, singing, chirping, crawling. The scent of wet soil, the gentle caress of the wind…

Now, you feel free.

As you walk deeper and deeper into the woods, you feel lighter, you feel like you could fly away, like you could dance all the way towards your destination. You’re thinking about actually doing that, as if you got possessed by a strange spirit…

But the uneven, slippery ground makes you fall right into the mud. You squirmed a little, trying to get hold of a tree trunk and then…

Silence, dead silence.

Your heart sinks deep in your chest.

You know what it means. When nature falls silent. There’s…

There’s a threat nearby.

A primal instinct tells you to run.

There’s no way, there’s no fucking way that he already noticed you were gone.

Twigs whip at your skin as you’re running mindlessly. Wherever you end up, it will be fine, as long as you can enter the outskirts of the city. The cold night air stings your throat, your heaving breath leaves your mouth in puffy clouds. You feel the urge to cough, deep from your bone-dry lungs.

The ground beneath you turns soft and steep. You lose your poise, stumbling and rolling all the way down until you fall from a high clod of rain-washed soil. Your body collides with a cold, wet, yet incredibly hard and flat surface, fraying the skin on your palm and face. Your back and shoulders will be bruised by tomorrow, painting your body with black and blue spots. The pain ripples through your entire being, paralyzing you for a couple of moments.

As you slowly gathered your battered self from the ground with a grunt, you realize you landed on a road. It’s a good sign, you’re not so far from civilization. But instead of following the road, cutting through the forest is the wiser decision.

Your relief is short-lived, just like a may fly.

A sinister feeling takes hold on you. It makes you freeze, squeezing your insides. Like you’re sitting in the jaw of an eldritch beast. You slowly turn back to the direction of your fall.

The lights are flickering.

You grab on the guardrail for dear life. You try to fill your lungs with shaky breaths, your heart desperately beating against your ribcage. Your trembling knees barely keep you upright, yet nothing can make you move. You have been found, you’re defeated, there’s no point in running away from him. The injuries, the already forming bruises will only deplete your strength.

How could you fight him? You’re aware that if he wanted to, he could break your bones and twist your body at the joints with an arm behind his back.

How could you outrun him? He’s capable of summonning a swarm of curses before you even take a step.

How could you make war with him?

Three of the lamp lights were already out, you stared into the darkness, the boundless abyss right before your eyes. You can’t even force yourself to blink.

And when the lights came back on, he was just standing there. Without breaking a sweat. Your pulse feels non-existent.

What infuriated you even more was that he wasn’t wearing his gojo-kesa. The motherfucker even gave you a head start by changing into something comfortable before he came to fetch you. Or simply he noticed your absence later than you expected.

Whatever, both is bad news for you.

He doesn’t utter a single word, he merely walks towards you. Slowly cornering you. Feasting on the terror on your face. Meanwhile you can’t unravel what could possibly be going on in his mind. The only thing you notice is that those violet sparks in his eyes are so sharp they could cut yours out of their sockets.

Should you give up? Should you beg for forgiveness?

But then, an idea blooms inside your mind.

You don’t hide your fear, you let your body tremble freely, fingers desperately clinging onto the metal, with your shoulders hunched to protect your neck and your wide, frightened eyes stare back at him. Letting him believe that you won’t fight back. That he can take you back to the temple and throw you back into your cage.

And when his foot hits the bisector, you jump. Right into the nothingness behind your back.

You fall on leaves and broken twigs again. You roll and roll with such speed you can’t comprehend the growing distance. Not even having an idea of how far you’re from him. Small rocks, branches, hardened roots of trees, bones all cut, scratch and pierce you. But you endure it, you’ll undergo any torture if it meant you’ll be freed. Your only hope is that the adrenaline will deal with the pain.

Suddenly, you violently crash into a tree, the ridged texture imprints deeply into your stomach. Acid bursts from your throat. Your diaphragm didn’t avoid the hit either, breathing is not unlike Sisyphean task as you try to get your shaking limbs to stand. Your mind is disturbed by the lack of air and your desperate attempts at getting yourself together. You’re wheezing like a dog. You must look pathetic, you think.

It takes almost all of your mental strength to calm down and slowly breathe through your nose, your lungs finally opening. But Geto won’t let you recover, you hear the fallen leaves getting crushed under his feet. You take a few sharp, ragged breaths, like it’s the last drag of a cigarette before the train comes and then, you move.

You hide behind a thick pine tree, palms covering your mouth and nose. The lack of oxygen is just another frustrating hindrance to your successful escape plan. Dizziness fills your head like a thick fog and sucks the strength out of your shins, needing to lean against the trunk to keep yourself standing. You try to conceal your cursed energy with all your might. A tracker who’s untraceable is a useful pawn in the hands of the higher ups, this skill made you a cherished student back in the day. Back when everything was so… no, it’s only the nostalgia making you wistful, it wasn’t any better.

The rustling gets quieter, you wait until the sound eventually dies. An almost muted sigh of relief leaves your lips in a thick cloud, dancing in the cold air.

From the corner of your eye, a floating form cuts through the pale moonlight.

Looking closely at its shape, you realize what kind of curse it is. The beetle looking one that attacks instantly once it senses movement. You can’t believe it, you’re going to -

The curse drags itself into your aura, scanning your form that is fused with the pine. Every muscle is tensed, you’re stiff as a board, you suppress every reflex in your eye and empty chest. You’re just like a statue, a corpse, showing no signs of life. Only an agonizing scream echoes inside your skull. A scream that puts mental breakdowns to shame.

It’s like an eternity until the curse finally disappears from your sight.

You definitely look exhausted, your body is limp and heavy like lead. But you must keep going at all costs, even if you have no idea how many curses are sent after you. You walk around the mountain instead of going down like he’d expect it.

Slowly yet surely, you calm yourself down. You know that you’re still in his grasp, but you still have a chance to outsmart him. You go deeper and deeper, you’re near the heart of the forest now. The moonlight barely crawls through the leaves, it’s easier to navigate according to what you hear rather than to what you see. The surroundings are growing eerie, you ache for light and warmth. And the longing sucks a bit of spirit out of you.

Before you can start questioning yourself, the sound of running water fills your ears.

A narrow, yet fast running stream plowed through the forest. Though you were unsure of staying close to the stream, going through it and getting to the other side sounds like a smart idea. As you take a reluctant step, you realize the water is ice cold. And when you dive into it further, enduring the strong current, it’s not as shallow as you believed. You’re submerged all the way up to your thighs. At its deepest point, the stream hugs your waist. The cold makes your movements slow and rigid, your teeth clang together in a frenzy. The bottom is filled with smooth, flat pebbles, they make it easy to -

You slip on the rounded, polished stones and fall into the stream. The freezing temperature makes your skin shrink, it prickles you like a thousand needles. Scared, you crawl around the bottom, trying to get a hold of something and emerge back to the surface. A sharp, burning pain wakes in your palm, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to swallow your scream, but it wants to burst from your lungs, you grunt and whimper until you can bite down on your sweatshirt, letting the material muffle your shout. Your gaze fixates on your hand and even in the darkness of the night, you see blood oozing from the deep cut, from your own torn flesh. The urge to retch is strong.

You palm is plunged back into the cool water, in hope of easing the pain.

He calls out your name right behind you.

You crawl out of the water, running from him, just as before. It doesn't matter how many times you trip, fall, stumble. It doesn’t matter how your fresh wounds end up in the mud, you don’t have it in you care about the pain or the looming threat of an infection. You hear him trying to reason with you. You must come back home, you’re injured, you’re bleeding. He must take care of you.

Why are you running? Where could you go? Who’s going to help you recover?

No, you mustn’t let your determination crumble. But oh… it sounds so easy. Giving in to your hopelessness.

An evergreen bush becomes your shelter to collect yourself and check on your wound, which is aching from all the dirt and is still bleeding. Water is dripping from your hair, your clothes are soaked, makes it easier for the cold night air to bite into you, to shake the whole length of your body. Your fingers are hardly moving and have no strength in them. The adrenaline is starting to wear off. You feel alone, small, and vulnerable. You’re freezing, scarred and aching. All the things you see in the dark twist into creepy, threatening forms. Everything that surrounds you is suddenly dangerous. As a lonely spider crawls within your field of vision, you flinch. The world around you is evil and everything is after your flesh.

And the only person who can save you is the one you’re running away from.

What are you going to do now? Fight, flight, or freeze? Which instinct is going to win this time? Because comprehensible thoughts won’t work on you. Every little layer of a fully-fledged human with a conscience has been stripped from you. You left them scattered everywhere in the woods. You’re nothing more than a primordial shell of a being.

Ceremonial horns wake in the distance, soon followed by howling. They let the dogs out to hunt you down. Poor, little hare. Your own stupidity has woken up the beast.

Who is like unto the beast?

You defeat the paralyzing dread and decide on flight. You dash out from the bushes, but - Oh… your eye. Your soft doe eye. There’s something in it. And your tears have an oddly metallic taste on your tongue.

And power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.

You wish you could see yourself from the outside, but you’re probably nowhere near as majestic as you think you are. Right now you feel like you’re the fastest, stealthiest creature who’s ever lived, even if your muscles are almost torn, weak, and tensed. This is the last crumb of your strength, this is your all.

And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him.

You don’t dare to look back. You know he’s there. He’s so close, he’s orbiting around you like a moon does with its planet. As if all of this is a dance. A hunt is a dance with a coital rhythm. And mother nature is the audience to your deadly waltz.

And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

He takes your hand in his. Gentle and kind. To not scare you any further. You snap like an electric current under his touch, but you break free and zigzag between the trees.

He grabs your waist. Forcefully. It scares you this time. You escape from his embrace before he can swallow you whole. But he might have bit your throat during the process, you feel something trailing down your collarbones. You hear your bones crack.

It was all a mistake. You are a mistake. But mistakes can be forgiven, right? He has forgiven you so many times, you can’t even think of a number.

You slide down on a slope, leaves stick to your clothes, and you drop onto a thick trunk of a fallen oak. Tensive pain ripples in your side. You should stand up and run, but you can’t move. You won’t move. What’s wrong with you? What kind of prey gives the fight up before its last breath? But you think about your frozen limbs, the pain in your palm, your back, your shoulder blades, everywhere. You think about home… you want to go home or be left here to die. But the thought of dying here, alone, makes your heart palpitate rapidly, like there’s not enough air to fill your lungs. Your breathing becomes desperate, panicked even. Your chest hurts, your ribcage is ready to break apart by your racing heartbeat. You press your palms against your head, clawing into your hair. Every little morsel of you is bursting into a tremor. The connection between your mind, your body and the world cease to exist. And that lovely, unlimited stretch of space inside your consciousness is shaken, it’s in utter chaos. Breaking into tiny little pieces, like glass, like porcelain. Tears and plucks like paper and fabric. Shrieks and wails, rejecting the only thing that makes all creatures on this plane of existence agitated over their own mortality.

You’re doomed.

Unconsciously, your limbs curl into the very same position you took when you saw the world for the first time, protecting your belly and face, making you seem small. Geto knows you only do that when you fear what might happen to you, despite being unaware of the kind of terror your brain had subjected you to. That’s why he approaches you slowly, making no sudden movements as he picks you up gently, like one would lift a porcelain figure from the ground. When you open your eyes, he had already settled you into his lap as the manta ray curse lifts the two of you up to mount the skies.

You have no idea if he hunted you down or saved you from your own demise.

What a defiant, ungrateful creature you are, you think. You tried so viciously to run away from your burden, and now you feel safe with him again, you dare clinging to him, you dare seek his warmth. The contradicting thoughts and desires torture you on the way back. There’s only one faint voice inside your head that’s capable of calming you down, able to keep your sanity intact…

You’re the lost sheep, and he’s the shepherd who searched all over the world to find you. And he’ll bring you back to the flock, and he’ll love you more than the rest of them.

Your false god. Your fallacious savior. Will he forgive you if you repent on your knees? Until they get bloody and bruised?

Back at the temple, he refuses to let you take even a step on your own. You weren’t born to run, to soil your soles with the ground that filthy monkeys walk on. You’re meant to be worshipped, to claim the whole world as yours beneath dainty, soft feet.

The warm lamplight and the comfort of your shared room helps you unwind. To shift back into a much more civilized, humanlike state. And as you practically glue yourself to the heater, you notice more dirt, more cuts, more blood marring your flesh than you expected.

When you take off your grimy sweatshirt, shoes, and socks, Geto is towering over you. There’s nothing imposing about him, he looks rather troubled as he sighs.

“What do I do with you?”

You roll your eyes. Oh, the good old rhetorical question. He has no idea if he should treat your wounds first, bathe you or break your leg just like the Gospel says.

“Come, let me take a look at your hand.”

You see your reflection in the mirror, and you’re horrified. Your right eye is bloodshot, a deep cut is splitting through your lower lip. You’re drenched in mud, already dried on your face along with some patches of wine dark blood. Together they seal the scraped skin on your cheek, makes your hair stick together into thick strands, accessorized with pine leaves and other remains from your little hike. You’re blistered and torn, you can barely recognize yourself.

It's pleasant to rinse your hands with warm water at the sink, but the sight makes your stomach twist. That nasty wound is too deep, it has to be sewn shut. A shiver races down on your spine when you see the first aid kit. He soaks a fresh gauze pad with wound solution and guides it towards the gaping cut with a pair of tweezers. The sting is horrible, the burning sensation rivals acid being poured straight into your flesh, it makes you grunt and hiss. He gives you a moment to breathe and collect yourself then he continues, despite your whimpers and twitching, tensed fingers. But the pain pales in comparison to when he swipes a new, clean pad inside your wound, cleaning it of all the filth. A pathetic cry erupts from your throat.

“Stop.” you sob, pulling your hand away to hug it close to your chest. You’re too distressed to realize that the temporary discomfort is necessary. But maybe this whole act is nothing but another one of his silly little games.

He places a finger under your eye, close to your lashes and collects your tears. The sight of you crying is somehow not worth of savoring to him. Before any little drop of your sorrow and regret can roll down your cheek like diamonds, he smears them, as if they could make your misery vanish. Well, they can’t. It frustrates you that you can’t let your feelings manifest because he’s ready to devour them just like his curses.

He doesn’t care that your face is caked in dirt, blood and tears, he lifts your chin up to kiss you. Deeply. You’re not reprimanded for not kissing him back.

You were right, he’s definitely toying with you. He makes it hurt before he soothes the ache. He creates a connection in your mind. Like you’re the dog of Pavlov, slowly conditioned to associate him with anything that makes the human heart fill with delight.

The tiles attract your attention much more than watching how the curved needle dives into your skin, how the thread closes the wound proficiently. Your features soften for a moment. Shoko would be so proud of him... Not for the reason he got so good at it though. He learnt to treat his wounds for the sole purpose of not letting a non-sorcerer doctor ever touch him.

He’s crazy. Vile. Petty. And delusional. It drives you crazy too.

But when your stitched hand is wrapped up in bandages, you seriously think about thanking him for putting up with you. For not being angry at you.

“Maybe this will make you reconsider your actions next time.” he remarks in a flat tone, concealing what’s going on in his mind.

You keep your gratitude to yourself.

But it’s not an easy task when he continues spoiling you, with so much care that it rivals motherly love. How he rinses all the grime out of your hair, how he gives you a moment of peace in a tub filled with plain, warm water, no bubbles or scented oils to irritate your scarred, sensitive skin. He dries you, brushes your hair and fills the whole bedroom with the calming notes of lavender and cedarwood coming from the incense burners. But he’s just so fixated on your injuries… every scratch, every surface level cut is thoroughly sanitized. It’s still humiliating, even when you’re the one sitting comfortably on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor.

You’re afraid the extra pampering will twist your reasoning and resolve. That’s all part of the mind games he plays. You know he’ll go out on his way to prove that the world outside is cruel, that this is the only place where you’re safe, loved. In his proximity, under his hand.

And somewhere, deep down, you admit that he’s close to convincing you.

It makes you mad, you want to tear him to shreds, you want to weep for him just like Mary did under the cross. There’s still care, there’s still love under all those layers of burning hatred. What remains is twisted though, but it is there.

After you’re patched up, he glances up at you, thumb brushing your lip right next to that nasty cut. His other hand is resting where your thigh and knee meet. It’s a sign, a warning.

“Was it worth it, little lamb?” his tone is soothing and playful. So close to being outright mockery.

You reflect in silence, averting your gaze from him. All those scars and discolored skin, your disturbed mind, and the ache in your bones - you realize that your stupid little plan was futile. Totally unnecessary, it’s no achievement you can be proud of. At least if you’re not as masochistic as to pride yourself on your injuries. But the fact that he can recognize the parallels coats your answer with bile.

“No.”

Because you know that you can be so much more… There’re unlimited possibilities to a repented non-believer. And now you know that being his doubting Thomas has no benefits.

Maybe you did lose your faith in him, like the lamb in that story, to eventually realize how much you need him and vice versa. But you’re not satisfied with being a lost sheep. You just haven’t decided on your role in his Gospel yet. This is your call, you don’t know exactly which part of him calls out to you, but you’re satisfied with either of them. Whether it’s a prophet, a messiah, a beast, or the devil itself. The fallen Morningstar who used to be the favorite.

This can be your true Genesis.

“Go on, break my leg if you want to. There’s meaning in that, at least.” you dare echo his last words to Gojo, clean and low.

And your bones remain whole.

You’re relieved. Though you’re sick of his maneuvers with your mind, you’re aware their purpose is not to hurt you or punish you. These aching limbs of yours go limp as he crawls into bed next to you. The arm you were scared of coils around your waist. Viciously tight, much like a snake. The snake that corrupted Eve in the garden. The one that made her sin, got her cast out of paradise, the one that turned her whole world upside down. And maybe Eve did fall in love with the serpent, the worst creature that God had ever created. But even though he caused the fall of mankind, the serpent freed you from the clutches of a jealous, ungrateful god who denied knowledge from his own creations. Now you have the passion to rebel, to prove your creator wrong, to avenge his mistreatment. Give in to the temptation of your snake, believe his honeyed words, accept the fruit for a second time. Because you still remember the taste, oh so sweet and luscious. And with all the power he wields, you can win back your lost Eden or re-build it on earth, the home you’re both yearning for. It’s a promise between the two of you, silent, because words are not needed, only closure.

Something warm blooms inside your chest. Yes, that’s it! You can finally feel it now…

The very first ounce of belief.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #idk why but geto is very downward spiral coded to me #fun fact the title is another song by nin lmao #and i dont delibaretely write him as a yandere but somehow i finish a fic and reread an then... whoops he's yandere #geto suguru x reader #meesa writes

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loves1ckgirl · 2 months

Text

Denki Kaminari with an online best friend

Denki x American! reader

Online friends + maybe romantic-ish

Note, I have no idea how to write in the grammar of someone learning English so I’m just avoiding contractions and using a bit of chat gtp to make the sentence to be a little more incorrect lol.

He initially met you while playing a FPS at 3am

The game between you and both was mostly silent aside from some English and Japanese cursing, Denki understood some what you said

You however; did not understand him, but assumed he was expressing the same frustration and wasn’t just getting upset at you

After your first game was played, he had sent you a few emojis and a little english

The game you had been playing along side some random from Japan had gone surprisingly well. It was such a bad game for the loser you wondered if it was because they were absolute garbage or all of a sudden you became a gaming god. As you leaned back in your chair and attempted to fix the knot that formed in your back from hunching, you looked back at your computer screen. There you see a friend and message request.

Kaminarieki

“You are good at playing. Can we play more?”

As you read the message, you decide to respond and pray he wasn’t some 30 year old incel. After all, you were bored, and a bit lonely.

After that first interaction, you would go on to play with him often

However, neither of you talked very often especially after you came to the conclusion you didn’t speak the same language

In the end, there were still some short convos

Kaminari liked these, as he thought you were cool

The fact that UA English classes were more rigorous helped him in talking to you (a hero needed to communicate with a large variety of people)

A couple of months in, he was struggling with his classes exponentially, and no amount of help by his friends would help him,

He then thought it was a good idea to message you and explain that he thought it would be nice to talk and learn through a fluent speaker instead

Kaminarieki

“Can we talk a lot I am learning English I think your cool.”

“I’m down. It’s late now though. I have school is tomorrow okay? Also, the your should be you’re”

Kaminari sends a cute little heart emoji,

“Yes. Thank you.”

For awhile, you’d avoid many abbreviations and some complex Slang

Eventually Kaminari had gotten more advanced and you spoke more casually

After exchanging Instagram and other accounts, instead of mostly talking as you guys played, it started during school and random times of day

The time difference didn’t mean much since the both of you had terrible sleep schedules

(Although, he was a bit more regular due to his hero school)

As you talked to him you obviously found more of his personality and it had become more endearing tbh

He’d most definitely google English pick up lines

Eventually as his friends noticed his behavior and how if he’d planned to play with you he’d decline

Also how he’d be texting more than before (mostly on his Sundays and Monday’s as you’d be awake the longest when he was.)

Lowkey hates the time difference tbh.

Anyway, as his friends noticed him typing away on those two days in particular they’d begun to ask questions about who he was texting

“My friend.” He’d say, looking up from the phone for a second before continuing the text. Mina had begun even more curious than previously.

“Whaaa? Friend? Who?” She asks, leaning over the couch and Kaminari’s shoulder. She sees joke flirty messages that he sends and receives.

He ended up telling them about you and explains that’s why his English grade was getting better

Anywayyy he’s overall super cute with you

Basically just being himself

If you ever wanted to learn Japanese he’d 100% do his best to help you enthusiastically

He tries his best to keep you updated since it’s its hard to talk to you regularly

#denki kaminari #mha hcs #mha #my hero academia #denki x reader #bnha denki #denki headcanons #denki x y/n #denki fluff #kaminari x reader #bnha kaminari #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x you #kaminari fluff #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia #bhna #bhna imagine #bhna x reader

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h-harleybaby · 11 months

Note

I would like to request a Elf King!Kyle x Human!Princess!Reader. Reader is Cartman's sister and forbids Kyle from liking her.

Thank you <33

Those are super cute Tbh

I have so many Elf King Kyle x human princess reader requests I decided I’d do one post about it

It’s probably gonna take me a sec to write it but I will gladly <333

Elf King Kyle x Human Princess Reader

• When Elf King Kyle saw you, mans was HEAD OVER HEELS, it was love at first sight and he doesn’t even really believe in that

• When you guys first met on business for a peace treaty between the elves and the humans y'all ended up getting distracted and becoming friends

• He really tried being intimidated but it didn't work at all considering his face was a shade of red and he was sweating the whole time. I mean you were in a similar state so it wasn't as bad for Kyle as it probably would've been

• After a while of talking he found out that honestly, you were only on Cartmans side because he was your brother. And even you had to admit, the man was an annoying shit that sometimes you couldn't deal with

• Y'all ended up bonding over your similar feelings towards your brother

• Ofc your meeting ended up being cut short when your brother kept sending messenger after messenger to come get you because he was bored of waiting for you

• When you got back and he heard from his messengers you best believe he started gagging and said that he'd handle the affairs with the elf kingdom now. He can't have his sister having a crush on Kyle!! That's soooooo gross

• He definitely told Kyle that he's forbidden to see the human princess (you) and that it's not allowed for anyone to have crushes on you because he has the stick of truth and its super weird for him. Why it's weird for him specifically no one will ever know

• Obviously that didn't stop Kyle, why would he listen to him?? It's Cartman after all

• This started secret meetings between you guys, it honestly wasn't that hard to sneak out considering your brother snores like a fucking leaf blower

• The elves caught wind of this because duh, it's their kingdom they should know what's happening in it

• So one night before you left the elf kingdom after one of you and Kyle's secret meetings, some elves kidnapped you

• They didn't hurt you in any way it was almost kinda funny because of how bad of a job they did. They tried blindfolding you... but used really really thin fabric you could see out of

• Anyways, for the most part they just questioned you a lot. They kept asking if you had a crush on the king and in general, were shipping you guys

• To be honest, the elves loved you and just wanted a chance to talk to you. At some point they untied you and took off the blindfold so you guys just had a normal conversation

• They really wanted to get to know the girl that their king was so smitten with, that he would talk about her any and EVERY chance he got

• Cartman was definitely pissed when you got home, how he knew you were gone was beyond you. He kept grumbling about how you "smelled of stupid elves" which was really weird

• Yeah no, turns out he just got one of the humans to spy on you and tell him what they saw. Gee, thanks man :rolling eyes:

• Anyways, the secret meetings continued because who the hell was gonna stop you? Definitely not your brother, and y'alls mom thought it was cute so she wasn't gonna try either

• Soon enough, the meetings started turning into unspoken dates before you guys eventually made it official

• Both of you were so obvious it was almost stupid how neither of y'all realized until your individual knights told you

• Stan is definitely Kyle's wing man, no doubt

• Butters and Kenny are probably yours, which is utter chaos but that's for another time

• Honestly, your brother wasn't happy about this but the elves would totally beat his ass for you so he wasn't gonna say anything about it for once

• Kyle (not so) jokingly calls you his elf queen and it's super sweet

My lil Cartman shimeji was staring at me as I wrote this, he's so dang cute <3333

anyways ignore spelling mistakes, shhhh they are not thereeee

#h harleybaby needs help #harley’s anons <33 #south park x reader #south park x reader headcanons #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #elf king kyle broflovski x reader #stick of truth x reader #harley’s requests!

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boyfridged · 1 year

Note

Regarding Jason's pre-crisis characterization, would you say that he really is just a carbon copy of Dick or did he eventually grow into his own character in the span of his run time? Also, would you recommend it to a Jason fan to read about his pre-crisis days?

i don't think pre-crisis jay has ever been a carbon copy of dick actually! i know it's a popular opinion but frankly speaking, i think people who say that either have not read his pre-crisis run at all or have not cared enough to understand the story.

the fact that pre-crisis jason’s origin and background (in major ways, but not 1:1, that’s also a misconception) mirrors that of dick was not “lazy writing” and it’s not some sign of the general silliness and carelessness of the editorial of the times. it was very much a conscious, well-thought-through decision.

let me break this down (so that it doesn't become another essay):

to make it clear before i get into anything else: jay's background being so similar to that of dick is actually a way to set up a story about their differences. despite sharing so much experience, there are some key variables in both their origins and personalities that the writers clearly wanted to bring readers' attention to. i will circle back to it later.

i reckon a lot of dc fans who never actually got to read these issues have this misconception that the death of the pre-crisis todds was an exact parallel to that of the flying graysons. however, jason’s parents do not die in a way that dick’s parents do; in fact, joseph and trina todd die while aiding dick in an investigation after he requested their help (this is also why dick later says that he would take care of jason have bruce not offered; he feels guilty for their demise.) this is a deeply fascinating concept tbh, because the todds are like collateral damage to vigilantism; sacrificial lambs, and dick is responsible for it, leaving another orphan on the scene. it's a full cycle!

it was also a smart way for jason to enter the narrative this way because it gave him a link to his predecessor. unlike post-crisis, jason’s first contact is dick, which makes sense, because it’s a story about robin (as a disclaimer: the way post-crisis alters it is also sensible for the plot it tries to convey; but these are two various storylines, approached from a much different angle!)

and pre-crisis jay is a very much different character from dick since day one. dick projects on him vehemently, giving him the robin mantle (once jay tries out different identities btw), which jason accepts as a gesture of love but also dreads. he struggles with the concept of vigilantism from the start, while everyone around him assumes that this is simply the way things go because his circumstances are so similar to that of both dick and bruce. he has a seriously tough time trying to reconcile with the concept of dual identities. he questions bruce's motives and actions a lot more than both dick in his early days and post-crisis jason. he stares numbly at the wall after his first patrol. he voices his concerns.

here i also want to say, that while i absolutely do think everyone should read these stories, and there are some storylines that can be incorporated into post-crisis jay canon, it doesn't hurt to consider which of them do not fit into it at all.

post-crisis and pre-crisis jay have completely different backgrounds, and since pre-crisis jay has been brought up in a rather safe and stable environment, as i mentioned, he's much more confident in questioning bruce. on the contrary, post-crisis jay seems to be so delighted to be having an adult at all that his faith in batman is almost absolute (for most of his robin run at least.)

as i said, pre-crisis jay is also much more aware of the duality of the vigilante life. as a former performer, he says that it feels disappointing to know that none of the people whom he helps will know his name, and he is used to having an audience (he is aware that it is a selfish sentiment.) this is not a thing that post-crisis jay considers at all.

i also imagine that post-crisis jay would never tell bruce the (famous) words that he would be perfectly happy to be just his son and not his sidekick (which he does pre-crisis); not because the truth is different but because he doesn't fully comprehend that it's an option. post-crisis robin jay's compartmentalisation is barely existent if at all; bruce "gave him" robin even before he took him in, so the roles of a son & sidekick are almost one and the same for him, which is why i'd say the events of a death in the family occur at all (he "failed" as robin -> he runs away to find another parent).

and well. pre-crisis jay actually has friends. his world does not begin and end with his role as gotham's protector and hope. speaking of which, he also does not possess the same passionate relationship with gotham as post-crisis jay does.

there are of course many traits they share – i'd say they both have even more sympathy for criminals and an even stronger of belief in rehabilitation than bruce does. they are also both, in a way, a victim of the cycle in the family and projection – bruce (and pre-crisis, dick) assume that the way of dealing with grief is to go out into combat, which is not necessarily true for them. but ironically, i think, it's post-crisis jay who remains more innocent and is easy-going in the way he initially settles into the role.

ultimately, i think all batfamily fans should read pre-crisis robin jay's run because it's perhaps the only run that takes adoption and the topic of legacies seriously. and it's before the editorial and writers decided that batman having a child was lame, and that robin's role was just CA, so bruce is truly parenting. while pre-crisis bruce is much more of a sweetheart than post-crisis bruce is, so it may not all seem "realistic" for contemporary characterisation, it still gives a good idea of what a plotline about bruce being a parent could and should look like. i'm not going to lie to you, post-crisis jay's run feels seriously loveless compared with pre-crisis. pre-crisis, there's plenty of family tensions, and at times it appears that no one in this damn family understands each other, and yet there's so much fondness and care and desperate declarations of belonging. pre-crisis jay's story is genuinely, from the very beginning, a story about a child whose parents die entangled in a vigilante's investigation and who is thrown into a family of vigilantes, projected onto from all sides, and who tries to fill in shoes he never truly asked for in the first place. but dear god is there tenderness there. is there self-awareness and a serious attempt to conceive what taking over a mantle of a sidekick means. yeah. much more than it is in post-crisis.

#thank you for opportunity to talk about pre-crisis #because. truly from the bottom of my heart. it's such a good run. SO SO good.#back when dc used to say things that were true and beautiful #<- old man (23) getting sentimental over good ol' times (he wasn't even alive back then.)#dc #jay.zip #jay.txt #jason todd #core texts #pre-crisis

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hangeslefteye · 1 year

Text

Fvckbuddies to lovers HCS for Eren and Porco (modern au?) nsfw apparently

Them because they are simply ✨THE TYPE TO✨Also this makes them my type too xDD Guess who studied their functions?? I'll be writing about these two a lot this week xD

Eren:

Someone blast Deftones xDDD

Look,Eren is the petty emotional type and not the automatic sensless fuckboy.

Considering his EMOTİONAL AF ass, if Eren is choosing this type of relationships,chances are he was cheated on previously.

Aside from trust issues he's possibly trying to forget his ex.

He's depressed af

Or maybe he thinks all women eventually cheat so he's being petty by being an asshole.

What I mean by this is no open expectations talk.

You won't know if your relationship with him is only sexual, or romantic too?

Heartbreaker type backbreaker too

İt's easy to imagine Eren sending you the cliche hook up texts/nudes at midnight -because he gets overwhelmed by his emotions especially at night- coming to your place and ravaging you just correctly.

Sex with him will be always a little angry and angsty :/

Hard to say he exactly cares about your pleasure soo...you better chase your own orgasm tbh xD

Which won't be hard to,he's naturally good at this.

Chances are he has learnt a lot from his ex and he does many things subconsciously.

Also he accidentally remembers his ex when he's with you

You will know when he thinks of them xDD

He's extra degradative and acts you completely like an escort,maybe even worse.

İnteresingly his emotional ass is the type to NEVER do some certain things with his ✨GİRLFRİEND✨

But you are not that.

You are just a simple slut for him.

Facials?Anal?Slapping?Breath choking?Threesome?Degration?

You are not his girlfriend afterall.

Ah,also he's the head-pusher type.You better take it all or none.İt doesn't matter if you puke on it,better even.

And you'll get no aftercare either.

Not that he doesn't care,he does care.

But he should run back to his place before you can see him crying.Because he's emotionally WRECKED.

He's the tears after cum type :/

However his emotional ass was not designed to mindlessly fuck around.

Simply not that.

So even if he escapes from small talk and affectionate kissing,caressing,aftercare etc. he'll fall for you anyways.

İf he realises he has a thing for you,he'll go around trying to find himself an another partner(s)

He might try to avoid you in the process but he could never xD

*insert sudden emotional breakdown out of nowhere*

Congrats

You guys are officially dating now xD

He has a lot of love to give <3 Suddenly he is very thoughtful and loving.A great bf for real.

However (his) trust issues are not easy to get rid of.

He'll constantly check your phone secretly/not so secretly

He'll call/text very often when you are with your friends.

I hope you don't have a close guy friend(s) because...umm you won't have one after dating with him anyways xD

On the good side 7/24 around you

İt can take him months maybe years to trust you so you must put work into that.

Which he surely does worth the effort.

Last thing is...remember the list above?İt doesn't matter how much you want any of those he simply won't ✨disrespect✨you like that.(not that those are disrespectful he's just crazy xD)

Also he'll feel kinda guilty because he wanted some things to be more special and romantic and not random.He'll never admit tho

Adding his sexual guilt into this one,he kinda regrets the way things escalated.

But he surely knows how to make it up to you.

You guys will go to lots of random but cute dates,you get to pick wherever you want and it's done.

He does photo albums <3

He doesn't have to make EVERY MEMORY immortal but...he'll do just because he can xD

Clingy.clingy.clingyyyyy

✨Touch addiction✨

Porco:

You can blast chase atlantic with this one xD

Porco is the automatic fuckboy

Why? Because it takes him A LOT to fall in love.

He simply does not get carried away.

And of course he's in for the thrill of meaningless sex and not the boredom of relationships.

Open talk type of guy <3

He doesn't want to upset you by giving you the false signals and VERY upfront with it.

Doesn't like kissing,touching while on it but he can do it for you anyways.

He actually understands this goes 50/50 so he'll put effort into you.

Aftercare does.not.exist.

do.not.touch.him. when you are done.

Either dress up or leave or he is out of door anyways.

Also he won't see you out of bedroom and very strict with it.

İf you guys have to co-exist,he'll unsee you like you never existed in the first place.

And he's not the type to fall in love instantly after sex.

To him,sex is one thing;love is something much else.

He must know you very well for that.

Shortcut to that is:✨FUN✨

İf he can have fun with you without getting bored or feeling suffocated,eventually he'll want to know more about you.

Just ask him for a concert/party and say you want public sex xD

He looooves public for sure.

Anything risky?He's in.

1-2 maybe 3 hangouts and suddenly he just wants to dance/listen the music.He just wants to have fun and he'll accidentally forget about sex.

He knows he's fucked up when this happens xD

He wants to ghost you so bad xD

Out of nowhere his kisses last longer,he begins to touch you more,he prefers face to face positions.

I think we can all say he's either a doggy or reverse cowgirl man.

Why?

:✨ASS✨

He surely hates long eye contact too xD

And if the awkward pillowtalk hits...he's whipped

He's the type to have occasional jealousy breakdowns, in secret.

He's too prideful to admit any feelings or whatsoever.

İnstead he marks you.

Anywhere visible is just fine.

COLLARBONES!!!!Neck,thighs,chest,back...anywhere.

Outside he either lays an arm over you or gives you his jacket,hat,scarf etc.

His ✨secret✨ plan is to fall in a natural relationship pattern with you without talking about his feelings xD

From outside,he actually looks like your bf but he's too jealous to keep this going.

Eventually he'll blow up.

He'll have a tantrum about how many more men you see.

*insert feelings and the tsundere blush*

Congrats

You guys are officially dating xD

Seems distant and greatly weirded out but...

He's a kitten for sure :D

He was prolly never romantically loved/cared by someone before so...

H-hugging??

That thing is weird to him but, addicting? Like...do it again? xD

He's a kinda attention whore for you but still prideful af

He recently discovered that thing called,umm...cuddling?

Yeah that thing is not very bad xD He doesn't mind when you spoon him or lay his head to your chest etc.

Lap kitten xD *İnsert simp label*

180 degrees of turn about relationships.

Those things are actually cool?

Like,loser you don't have a gf?

But that would only last as long as he's happy/content

He's the 0 bullshit type and he wouldn't stand arguments to protect his own happiness/heart.

Also he'd want lots of space and freedom.

You can be his best friend,but he'll have other friends too.

İf he feels upset/suffocated/cornered etc. you can lose him overnight.

İf things get too routine or boring,you can lose him again.

But he won't let it get there himself.He's naturally good at creating tension anyways.

İf handled correctly he can be the best of everything <3

Enough internet for tonight I'll fix my grammer.... in the morning? xD I hope you enjoyed it <3

179 notes · View notes

cherryo · 1 year

Note

Hello! Hope you are having wonderful day :3

Would you write some headcanons for rottmnt boys x reader who shows cute agression that often tires to bite them softly and squish with hugs?

It can be a little smut if you feel so :3

OH MY GOSH!!! I LOVED THIS SOOOOOOO SOOOO MUCH!!! IM AN AGRESSIVE LOVER SO THIS HIT SO CLOSE TO HOME FOR ME!!! i had so much fun writing this!! i didn't go with smut this time so just fluff, but if you want a smuttier version I can definitely do that!

Pronouns: none ? i think lol warnings: none it's pure fluff, cursing though? slight talk about Donnies panic at touch and his insecurity, but that should be it?

Leo

Out of all the boys I think he's the most okay with it? In terms of not caring or acknowledging when it happens

Not in a bad way though!! He absolutely melts on the inside, he fully takes it as a compliment

It would take him longer to get used to the biting tbh

The squishing in hugs he would love so much!! This man is in desperate need of long hugs

The biting though,,,, he found it odd at first and then grew used to it

He didn't think you were weird, just that the biting was weird

But! He doesn't even blink when you bit his arms or fingers or whatever

All in all he enjoys the cuteness aggression, he might even have some himself

I think he'd show it in squeezing your arm (I do that hehehe) and hands!!

Or shaking your shoulders!

Raph

Opposite of Leo, would take longer to get used to the hugs!!

While yes he gets hugs from his brothers a lot, he's just scared

He doesn't want to hurt you, but after awhile he let's you squish him during hugs

(Y'all had to work up to that though, originally with squeezing his arms)

After he realized he really wasn't going to hurt you, he started to love and I mean love the hugs

He thinks it's adorable that you feel he's so cute that you need to physically let it out

He's never really thought he's cute but god you changed his whole world

The biting though, he understood immediately, considering he's a snapping turtle

I think as a child he used to need teething toys or something because he would just chomp and when you do it he's comforted by it

Knowing he's not alone in needing to bite

He literally doesn't bat an eyelash when you bite him but when you hug or squeeze his arm, he's kicking and swinging his feet, giggling and melting in your arms

He loves you and he loves that you get cuteness aggression <33

Mikey

I feel like personally he wouldn't understand? Like he gets like cuteness zoomies and giggles, and other types but aggression?

It'd take him a hot second to get used to the random squeezing and bites

The first time you bit him he screamed, like bloody murder, he fr thought you were going to eat him

He calmed down when you told him about cuteness aggression and that you're not trying to eat him, but that you sometimes need to let out the built up emotions

He understands but doesn't like understand?

Homeboy is confused, but he let's you do it nonetheless, he finds it sweet that you two let out the pent up cuteness out in other ways (not like *that*)

Eventually, he'll be like his brothers and won't bat an eye but you still scare him when you don't give warnings

Donnie

Donnie takes the longest, he already doesn't find physical touch very nice, so it takes a while for him to get used to and warm up to regular romantic touch

It takes him even longer for your random love attacks

Obviously, you knew how he felt so you didn't go for it at first, you waited till he was comfortable then explained it to him

Apprehensive at first, really didn't know what to do when you squished him or chewed on his arm

The first time you bit him, he hit you square on the nose like a shark

Okay so, he panicked, he wasn't ready and you backed off and found something else to chew on

He felt bad that he wasn't getting used to it fast, you reassured him you'd wait for him. You always would.

He eventually got okay with it, but just like regular touch he'd need breaks from it and had made you a chew that looked like him so you could always technically let your aggression out on him

He loves you and somewhat loves the cuteness aggression, he has moments where it's just not the thing for him, but he communicates that with you and you both are happy with the little arrangement you've got going on <33

He loves you and gets insecure sometimes when he doesn't want touch, but you always reassured him <3

#chasewrites #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise mikey #rise raph #rise leo #rise donnie

306 notes · View notes

nonstoplover · 2 years

Text

more moments to remember ~ pierre gasly (pg10)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: pierre gasly x single mom!reader

summary: short stories of happy memories with pierre and his newfound little family | this is pt.2 to this fic, but it can be read as a standalone piece

words: 5.7K

warnings: basically dad!pierre, kid has a name (Austin), pierre with a kid (*-*), mainly only pierre and austin with reader often missing from the scenes sorry not sorry, not betaread

a/n: i became so caught up in the idea of pierre with a kid (my baby fever isn't helping me rn) that i couldn't stop thinking about situations in which i want to see pierre and austin interact, so i just had to write it. also, i got a rb where they said they need more of pierre and austin (same) and it gave me the final push to write it. so thank you kodzusficrec, this is for you <3

tbh i literally cried a lot writing this. yes, pierre himself has this effect on me. especially when he's with a kid.

reader, please don't be a ghost, all feedback is well appreaciated, rb or comment!

taglist: formulapierre

It all starts after a race when Pierre's very first thought is instinctively to call (y/n) and Austin, just wanting to hear their voices before anyone else's. It's only been a week since she agreed to give the two of them together a chance – it took quite a bit of convincing from Pierre's side, but he was always fully determined to achieve his goals, and this time it wasn't any different.

He knows why she hesitated so long, she's been scared that her being a mom already changed everything. It did change things, but only in a good way. Ever since meeting Austin, the little boy has been Pierre's ray of sunshine even on the darker days, even only the thought of him, something (y/n) was probably too scared to notice. Scared that it would only make things difficult, him being a race car driver and them just being... them.

In her mind, he deserves something else, not a single mom with an always over-excited kid. And on the other hand, Austin has already lost one father – though without knowing him in any way –, so the last thing she'd want is for him to experience loss again, in case things didn't quite work out with her and Pierre. Especially since Pierre was his role model in life, his favourite F1 driver. Who knows how bad he would take it if one day Pierre left?

Ever since Austin was born, (y/n) only went out with a couple of guys, and no one stayed long enough for her to introduce them to her son. This was completely new. Still, Pierre's determination and him having a solution and answer to every question or fear she voiced, it all eventually led to her finally agreeing to give it a try.

Now it's been a week, and he's already so absorbed in the small family that the first people he wants to talk to as soon as he gets out of his car is them two. It's a feeling in his chest and his mind that he wants to remember forever. If he could somehow immortalise it, he would.

That's when the thought pops in his head that he should keep a list of things, moments that he never wants to forget – a separate note in his phone's notes app dedicated to (y/n) and Austin.

"What if I fly out tomorrow and we can meet again?" Pierre suggests when he's finally able to FaceTime the young woman.

Her surprised eyes momentarily freeze on the screen due to bad connection, then her almost disbelieving chuckle enters his ears through his earbuds. "You'd want to do that? You have a race weekend next week as well, don't you have to be there soon?"

"I can manage to be with you for a little while," he shrugs with a soft smile on his face – something that is just always there when he looks at her, he can't help it. When he sees the doubt still being apparent in her expression, he's swift to add, "I really want to see you again, coeur."

It only takes this one sentence to melt her resistance – and honestly, she wants to see him just as much, he's proven to be the best company she's had in a very long time, with him life seems better, easier, and way more fun. She feels like a teenager with a crush, experiencing slowly falling in love for the first time, as if she's not a mom already, as if she went back in time to when it was simple just going on dates with nice guys.

It's just that she doesn't want to cause him trouble with having to fly out to her when he has a race so close ahead. But with that sentence and that smile she can't fight it anymore. She simply says okay with a wide grin.

—

The second thing Pierre eagerly types in his special note is when he meets Austin in person again, the first time after that particular race he holds so close to his heart, when he first had the chance to really have a conversation with (y/n) and her son.

She's been reluctant to let the two boys meet again sooner, not wanting to cause unnecessary hurt for her son – she had to be sure things work out with Pierre in the first place, with his hectic schedule and being away so much, she had to be sure that the initial connection they both felt with the other wasn't just some projection of her desires, something she only imagined.

Well, turns out things definitely work out with him, actually a lot better than she could've ever expected it. They have so many things in common, their personalities matching as if it was meant to be.

When Pierre enters the apartment, following her steps, he can feel his heartbeat going fast. It's ridiculous, he hasn't been this nervous even when he met (y/n) for the first time after that race. And he knows the little guy likes him. Why is he so anxious then?

It all disappears though when he stops in the doorway she led him to, the one that leads to the living room, and Austin looks up from his spot on the carpet where he's been playing with toy race cars. For one moment he's just looking without a reaction, but then he springs into action. The absolute joy that appears on his tiny face as his eyes fully take in the driver is enough to calm Pierre down in an instant.

"Pierre came back!" Austin screams, probably directed at his mom who's standing at the side of the room, talking with the babysitter who's just getting ready to leave. (y/n) glances to the side, right at the boy, smiling wide from seeing his happy, excited expression.

The kid jumps up from his spot, leaving the cars behind without a second thought, as if they didn't even exist and he hasn't been in the middle of a race just a couple seconds beforehand, and he rushes towards the man, throwing himself against Pierre's legs, grabbing onto them tight, like he's afraid that if he didn't hold them strong enough, the driver would disappear.

It's such a warm welcome, Pierre can feel his heart filling to the brim with happiness, nearly bursting from it, and suddenly he's not sure if he can ever leave the little boy again – if yes, then it's definitely only for the feeling of getting another welcome similar to this once more when he comes back again.

—

When he experiences a happiness this huge – almost unbearable – again, it's the time he realises he's started to come to (y/n)'s apartment as if it was his too. There's no nerves anymore as he gets closer to the building or the front door, no standing around on the corridor slightly afraid to knock, then waiting for the door to open whilst smoothing out the nearly invisible wrinkles on his shirt.

Now he just gets out of the car and walks inside, calling out her name as he does so to announce his arrival. It's almost like coming home.

And then Austin bursts out of the bedroom, both his small hands full with those toy cars, his favourite toys, telling Pierre to go follow him to the living room because they have a race to do, a rematch to last time's race. He's yet to notice that the man always lets him win, he seems to think Pierre's only good at driving real cars, and not the tiny toy ones.

The man doesn't mind the slightest, he might have a really competitive personality, but as long as he can watch the young kid enthusiastically push around the miniature Alpha Tauri race car Pierre got him – he honestly struggled to see Austin play with a Red Bull and a Mercedes, something that (y/n) found very entertaining – he can actually enjoy coming in second (and last).

That one car actually became the boy's most favourite, most treasured toy, as soon as he tore the wrapping paper off and his (y/e/c) eyes fell on it. "It's like I'm you! I will always win from now on whenever I play with my friends, because it's your car I'm with!" the kid exclaimed, so sure in himself, and out of nowhere Pierre noticed tears blurring his vision.

Anyway, since Austin keeps on winning again and again, whenever he plays with Pierre, his mom or even the babysitter, his conviction has yet to break still.

—

Then comes the very moment that almost makes every happy moment he's ever had in his entire life suddenly seem less thrilling.

Pierre has decided to bring them with him one weekend to the upcoming race – and only had to reason with her for a surprisingly short time. He knows how much Austin would enjoy being in the paddock, and he himself would be more than happy to have the two of them there.

He knows it was the absolute best decision he could've made, not just when he sees the clear, genuine delight on the kid's face as he tries to take in everything around him with wide eyes, but also when he leaves to change into his race suit and comes back to find Austin proudly showing his Alpha Tauri toy car to Yuki. His teammate is smiling contentedly, asking questions from the little boy, with (y/n) watching from the side.

But the best part comes when he takes them around some more, Austin sitting in the crook of his arm so he won't get lost in-between the dozens of people rushing around the paddock and also to make sure that he gets a better view at everything. It's crazy how well the boy fits there, on his arm, as if he was meant to be there – it makes Pierre feel more than delighted, and somehow also very proud.

He doesn't even need to hold the kid with two hands anymore, like he did that very first time he held Austin like this, many moons back, for that first picture taken of the two of them – one that has since been followed by many, many more. Pierre comfortably balances the boy on his arm, his free hand reaching out in search of (y/n)'s fingers so he could intertwine them with his own.

A couple people Pierre knows better around the paddock and who are not in a hurry, approach them on their way and strike a short conversation. Not many people knew up until now that Pierre had a girlfriend – and even less that he even had a kid now.

"And who are you, little boy?" one of them asks, smiling sweetly.

Pierre glances down at the boy's face to see if he'll answer or he has to do it for the kid. "My name's Austin," comes the reply with that adorable self-assured, high-pitched voice Pierre came to adore so much in the past weeks. "I came to watch my dad race."

And this is the sentence that makes Pierre nearly drop the kid. He can hear the small gasp that escapes (y/n) at her son's announcement, and his heartrate is so high he thinks even during the races he's never experienced something like this. Glancing up at the man they've been talking to he notes the surprise in his eyes just as much. It's safe to say none of the three adults here expected such a reply – but Pierre would and will never correct it, or add any further explanation.

It's genuinely one of the most delighted he's ever been. Austin called him his dad.

—

From then on they spend even more time together, Pierre flying out any time he can to be able to be with them, with his son, or arranging for them to come meet him if he really can't get away from his tasks.

And that's how the next addition comes to his special note. One early summer day (y/n) manages to convince the kid to go out to the nearby park instead of playing with his cars at home – only with Pierre's help though. Austin seems to pay attention to his dad more now, dad somewhat taking mom's place in the top position in his eyes, but (y/n) doesn't mind. Not even the slightest bit. Her son finally has a father.

So she helps the boy get dressed, tying his shoelaces carefully so they wouldn't come undone in the predictable running around he would no doubt do. She tells them to go ahead as she locks the door, grabbing the bag she's packed with some water to drink and snacks to have in case they get hungry while out.

She catches up to them on the street, approaching the two while watching gleefully as Austin jumps around, telling some story to Pierre. The driver glances back above his shoulder to check if she's coming and flashes a smile her way when their eyes connect for a couple short seconds before his attention turns back to the kid.

Her hand slips into his immediately – it's become an instinct by now for both of them, and she falls into rhythm with her boys. Pierre reaches out without tearing his eyes away from Austin, grabbing onto the strap of her bag to take it from her, wordlessly insisting that he'll bring it instead of her with the motion of his hand gently pushing away her protesting palm she's held out in front of her.

As soon as they arrive to the park, Austin's off to the playground, befriending the kids already there without a problem – a quality (y/n) has always envied, never being someone herself to make friends easily. But maybe it's simpler for children.

They sit down on a closeby bench, immersing in their own discussion without the kid being there to direct the flow of conversation with his own stories. They talk about the past races and the upcoming ones, her being a Formula One fan since her teenage years helping her knowing quite a lot about the sport and understanding most of the things Pierre shares with her about strategy and about the car itself. And whatever's past her current knowledge, he's always more than happy to explain everything, making sure he speaks understandably but without making her feel dumb for not knowing.

When a couple hours has passed and the time comes to go back home, Pierre calls out Austin's name, the two adults standing up and gathering their bags, (y/n) checking around the bench once more to make sure they don't leave anything there – there was one time a year or so back when she and Aust accidentally left one of his toy cars underneath a bench, and he wouldn't calm down until she rushed back the same way they went home to find it for him, and it's something she never wants to experience again.

As Austin arrives to his parents, his tiny hand reaches up and moves against Pierre's palm, fingers clasping around the man's hand so casually as if that's completely normal – but he's never done it before, and so the naturality of the movement makes it even more special for the driver.

(y/n) turns back towards the boys to find Pierre grinning so wide it reaches from one ear to the other, and all of a sudden she just wants to grab his face and kiss him until they're both out of breath. He's just so amazing. The best father to her son she could've ever asked for, even if he's not the man who actually helped create said boy.

Austin's small fingers press into his skin and Pierre holds the child's hand delicately but tight enough that the connection wouldn't accidentally end by a sudden movement made by either of them. The little boy then turns his head towards his mom, grabbing onto her hand too, and even though Pierre enjoys having her touch on his skin as much as possible, holding her hand whenever they're walking somewhere, right now he doesn't mind at all that he can't do just that.

They're walking home like a real family.

—

When (y/n)'s birthday is coming up and she plans a night out with her best friends, it's the first time Pierre babysits Austin. The first time it's only the two of them. (y/n) didn't want to leave him like that, with a tiring job like that to do, and he even had the option to join her, but eventually he told her that she deserves some time spent with her friends, and her friends only, and since he loves being with Austin so much, it would never feel like a job looking after him.

That's how early in the evening she gently presses a kiss on Austin's head as he's sitting on the couch, then walks to the door with Pierre by her side. She says a quick thank you, for what is probably the hundredth time that day, and he softly shuts her up by capturing her lips with his own.

"I love you, mon chéri, have fun," he mumbles against her lips and feels them curl into a smile before she pulls away, saying back the same three words and moving out the door into the night.

"Okay, kiddo, what should we do first?" Pierre asks as soon as he's back in the living room.

Austin simply points at the controller that belongs to his favourite car race game, and Pierre happily joins the boy on the couch to spend the following hour or so with the two of them racing each other, trying to go faster and faster to gain more points.

When they grow tired, eyes having been focused on the swiftly changing screen for so long, they eat dinner – some leftover from lunch –, then decide to bake a surprise cake for (y/n) for the next day. Aust has a very clear vision about what he wants to make, trying to explain the best he can to Pierre how the cake should be in the form of a Formula One car, and preferably the same colours as an Alpha Tauri one.

It's not easy collecting every ingredient from around the kitchen and pantry, the two boys have to check almost every cupboard and cabinet, Austin sitting on Pierre's arm most of the time to be at the needed height so he can get the things they want.

A recipe is open on Pierre's phone, the screen getting more and more dusty by flour and powdered sugar as they keep on touching it with dirty fingers, right until it gets a bit difficult to read the words of the next step and he has to carefully clean it with a clean spot on the fabric of his already pretty stained shirt.

When the batter is ready, they look at pictures of race car shaped cakes online to use as inspiration and help, but eventually decide that it's way above their cake baking skills so they decide to make a normal, rectangular cake instead, and to only draw a race car on top with the coloured frosting. In the end that becomes quite the challenge all the same, both of them trying their best to make their own drawings – one car each – recognisable, but not being very successful in that, they have to admit.

With the frosting left Austin has the idea to sign the cake (as if we're giving our autograph to a fan, papa!), and they scribble something resembling their names in-between the two terrible-looking cars. Aust has the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he's concentrating deeply to not mess up the letters, having only learnt how to write his name not long ago.

When they're finished and have put the cake in the fridge, they go back to the living room to watch a movie, and even though Austin chose it and has been utterly excited throughout the first ten minutes or so, he gets more and more quiet as time passes, and eventually he falls asleep, his head laid on Pierre's lap. The driver carefully reaches out to grab the folded blanket from the armrest of the couch and covers the boy with slow, gentle movements in order to not wake him up.

(y/n) comes home not much time later, and taking off her shoes she hears some distant noise coming from the living room so she moves that way, thinking she'll find her boyfriend in there. She was right, he's sitting right there on the couch, but as the credits roll on the screen with some soft music playing in the background, his head is leant back against the headrest, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he's fast asleep.

Noiselessly she pulls out her phone from her purse, snapping a photo of her two favourite boys in the world sleeping soundly on the couch, Pierre's hand resting on Austin's shoulder as he still lays on his lap, the little boy's hand wrapped around two of the driver's fingers. It's one of the most heartwarming sights she's ever seen, her boys sleeping so peaceful and contented, completely knocked out.

The picture immediately becomes her new lockscreen, one that would keep on making her smile every time she glances at it – and one that makes a cute blush appear on Pierre's cheeks and neck when he sees it the next morning, but not without a wide smile taking over his features all the same.

—

There soon comes the first time Pierre goes to pick Austin up from school by himself, first of many, and another addition to his favourite memories. As he gets out of the car, he can already hear the kid screaming the word dad – something he still hasn't gotten fully used to, so it still makes his heart skip a beat –, standing just outside the front door, next to his teacher and a couple of other children who are waiting for their parents.

Pierre jogs up the stairs leading to the door, immediately greeting the teacher. The woman smiles at him saying nice to meet you, then Pierre squats down to check if Austin is fully ready to leave, shoelaces tied and jacket properly zipped. He impulsively presses a kiss to the top of the kid's head as his hand grabs the small backpack hanging from Austin's shoulder.

"So you're the famous dad Austin always talks about," the teacher speaks up again, making Pierre look up from his crouching position before straightening himself, a bit of nerves creeping into his bones. "If only half of what he says is true, you're doing a fantastic job," she chuckles.

Pierre's heart feels like bursting. It's the first time he's ever been complimented in the role of a dad. Blood rushes to his cheeks as he murmurs a thank you, averting his eyes in his embarrassed happiness – still the woman can't help but notice how he somehow stands taller all of a sudden, his shoulders squared from hearing her praise.

After saying goodbye, Pierre holds his hand out to signal to his son to grab it and they make their way back to the car, Austin clearly super excited that his dad came to pick him up – he loves it when he can sit in the back with Pierre driving. He always pretends that they're in a Formula One car, racing – and in the end winning, of course. It doesn't matter to him that Pierre doesn't actually go even the tiniest bit above the speed limit. He's an F1 driver and that's all that is important.

Getting to the car Austin climbs into his seat and Pierre fastens the seatbelt carefully around him, making sure it doesn't fall in a place that would make it uncomfortable for the boy, his fingers now moving just as professionally as (y/n)'s did once back in the parking lot next to a race track, with Pierre watching on from her side, not having a clue about what the future held – only hope.

He then moves around the car to sit in the driver's seat, and as he's settling down, just about to start the car, something appears in the corner of his eye – Austin holding out a big piece of paper from his seat in the back towards him.

"What is this?" Pierre asks as he takes it from the boy.

"I made it!" the kid announces proudly. "We had to draw a happy memory we have with our family and I chose this."

Pierre's eyes move from the image of the boy in the rearview to the paper now in his hand and his breath hitches. Obviously it's not a perfect drawing, anyone could see it was made by a few-year-old kid, but it's still easily perceptible what it portrays.

He sees the figures of three people on the colourful drawing, two bigger and one small in the middle, all three holding hands. To their right, there's something that looks very much like his real-life race car, in the background probably a garage at the paddock, with Austin's crooked letters at the top saying Alfa Tauri. Pierre makes a mental note to teach the kid later how the team's name is spelled correctly, but for now he just savours the feeling overtaking him watching the drawn picture.

A happy memory with his family, and Austin chose this.

"Hey, Aust, can I keep this?" Pierre turns around in his seat to look at the boy, already thinking about how it would definitely go on his fridge, somewhere he could look at it all the time and remember this very moment.

"Sure," the boy nods with a serious look in his eyes. "But it has a price."

"Oh yeah?"

"You have to buy me ice cream on the way home and you can't tell mom."

Pierre has to bite the inside of his cheeks to repress the chuckle that's threatening to burst out, expecting nothing less from the kid. "You got it, petit."

He's definitely his mother's son.

—

As the end of the season is slowly coming to an end, Pierre decides to finally make the next move in his relationship with (y/n). One night as they're having dinner in a small restaurant, out on a date night with Austin spending the night with her parents, in the middle of a casual conversation, just as he's listening to her ramble on about the dessert they're sharing and without his eyes ever leaving her (y/e/c) coloured ones he reaches up with one hand, placing something on the table right in front of her.

(y/n) glances down mid-sentence, curious about what he's placed there, and she nearly drops the small fork she's been holding in the air with another piece of the dessert balancing on top, what she wanted to say immediately forgotten. Lightly coughing because she nearly choked on some crumbs, her eyes take in the shiny key with a dark blue ribbon delicately tied around it, with a simple name tag hanging from the end of it saying her name.

"Are you– what–" she mutters, seemingly unable to form a complete sentence.

"Would you move in with me?" Pierre asks as simply and naturally as if he's only asking whether she enjoys the dessert or not.

Her wide eyes are still trained on the key, still somewhat in shock by the sudden turn of events. They haven't even been together for a year and he'd want them to live together? He wants to live with Austin?

"I've been thinking about it for a long time, don't worry, ange, I'm sure I thought about everything," he reasons before she could voice her possible doubts and fears, reading the way her eyes move as an open book and knowing what's going on in her mind. "I truly want you and Austin to be around all the time, without any of us having to fly to somewhere else. It's enough time spent apart that we have to do because of my job, I don't want the rest of the time we could finally spend together having to be wasted away because we live apart."

She honestly feels as if all her vocabulary left her, no words in her mind anymore that she could use to somehow answer him. Her eyes get glossy with tears as a disbelieving grin appears on her lips. Pierre watches on with racing heart as the most beautiful sight unfolds in front of him.

(y/n) nods vigorously, trying to compensate the loss of words with the movements of her head, grabbing the key with slightly shaking fingers. Blinking away the teardrops she looks deep in his eyes, pressing the key to her chest, somewhere above her heart.

"I would love to," she speaks finally when words seem to come back. "And I know that Aust would love it more than anything too."

—

When their one year anniversary comes, they use the next race-free weekend and go for a little getaway trip on the northern French countryside, Austin now spending time with his other grandparents, Pierre's parents in Rouen – the little boy stealing their hearts about five minutes after arriving when Pierre first took his new family home to introduce them during the summer break of last year.

The couple spends the day after their arrival sightseeing in the nearby villages, walking hand in hand and enjoying the feeling of not having to rush anywhere for once, and then they cook pasta for dinner together. Even when they have the chance to eat at restaurants, they rarely do, somehow the act of cooking together is far greater joy for both of them most of the time.

Before sitting down at the dining table right next to the window, with the colours of the gorgeous spring sunset seeping through the lace curtain and pouring onto the table, Pierre pulls out a candle from his bag, placing it carefully on the table and lighting it as (y/n)'s giggles fill the air. "What a romantic soul you are," she remarks joyfully.

"Is it too much?" he glances up from his task grinning.

"Nope, never," she replies with a single shake of her head.

They peacefully eat dinner, a comfortable silence hanging over them for a couple minutes only broken by the jingle of the cutlery mildly hitting the plates with each bite they take of the delicious dish.

"Actually, I wanted to–"

"I think this is the perfect time–"

They start talking at the same time, both of them bursting into a soft fit of laughter when they realise how in sync they really are.

"You go first," Pierre smiles, motioning for her to say whatever she's wanted to just a minute earlier.

(y/n) clears her throat, placing her fork down on the side of her plate. "So, as I was saying, I think this is the perfect time for me to give you something." With that she leans to the side and reaches into her handbag that's been laying on the ground next to the dining table, his eyes following with slight confusion. Didn't they agree on no anniversary gifts?

Without another word spoken, she hands something small wrapped in brown paper to him above the table. Pierre eyes her for a moment, letting his fingers wrap around the object without him actually paying attention to the movement of them, but he can't read anything from her (y/e/c) orbs.

He slowly looks down and starts unwrapping it, right until the paper falls down – nearly landing in his remaining pasta – and he lets out a gasp. In-between his fingers there's a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.

"Is this–?" his eyes shot up to her face, now split in two by her absolutely gorgeous grin.

"Yes," she lets out a giggle. "We're gonna have a baby."

"A baby," Pierre repeats in slight disbelief, tears gathering in his eyes.

"You're going to be a father, for real this time."

This sentence breaks him from the trance he's been in and he lets out a cheery whoop, jumping up from his seat and rushing to her side, falling to his knees by her chair. His hands gently grab the sides of her face and pull her in for a heated kiss, the wet, salty stains his rolling teardrops made on his skin brushing against her cheek.

Ever since he became a stepfather to a toddler, he's been dreaming of having his own child with (y/n) – dreaming of how the said child would look like, with her elegant, perfectly shaped nose and his piercing icy blue eyes. And now his dream will actually come true.

Mid-kiss one of his hands leaves her cheek and comes to a rest on her belly, wanting the baby in there to feel a connection with their father no matter how impossibly tiny they still might be. When they break apart in need of oxygen, (y/n) giggles once more, eyes gazing down at the way he's softly pressing his palm into her stomach.

"Austin's gonna be a big brother," Pierre notes dreamily.

"Yes, he will," she replies joyously.

As the driver slowly stands back up again to return to his seat, she speaks up again. "What is it you wanted to say?" Pierre has to force his mind from going a hundred miles an hour from this beautiful piece of news to think back to a couple minutes before, having completely forgotten that he was about to say anything in the first place.

Then he suddenly feels the small box pressing into his thigh inside his pocket and everything comes back to him. "Oh, I actually planned on making this evening special and beautiful and memorable, but I guess you already succeeded in that, mon ange," he chuckles.

Nevertheless his fingers move inside his pocket and he pulls the box out, putting it on the table between them, in the meantime opening it so she can immediately catch a glance inside. Now it's her turn to gasp, her eyes landing on the simple yet dazzling ring nestling inside the little velvety box.

"I wanted to ask you a question," Pierre continues, even though half of his mind is still somewhere else – in the not so far future, his inner eyes picturing himself with a newborn baby in his arms, the young woman, his wife laying on the hospital bed, exhausted and with her hair messy but still looking perfect, smiling blissfully happy up at him. "Mon amour, will you marry me?"

.::the end::.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

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blueberry-pride · 1 year

Note

Congrats on all the milestones :D!!! I’d like to request headcanons for how Azul, Jamil, and Idia would handle recovery from their overblot!

After The Storm

Centurion Follower Event Special (March 1-25) warnings: Topics/discussions could be triggering for some, this is a bit angsty but overall bittersweet. Also slight spoiler for Chp. 6 Berry: Thank you so muuuch! This was a very different request from the others so it was pretty fun thinking and writing for this. What helped me what listening to the song Just A Man from Epic The Musical (I've seen so many TWST vids on Tiktok about it so hehe)

Tbh, what should happen or be shown in-game is that all of these bois have some serious therapy. At the very least have an intimate/serious convo with people they're comfortable sharing to cuz there is a LOT of baggage

I see Azul as the type to perfect and focus more on recovering himself quickly and/or 'perfectly' if you will. Trying to show everyone that he knows the actions of his consequences and is willing to take the steps to better himself. HOWEVER. He forgets or rather avoids certain things

I see that there would be days or even weeks where Azul would avoid any mirror or reflection up until he accidentally checked on himself to fix his uniform. Brief flashbacks of both his past and memories during his rampage would come rushing in.

In all honesty, I see Azul swiftly excusing himself from the Mostro lounge just to cry or to huddle himself in the corner of his room and contemplate about it. Telling himself to get better quick or his other plans would hinder.

In the coming days, he DOES get better, became more generous, more kinder and overall much more open to things that go about his day. However, there will always be a small hiccup within the day where he couldn't stand the man he saw in the mirror or how constricting his pants feel or even how his notes don't look right.

He'd probably have mountains of books, tabs on his laptop about getting self-help or psychology 101 to fix this issue. But in all honesty, Azul would probably give in and talk maybe to Jade or even Idia through bits and pieces. They might not be the best choice at the matter but he values their thoughts when he needs it the most <3

Jamil's recovery would be the hardest in my opinion. Jamil is rather complex and difficult to really dissect. He'd get back up and go to work. He's the stubborn fool that would busy himself, making it up to everyone by doing more tasks, more chores to prove that he's reliable.

Jamil would be the type to ignore the whispers and side glances at him as he walks by the halls and his dorm. It wouldn't really get to him as like what I've said before, it would drive him to work even more, avoiding to really take care and acknowledge that part of him that needs rest

The only way I could see him getting some semblance of peace is at night. Late at night where everyone is fast asleep, tucked a way in his room either in his dorm outfit or in his sleepwear. He'd close his eyes as he listens to his playlist and let music calm the million thoughts running though his mind everyday.

Jamil keeps his recovery to himself, behind closed doors. He doesn't want anyone ESPECIALLY Kalim to worry about him. He wants to resolve this thing through his own terms because then at least, he's in control of this one thing. Everything and everyone gives him order or they control him.

He doesn't mean to push people away because of this. He just wanted freedom. He wanted something that's entirely HIM. Maybe later on after the events of chp 5 and 6, he'd warm up to the idea of talking about his true feelings to Kalim and eventually to other people.

It's becoming a pattern with all of the other people who overblotted that they most often than not, just brush things off like they didn't just traumatized half of the school. Idia probably being the most infuriating one cuz he's the most stubborn ones out of the bunch.

Idia would handle his recovery by also busying himself similar to Jamil. The only difference is that I'd see him just playing games as a distraction to avoid thinking about it and understanding the weight of what he just went through. He shuts himself down already so in a way to cope with that is by distracting himself with pretty graphics and intense gameplay.

Though he can't really escape it, he'd play a game and his memories would be triggered all because there'd be a fight/cutscene similar to what happened in the Isle of Lamentation. He'd freeze and lose the match all while the eyebags underneath his eyes becoming all too heavy for him.

This would probably happen in the early days after the whole thing, he'd get frustrated, get easily worked up as he tries even more distractions. I also see him late in the night, staring up at the ceiling, not really sleeping but not really awake to do anything either.

One way I could see this ending a good note is that he'd ask Ortho for ideas on how to combat this within himself as well as to heal his bond with his brother. Since they have their shared love for games and tech, I'd want to see the both of them create a small therapy simulation AI. In a way they could still treat it as any other game and at the same time, the two of them get the help they need and deserve.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twstファンアート #twst edit #twst wonderland #twst headcanons #twst azul #twst jamil viper #twst idia #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #idia shroud #twst x reader #twst scenarios

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heyidkyay · 10 months

Text

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Three

A/n: 😅 Been a while, but I have reasons! I am sorry for the long wait though on this next chapter, especially with that last cliffhanger... Still, this is just a cute little pause before we get into the heavy shit so I hope you like it, and hope it's up to standard too, feels weird to be writing again tbh. Let me know what you think though!:) X

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Mentions of sickness/vomiting.. but nothing too extreme, just be wary:)

Masterlist

I’d woken up with the most violent headache- the kind that made brain-freeze feel like a trip around the fairground- and the second I opened my eyes I knew that this one was a lot different compared to the ones I’d had previously. This headache made me want to curl up and die, just shrivel up into a ball then and there. But I couldn’t, because before I could even think to act on the action I was up and tumbling out of bed, headed straight for the bathroom and chucking up what ever strange concoction remained in my stomach.

I don’t know how long I’d been there, gagging into the dirtied bowl of the toilet, before I felt the door to the bathroom open ajar. The creak of its hinges had me wincing, as did the faint trail of light that followed.

I couldn’t bring myself to look up from where I’d since sprawled myself out on the floor, the tiles cold against my sweaty skin- the only thing giving me an ounce of reprieve- but did squint my eyes open a smidge to find a pair of socked feet planted before me.

I groaned just as someone squatted down to check on me, a hand pressed to my cheek then to my forehead.

“What’s up, muggins?”

Ross. That was Ross’s voice. Which made sense seeing as the bathroom was sat opposite both our rooms. I must’ve woken him.

He carded a gentle hand through my hair and spoke again, “Figured it should be me here instead of you, what with the amount I put away last night.”

I cracked the tiniest of smiles for him, but my throat hurt and my mouth was so dry. I couldn’t offer him a proper reply and he frowned in turn.

“Fucking hell, Y/n.” Ross mumbled, having just caught sight of the makeover I’d given our shared toilet. He took a deep breath and I focused on what he was saying next when my head begun to pound again. “Let’s get you back to bed, hey?”

It was with a careful grip that Ross manoeuvred me about with, swiping my tired body up off the floor with a practiced ease. I attempted to refuse his manhandling, claiming I could walk, but he only shushed me with a roll of his eyes and trudged his way back into my room. I didn’t fight him much more than that, having just gone more than three rounds with the toilet and lost, I was too drained to even bother.

Ross laid me back on my bed, tossing the duvet back over me, and I listened faintly to him walk about my room. He opened the dresser drawer that was nearby first and then something else I couldn’t quite make out, he was quiet when he approached again.

“Here, try and change out of those before I get back.” He told me and I opened my bleary eyes again to see that he’d tossed me a pair of linen shorts and a large t-shirt to replace the ones I'd ruined. “Gonna grab your medicine, alright? It still downstairs on the counter?”

I hummed non-committedly, too focused now on the thought of having to move again. He left and pulled the door behind him.

I changed, albeit slowly and not without wincing at every strain, but I did eventually do it. And soon enough, just as promised, Ross reentered, carrying with him a large bowl, a glass of water, my meds, as well as a small fan. He dropped the bowl beside me and stationed the fan on the bedside-table before he handed me the water and my tablets. I heard him head back out again, though he returned only a minute later with a cold, wet flannel in hand. I smiled sincerely at his kindness.

“Thank you.” I rasped out as he placed the damp cloth on my forehead, soothing the heat that drenched the entirety of my body.

Ross merely waved me off and took a seat beside me on the mattress. “If that don’t work, I’ll grab you some ice. Numb the pain a bit.”

My forehead wrinkled beneath the flannel.

“How’d you know?” I couldn’t help but ask him, wondering how he’d already known that my head was the thing causing me the most pain.

He chuckled softly, mouth quirked to one side. “Well, besides from the way you were trying to dig your nails into your forehead when I found you, I also read up on that thing the doctor fella said you had a bit ago.”

I pinched my brow at him and he seemed to take it for the silent question it was.

“Yes really, twatface.” Ross drew out exaggeratedly, then scratched at his cheek as he glanced me over. I must've looked pretty fucking pitiful for what he had to say next, “That car really fucked you up, didn’t it?”

I glared back at him in retaliation, but he simply laughed.

“What? It did! Doesn’t mean you didn’t win though.” He retorted in good jest, grinning down at me with that sly smile of his. The kind I couldn't hate. “You, you fucking walked away from that car like it was nothing. Most don’t get the chance to get back up afterwards, you know? Like they break both their legs, or just… I don’t know, die I ‘spose.” He shrugged after saying that last bit and I couldn’t help the amused snort I gave at his nonchalance.

I immediately regretted it though, grimacing at the harsh pain and sharp nausea that rolled its way through me all at once.

Ross smiled sympathetically down at me and squeezed my ankle, “Get some rest, yeah? I’ll tell the lads to keep it down once they all wake up- the lazy cunts.” He muttered the latter under his breath as he rolled his eyes and I had to fight not to laugh again.

I moved my hand out from beneath the covers, my eyes falling shut now as I did, and squeezed his hand in return. My way of telling him thank you, once again, for everything he’d done for me. Because he hadn’t had to, he just did. Without anyone even needing to ask.

It was a very Ross thing to do.

He got up from the bed after and promptly pressed a chaste kiss to my temple before he quietly padded his way out of the room, leaving me to burrow myself further under the covers, praying that the medication would soon give me some relief. Because honestly? Fuck my life.

…

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I wrinkled my nose as I woke once more, grimacing at the light pulsing I still felt in my head. I groaned groggily and rolled over in attempt to bury all the pain inside my pillow.

But obviously that didn’t work and so I huffed and flipped myself back over, which had ultimately been the wrong move to make because my stomach rolled without warning and I was yucking up into a bowl I hadn’t even reached for.

Although the sudden appearance of it confused me, I was too busy throwing up what little my stomach had to give to care.

It was only as the sickness ebbed that I could finally breathe a little better and I felt my head start to hang in exhaustion.

“Hey, hey.” I heard someone say faintly from above me, but my bad ear was ringing again. Both of them now actually. And so I couldn’t pay much attention to the tissue that was being cautiously wiped across my mouth and chin, nor the kind hand that had taken to holding my hair up out of my face.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I finally managed to pull myself back together. Broken piece by broken piece. But the ringing had dulled and the throbbing I felt grew less and less prominent. I breathed slowly. In and out. Out then in.

“Hell of a holiday.” I croaked defeatedly to myself, but was surprised by the soft titter that followed, it pierced the air.

I lifted my chin and was a little startled to find George perched on the edge of the bed, he was staring down at me, the smallest of smiles on his face and trying to hide the worry that was etched into his eyes.

“When’dyouget’ere?” I slurred, squinting up at him, hating that he, of all the people cooped up in this stupid villa, had to see me like this. I didn’t want to think too much about it.

George shrugged a single shoulder at me, looking a tad abashed. “Came to check in on you when I woke up a couple hours ago, didn't I? Ross let me know you were feeling shit when I headed down and found him.”

I nodded slowly. A couple hours…

George seemed to sense my sudden odd shift in mood then because he hurried to continue on, “Matty came in a bit ago, he’d just woken up though. Gave me a weird look and said to come get him if anything happened. Reckon he went back to bed though to be honest. Hann had Ross bring you up some more water too- it’s up there on the side- they went to grab some food not long ago. Matt’s hanging, as is Hann, so they all wanted a proper fry up.”

“And you?”

His brow furrowed at my question, not quite getting it. “And me, what?”

I grimaced at the intense throb my head made then and took it as a sign to never think again. But that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, so I proceeded to solider on.

“And you stayed here.” I stated, it wasn’t a question of why.

“Um, yeah. That alright?” George asked me, looking a little uncomfortable, like he’d overstepped without meaning to. “Figured it’d be best, someone keeping an eye on you.”

He didn’t have to explain himself, but I sort of liked having the upper hand here. I smiled at him as I relaxed further into my mountain of pillows. It was nice of him to have stayed.

“It’s fine. And thanks.” I replied hoarsely, he just shook his head.

“None of that. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t choke on your own sick or summat.”

“Oh, cheers.” I rolled my eyes, a sudden fondness creeping into my words.

“You know what I mean.” George huffed with a chuckle, though a silence settled shortly after and, even now that I had my eyes closed, I could tell that he was watching me. “Do you, uh, do you need anything else? Or, I can leave if you want.”

Behind my fluttering lids, I rolled my eyes again whilst biting back a smirk, then shuffled over slightly to make room on the mattress. I patted the sheet next to me twice.

A full minute must’ve passed before George finally moved to follow my invitation but I didn’t comment on it, not sure if I’d regret this later on when I felt a little more like myself. His weight caused the bed frame creak beneath us and I felt my shoulders loosen somewhat when he settled in beside me, barely five inches away.

“You okay?” I questioned quietly when he said nothing after a while, a tad bit anxious when I couldn’t even hear him breathing.

He exhaled heavily then though, like he'd been holding his breath- the drama queen.

“Yes, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.” He attempted to rush out, but I could feel how rigid he was beside me. Like he was too fearful to even move a muscle, to push his luck.

“Good.” I replied, not thinking about the line we were crossing.

The nausea had subdued somewhat now and I was simply left with a dull throb on the left side of my head. I kept on taking deep measured breaths though, not wanting to strain myself like I had before and chance the fate of me spewing again.

I still felt tired, which was funny seeing as though I’d just woken up, just so drained of all my usual energy. Even the thought had me yawning and I lifted an arm up to cover my mouth as I did so but, by complete accident (I swear!), I ended up wacking George in the face with my elbow. He hissed loudly and instantly I turned to see him, having felt the connection even through my cast.

“I’m so sorry!” I blurted out, now using my hand to cover up my blatant shock as I stared down at him with wide apologetic eyes.

George rubbed at his wounded eye, wincing at the unexpected blow. “No, you’re fine, you’re alright. Just the shock that got me is all.”

“I’m so sorry.” I repeated again, unable to say much else really, watching as George shifted on the bed to squint up at me, he gave a crooked smile. It was one that made me huff a small chuckle.

“Don’t fuckin’ laugh!” George retorted, but his words didn’t hold much worth when he’d begun giggling away too. “I mean it! You’re proper nasty, you know. Tryna knock me out, or what? Like being hit by a club with that arm of yours.”

“I didn’t mean to!” I laughed in reply, glad that he was up for making jokes, showing me he wasn't too hurt, and shuffled closer to him to get a better look at the side of his face. I reached out towards him, “Here, lemme look at it.”

“Sod off!” He responded with a chuckle of his own as he swiped my approaching hand away, “You might assault me again.”

“I won’t! I promise!” I grinned at him, hair falling out from behind my ears and brushing against the collar of his t-shirt. “Just let me check that I ain't given you a matching concussion, will you?”

George relented with a tiny lopsided smile, removing his hands from his face to nod at me. I breathed out a sweet chuckle and moved closer to examine the eye I’d hit, careful as I prodded the now reddened skin. He winced and I breathed out a faint sorry once more, before tilting his head up towards me. His gaze found mine in that next moment but I tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Did I catch you right there- on the corner?” I asked him quietly and he hummed in reply. It looked okay from what I could see, just a little red and the skin a tad bit raised from where I'd caught him with my cast. “Might puff up in a bit or bruise a little later, but you should survive.”

I glanced down at him, realising then just how close we were, and my brain immediately started calculating every part of us that touched. My knees were pulled up by his side, practically tucked under his waist. His arm was laid out to the side after having made room for my intrusion, I felt his light hairs tickle the smooth skin of my calf. My eyes zeroed in on the way my dept fingers danced across the bone of his freckled cheek, brushing by his temple in an attempt to soothe the injury I'd given him.

My lips parted when his brown eyes met mine though, they were warm, fond, familiar. But sad too almost.

I went to speak, to say something which would break the tense silence we were swimming in. But he beat me to it.

“I’ve missed this.” He told me, but I didn’t offer him a reply. I think George already knew that I wouldn’t because he just ventured on, not missing a beat as his soft voice filled the quiet space of my room. “Missed you, really.” He admitted, and his arm grazed my lower leg just as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind my ear. I tried not to shiver at the all too intimate motion.

His gaze jumped up to my own as he did so, skirting back and forth between my eyes. I struggled to breathe. Air trapped in the very back of my throat.

“Spending time with you. Just having you there.” He murmured, almost whispering now as he admitted these simple things to me. “There’s pieces of me only you know. Parts of me that only you will ever see.” He added next on an exhale and then he swallowed, I watched the lump in throat bob up then down before my eyes darted back up to meet his. “I really messed up, but I’m gonna fix it. Yeah?”

Those brown irises of his were drowning beneath a shallow pool now and he wet his bottom lip just as he dropped his hand from my hair, thumb gently skimming the side of my jaw before it trailed up my arm to where my touch still cradled his own face. His palm stretched out over the back of my hand, my fingers tucked safely under his. The gesture was so familiar it hurt.

“That promise I made you, last night? I thought about it a lot, hardly slept just thinking about it. But in truth, I always knew my answer, Birdie.”

My heart was racing now, its pounding had replaced the painful rhythm which had earlier burdened my head, muffling any kind of logical thought I could’ve had.

I couldn’t look away from him. I didn't want to.

“I want to tell you. I want to explain.” George told me, his thumb stroking the back of mine, “If you’ll still give me that chance. I want to fix things between us. ‘Cause I don’t think I can go much longer with you keeping me at arms length, Birdie. I can’t just pretend like you’re not everything I think about. Everything that makes me feel whole. Like you’re not meant to be mine. And me yours. Like we weren’t ever supposed to meet.”

My eyes were stinging, and I was barely even breathing as I stared back at him. Too afraid that if I did, or if I even blinked, that he’d be gone and this would all be some sort of feverish dream.

“I love you, and that ain’t going nowhere, B.”

He tightened his hold on my hand.

His words played on a loop in my head.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Everything I’d longed to hear for over a year now. I love you.

But did he? Did he really?

My mouth moved to ask, but the words wouldn’t escape. They wouldn’t just get up and jump out at him.

Instead, I was stuck looking into his eyes. At his face. Analysing every detail that had changed. Everything that hadn’t.

I love you.

“I fucked up. So bad I don’t even know if I can fix it, but I-“ He inhaled sharply, “I’d really like to try. If you’ll let me.”

And then it was up to me again. It was my time to decide.

Only I'd never felt so far from myself.

Part Twenty-four>

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