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sydnikov · 1 month

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Being Bold || S. Jarvis

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing

A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.

Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.

Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.

He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.

Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.

He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.

“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.

“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.

Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.

Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.

“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.

You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.

“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”

“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”

“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.

“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”

Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.

Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.

Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.

But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.

“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?

Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.

“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”

“Space? You think she just needs space?”

“Well, not too much space—”

“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.

Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.

Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.

In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?

You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.

It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.

Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.

Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.

You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.

The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.

The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.

“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.

You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”

“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”

It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.

“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”

“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.

If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.

“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”

You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”

Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.

You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.

The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.

“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.

“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.

You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.

The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.

“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”

Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.

“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”

You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”

“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”

Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.

You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”

That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.

“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”

Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.

Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.

He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”

You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.

“I want you. You know that, baby.”

“Seth…”

“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.

You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.

Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.

“Okay.”

Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”

That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”

“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.

You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.

He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.

You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.

For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.

“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.

“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.

He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.

“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.

Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.

You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.

He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.

You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.

“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”

You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.

“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.

“Not long enough, babe.”

You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.

What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.

“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.

He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.

You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.

Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.

Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.

“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.

“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.

Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.

“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.

“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.

Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.

“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.

He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.

“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.

Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.

Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.

And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?

You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.

If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.

You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.

Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.

You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.

Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.

He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.

Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.

Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.

“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”

Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.

“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.

Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.

When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.

“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”

Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.

“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”

“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.

Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.

“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”

Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.

And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.

There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.

Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”

“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”

His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.

His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.

It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.

By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.

You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.

You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.

Especially after Scott. Asshole.

You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.

“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.

His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.

“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.

Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.

Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”

You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.

Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.

He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.

“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”

“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.

Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.

“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.

You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.

“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.

He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.

“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”

“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.

Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.

You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.

Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.

You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.

“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.

Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.

While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.

Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.

All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.

With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.

When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.

He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.

You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.

Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”

Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.

He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”

“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.

His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.

When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?

He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.

Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:

Be bold.

“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”

Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.

“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”

And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.

“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”

“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.

“Can I be your boyfriend now?”

“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”

You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.

But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.

A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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hi!! first of all, i am a frequent reader(???) of your blog because your writing is immaculate and you seem so sweet and fun to talk to you, thank you so much for all the work that you do

second of all, i really hope your request are indeed open so that i am not spamming you🫶 in case they are closed, i am so very sorry and freely ignore this

I was wondering if i could request a little reader x either james or if the spark comes to do poly! i will NEVER say no to that lmao, where the reader seemingly out of nowhere starts feeling down, voicing that she doesn't think she's a good person? because she thought of all the friendships and extremely close people that left her and she just feels hurts and confused?

need some hurt/comfort rn, i know i am a little mean, and probably not the nicest person out there, but thinking of all the failed friendships/folks that i loved so dearly makes me feel like perhaps i am not a good person and that thought plagues me a bit ng

either way, thank you so much in advance, i hope you are well, getting to take care of yourself and have a lovely rest of day, evening of whenever you are reading this!

Thanks for requesting honey, love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James is talking to you about the movie he wants to go see, and if you were a better girlfriend—if you were better, period—you’d be listening, chipping in occasionally but mostly just letting him talk with the same adoring attentiveness he always gives you. But instead, you’re still stuck in the pub you’d left a few minutes ago, watching the surprise play over Sirius’ features. The flash of something you suspect might have been hurt in his cool gray eyes before he covered it up with skillful quickness.

“And whatever I say, I can’t seem to lure the boys to another sci fi film,” James goes on, “so I’m afraid you might be conscripted for that one.”

“Okay.”

“Really?” The disbelief in James’ voice brings you back to attention. “I thought you’d have more qualms after that last one.”

You did swear to James that he’d never be dragging you to another of his nerd movies again. But maybe this is your opportunity to turn over a new leaf. “You want to see it, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then we’ll go.”

The two of you walk under a streetlight, giving you a clear view of your boyfriend’s skeptical expression. “You’re really alright with it? We can go see that new rom com instead, if you want.”

See, this is the problem with being around James. He’s so, so good. It makes you seem even worse in contrast. And he makes it impossible to be selfless, because he always has to be the most giving person in any situation. It makes you want to cry from both love and frustration.

“Let’s just go to the one you want to see,” you say, and despite your best intentions the words come out with a slight edge.

“Alright,” he says slowly. Now you can feel his eyes on you, your own gaze vaguely ahead as you keep pace alongside him on the sidewalk. You live in a more shadowy part of town, but the clouds obscuring the moon make the darkness complete. James’ voice is tentative. “Hey, are you okay?”

You chew your bottom lip. “Do you think I upset Sirius earlier?”

“You mean that joke you made?” It doesn’t help your anxiety that he knows exactly what you mean. No chance it flew completely under everyone else’s radar, then. “No, he was fine.”

“You don’t think he looked…I don’t know, shocked? Like his feelings were hurt?”

James’ gaze burns into the side of your head, but you won’t look at him. “No, angel. I think your sense of humor can be a little…” he fumbles for the right word, and a worm of unease writhes in your gut “...brash, sometimes, but Sirius is made for that stuff. The last person you’re going to offend with that is him. He gets it.”

You sigh and nod, doing your best to convince yourself he’s telling the truth.

“Hey.” He bumps your shoulder lightly with his. “What’s going on in that head of yours? I can hear you thinking.”

“I just don’t really know if I’m a good person.”

Your voice is quiet, but you know James hears you perfectly. His steps actually fumble for a second, like he might stop in his tracks.

“Of course you are,” he says. “I mean—listen, of course I would lie to you even if you weren’t, though I guess we probably wouldn’t be together if I thought you were a bad person, but—anyway, you are. You are a good person.”

You force a laugh, ignoring how your throat contracts around it. “Sorry. I know you’d lie to make me feel better, Jamie. You’re too nice.”

“I would,” James acknowledges, following as you go up the front steps to your apartment and dig around in your bag for your key. “But I’m not right now.” He ducks his head as you twist your key in the lock, jockeying for a view of your face. “Sweetheart, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble as you step inside. You set your keys down on the table by the door and knead at your chest, but it does nothing to relieve the hollow ache forming there.

“Yeah you do,” James says softly, hot on your tail. “I know you, you don’t just say these things. Come on.” He takes your shoulders in his hands, trapping you, and you drop your gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. (You know how that goes. They make you feel all soft and melty and get you to talk and talk and talk.) “I can’t be fully honest with you if you’re not honest with me,” he says.

“I just know—I know I can be really mean sometimes.” Your voice cracks on mean, and James tightens his grip on you, holding you together while you crumble. The pressure in your throat is hot and thick, but it feels so good to cry. Like your outsides finally match your insides. “I want to be better but I don’t know how.”

“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds like heartbreak. His hands slide from your shoulders, wrapping around your upper back and squeezing painfully. “Darling, you don’t need to be better. Or, not more than anyone else. You’re already a good person.”

You make a miserable choked sound, frustrated with him for only telling you what you want to hear and frustrated with yourself for not knowing better.

“You are,” he says, half desperate. “Know how I know?”

You take your face from his shoulder, eyeing guiltily the glossy wetness of your tears and snot on his jumper. James takes your face in a big hand, finally succeeding in angling it towards him.

He’s giving you a little smile despite his own watery eyes and the deep crinkle between his brows. He takes your look as enough prompting to go on.

“Because bad people don’t worry about if they’re good people, angel.” The words are emphatic, beseeching. Begging you to understand. “They don’t try to do the right thing. You being worried about Sirius is just proof that you care. Do you think a bad person would get themselves so worked up” —he thumbs at the wet skin underneath your eye, smiling thinly— “over whether they’re being too mean? That just doesn’t happen, love.”

You swallow thickly, letting James press a solid kiss to your temple. He holds your face between his hands like you’re something special. Something worth having.

“I wouldn’t be with someone who was always being actually mean to my friends,” he tells you, voice dropping into a lower register. You know he’s being sincere. James would never let anything happen to Sirius or Remus, certainly not by someone he’d brought into their orbit. “But we all know you don’t mean anything cruel by the things you say. It can be a little…”

“Brash?” you supply, and James smiles.

“Yeah,” he admits, “sometimes. Anyone who knows you doesn’t take it personally, though. You’re kind in your own way, it’s just not always what people are used to.” James tilts his head, assessing your expression and giving you full view of the earnestness in his in turn. “You’re a good person, sweetheart. And please don’t worry about being that kind of mean to Sirius, alright? He can take it.”

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harrywavycurly · 10 days

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What You Deserve Part 7.2: Up Late

Masterlist: Here

CW: Drunk ex, mentions of past toxic situations, suggestion of past violent behavior from ex bf

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies @marshmallowgem @ang3lc @angelina16torres-blog @transparentenemypenguin @alilstressyandlotdepressy

A/N: I know we all want Eddie to come in and kick some ass but remember all Eddie cares about in this moment is making sure you’re okay, so enjoy✨

“Hey sweetheart…I’m surprised you’re up this late on a work night.” “Yeah…uhm I-” “Are you okay?” “Uh yes? Kinda…but I’m-” “where are you? What’s that noise in the background? Is that…is that…someone shouting….your name?” “Yes that’s uhm..god this is so embarrassing I usually call Steven when…he does this…but he’s like half an hour away and he told me to call you and now…now-” “hey…it’s just me okay? Don’t be embarrassed…just tell me what’s going on.” “William..he’s my uhm…he’s my ex boyfriend and he…he gets drunk and…and he shows up here…and bangs on my door or…or one time he uh broke my uhm…my living room window and he yells for me…and he’s…uhm here.” “I’m on my way…where are you right now?” “I locked myself in my bedroom.” “Good stay there okay?” “Don’t hang up…please don’t hang up…” “I’m right here…just keep talking to me okay? What did you do today?” “I uhm…I painted my nails…I switched shifts with Robin so I could…uh be off Saturday morning.” “That’s nice baby what color did you do your nails?” “Pink…oh no..I think…he’s kicking the door now…what if…what if he gets in…” “he’s not going to get in sweetheart.” “He…he did this when we were together and…and he got in…and god he was so mad…so mad at me and…and I don’t want…what happened…that night...to happen again.” “Listen to me…he is not getting into your house…I won’t let him.” “Are you almost here?” “Yes I’m just about to be on your street…just a few more minutes okay?” “Don’t…don’t hurt him…please.” “I’ll do my best but I’m not making any promises.” “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry-” “Don’t apologize sweetheart…this isn’t your fault…and I will always come if you need me no matter how far away I am I will always find a way to get to you okay?” “God…of course you’d say something like that.” “I can’t help it…it’s the truth.” “This is just a lot and we just met and…and I’m just a mess Eddie and you…you shouldn’t have to see me like this.” “Don’t cry baby…please don’t cry I’m on your street and I’ll be there in less than two minutes okay? Start packing a bag for me can you do that?” “Yes…I…I can do that.” “Okay good…you’ll stay with me tonight…I just got into your driveway so I’m going to hang up okay? Is that okay?” “That’s…that’s okay…yeah you can hang up.” “One more thing…don’t look out your bedroom window please.” “Why? You…said you wouldn’t hurt him…” “I said I’d do my best but just in case please don’t look…go pack your bag sweetheart and I’ll see you in a minute.” “Okay…see you in a minute.”

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engeorged · 1 year

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Aster's Maze

Follow up to Obi's Place and Santa’s Otto

Art by @badoobers

Words by @engeorged

I know it’s been over a year since I posted, but it’s been quite a journey for me. One I’m not even sure if I’m ready to talk about. The encounter with Obi changed me somehow and I’m not the same person I was. I can’t quite seem to settle anywhere for very long any more. I feel restless, and to be blunt, like I’m not quite fully present wherever I am. My mind is always in a different place?

Let me go right back. By now, you’ve probably read about my encounter at Obi’s place. I’m not gonna lie, I was a wreck for a few days. It was like a hangover meets a sausage casing? The amount of food he’d packed in me took days to digest. I was swollen for 72 hours, not really able to do anything but sleep and go to the toilet. (I’ll spare you the details although I’m aware a few of you out there will want them you dirty bastards!!) I didn’t check my messages the whole time but after my last post, a lot of you had reached out to me. Turns out there’s quite a few of these guys around and they don’t fuck about! The pictures you all sent me were quite eye opening! (That's maybe for another post!)

The whole thing felt like a dream, but on reflection I realised it was a pretty good dream. I hate to admit it, but being able to eat that much food was quite a turn on. I tried for months to find him again and ask what he did to me. I’ve not been able to repeat it by myself, and trust me, I’ve tried. I can’t really even eat half of what he put into me. Every few weeks I would sit down in a restaurant or a buffet place and just block the afternoon out and eat as much as I could to see what would happen. Now I’m a big guy (and getting bigger!) and I could probably out eat most people if it came down to it but there’s just no way I can get as full as I did that morning. My belly is definitely increasing in size and capacity but still, without whatever magic he was using I can’t do it again.

To cut a long story short, I ended up travelling. The few stories you sent me (that weren’t totally nuts) were fascinating, but from all over the world. I’ve been searching for trolls in Norway, piscies in the UK, dragons in china, tikoloshes in Africa. Nothing! Not a single bite. I was starting to believe that maybe it was a hallucination from being so over tired. Maybe the stripes on the road had hypnotised me as I drove or something.

I’m currently living in Greece for a bit. I’ve pretty much run out and so I found a casual labour job on a building site in Greece. It’s a bit of a shit show to be honest, but all I have to do is turn up and lay bricks for a few hours in the afternoon and I get paid! The extra bit of timber I’d put on means I break a sweat the second I get up, as even though it’s early autumn, here it’s still 24 degrees by midday!

It was coming up to lunch time on the site when I started feeling a bit faint. I realised I’d not had anything to drink for a few hours and I was super dehydrated. I grabbed my water bottle and when lifted to my lips, only a few drips came out, so I had a scan of the area and saw a guy with a cart selling gyros and beers. Usually the street food was pretty good around here so I headed over, still wearing my tight high viz vest. As I got close to the stand I started to realise how hot the guy was selling them, now I’m newly ‘out’ and so I don’t still fully know what my type is but I can tell you reader, this guy was everyone’s type. He was stacked, his arms were like ripe watermelons and as I got close I realised how huge he was. I’ve told you I’m 6’5, but this guy towered over me. He must have been 7 feet easily. His hair was everywhere and he had this crazy medallion around his neck with a symbol on it I recognised from somewhere.

Now, I know my story has ended up on some niche websites and blogs, so I know what you pervs are all waiting for. So here it is. His gut was potentially the hottest thing I have ever seen. It was huge. He was so tall it was practically oval. Firm and round and pushing against the buttons in his shirt. It was like he wasn’t even tempted to hide it. In fact, as I approached, he lifted his arms above his head to stretch which meant that there was a good three or four inches of furry dome poking out from underneath. He looked as stuffed as I was at Obi’s. As I got nearer I started to regret my decision to go over. I must have looked like an absolute state. I was wearing my battered work jeans and fluorescent jacket, covered in brick dust and sweat and I absolutely stank. A 280 lbs slab of man like me working in 30 degree heat is a recipe for funk, and I was dripping with it. He looked up and saw me so there was no going back, I committed and walked up trying to look cool. Something about him made me want to melt into a puddle. I said ‘Yasass’ in my best Greek accent and he replied with a bass filled ‘Hello, how can I help you’ in perfect English. His accent was vaguely British with a hint of Greek overlayed. The rumble of his voice made something shift inside me. I think I was in love.

I ordered two beers and paid him. Lifting it to my lips, thirst took over and downed one on the spot. I didn’t really want to leave, I wanted to try and get his number or something. I downed the second beer and I could see it must have impressed him as he leant forward in his cart and offered me another. I ordered two and offered him one which he took. We stood chatting about the weather and what I was up to and as we chatted he started putting together a huge gyro full of amazing smelling meat. There was a hint of salad at the bottom but the thing was packed as tight as his shirt. He wrapped it up with his strong hands and offered it to me. I took it immediately and took a big bite, within minutes the thing had gone. It was the best tasting thing I’d ever had. When I finished I realised he’d just been watching me eat it, not saying anything. His dark eyes focussed on me making me feel very seen. He had very keen eyes that looked deep into my soul. (I know how pretentious that sounds, don't worry, but you’ll see I’m right in a minute!)

I jokingly said I could eat another one and before I’d finished my sentence he had one there in his large paw! I won’t bore you with the details because there will be a lot more later but suffice to say I ate 3 of his huge gyros. I was substantially full, my own belly was beginning to push out against my work clothes and I’m pretty sure I lost a button I offered to pay but he wouldn’t take it. He just said he’d see me again. I went back to work on the site very full and very horny!

I stopped by for lunch every day for the next week and a half. In the evenings I discovered he owned a small but very cool restaurant bar selling the same food but with the addition of a whole selection of spirits and cocktails. It was a full two weeks before I plucked up the courage to ask him out. There was just something about him that drew me in. Reflecting back I don’t know if we actually spoke about much. Even now I know very little about him. All I remember is his huge belly, round and tight, every day staring at me. Perfection in a fursuit. I remember that he had a few piercings. The medallion round his neck had chains coming off it connecting to nipple piercings. He also had a heavy gold nose ring, which, if I wasn’t thinking with my dick, might have been a bit of a clue. I was looking out for whatever Obi was, not whatever he was. And is, I guess?

On reflection, and with what I know now, he was strategically increasing my already substantial belly capacity for the game. (More on that later) Every meal, he would give me a little bit more food. A bag of stuffed vine leaves here, some baklava there, extra meat in the wrap, a special sauce, larger wraps. Before I knew it I was eating 6 of his gyros twice a day with whatever accompaniments he palmed off on me that day. Every evening I would spend bloated and swollen, nursing my aching stomach whilst thinking of Aster. (Oh I forgot, one thing I did get out of him was his name) I guess I should add that I didn’t twig what was happening in case that’s not obvious. I was bewitched by everything about him to the point where I didn’t realise he was testing me out for something much bigger.

A few weeks in I had a penny drop moment, I’d just finished my 6th evening gyro and he was making me one more to finish me off. My belly was huge, packed with the supply of food he’d been encouraging me to eat. I was wearing a now painted-on shirt and I was standing in the street at 5pm obediently stuffing myself silly with his street food. I’d gone past full a few gyros ago and it was now simply pushing and stretching my stomach more and more. The feeling of the stretch (as some of you probably know) is exquisite. I’d experienced it fully with Obi and I’d been chasing that feeling all over the world to get to that place of total engorged capacity and it dawned on me suddenly I was there again. Something about that day made me realise I'd met another one of these creatures. Aster wasn’t human.

I swallowed down my last bite and took the next one from his massive hairy hand. I looked at him properly for maybe the first time. Looking past my own lust and attraction and I saw that he wasn’t quite ‘right’. His hair was shaped in such a way that hair didn’t really grow. His side burns were much more than a side beard and that ring in his nose was huge because his nose was so large and flat. And his belly! No human belly would ever be that size and rounded shape when it was that big. It would be sagging down over his belt, not sitting proudly on top of it defying gravity. I started eating the food he’d made me and asked him outright. ‘Who are you?’ He looked me in the eye and said with a slightly crooked grin ‘Obi said you could eat.’

I stood back aghast. He was one of them. I had so many questions. But before I could ask any of them he started packing up his cart. I found myself rooted to the spot while he packed away. I literally couldn’t move. As he grabbed the handles he turned to me and put his large hand on top of my distended stomach and winked. And that’s when I saw it. The little purple twinkle in his eye. With that, he was gone and I was finally able to move. The fullness I was not noticing yet hit me and I nearly sat down on the pavement where I stood but I managed to pull myself together and make it back to the site where I did very little work. He’d fed me as much as Obi had done but without me noticing. And I let him!

I could hardly wait for opening time at the restaurant that evening. Still full from lunch, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to ask him out or just demand some answers. When I saw him behind the bar, cleaning a glass with a tea towel I knew what I wanted. I marched right up to the counter but before I had a chance to speak he pulled out a single purple rose which he handed me. As I looked at him in the low light, I realised all his confidence had fallen away and he was genuinely a little nervous. Turns out he’d fallen for me too. He ended up asking me on a date. Who knew a 7 foot tall Minotaur would be such a hopeless romantic. (Yeah I just dropped that in. I didn’t know how else to say it really! It is what it is?) He told me that he finished around midnight but that he had somewhere he wanted to take me and would that be alright. I agreed, obviously! And parked myself on a table by the window to wait for him.

Even though the restaurant was pretty busy, he found time to be quite attentive. Every hour he brought me another rose and a plate of something to eat. By the time it was midnight I had a vase full of flowers and a belly full of Greek food! Bear in mind I was stuffed from lunch and I arrived at the restaurant at 6. So do the math to work out how full I currently am. That’s important for the rest of the story! As the final customers left I watched as he whipped round the place lifting the chairs and sweeping up as fast as he could. It was kind of cute to see how keen he was. When it was all done he explained to me that he wanted to take me somewhere that was special to him, somewhere he thought I would enjoy. He looked a little sheepish but I agreed. We walked through town (slowly I might add, I was basically round at this point) as he held my hand. Not many people can make me feel small but walking around holding this giant's hand was quite humbling. At this point I think my belly was bigger than his but he was still over half a foot taller than me. Being near him calmed my stomach too. It was like I was just pleasantly full when I was near him, not dangerously packed to bursting. We chatted a little bit but we mainly walked in silence, happy in each other's company.

We arrived at a sort of park on the edge of town. There were a few ruins we walked past but we ended up at the edge of what looked like a small cave. In any other setting I would have run a mile but he has been so tender with me I just felt super safe. In the moonlight, at the edge of the cave we stood looking into each other's eyes. He slowly leant in to kiss me and I let him. As he leant back I felt myself rooted to the spot again unable to move. He started walking backwards into the cave and as the dark consumed him he winked again and beckoned me to follow him. After a minute the effects of whatever it was wore off and I was able to slowly walk into the cave. After a few steps I discovered that it was lit all along by torches and it started to become more of a corridor. There was no sign of Aster but I carried on into the maze. As I walked I felt a little rumble in my stomach. I brushed it off as just digestion starting and kept going. After a few turns it saw a few petals in the ground. The massive softie had left me a trail to follow.

Eventually, I came across a small recess in the wall with a little table set into it and a candle. I sat down on one of the chairs and Aster emerged from out of the darkness with two heavy cloched plates. He sat down and put the plates in front of us. He pulled the cloches off to reveal a sizeable plate of oysters. I smiled and he smiled back. I found myself inexplicably hungry and went to take my first one, but he leant over and stopped me. He picked up a large oyster and lifted it to my lips. I smiled and opened my mouth and titled my head back. If I’m totally honest I’ve never eaten oysters before but I’d seen it in films. I knew I was supposed to swallow them whole so fortunately I didn’t make a tit of myself. I don’t know if you’ve had them before but I’m not gonna lie, they taste good but they are like swallowing snot! Being fed them was hot though! Knowing I had the full attention of this slab of man was really doing it for me! He fed me a few and then sat back and I did the same for him! Watching his heavy Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed was a surprising new kink I discovered in that cave!

Suffice to say, it was like time worked differently in that cave. We’d only been there a few minutes and there were a fair few oysters on each of our plates. Maybe 3 dozen each? They didn’t really take long to eat but it felt like we were there for hours. I wasn’t counting the oysters but by the time we’d cleared the plates, my belly had advanced quite a way. Like way more than a few dozen oysters would have done. It was still tight and round but it was a lot bigger and heavier. It appeared that my tank top had ripped at the edges and so I just took it off. Even though we were underground it wasn’t cold so I was happy in just my jeans.

I looked at Aster and he had the biggest grin on his face. His own belly was beginning to blow out from our oyster binge. I could see even more of his substantial furry belly pushing out from his shirt. I wasn’t sure if he looked taller at that point? Everything about him was larger in some way and he was meatier and hairier too. (Yes every part of him was bigger. I won’t say more than that!) He was absentmindedly rubbing the underneath of his belly curve as he watched me readjust to my new bloated mass. His eyes were both kind and predatory at the same time. We stood there for a little while admiring one another until he winked and shimmered like Obi used to. With that he was gone and the chase was back on. I lumbered on further into the maze of tunnels, my swollen midsection slowing me down considerably. The path twisted and turned as I was led deeper in.

I couldn’t tell you how long it was until I found him. At first, I began to hear running water and so, for want of any other clues, I followed the noise. The walls of the maze were beginning to look less constructed by human hands and more cave-like, I guess? Stone bricks giving way to actual stone. I even thought I saw a few flashes of gemstones here and there but I was more interested in my next meal. Even though I must have eaten a week's worth of food so far, I was still inexplicably hungry. I don’t know if I can describe how it felt. My insides felt packed full. Like totally solid. There was very little give to my belly. And yet I knew I wanted more. Actually I needed more. The stretched feeling I have when I’m around these guys is something I’ve never experienced before.

Eventually, the water got louder and louder until I walked through a stone archway and found myself in a cavernous expanse. The sound of water turned out to be an underground waterfall, the water cascading down into a piercing blue lagoon. The ceiling was lit with some sort of glowing insects which were making a melodic rhythmic chirping sound. I searched around the expanse until I found him. He was sitting with his legs in the water next to a fire where he seemed to be grilling fish. It was the first time I’d seen his legs and they were indeed as you would imagine them to be. Covered in thick black hair. I couldn’t see his feet as they were in the water but I am guessing he didn’t have five toes at this point. It seemed that he was becoming more of his true self the closer we got to the centre. I made my way round and joined him sitting by the water. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever been. We sat there for a few moments in silence. Enjoying the beauty. I realised after a while that he was holding my hand. He turned his attention to the fire and pulled out a perfectly grilled fish which he placed next to himself and he began to break off pieces of the succulent meat and began feeding it to me. The fish melted in my mouth. It was so succulent and tender. I ate the whole thing quickly and he brought a second fish over and put his hands back on the floor as a signal for me to feed him. I obliged, tenderly placing it into his mouth. We did this for a while until all the fish he was cooking had gone. He leant forward and I thought he was going to kiss me again but instead he plunged his hand into the water and pulled out more fish. I’m no expert but I know one of them was a Salmon, and a pretty big one at that. And I think there was a rainbow trout and something else sort of blue? We carried on eating and cooking and eating and cooking for hours. The time weirdness means I have no idea how long we were there or how many I ate at this point, but looking at the both of us we were both much bigger. I don’t know if it’s part of the atmosphere or I genuinely ate that much but there it was. My own belly was enormous. Way bigger than I had been in the diner. His gut was spectacular. Round and hairy and now totally free from his shirt. Bear in mind he was nearly 8 feet at this point.

He reached over and tenderly began to massage my own swollen stomach. His hands, surprisingly gentle, but firm. I closed my eyes and relaxed and basically let him do what he wanted to me. All of my senses seemed to be heightened, every little touch was like a wave of ecstasy flowing across my skin. His smell was heady, strong and potent and filling my nostrils. Eventually, I realised he’d gone but I stayed there for a little while longer. Partly because it was so beautiful but also partly because I could hardly move.

I pulled myself to my feet, hauling my cantilevered belly up. It was still self supporting and jutting straight out from me into the air. I wished there was a mirror somewhere so I could have seen it properly. I saw an opening in the wall near the waterfall so I followed it through into a darker and more narrow part of the maze. The walls were closer than before and there were a few parts where I was worried I might not get through with my newly ballooned gut. After a while I started to smell the aromatic smell of cooking pork which made me instantly hungry again. I followed the smell and found three doors with a riddle written above it. I can’t remember the riddle but it was something about liars and guessing the way. You can probably guess that I’m not the smartest guy, I’m not dumb, but when it comes to stuff like riddles I’m out. My belly was rumbling loud at this point too so I was distracted. I decided to just listen at each of the doors. Door one I could hear a whistling noise which I reckoned was some sort of drop. Door two was a distinct growling snore. Although Aster was super stuffed I was pretty sure it wasn’t him asleep, and having met some of these guys I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a cute teddy bear behind there! I approached door three and had a listen. I could just about hear a sizzling sound and with the smell of pork I couldn’t handle it so I threw the door open. I wasn’t disappointed!

The room was a small stone cell with a fire pit sunk in the bottom. On top of it was a decently sized pig on a spit. I couldn’t see Aster so I stepped in gingerly. The door closed behind me and as I turned it dissolved into the wall. There was no way out. I stepped into the room and looked into the shadows at the edges. And there he was, taller than ever. As he stepped out into the light of the fire I could see he’d changed more. The first thing I noticed were the horns that had now sprouted from the top of his head. They weren’t massive but they were slightly curved and protruding from his thicker hair. The hair wasn’t just thicker on his head either. He’d now taken off his shirt and I could see the extent of it. He was pretty much covered in thick black hair all over his arms and sides. Virtually the only skin visible was across his bloated sphere of a belly. And that had a decent covering all along the bottom of the curve stretching up to a thick happy trail that snaked up to his hairy pierced pecs. The thick gold chain connects to his medallion.

He spoke with a deep gravelly voice that I could literally feel in my feet. He told me under no circumstances was there to be any pork left before we left this place. Under any other situation I would have laughed. The pig had to be 200 lbs of meat. That would literally have taken any normal person a few weeks to eat. But here, with him, I knew right there that we would do it. I was apprehensive to think about how much my stomach would distend after that but I knew that whatever this place was it would be ok. I walked up to him and put my hands firmly on the sides of his thick belly and looked up. He looked down at me and bent his head to kiss me on the lips again. I smiled and sighed with contentment. Something special was about to happen.

He pulled back and handed me a sharp knife, and took out one of his own and cut a slab of meat. The juices were rubbing down his arm. He pulled off the crackling and greedily began to eat it, crunching and swallowing it down. He offered me the meat and I eagerly opened my mouth to receive it. It tasted even better than it smelt and within minutes the whole slab had disappeared into me. We continued to feed one another the pork for a while, taking it in turns to slice off large chunks of flesh and sharing the delicious meat. We were soon covered in the stuff, our bellies continuing their rapid expansions. As we progressed, instead of slowing down we began to speed up. We even abandoned the knives and took to simply ripping off our next portions and guzzling down our haul. He fed me and I fed him and we ate ourselves. The boundaries of reality slipped away as we gorged on the meal together. (Yes I know that sounded a bit twatty but that’s how it felt. How many pigs have you shared with a fucking Minotaur?)

We didn’t take any breaks in our gluttony, the pig simply ended up inside both of us. I’d guess Aster ate more, simply because he is a good few feet taller than me but I didn’t notice him actually eating more. By the time the pig was reduced to bones we were both insanely swollen. My own gut was packed so big I couldn’t see anything else when I looked down. The skin tightly stretched over the vast quality of food it held inside itself. If I thought for a second about how much food I contained I’m not sure my brain could handle it. I looked like someone had slipped an air compressor up my arse and turned it on for a good half an hour. Physics had to be different in there because there was no way I’d have been able to stand up without some supernatural help. Looking at Aster, he was the same. Comically swollen, his huge abdomen surrounded by a sea of hair. The only difference between us is that you could still see some of his muscle definition. The power and strength he contained was tangible when you looked at his animal-like frame.

Covered in grease and bits of food we sat back admiring each other's new size. I wanna keep the story a touch modest, but he was clearly aroused by our efforts. I won’t go into details because I never kiss and tell, but fuck me he was a big boy! I’m glad there was magic in the site because after what we did next I could have ended up in hospital!

After we had, erm, cuddled, we lay back with our heads next to one another. Our engorged stomachs stuck high into the air, solid and packed with food, unyielding in their size and volume. We stayed for a period of time and chatted about our lives. Aster clearly wasn’t wanting this to be a one off encounter. He was surprisingly affectionate and romantic for a half man half bull. He wanted to know all about me and my life and what my plans for the future were. It was such a tender moment I could have stayed there forever but Aster had one more plan up his sleeve. He pulled himself up easily and offered me a hand to help me up. I just about managed to get to my feet, helped by his superhuman strength I assume! Kissing me again he led me by the hand into the shadows where we found a new door. Fortunately, it was a double door as neither of us would have fit through anything smaller at this stage. We walked into a vast cavernous space. I didn’t think it was possible but it was even more beautiful than the underwater lagoon where we ate the fish. The glowing insects were back and this time other glowing creatures joined them. Small colourful lizards darted from rock to rock making patterns in the water that filled half the floor. Several smaller waterfalls fed this one, each framed by cascades of glowing plants with brightly shining flowers falling down. Alongside the water was a long banqueting table covered with food. There were golden bowls and plates full of oversized fruits and bread. Huge slabs of roasted meats and wheels of cheese. At the end there appeared a large ornately decorated cornucopia which seemed to be the source of the food. Aster led me to the table and sat us both down in large oversized thrones. We’d made it to the centre of the labyrinth!

As we sat down, our swollen bellies resting on our legs I realised he had plans to carry on eating. Whatever magic was present meant I definitely felt hungry but there was no way I could physically move to get the food. I was practically pinned down underneath the sheer ridiculous size of my own belly. I was about to say this to Aster when I heard something move in the water. I looked across to see six men emerge from the water. I say men, we both know they weren’t that. If I had to guess I would say they were some sort of water nymphs? They had a pale bluey green tinge to their skin which had a faint shimmer to it as well. They were lithe and incredibly beautiful, their muscles and sinews visible underneath their skin. Their tight shorts left very little to the imagination and their eyes looked as hungry as I felt. They were here to feed us.

I don’t know whether we were there for a few days or weeks or months. The food from the cornucopia kept coming and we kept eating. Non stop gorging, all enabled by the blue dudes. Their dexterous long fingers feeding us food and massaging our swelling bellies. We both ended up the size of trucks, our inhumanly swollen bellies stretching way past what was physically or morally possible.

At some point we were done and we were pushed or rolled to the edge of the water. I slipped in and sank heavily to the bottom. Whether I was magically able to breathe underwater or whether I somehow didn’t need to breathe, I’m not sure, but Aster and I were able to move freely under the water. We swam for a while through caverns and caves, snaking away from the maze. When we surfaced we found ourselves on a small island just off the coast of the town. Away from the magical influence of the labyrinth, Aster was back to his more human form and his belly was vastly reduced but still clearly swollen. I was the same, my belly was huge, but it at least was obeying the laws of physics. Again, I don’t want to make the story any more r-rated than it needs to be so let’s say we spent some time with each other there. We needed some time to digest and recover as well.

Friends, I don’t know whether what happened was a dream or some sort of vision, but I do know I’ve gained 50lbs in a few days. I have a very definite and prominent ball belly now, which I’m not unhappy about. I also have a new boyfriend. Unlike Obi, Aster was happy to stick around, so I do know that something happened. I don’t really want to ask too many questions from Aster because I don’t really mind if it was real or not. I know he’s here and I know we ate a shit ton of food and I know he’s not going anywhere

#belly expansion #gainer fiction #gay gainer #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #male gaining #stuffing art #gainer artwork #gainer story

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 4 months

Text

Dave York x OC/Reader (TPATD universe) Seeking Comfort.

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: Cock warming, mentions of Dave's job(hitman), longing/yearnig, established relationship, PiV sex, unprotected sex (be responsible wrap it up).

Thanks again to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for taking a quick look over this one. I got inspired by @creedslove's Post Here for this one. I just became obsessed. Thank you for this inspo. 2000~ Words [Read on Ao3]

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Dave slumps against the front door, suitcase falling with a dull thud against the wooden floorboards as he finally lets out a sigh of relief.

Every time he crosses the threshold into his home – your home – calm begins to settle over him like a warm, weighted blanket. It leeches the cold emptiness from his bones, brings him back to himself, to you.

But he can’t fight off the phantom blood on his hands, the constricting guilt of what he does. He forces himself to get up, pushing off the door with a groan as he shrugs off his coat. He toes off his loafers too, setting both of them on the shoe rack before hanging up his coat.

Practiced, simple, movements that help him ground himself.

“Baby?” He calls out but you don’t respond, “I’m home?”

A pang of fear cuts through his gut like a knife as he strides into the kitchen, eyes frantic as he searches for you. His panic is short lived as he sees you, your back turned to him as you’re hunched over an inordinate number of papers splayed across the breakfast counter.

Dave smiles to himself as his heart rate slows. He pads up behind you slowly and places his hands either side of you. His thick fingers gripping the countertop as he rests his head on your shoulder. He spots the headphones stuck in your ears and tuts.

“Hey, baby,” you grumble as you pull the earbuds out, “You’re home late.”

“And you’re up late,” he counters as he presses his strong nose behind your ear, his plush lips raking over your skin.

“Couldn’t sleep, got court on Monday and I’m not sure I can win this case for her.”

“How long have you been banging your head against the wall, baby?”

You groan as you’re forced to face that reality yourself. The clock on the oven blinks smugly at you, red numbers mocking you as you realise it’s gone two in the morning. You had completely lost track of time.

“Shit, I don’t know,” you groan as you lean back against Dave’s broad chest, humming softly as he sucks gently at your skin. His eyes are already closed as he breathes you in.

“Come on, bedroom,” his voice is barely a whisper as he issues the command.

“But, Dave, I need to get this-,” you start but Dave’s eyes flick open, and he gives you a look you know all too well. It tells you that there’s no arguing with him. But you don’t mind, you’re all too willing to follow his command.

“Fine, but I need to be up early.”

Dave hums in agreement as he nips at the column of your neck before stepping around to your side, holding his hand out for you. You gladly take it, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, fusing you to him as he kisses the top of your head.

Once he’s ready to move he scoops you up in his arms, bridal style, before ascending the stairs to your bedroom. You cling to him, hands fisted in his shirt as you try to get as close as you can. You know he’s carrying something especially bad this time, he’s trembling by the time he sets you down on the bed.

“Clothes.”

You nod, knowing that he prefers to keep things short, efficient, when he’s come back from a job. You strip in front of one another, and you let your eyes linger on his cock. It curves up a little, his tip covered by his foreskin, but you know that he’s leaking by how hard he is. His lips are curved up into an amused smirk when he catches you staring. He silently sits on the base of the bed and spreads his legs wide, welcoming you with a silent command.

You slot yourself between his legs, hands on his shoulders as you bend down to kiss him slowly. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, his callouses pulling and catching delightfully on your skin. You shudder at the sensation, running your tongue along the seam of his mouth. He lets you in, his tongue dancing with yours as you groan into his mouth.

His firm hands lift you up, careful not to break the kiss as he sits you on his lap. You can feel the heft of his cock between your bodies as he holds you close, unmoving for a while. You’re dripping already, the anticipation for what is to come driving you insane.

But you know that you have to let Dave have control here, he needs to do it at his pace. Like always, this is more than just about sex.

One of his hands slides between you, his thick fingers dipping down to your core. He moans into your mouth as he drags his middle finger through your folds.

“Always so ready for me, aren’t you, Princess?” Dave taunts you as he breaks the kiss, pressing his slick forehead against yours.

“Could say the same thing to you, Duke,” you chuckle softly as you lean back and wrap a hand around his length, pulling back his foreskin slowly. You love the way he groans as you pump him slowly, his precome smearing over his tip as you work.

“Up.”

Dave’s voice is little more than a hoarse whisper as he returns his hand to your hip, already lifting you to line up over his cock. You hold him steady as he notches his tip at your core. He guides you down slowly, letting you sink onto him at your own pace. You cradle the back of his neck with your hands, thumbs pressed against his throat as you move.

The burn is delicious as you feel him stretch you out. You pant and whine at the way his dick twitches inside you. Dave’s hands are firm on your hips, making sure you don’t strain yourself. You try not to grind against him as he settles deep inside you. Your thighs are clammy as you feel the weight of Dave inside you. It’s so tight, so snug, you move your hands to his shoulders, blunt nails digging into his skin.

“So good to me,” he mutters as he presses his head against your sternum. His strong arms snake around you, one around your waist, holding you down. The other arm presses against your spine, broad hand splayed between your shoulder blades.

You rest your chin on Dave’s head, burying your nose in his hair. Your arms rest on his shoulders as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s getting long enough to curl ever so slightly at the ends. He smells like cheap hotel soap, and you close your eyes as you try not to think too hard about what it’s covering up.

“Missed you while you were away,” you say softly as you clench around him. You don’t mean to, but the soft, wet kiss to your damp skin catches you off guard. You whimper a little as he twitches inside you.

Dave doesn’t respond verbally, he simply tightens his grip on you, pulling you down onto him. But there’s no room to move, you’re already so tightly pressed together. The action is symbolic, a silent “thank you, I missed you too”.

You don’t need him to say it back, you’ve been together long enough, been through so much. You know what you mean to him, even when he can’t say it.

You stay there for some time, both of you needing this. Needing to just feel one another after so long apart.

You, after knowing there is always a chance Dave won’t come home. No matter how many times he comes back to you, no matter how many times he promises he will. You always feel a gaping hole in your chest when he’s gone. You need him to mend that tear in your chest.

Dave needs it so he can feel human again, to know that no matter what he has to do. No matter how bloody his hands get, that he still has a soul. He needs to feel you like he needs oxygen to breathe, like he needs to eat and drink, you sustain him. You make him feel whole, wanted, human.

You begin to tremble as the need for him to move becomes too much. You’ve been warming him for less than twenty minutes but you’re so desperate. The hand splayed across your back moves to cup your jaw. You lean back and smile down at him as his dark brown eyes threaten to swallow you whole.

“Hey,” he mumbles as he rubs his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Hey,” you respond, your thighs tremble as you watch him tilt his head up, pulling you down to kiss him.

It starts slow, soft, tender kisses as his hips grind slowly, his cock nudging your g-spot. You moan, your mouth falling slack as you finally feel the relief flood through you. The pressure eases, building quickly into a fizzling sensation at the base of your spine.

Dave runs his tongue over your bottom lip, and you dart your own out to meet him. Your tongues twist together outside of your mouths before you slot your mouth over his. You thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull as you invade his mouth, swallowing his groans as he slowly fucks up into you.

It’s slow, intimate even, as he takes his time. He pulls almost all the way out, making you whimper at the teasing action, then he pulls you down once more. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock rake through your walls as he fills you up again. It’s so slow it’s maddening, and you can feel your orgasm building. Pleasure ripples under your skin as Dave’s kisses get greedier, his tongue dominating your mouth. No matter how hard you try and match his tenacity he doubles down.

His hips start to snap up harder, his cock punching up into your soaked cunt. You wail as you feel the thick pad of his thumb swipe over your clit. His palm on your pubic bone, pressuring your abdomen as he increases the speed and intensity of his thumb on your swollen bundle of nerves.

Soon you’re both panting into one another’s mouths, no longer able to keep your lips on each other. You’re whimpering and whining at every drag of his cock inside you. His grunts are getting higher pitched, breathy and desperate as he buries his face in your neck. Your cunt squeezes tight around Dave as your release bursts from your core. You cry out as you feel the pressure on your clit increase just as Dave sucks hard at the skin on your clavicle.

His pace doesn’t falter until the last second as his lips leave your skin as he fucks up into you hard one last time, stilling as he spills inside you. He lets out a barely there whimper before he lolls his head forward, his forehead pressed against your sternum.

“Thank you,” he breathes as he pants heavily beneath you, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close. His hot breath fanning out against the slick skin of your chest, his lips brushing your skin with featherlight kisses.

“Don’t need to thank me, Dave, I needed that too,” you admonish him with a playful slap on his shoulder as you bury your face in his hair. No more does he smell like cheap hotel soap and regret. He smells like you, and him, and the beautiful concoction of your combined pleasure.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, his voice already heavy with fatigue, “Love you.”

“I love you too, Dave,” you nuzzle your nose against his scalp as you press barely there kisses to his damp hair, “Now come on, I need to pee, and we both need some rest.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You ease off of Dave’s lap and hold your hand out to him. He takes it without hesitation, and you lead him into your shared bathroom. In less than five minutes you’re in bed, cleaned up, sated, and snuggled into Dave’s side. You feel him pull you close as he begins to drift off and you can’t help but smile. You’re finally at peace, at home, now he’s here.

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thelightsandtheroses · 6 months

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and my soul has changed, and my heart

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Drabble Summary: Joel and Tommy catch up on patrol after word of Joel's date with you spreads around Jackson. Word Count: 1245 Drabble Warnings: mentions of past child death (Sarah) and grief, 18+ blog MDNI Notes: I'm here with another Joel POV drabble! Thank you so much for your patience with this update, I am partway through chapter four so hope to update that shortly. The title for this drabble is from the song Orange Juice by Noah Kahan

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The patrol route is quiet. There’s not a sign of infected or people around. Joel rests the back of his head against the tree he’s leaning against, watching Old Beardy drink from the nearby stream.

Joel can’t quite stop that alertness, the background wariness in case of something changing. It’s not a curse, it’s kept him alive this long.

It’s peaceful though. The area is illuminated by dappled sunlight between the trees hitting the water, the sounds of water babbling over the rocks and nature around are inescapable - you could forget about the world for a moment here.

Joel remembers how Ellie had taken everything in with such childlike wonder when they’d left Boston, how a world he’d known and taken for granted had seemed so new to her. He hadn’t wanted to let her in there, wanted to define her as cargo, as the reason Tess was gone, as a means to an end.

He was different then.

Joel allows himself one more moment of reverie before he focuses again. He feels the familiar pang in his chest as he realises Sarah would have loved it here, would have been scrabbling up the nearby rocks. For just a moment he’s back in Texas, hiking with her on a weekend and nothing’s changed, nothing’s happened. He can almost see her, but he’s afraid to encourage that, too many nightmares start that way and end with her bleeding out in his arms.

Joel shakes his head, makes his way over to Old Beardy, runs his hands on the horse’s neck.

“I reckon we should make our way back now,” he says calmly.

“Yeah.” Tommy doesn’t move though; he stands there looking at Joel with a growing smirk on his lips. “So,” Tommy starts and Joel realises exactly what this is.

He’s unknowingly walked right into his brother’s set up here - patrol, getting out of Jackson.

“Just get it out your system, Tommy, ” Joel deadpans, arms folded. He should have known going to the Tipsy Bison, having a date in Jackson, would spread around town faster than a virus.

“I’m happy for you, Joel. The idea of you and Ellie putting roots down here, building a life, that’s - that’s what it was all about right? What you told me about why you -” Tommy breaks off.

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about the secret Joel told Tommy only days ago on a patrol. He had to tell Tommy, had to tell someone. Tommy understood. He was worried about that, especially with the baby - he wondered if Tommy would ever forgive him for that, for condemning his niece to a world without a cure. Or maybe it’s because of her that Tommy gets it.

“I have one drink with someone and -”

“Small towns, man.”

“Didn’t miss that.”

“Nope. You’ll get used to it. She’s friends with Maria, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” Joel pauses. “She’s … I don’t know, Tommy. I thought after - after Tess, after everything that was all gone for me.” He’d resigned himself to what his life could be - one better than he had expected over the past twenty years, but he hadn’t seen you in his horizon, hadn’t thought there could be a you.

“Fate works in funny ways, I guess.” Tommy pauses and looks at Joel quizzically. “I can see it, y’know.”

“See what?”

Tommy laughs. Sometimes it surprises Joel - how easy his brother seems to live now and how foreign the sound of his laugh had become to him too. Getting to Boston, surviving those years … there wasn’t much humour. There was always laughter in the house before.

He can hear Sarah’s laugh faintly even now. The way she’d almost fold herself up with laughter sometimes, shaking her head furiously.

Since Ellie, since everything over the last year, it’s like he’s bleeding Sarah everywhere.

Every memory he’d boxed up and hidden away is here now, out in the open and sometimes they feel less like a knife, or shiv, in the gut and sometimes the loss is as raw as it was the day his world fell apart. There’s always a dull ache though. That will never fade.

You’re not supposed to have to bury your kid.

He tries to shake the memory away, to bring himself back to now and this moment.

Joel’s here. He has his brother and Ellie and these delicate tendrils of a future again - Jackson, you, a chance. He’ll take that.

“So, I’ve got to ask, brother, how did you even get talking to her?”

“You sayin’ she’s out of my league?” You are, he thinks, you’re different to him, if you knew what he’s done … would you let him sit with you at night? Would you have kissed him on your porch?

Would you get it? You’re a parent, maybe you would. Or maybe you wouldn’t.

“I didn’t say that,” Tommy says, “Just she usually keeps to the library and her home mostly, and you’re not exactly a voracious reader.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

It’s not like Joel has ever hated reading; it’s just it’s not been a priority. Escaping into someone else’s story is a luxury when you’re fighting to make rent, to provide for the people you love. After the outbreak, it seemed fanciful, foolish even.

“Maybe you have,” Tommy says with a weight and stare that says more than his words.

Joel knows what Tommy thinks. He thinks he’s softened in age, with Ellie and Jackson. He isn’t the man of those nightmares anymore, not a hunter, not dangerous. He broke down in Jackson to his brother after all, bared his soul on his age, his deafness, his fears. He’d all but begged Tommy to take Ellie then. maybe it was about more than that - maybe he was just putting up barriers. He did it though.

Tommy’s wrong though. That man hasn’t vanished, that man hasn’t changed. He’s still there under the surface.

You can never fully exorcise those demons.

To live and survive in this world, you probably shouldn’t either.

“So, how did you get talking?” his brother asks, “How’d this start?”

Well, I met her on a bench in the middle of the night in some secret insomnia club we’ve created because hey, I’ve not slept properly in months, years even. No, Joel can’t say that to Tommy.

“We bumped into each other a few times, got to talking.”

“She seems nice, from when I’ve spoken to her and she’s been around with Maria. I can see you two gettin’ on. I mean I really thought you and Esther could have had something though -”

”She had a Victorian doll collection, Tommy. That shit was scary before the end of the world.”

“Yeah, but other than that.”

“I couldn’t get past the dolls, they were in her goddamn bedroom, staring at me …” Joel shudders at the memory. The cracked porcelain heads, faded fabrics and unblinking eyes staring at him when he didn’t want their attention. Esther was a lovely woman but there were over twenty of those dolls in her bedroom alone.

Maybe they helped her. But they sure didn’t help him.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. What if -”

“She won’t have a collection like that.” At least, Joel hopes you don’t.

“Here’s hoping. We should head on back now.”

Joel nods, shifts his backpack, and moves to get on Old Beardy.

He takes in the scene around him just a second longer.

Peace.

Maybe it’s not so far away.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #your hand in mine fic

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twisted-sickfics · 2 months

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hi friends! here’s my first fic on this blog, i hope i do it justice! and thanks sm to the anon who sent in this request, i hope you enjoy! <3 now here’s 1.8k of sick sneezy alastor

It’s not exactly out of the ordinary for no one to have eyes on Alastor for quite some time, however it seems that he’s been missing from the hotel for nearly the entire day now.

“I’m just saying, it’s odd,” Charlie explains to a very uninterested Vaggie. It seems not everyone harbors the same worry in their heart for one of Hell’s Overlords. “We’d usually see him around, like, once or twice! Now it’s just radio silence. Literally.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon enough,” Vaggie says with a lot less concern about the situation than her girlfriend. “It’s not exactly odd for that creepy fucker to go lurking around. I give him a day until he’s back.”

If only that were actually the case and Alastor were truly gallivanting around all of Hell without a care in the world. Instead, it seems he’s found himself in a rather unamusing predicament.

“Ḧ̸̳́̽͛̂̒̾̃̍͗̄̋͘’̷͍̹͇͉̓̀D̶̟̺͑̌̆̇̀̓̊̾̉̃̑̍͛̚͠Z̸͈̖̪̝̪̪͉̜͗́͆͌̒̋́̓̂͛͝͠Z̷̡̗̘̼̜̞̲͈̣͖̦͖͘Z̸̢̧̼͓̤̝̺̤̗̼̀̆ͅH̷̢̪̥͙̟̭̺̭̖͍̯̪̉!̶̢͖̳̙̦̙̗̩͍̟͌̃̌̉͒͑͗͜͜”̴̡̫͈̹̳̺̩͍̟̾̽̍͜͝͠

The sound of feedback in his ears makes Alastor wince, but luckily no one seems to be around to have seen that moment of weakness. Not that any lesser soul unfortunate enough to cross his path and witness the sorry state he’s in can’t simply be extinguished with minimal effort, he would still prefer to get to Rosie’s as soon as possible.

And hopefully his nose will stop buzzing when he’s there.

The residents of Cannibal Town know better than to greet Alastor with anything other than the utmost respect, but they aren’t ones to unnecessarily fall at the feet of a more powerful being. For that, Alastor is actually grateful for.

Getting to Rosie’s Emporium is easier said than done, but no one other than himself needs to know that. Not even Rosie. Unfortunately, even an Overlord of Hell isn’t immune to catching a terrible cold, but it’s making his muscles ache and he feels distinctly weak.

Weak

If there’s one person he knows for sure won’t take advantage of his misery, it’s Rosie. Their relationship has always been a special one, helping each other out whenever need be with very few strings attached for such powerful beings. Compared to other favors he’s had to ask, this one is particularly benign.

The first challenge that presents itself are the other patrons of Rosie’s Emporium who currently have no idea they are on one of the Overlords of Hell’s hit list right now. “Oh my goodness, Alastor! It’s lovely to see you here dearie!”

A warm welcome. One that would be much appreciated if Alastor didn’t need the patrons out yesterday. “Yes, yes, I thought I’d pay a visit to my good friend. There’s something I’d like to talk about if you’d lend me an ear—not literally this time, I’m afraid!”

Rosie laughs at the joke, but Alastor can already tell she’s picked up on his unusual behavior if his disheveled (by his standards) appearance wasn’t already enough to go by. “Alastor, dear, I always have time for you. Let me just finish up with a few customers and we can get right away, how’s about that?”

Alastor can already feel the buzzing sensation in his nose getting more intense by the minute. If he doesn’t get away soon, he’s going to—

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind if I take a bit of a look around the store while I wait. I must say, it’s been quite some time since I’ve last paid you a visit! Toodle loo!”

It’s rushed and worse than the usual quick-witted response Alastor could give on the spot, but the last thing he’s going to do is show any kind of weakness in front of a bunch of patrons. If word got out about the Radio Demon being brought down by a silly cold, he’ll never be able to live that down. He can always get rid of one or two unsuspecting passersby in the exact right place and time to witness Alastor’s downfall, but even he can hardly control the spread of gossip amongst an entire town. That’s more in line with the Vees’ skill set.

Quickly, he finds an unoccupied bathroom and ensures that no one is within earshot.

“H̶̬̮̻͔̯̥̤̪́̑͋͋͜Ḩ̸̧̡͈̖̹͇̜̤͍̗͇̻͂̓͛̃͆͝͠’̸̣̺̯̲͍̞͕̳̣̯̿̅̅͛̒N̶͉̺͖̯̟͇͉͎̣̈́̄̋̊̒̄͐͆G̶̛̭͇̪͍̬̳̼̦̎̈́͜K̸̛̛̪̞̉̇͆̿͝͝T̵̲̤͔̈́͂! H̷̭̳̤̗̻͙̀͆̉̓͋͋͑̕͠Ȟ̵̰̥̲̳̱́̍͜͜’̷͇͕͙̰͓̪̭̞͎̋̀͜D̸̢̡̛͇̜̪̱͖̥̝̯̱̃̀́̉̄͜͝Ź̶͇͎̠̟̹̫͈͌̿͒̓͋̈́̃̆̃̿͑̚͠Z̵̧͉͓̔͐́̀͐̈́̋͛Z̶̲̬̠̠͎̩͒̆̎̄̃̿̄̒͆̇̉̓̎͠Ḩ̴̢̢̛͈̔̋͗̈̊̎̀̎̀̎͌̂͝͝! H̶̡̨̠̮͉̱͕̜̼̱̬̫̲̽̀̂̀͆͐͜H̵̨̛̗̘̹͚̰̝̬̱͐̾͌̓͑̔͊̆͊͌͐̕͝͝’̶̨͕̗͙̝͕̯̬̯̮̹͛̎͘T̴̡͖̳̱̟̫̫̰̀̂͂̃̀͋͂̕͠ͅS̴͓̘̪̫̼͉̻͈̰̟̈̀̊̍̿̀̓̋͋͛̀͌͝Ḫ̷̙̩̦̤̞͇̟̘̐̐̇͒̀́̈́̑̔̀̏̂͝͠͝H̶̤̺̣̾̃́̆͑̿̃ͅ!”

The buzzing is incessant and the faint sound of radio static begins to fill the bathroom, a true testament to his lack of control. It shouldn’t be this way, he should be better-composed. He’s supposed to be indestructible, infallible, and completely immune to any kind of illness as silly as a cold.

Unfortunately, however, Hell just doesn’t work like that.

“Ugh…”

His head pounds and he’s begging to feel dizzy. Thankfully, there are worse places to pass out than in the bathroom of a trusted friend’s place, but he has a feeling his pride won’t allow him to do even that. There’s no way he’s going to show weakness, even to himself if he can help it.

Blowing his nose alleviates some of the pressure in his head as well as the sound of radio static in the room, but it doesn’t get rid of the incessant buzzing in his nose. He has a feeling that’s probably going to stick around for a while, as annoying as it is.

That’s when he hears the bathroom door open despite him being completely certain that he’d locked it. “Oh, Alastor, dear, you could’ve just told me you weren’t feelin’ well.”

At least it’s just Rosie. Some of the tenseness in his shoulders relaxes at that. He puts a smile back on his face and turns to face her with the little amount of dignity he still has left. “It seems that even Overlords can be brought down by a simple cold, I’m afraid,” he admits in a joking manner, not willing to admit how terrible he truly feels. “Do be careful, I would hate for you to catch something because of me.”

“Nah, that’s not somethin’ you have to worry your pretty little head about, darling,” Rosie says instead, not willing to accept Alastor playing this off. “Just trust me. I can shut down the shop for the day and make you some nice tea to help with that throat’a yours.”

That’s…nice. As much as Alastor would hate to admit weakness, there’s something about being offered a warm cup of bitter tea when he feels like collapsing on his feet right now. “How could I ever turn down an offer as generous as that? I think I’ll join you for some tea and conversation.”

The “conversation” part is ballsy, even for him, considering he isn’t sure how much longer he can go without sneezing. The buzzing in his nose is continuing to bug him even after he blew his nose. But being cared about tea sounds too nice to turn down.

The shop looks much different without the hustle and bustle of busy Cannibal Town residents. For Hell, Rosie has always managed to keep the place is relatively high spirits, a true feat for anyone unlucky enough to be down here.

“H̵̩̄̾̚͘̚H̴̨̞̥̾͊́’̷̱͓̰́̓͋̀̂D̸͎̱͌͑́͠T̴̜̚C̸̢̛̲̮͙̪̈́̋͗͜Ḩ̴̯̼̭̯͚̐͝!”

Great, now the static is back. And Rosie heard him.

His mask is slipping.

“Goodness, I apologize,” he says, trying to act as unbothered as possible. He can’t tell if Rosie is buying it or not since her back is turned to him, making tea. He grabs his handkerchief and rubs at his nose, hoping that will alleviate some of the annoying buzzing.

“You don’t need to act all tough around me,” Rosie chastises. “Haven’t we known each other for long enough by now? No one else is here right now. You can let your guard down, I’ve got you.”

As reassuring as that is (Rosie’s care is a good one to be in), Alastor isn’t sure he can let himself relax like that. He’s never done it before and he isn’t sure he can do it now, even with aches and soreness all over.

“You do have a way of seeing through everyone, don’t you?” Alastor says, finally letting his guard down. His voice is less animated and his ears begin to droop slightly. Anyone else would take this as an immediate sign to attack the Radio Demon, but not Rosie. Rosie is a friend. Rosie is safe.

“Here you go,” she says, sliding over a hot cup of black tea with no sugar. “That should help with your throat if it isn’t already hurting. But I have a feeling it is and you’re just not tellin’ me.”

“Oh Rosie, do tell me how it feels to be right all the time, hm?” Alastor jests. He didn’t realize how much his throat was actually hurting until he takes the first sip of tea. He tries to stifle the cough that ensues behind a fist, but an unsettling staticky sound emerges anyway.

“It feels lovely, darlin’,” Rosie quips. “But it sounds like your throat doesn’t. I really feel for you—getting sick while also bein’ in Hell? What kinda shitty luck is that?” She bursts into boisterous laughter, which Alastor doesn’t exactly appreciate but lets slide.

“I’ve had worse days, but this one is the shittyhh—

Ḩ̷̰͍̹̖̮̟͂̍͑̒̄Ḥ̸̨̯̥͕̣͙̯̠̳̘͇̀̋̄̂͒́̑͘͜͝’̸̡̡̮͔̪̰̼̖͉̝͈̝̃͗̅͋͗̓͛͌͝E̸̤̦̱͓̭͉͇̠͚͂̽̏̎͌͑̀̋̀͂̕̚͝͠͝D̷̢͎̭͙̹̙̖̭̣̣̮͖̰͖̆̚Ż̶̧̨͖̭͕͉͇̩͉̰͙͍͍̰̥̂́̉͌Z̵̳̲̝̱̦̻͙̰͕̭̪̯͗̈̋̑̍̅̓̌̆̀̔̇͜S̴̨̢̢̛̲̦͔̠͔̻̯̼̥͆ͅH̵͎͋̽̀̅̄̕Û̸̢̩̝͕̾̈́̓͂̽̀̓̉̚! Ugh, ‘scuse mbe. Well, I suppose

there’s certainly no way I can broadcast in this condition, now is there?” Might as well rest here and recuperate before heading back to the hotel, he thinks to himself, especially if Rosie is being so amenable. Wouldn’t want to face her wrath if I tried to walk out of here like this, either.

He can feel his ears drooping at this point, but he doesn’t have the energy or the necessity to keep them pointed upright. Hopefully no sneaky lesser demons are lurking around looking for pictures but Alastor is still confident in his abilities to detect any foul presences, even battling one of the worst colds of his life.

“How’s that hotel business going these days? The princess and her friends still up to their little shenanigans?” Rosie asks, trying to make conversation. Alastor thinks he still has enough energy left for that.

“Always,” he responds, the plastered smile on his face suddenly feeling slightly more genuine. “But it can be such a headache. There’s no way I could possibly be there now, imagine the migraine I would get in my state.” It’s certainly not because the thought of being doted on makes his cold, shriveled heart do funny things inside his chest.

“Just don’t stay here too long,” Rosie suggests. “Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, dear, but I’m sure the residents would miss you dearly if you were gone more than a few days. It’s just a matter of time before one of them comes looking for you, you know.”

That, he knows too well. He can practically hear Charlie worrying all the way from the hotel lounge. But there’s no way he can show vulnerability around any of them.

Not yet.

“I’ll make sure to recover quickly, then,” Alastor says, sipping on his tea cup. “Give them nothing to worry about. I’ll be back in no tihh… no time—

“Ḩ̴̤͓̫̖͇̤͊̂́͜H̵̢̢̤̺̩̟̖͍̩̹̗̠̑̈́̈́̀͌͑̾̊͝ͅ’̸͇̈̑͒Ë̶̮̝̗͕͖̳͇̗͕̼̬͖́̐͑̈͋̒̀̄̉̈́̒̾̚͘T̵̛̗͚̰̱̭̘͉̯̝̈́̀̂̏̍̽͋͘͝S̴̡̙̺͎̬̱̘̈̅̏́̇ͅS̴̭̥̑̉̂͛̂̾̏̂̾͗Ḣ̵̢̢̞͕̹̰̯̟̰̯̠̖͕͔̀U̸̮͌͆́̏̂̎̏͝͠! Ȟ̴̱’̵̧̛̘́̏͑̌̔̅̑̀͒͂̽͗̃̄H̴̛͙̮͈̠̻̝̱͖̺̺̺͉̩͙̲̆̒́͆̃̂̕͜Ả̷͉̫̘͋̃̋̽̂͂̆̽̏̍̐̾͌̕͜͝Z̵̧̡̠̻̥̲̙͇̙̠͋͌͛̈́͐͋͊͆̔͆͗͒̍͝Z̶̢͚͓͒̆̈́͊̈̑͠ͅZ̶͉̠̗͇̥̰͎̰̱͙͉̱̜̳̣̉̒̌́̓̓͋̚͠H̸̬͓͚̻͖̣̙̬͌̈́̈́͒͌̒̍̒̌̕͠Ủ̶̧̜̱̺̘̖͖̣̣̙͇̩̣͉̄ͅ! Ḥ̴̨̼̣̩̰͓̗̞̜̘͖̱̊̍͜͝È̵̟͒̄͝’̵̙̱̻̥̼̥̹͈̎̈͋̔̅̋̿̓̔͘͜͜Ḍ̷̠̤͕̞̻̟̻͓̜̱̱̃̊̀̎̈́̓̍̇̏͂̚̕Z̸̡̜͈̝̖̈́͊̾̐̓̾̈̽̎̌̍͛̑̕̚̕Z̶̺̣̯̺̫͇̈́̒̇͒̇͆̄̓̅͋̒H̸̨̡̜̳̜̜̣̤̮̉̏̇̿͌̈́̈́́̅̊̒͂͆̇͝Ứ̵̡̙̮͍̣̼̹̠̞̣͕̇̂̑̄̑̔̑̋̎͛̚͝ͅ!”

That damned buzzing in his nose! If it were an enemy, he would be able to eliminate them in nanoseconds. But even the great Alastor can’t fight off a cold without rest and relaxation.

Thankfully, he can get plenty of it at Rosie’s.

#snz #sickfic #snez #snzfic #snzblr #snzario #snz kink #snz blog

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wildemaven · 6 months

Text

fall apart, again : interlude - a letter to joel | joel miller

-> pairing: joel miller x ofc!genevieve

-> wc: 1001

-> content warning: 18+ blog; angst, alluding to loss, post outbreak, reader is Joel’s wife, reader has a name but has zero descriptive features,

-> a/n: I kind of abandoned this series and didn’t really have any plans to finish it. It felt good where they ended in chapter 3 so I was just going to call it good. But then I was reading through the chapters and kind of found some inspiration to write something for them again. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for always listening and encouraging and fixing my writing!!

series masterlist / playlist

previous / next

Joel,

Feels weird to be sitting here, on our bed, in our home. I guess I should mention we made it back to Austin— Steve and I.

I met Steve in the ER in Laredo on the evening of the outbreak— he lost his wife. We managed to make it out of there together and promised to keep each other safe. He heard there’s a QZ in Denver, so we’re making our way north.

I made him promise to stop in Austin. I just had to see for myself, see if there was a chance you and Sarah might still be here— alive.

Like I said, it feels weird to be here. Seeing our house in this state. Disheveled and abandoned, but still feeling very much like the place we thought we’d live forever. It’s like a personal landmark now, for what once was such a beautiful home filled with so many beautiful memories. Maybe it’s more of a mausoleum of sorts. Kind of morbid, but also very true. ‘Here lies the Millers, before the world went to shit.’

Except, I’m here and you’re not.

I think the worst part of all of this is not knowing if you’re okay. Steve says I have to accept that there’s a chance that you’re not, that any worst case scenario that I have lost sleep over, might be my reality. But I refuse to accept that. So, I silently pretend that you are okay. That you have managed to get Sarah and yourself, and hopefully Tommy, to safety. You’re somewhere out there protecting our baby girl and staying strong for her like you’ve always done.

I feel like I’m rambling. My thoughts are just all over the place being here and thinking of you. Or maybe I’m just dragging out my time here because the minute I leave, it will be like a final goodbye to this place— and I don’t think I’m ready for it just yet.

It’s like I can still smell the faint musk of your cologne in the air. Like you’ll walk through our bedroom door, pulling your keys and wallet from your jeans and tossing them on the dresser, all while telling me about some mishap on a job site that set you back a few days. I can just see that grumpy look you wear so well. Then, when you’ve let it all out, you instantly soften when you finally look at me sitting on our bed and then you’re apologizing for boring me with your work bullshit. I would listen to your work bullshit every single day if it meant we could be together again.

When I got here, it was like I was being pulled into Sarah’s room. I sat there for a while, remembering all the times we had laid there with her reading her bedtime stories until she would fall asleep. I miss our dance parties while we would wait for you to come home, her insisting I had zero rhythm anytime one of her little boy band hits came on and I attempted to keep up with her choreographed routine she had memorized. I’m taking a few things of hers, I hope that’s okay. I don’t think I can come back here and I want to have something of hers.

I found your ring on our dresser. Don’t worry I’m not mad you aren’t wearing it. Gosh, I can’t believe I would get so worked up over seeing it laying there instead of on your finger. I know how much it bothered you wearing it to work and worrying about losing it or getting it caught on something, and yet I would still get annoyed over it. But, maybe you weren’t meant to wear it so I could find it today, so I could have a piece of you with me always.

I guess I should wrap this up. I know how much you love when I can go on and on about anything.

I will write to you. Whenever I get the chance. To Sarah, too. I’ll keep writing to you both for as long as I can.

I love you Joel. I always have. And I always will. Wherever you are, I just hope you know that.

Forever and always,

Eve

“Hey, Genevieve— ya doin’ okay up there?” Steve calls up from downstairs.

“Yeah! Just give me a sec! I’ll be right down.” You try to hide your pain as you respond, wiping the few tears sprinkled across your cheeks.

You fold your letter to Joel, placing it securely in an envelope you had found next to the pile of printer paper you tucked away with the items of Sarah’s in your pack. You push yourself off the bed, walking around to the side where Joel slept since the day you moved in. You run your handover the indentation in his pillow, remembering how much you loved to wake up before him just so you could watch him sleep.

Lifting the corner of his pillow, you gently place the letter underneath it. The last place you talked to him, is the first place you’ll write to him. You imagine he’s laying there, sleeping peacefully when you kiss the top of his pillow.

Grabbing your pack off the bed, you take one last look at the space, your heart clenching at the finality of this visit. You force your legs to move towards the direction of the door, stopping briefly at the dresser to grab Joel’s ring, tucking it into one of your packs inner pockets safely.

Steve is sitting on the couch when you finally make it downstairs. His patience is something you’ve appreciated since the day you met. He knew how much stopping here meant to you, and he told you to take as much time as you needed.

“All good?” He asks once you’ve stepped off the last step.

“No, but it will be, I think.” You tell him as you make your way out the front door.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x Genevieve #the last of us au #the last of us #tlou #wildemaven writes #pedrostories #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female oc #pedro pascal

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tocomplainfriend · 2 months

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Responding to your post about fiction affecting reality: very well-written post and that’s something I agree with wholeheartedly!

Full disclosure: I am a Vivz supporter and don’t really interact with the critique community because of negative past experience (hence the anon), but I really liked your post as it was well-researched and brought up a lot of points that I did agree on. Mostly that, as you evidenced, “it’s just fiction” isn’t a great argument for poorly portraying a serious concept when there can be tangible consequences for that portrayal. And you gave some really striking examples.

In terms of Hazbin, it is not that I believe that Val’s portrayal as an abuser (and consequently Angel’s as a victim) lacks any impact, but instead that it adds a positive one. This isn’t something I’ve researched so the evidence I have of this is personal experience, but as you said in your post that media can affect real life I felt inspired to add to that conversation with how it personally affected me.

So I was aware rationally that a common result of abuse/SA is hypersexuality, like I’d seen that on psychology blogs and such but never really understood it. I’m ashamed to say I thought it was a little weird and very rare. Hazbin was what finally challenged that notion with me. Being able to see how abuse looks and attribute those events to Angel’s actions step-by-step made something click in my head. I even remember that shortly after seeing that episode, I apologized to one of my friends (a survivor themselves) over some judgmental comments I’d recently made over hypersexuality. Said friend also watched Hazbin with me and it’s the reason they talk more openly to me now and we’re a lot closer. Val’s “stupid” behavior in the show and mentioned in Vivz’s comments did not lessen the impact that episode had on me, or make it unbelievable to me that Val could be manipulative. If anything I understand more now that abusers don’t always appear as psychopathic masterminds. And I know my friend finds comments like the Mean Girls one funny and they tell me it’s empowering to make fun of Val’s incompetence.

That’s not the only positive influence Hazbin’s had on me, but the most relevant to your post, I believe. It’s the reason I’m often a skeptic on most criticisms, because my lived experience tends to go against them. You said the negative impact of Val was that people are drawing fetish art of him, but the only time I ever see that art is within critic’s posts. It never shows up in my regular feed, so it looks to me like he’s equally as fetishized as every other character; the unfortunate inevitability of the internet. I can’t say I’ve seen anyone post about stories like mine about learning to understand survivors, but I have heard positive stories from survivors themselves in person and online which lead me to believe that the positive impact outweighs the negative.

Fiction has real impact, very true. But consider that might be a good thing in this case.

Thanks for being respectful!

TW: Rape, SA

I'm a victim of SA myself and that's why I wrote all of this post. If you got something positive out of this piece of media, that's great. Same with victims that saw potion and were okay with it- that valid as much as the people that didn't like it at all. I recommend watching many others shows yourself (or movies, books, whatever) will help you out with sorts of topics in bigger ways. I understand you feel like you got something good out if (and I'm glad) but I do need to say, this is minimal in comparison to other media you could consume regarding the topic!

I personally suffer with Hypersexuality, and the treatment in the show (and merch and otherwise) I found completely wrong. Even if you got to a good understatement of the topic, please put research into it (also outside Tumblr for that matter! There are better places to find stuff about!). Thank you also for admitting your faults over your treatment of hypersexuality and apologizing for it. Many people will never let themselves grasp this concept, so thank you.

If you took Valentino's comparison to Mean Girls or Powerpuff Girl as a way of making fun of him, that's you. I found it, personally, terrible. Specially cause many comments regarding that (that I put on the post) were people actively disregarding the topic at hand. Saying that Valentino is just a karen, or He is Bubbles coded, feels so out of the realm of everything (the last one didn't feel like making fun of him). I don't like the comparison of an active sexual predator to a mean high school girl or a kinder garden girl that's regarded as bubblely or dumb. Feel like you should reach into his actions over It feels diminishing to me and other people (who also complained about this themselves).

People should be extremely careful of what they portray about this topic in media. Other stuff written in Hazbin or Helluva Boss regarding R-pe jokes also is extremely disgusting to me. Never forget that if you think this portrayal is ok, one episode apart it's a gang r-pe jokes towards Sir Pen... and an r-pe joke towards Moxxie in Spring Brakers. Which I find extremely disrespectful to do and adds to r-pe culture as much as any other r-pe jokes (general or towards men) in media. Especially when they want to portray it in a serious way with Angel, where was that energy then? (Don't say Viv didn't write that, she liked a tweet about the Sir pen joke, and the spring braker is written by Viv and Brandon.)

Also, about manipulation:

The tweet right below says that "He isn't manipulating them" because he is too stupid to do so. Responding "The Vees are just meangirls" it's crazy to me.

About "You said the negative impact of Val was that people are drawing fetish art of him, but the only time I ever see that art is within critic’s posts. It never shows up in my regular feed"

Val has being fetishized by the crew itself! The person (who is not an SA/r-pe victim said by themselves, who has being open of shipping ValxAngel and being into r-pe porn) is the one that produce the whole poison part of the episode (also based on his previously non canon ValxAngel comic). You could also go throught the people Viv's responds and likes and it's mutuals with, and they also do the same thing as this crew-member (Raph). Congrats that it doesn't appear in your timeline, tho. If this art appears in a critic post, it is because it's being criticized or brought up to make a point.

[It's not on my blog yet, but I don't like receiving double ask in the inbox, specially of anons! Sorry. I don't know if it's the same person or not, and I don't want to end up receiving 5 asks in my inbox again.]

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss critique

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

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Heya, could I request a secretly demon MC? They’re using some type of magic to hide their true appearance (basically one like a tiefling from DnD) and have a pact with The Devil, but are now suddenly trying to break it because the M6 gave them some type of hope for their life again?

Before the M6 even discover this, the MC was brash and selfish, also fairly quick to jump to violence (though probably not Vulgora level) and quiet about their past. How would the pieces click into place for them? In case you need any extra info you can just post that mentioning this ask and I’ll try to help

So sorry if requests aren’t open, your blog description says they are but I can’t find if there is a post also saying that so I’m not fully sure. If not feel free to ignore this!

The Arcana HCs: When MC's natural patron is the Devil

~ disclaimer: this request was work shopped a little with my requester, so you'll be seeing some different info in the setting. It was fun chatting with you, new friend, I hope you like these! - brainrot ~

-- some background --

Nobody knew when it was time to go up against the Devil that you were tempted to join him. While you never let on, his voice always spoke the loudest to you in the cards, and you relished the way his cunning nature enabled your own aggressive tendencies. While in the end you were able to work with your lover to preserve Vesuvia, you still feel a little guilt for the way his words continue to provoke you.

Julian

He's not going to judge someone for their past. The way he sees it, you're working with what you've got, and you're doing a fine job. If you're a little aggressive about it, cool

No seriously, he's kind of a fan. He got to watch you kick a rude customer out of your shop once and he still lies awake at night fantasizing about it

Let out some of your aggression with him. Please.

On a less indulgent note, he knows what it's like to have tendencies he's not proud of

It was a little daunting to tell him that it had been tempting to take the Devil's side and not live with any more constraints, and that you still struggle with some guilt about it, but he listened closely

He understands the feeling of guilt for something he didn't do, but still wanted to. He's quick to tell you how he relates to you, and to remind you of the lesson you taught him to live looking forward

Speaking of looking forward, are you sure you want to stay at the shop forever? You're not that well suited to customer service

Just saying, you have the potential to make a fine pirate ...

Asra

They didn't know of your affiliation until it came time to re-teach you magic, and the strong link they saw scared them a little at first

To be clear - he wasn't scared of or disturbed by you. He just knew firsthand what the Devil could be like, and he worried what kind of harm that affiliation might cause to the person he loves so much

It was another reason for them to be so secretive about your abilities - they weren't just waiting for your mind to heal enough to hear about the past, they were waiting for you to be strong enough to navigate a connection like that

He watched you when it came time to bargain with and subsequently trap the Devil, and he is so, so proud of you

Your short temper, aggressive nature, and quickness to violence are a different matter entirely. Everyone has things they struggle to control, that's part of being a person

They've spent years teaching you not to be afraid of or upset by your tendencies

If anything, they love the chance to see you let loose for the right reason. You're stunning when you're in your element

Nadia

You shake things up and she likes it

She's so used to maintaining total control of herself and biting back her immediate responses that your impulsive aggression is hugely refreshing

It's also a nice change when most of the people she interacts with prefer to hide their thoughts and actions as much as possible

Half the time you lose your patience and shout you just end up saying what she was already thinking

She's especially happy to find that you give as good as you get, and that the chances of her doing something you don't like without you letting her know is next to zero

She was able to perceive quite a bit of tension whenever you spoke to the Devil. She could tell how tempting it was for you to join him, and seeing your decision to resist only made her fall harder for you

As a result, she likes to challenge you to see your aggression as a gift instead of as a struggle

Have you considered some form of combat training? Fencing? Wrestling? You have a gift for violence, would you like to join her royal guard?

Muriel

You shake things up and it's better for him than he'd like to admit

If you're too quick to escalate things, he's the type who doesn't escalate even when it would be the appropriate thing to do

It was hard for him to get along with you at first. You remind him a bit too much of Lucio with your quick temper and loud voice, but you have a good heart

He especially saw it when the two of you were training under Morga. He came to recognize courage in your ferocity, and started to question what made a good person a good person

Of course, he didn't appreciate it as much when he was a little too close to your sparring matches and they started to get more aggressive than necessary

He's also quick to help you re-frame your guilt around your connection - you don't think he's a bad person after what he did, why would he think you're bad for what you didn't do?

He does value peace and quiet though, so he usually suggests that you stay in charge of splitting wood and other more violent jobs, just so you have a regular outlet

Portia

You have a short temper? She has a short temper too!

You're quick to throw a punch? So is she!

You two do learn quickly that it's not the best idea to only egg each other on. It doesn't always go well when you keep throwing each other's impulse control out the window every time something happens

You'll eventually perfect the art of taking turns reeling each other in. Though sometimes you play rock-paper-scissors for the chance to demolish an especially annoying person

Being with her takes "partner in crime" to a whole new level

It's a good thing you have both Nadia and Julian willing to smooth things over with their negotiating skills if you both blow up at the same time

She never drew a connection between you and the Devil - you were too busy dealing with her Aunt Tasya

You did one day confess it to her when it was really getting to you

She doesn't think it's any bigger of a deal than you say it is. As far as she's concerned, you are you, and that's who she loves

Lucio

Honestly, it's an ongoing struggle for him not to be jealous of you

You have the same tendencies he does. You have the same affiliation he does. You were even offered a deal without having to seek it out, and he knows for a fact that it was tempting

And yet, you chose to say no

At the same time, it's a whole lot easier to accept help from you because he knows it comes from someone who understands and chooses to love him anyways

He chooses to be inspired by you instead

And he adores your comfort level with combat. You want a fight? He is so down for a fight. Say the word and he'll drop everything for a match

Let's just say that it's a good thing you two are in the career path that you are in, because if you didn't both have the chance to let off steam for a good cause that often it would be a recipe for disaster

Some people get concerned because of how quick you two are to argue with each other, but it actually works pretty well because you both get where the other is coming from and are quick to forgive

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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missrosegold · 1 year

Text

you met me at a perfect time

Synopsis: You’d always hoped that you’d eventually get closer to your attractive next-door neighbor with the shitty box-dye job. You just wished it was under different circumstances.

Word count: 9K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Zombie!AU so the usual: corse language, death, sickness, violence, blood. So please Minors or Ageless blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

This is for @medusashima rise of the dead collab event!

This was so much fun to write! I have a soft spot for MHA and zombies, so writing for both was a treat!

As this is a Zombie Apocalypse AU, I’m going to take it one step further and say that no one has quirks in this. That being said: Touya never burnt up and turned into Dabi, but he still uses the name on occasion, and is the implied black sheep of his family. He still has all of his piercings, He’s not losing those.

There isn’t really a happy ending to this, be forewarned.

Not gonna lie: I really do want to write more for tattoo artist!Dabi. He’s so hot.

Likes and reblogs are always apricated! I hope you enjoy <3

The outbreak started on a seemingly average day in May.

The day had started off normally enough. You’d woken up early to go get the mail and do a few things around your apartment, since you knew your roommate was going to be working late that night and you figured you’d utilize your day off to do something productive.

You slipped on your shoes and headed downstairs to your building’s mailbox, taking the stairway to the first floor. You unlocked your unit’s mailbox and gathered up yours and your roommate’s mail, casting a glance to your left so you could see out of your building’s glass entrance. You frowned slightly at the sight of wet concrete and dark skies as you shut your mailbox and locked it.

It was the middle of May but it had been unseasonably rainy so far. You had just moved to the area a few months back and your roommate had assured you that this district’s weather was normally sunny and warm during the spring months, but you had yet to see it.

You were just about to turn around and head back upstairs to drop the mail off, but you saw something that made you pause.

Your neighbor one floor down from you, a kind middle-aged gentleman who lived in unit 312, was standing outside in the parking lot at front of the building, swaying lightly from side to side as he peered down at his reflection in a puddle.

That was odd. Your neighbor, while not overly outgoing, had never acted like that before. He was just… standing there, swaying as if he were drunk or in some sort of trance.

You don’t know why, but something told you to go check on him. It wasn’t like him to act like that. Sighing, you opened the door and stepped outside, slowly making your way towards your neighbor who had yet to acknowledge your presence

“Mr. Takashi?” you called out hesitantly. “Mr. Takashi, are you alright?”

The man said nothing in return as he continued to look down at his distorted reflection in the puddle.

Fuck. You think inwardly. The man might be having some sort of medical emergency. If that was the case, you’d have to call somebody. Just as you were pulling out your phone to punch in the non-emergency number, the man in front of you finally seemed to take notice of you and his head jerked up violently to stare at you.

It took everything in you not to recoil at the sudden movement, but the thing that really has you worried, are his eyes

The skin around them is sunken in and so dark it looks almost black. The whites of his eyes have yellowed and a strange sort of haze seems to be lingering over them, one that you know he didn’t have a few days ago when you had exchanged pleasantries with him in the hallway. The next thing that hits you is the smell.

You can’t tell if it’s his breath or body odor but whatever the hell it is, it hits you like a punch to the gut and you have to fight with yourself to NOT cover your nose and back away in disgust.

It smells like something is rotting. Like a corpse that’s been left out in the sun for far too long-

“Mr. Takashi, are you okay?” You ask him again, urgently this time. He still hasn’t responded to your questions, and now you’re getting seriously worried. You call out to him one more time, and he seems to snap out of the trance he’s in. He blinks and looks around, confused, before his gaze shifts to you, but you notice that the haze hasn’t cleared in his eyes.

“Oh… hello… you’re the girl from floor four, yes?”

“That’s me.” You confirm, still unsure of what to make of his strange behavior. “Are you okay sir? You’ve just been standing out here staring off into space. I’ve been trying to get your attention, but you didn’t answer me. Are you feeling well?”

“Oh… m’fine.” He slurs slightly. “Just haven’t been feeling myself today. But I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call for you?” you press gently. “Maybe we could call someone to take you to a doctor’s office?”

Your neighbor is silent for a few moments and you realize that he’s staring off into space again. You can’t be sure if it’s just a trick of the light, but it looks like his eyes are cloudier than they were before—

“Mr. Takashi?” you try one more time and his head turns in your direction unnaturally.

“Oh m’fine. Just haven’t been feeling myself today. But I’ll be okay.”

What the fuck is going on with him? You think to yourself. Why is he repeating the same thing again?

Almost as if he can read your thoughts, the older man shakes his head and pushes himself away from you. “I’ve gotta go.” He mutters as he shuffles past you on unsteady legs. “Not feeling good. See you later girl.”

You watch, concerned, as he stumbles back towards the building and disappears inside, still looking like he’s in a fog. Nothing about that whole exchange felt right. Everything about it, from the way he spoke to you, to the way he moved, was wrong, but you can’t place what about the interaction has you so on edge.

Something about your neighbor is very, very wrong. But you don’t know what it is, or who you could even tell. After a moment of silently watching him stumble into the building, you glance back up towards the dark sky and put a hand over your eyes, squinting upwards.

It looks like it’s about to rain. Hard.

The first dop of rain that hits your cheek confirms your theory, and you dart back inside for cover. Once inside, you look around the lobby for your neighbor, but he’s all but disappeared.

Hopefully he’s gone back to his apartment, you think to yourself, as you make the trek back up to your floor. You don’t want to run into him stumbling around the halls. You hope that he’s just incredibly tired for some reason and that’s why he’s acting all out of sorts, but something tells you that’s not what’s bothering him.

The whole exchange has you so preoccupied, that you barely register the door to the unit next to you open, and someone step out to lean heavily against the doorframe.

“You okay there Doll? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You damn near trip and stumble over your own feet at the sound of a familiar, raspy voice and you quickly right yourself to make eye contact with your next-door neighbor, hoping to god that he didn’t see your blunder. Judging from the playful glint you see in his very blue eyes; you know he did, and suddenly, all your concerns from earlier fly out the window.

Your neighbor next door in unit 401, is an interesting guy to put it mildly.

You don’t know much about him, only that his name is Touya, but he tends to go by Dabi depending on who he’s hanging around, and he works as a popular tattoo artist in the downtown area. Apparently, he’s apparently something of a master with ink and piercings alike. Almost all visible skin on him from the neck down is tattooed, and you know he’s done most of it himself.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t harbor something of a crush on the man.

He is unfairly attractive, in the unconventional sort of way that would have made your high-school self swoon. He’s tall and lean, but has a good amount of muscle to him – you’ve stared at the definition in his arms while watching videos of him tattooing clients on his Instagram page long enough to know that. His ears have multiple piercings in them each, and he has quite a few facial piercings. You’ve never found them particularly attractive on people before you met him, but they suit his face nicely.

One fun fact about him that you’ve learned recently, curtesy of your roommate, is he dyes his hair. You used to think his inky spikes were natural, since the shade suited him nicely, but as it turns out that’s not the case according to her. He must do it himself though, because the last couple of times you’ve seen him, his roots have been getting progressively lighter to the point that you can’t ignore it anymore.

You haven’t been able to speak to him much aside from the occasional small talk when you inevitably cross paths in the hallway. You tend to work early to late, while he works late in the afternoon till even later at night then you, so it’s rare for you to meet up like this. He must have the day off too.

“Hey Touya… or, is it Dabi?”

He snorts, sending you a wicked grin as he takes a drag of his cigarette. “Touya’s fine, Doll. I don’t make pretty girls call me Dabi. That’s reserved for clients and my asshole co-workers.”

Right. He’s probably tattooed his fair share of less than pleasant people in his line of work. You probably wouldn’t want them knowing your full name either, if you had his job.

Fuck, did he just call you pretty?

“You know you shouldn’t be smoking in the hallway. Mrs. Honda will have a fit if she catches you again. I heard her screaming at you from down in the lobby last time.” You shudder as you think of your building’s superintendent. For a woman in her mid-sixties who couldn’t be any taller then five feet, she could be really scarry when she wanted to be.

“That old hag won’t do shit to me. I pay my rent on time, which is more then I can say for some fuckers here.” Touya mutters around the cigarette, but he still disappears into his apartment, presumably to put out the cigarette, before returning to lean on the doorframe.

He looks you up and down for a moment, seeming to mull over something in his head, before he juts his chin at you. “What’s your plans for tonight?”

Well, that was new. Touya never asked about your personal life, or if you had anything else going on aside from work before. Was he asking because he was curious, or--?

“I think I’ll be staying close to home tonight. It’s been a while since I took it easy. What about you?”

“Might be going out with some of the guys from work for dinner tonight. Probably won’t be late though.” The hint of a smirk pulls at his lips. “If I get back early enough, you and I should do something.”

Oh. That was unexpected. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“You wanna do something with me?” you clarify. He nods, the sly grin never leaving his face.

“Why? I’m not saying no, but we’ve never been able to have an actual conversation up until now. Suddenly you want to do something with me?” You ask and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’ve had my eye on you since you moved in next door Princess. Not my fault that we work opposite shifts. Besides, I thought for sure you would’ve noticed me checking you out with how often I’ve caught you staring at me.”

You cough and look away, not wanting him to see how flushed his comment had made you. Goddamn it. Had he really been watching you this whole time? How could he be stupidly attractive and preceptive? It wasn’t fair.

“Anyways, I figured it was about time to make a move, since you clearly weren’t going to.” Touya continues with a smirk, caging his arms back behind his head. “I have the day off and it looks like you do too. You should come over later tonight after I get back and do something with me.”

You cross your arms over your chest and shoot him a teasing grin, trying to recover. “Oh? Like what? You gonna let me re-dye your hair or something? I think your roots are starting to show.” You squint at the crown of his head, where you can see the tell-tale signs of lighter coloured hair starting to grow out from underneath the dark, spiky strands.

Touya groans at your observation and runs a hand exasperatedly through his hair, ruffling it. “Don’t remind me. I haven’t had the chance to dye it again.”

“What is your natural colour anyways? I thought it was black. You wear it well.” You tell him honesty.

Touya shoots you a grin. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

He laughs. “Come over and see for yourself.”

“Maybe I will.” You tease back. “All depends on when you get back from dinner with your friends though. I’m not a two-in-the-morning-visit type of girl, and I know how late you like to stay out.”

It’s not far from the truth. Sometimes you’ve heard him stumbling back into his apartment well into the early hours of the morning. Probably getting back in from drinking at one of the clubs you know he frequents, or doing god knows what else.

He snorts at your comment, but the playful glint in his eyes doesn’t leave. “Shouldn’t be out too late this time. I’m telling you, Princess, if you get lonely tonight, you know where to find me.”

He closes the door to his apartment without another word.

That night everything went to shit.

Your roommate didn’t come back to the apartment. That was the first thing that tipped you off that something wasn’t right. You knew that she was working late, but it was pushing three hours past her normal end time, and you were starting to worry.

You try to call her several times, but every call went straight to voicemail, so you eventually gave up on that endeavor. Same with texting. All of the texts you send her garnered no response so after a while, you stop that too. You hope she’s with a friend or maybe she decided to go out after work like she sometimes did, but you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was building in the pit your stomach.

Trying to distract yourself, you flip on the television and it went right to your local news. The news woman is standing outside of a hospital, reporting about multiple patients all showing similar signs of an infection that seemed to be caused by an unknown pathogen, before she was suddenly shooed away by several firefighters.

As the camera pans away from the woman and flicks back towards the hospital, you remember thinking that the hospital looked vaguely like the one about twenty minutes away from your apartment building, before it suddenly erupts into flames.

An explosion in the distance rattles the windows to your apartment, and you bolt over to the closest one without thinking. The vibrations from the blast are still vibrating through your apartment as you peer outside in shock.

Sure enough, you can see the tell-tale glow of a massive fire in the distance. Several skyscrapers have blocked your view of the actual hospital, but you know it’s ablaze. Suddenly, you’re very thankful that your building isn’t directly in the city and that a large park separates your home from the major core, because you can only imagine how chaotic the downtown is right now.

Shuddering, you rip your eyes away from the window and move back towards the T.V. feeling numb all over. The scene has shifted back to the main news room, where you can see the news anchors trying desperately to figure out what’s going on, and re-establish contact with their fellow reporter and her crew at the hospital.

Inwardly you know it’s hopeless. If they’re not dead, they’re badly injured.

You’re just about to shut the T.V. off and reach for your phone to call your roommate one more time, before you’re interrupted by the sounds of loud, uneven knocking at door leading into your apartment.

For some reason, you feel your blood freeze in your veins at the sound. You pocket your phone into the back pocket of your sleep shorts and move hesitantly towards the door. You approach slowly, making sure you don’t make too much noise as you put your eye up to the peep hole to see who’s at your door.

It’s Mr. Takashi from floor three.

The peep hole doesn’t let you see much aside from his fuzzy figure, but biased on what you can see, he doesn’t look good. You can’t be sure, but you think there may be blood on him—

“Sweetheart? Sweethart are you in there?” the man croaks out, swaying side to side in front of your door. “I need… I need some help… Can you let me in? Please let me in…”

Goddamn it. What the hell was going on tonight? Normally you would have simply called out to him that if he was in need of medical attention, you’d call him an ambulance, but based on what you just witnessed on the T.V. and the explosion outside your window, you don’t think the hospital is an option anymore.

“Mr. Takashi? What’s wrong? What can I help you with? Are you hurt?” you finally manage to call out to him from behind the safety of your door.

“I need help… I feel… I feel really sick… please… you’re the only one that cares enough to ask…”

Fuck sakes.

Your bleeding heart is going to get you killed one day, you’re certain of it.

You suck on your teeth as you weigh your options. You know this is a bad idea, you feel it in your gut. He hasn’t been acting right since you saw him this morning, and you have no idea what seems to be bothering him now. You’re not remotely qualified to deal with what’s currently bothering him, whether it be physically or mentally, but if something awful happens to him, and you could’ve possibly done something to help him, you know that you won’t be able to forgive yourself.

So, you grit your teeth and unlock your front door, allowing your downstairs neighbor to stumble in as you shut the door and lock it behind you.

“Okay, what seems to be the problem—” Your voice dies off as the man slowly turns around to look at you, and you have to fight off the familiar urge to cover your nose and hold back vomit.

You don’t know how, but somehow, he looks even worse than he did earlier. His skin looks like it’s lost all of its parlor and looks almost translucent in the soft lighting of your apartment. His eyes are glassy and the parts of his irises that aren’t milky, are bloodshot. Now that you’re able to get a better look at him, his clothes look like they have splatters of blood strewn across them, but you can’t tell if they’re his or not…

If that wasn’t concerning enough; that foul, rotting stench that was wafting off him earlier is ten-fold now, and it almost brings you to your knees. You try to breathe through your mouth, but it does little to help you as you fight back the gag reflex you feel trying to kick in. You have no idea where the stench is emanating from. You can’t see any open wounds on him, though it does little to explain how the red stains on his clothes – which you’re almost certain is blood – got on him. You already know that whatever’s wrong with him, it’s far out of your capabilities.

“Mr. Takashi? Mr. Takashi, I don’t know if I can help you.” You manage to get out as you watch him shuffle aimlessly around. “Have you tried calling a doctor? Anyone? I don’t think I’m equipped to help you properly—”

“Can’t get through… all busy… I feel so sick.” He mutters, looking at you, but at the same time, looking straight through you, as if you’re just an obstacle in his way.

“I- hold on, what’s all the stuff on you?” you gesture to rust coloured stains covering him. “Is that blood? Is it yours? Are you bleeding somewhere?” You’re not sure if you want to know the answer, but if he’s not going to tell you what’s bothering him, you’ll have to get it out of him some other way.

“Dead, all dead… not for long.”

You’re not sure if you like that answer… if you could even call it that.

“Who’s dead?” you press. “Mr. Takashi? Did you do something?”

But your neighbor isn’t listening to you. You watch, horrified, as his eyes seem to glaze over completely, and suddenly his breathing becomes labored to the point you’re not sure if he can breathe at all.

“Shit.” You groan as you grab his hand without thinking, and drag him through your apartment to you and your roommate’s shared bathroom. You have to force the door open a bit as you drag him in the small bathroom and rip open the medicine cabinet on the wall. The hinges on the door have been getting stuck recently and your landlord has yet to fix them, despite how many times you and your roommate have complained.

You’re not really sure what you’re looking for as you search through your cabinet frantically. Something, to help clear his airways preferably, but neither you nor your roommate are asthmatics, so you know your chances of finding useful medications are slim to none.

Suddenly a strange croaking growl cuts through the air behind you, and you turn to face your neighbor, only to freeze.

He looks feral. Deranged is a better word for it. His mouth is hanging open, and his limbs are jerking sporadically, but you don’t see any light behind his eyes… what you can see of them anyways. He looks like he’s about to collapse, but something is holding him up, like a puppet on a string. He looks like a corpse that recently died. Maybe he is one, you don’t know.

“Mr. Takashi?” you try once, hesitantly.

His head jerks in your general direction. Then he lunges.

You barely have any time to react, let alone scream for help as he claws at you, groaning unintelligibly as he tries to sink his teeth into your skin. You manage to hook an arm under his jaw, shutting his mouth and driving his face away from yours, as you use your other hand to try and subdue his own, which are trying to find purchase on your body.

Thankfully, he isn’t a big man, and he may even weigh less then you do, so he’s not particularly hard to ward off – especially considering he doesn’t seem to have the best control over his physical faculties at the moment – but you still struggle to hold him off long enough to put some space in between you and him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get. Off.” You snarl as you shove him to the side hard enough that he falls into your shower tub, bringing your shower curtain down with him. You don’t stop to catch your breath; you bolt out of the bathroom before he can untangle himself and slam the door shut behind you.

You’re suddenly grateful that the bathroom door jams whenever it’s fully closed. You have a hell of a time with it some days, and you’re hoping that it’ll be enough to hold him off for now.

But what if it isn’t enough? What if he comes at you again?

You don’t stick around long enough to entertain the idea. You’re bolting through your apartment, and are out your front door before you know it, slamming it shut behind you, as you press yourself against it, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

You look around your hallway and you immediately wish that you hadn’t. The place looks like a war-zone. Several of the overhead pot-lights are flickering ominously above you, there are signs of a possible struggle further down the hall way to your left, and the walls across from you look like they have blood smeared across them.

It’s alarmingly quiet. Too quiet for a place the looks like someone may have been murdered in not long ago.

You strain your ears to see if you can hear any of your other neighbors in their units, but all you’re met with is silence. The abnormal quiet does little to comfort you. Normally, you can always hear some sort of noise from your neighbors out in the hallway, even when they’re in their apartments. You don’t know why it’s so quiet now, but it has you on edge.

How the hell you didn’t notice the chaos that must have been unfolding outside your door is beyond you. You were so wrapped up trying to figure out where your roommate was, that you weren’t paying attention to anything else – now you’re paying for it.

The deathly silence reminds you you’re alone. You’re out in the open and you don’t have anything to protect yourself with. Going back into your apartment is out of the question, and you’re not particularly close enough with any of your neighbors to go pounding on their doors for help. (Something tells you they wouldn’t open their doors for anyone now anyways)

Except for possibly one.

You turn to your right where the door leading to the stairwell is. Across from the stairwell is the last apartment on your floor. Unit 401 – Touya’s apartment.

You wouldn’t call each other close. Hell, the first full conversation you’ve had with him was literally earlier today, but he did invite you over, and if his earlier comments meant anything, he’s had his eye on you for a while now. Maybe he’d be willing to help you—

A distant scream shatters the illusion of relative safety, and makes up your mind for you. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, but you don’t want to find out. You bolt over to Touya’s door and knock frantically on it, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Touya? Touya, are you home? If you are, please let me in, it’s an emergency!” you hiss, throwing a look over your shoulder to make sure that you’re still alone out in the hallway. Thankfully, you don’t see anyone.

Your tattooed neighbor doesn’t open the door. You start to feel a cold sweat break out over your body, and you knock on his door again, a little louder this time. You’re about to call out to him, until you remember he told you that he was going out this with some friends tonight.

Fuck, you don’t even know if he’s back yet. You can’t remember seeing him pull into the parking lot outside the apartment building, or hearing him pass by your door to get to his own. If he’s not home, you’re screwed. You’ve left your apartment and now are standing in the hallway, unarmed, wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt and sleep shorts. Not ideal for running for your life in.

You’re just about to raise your hand to pound on his door one last time, before the door to the staircase is violently ripped open and Touya comes bursting through it, gasping for air. His badly dyed hair is windswept and wet, presumably from the light rain outside. There is something thick and dark dripping from his jacket as he hunches over, panting like he’s run the whole way home, and maybe he has. All you know is the dark substance that’s now dripping onto the floor isn’t water. It looks suspiciously like—

Touya looks up, his blue eyes wild in the dim of the hallway, and meets your own startled ones. He blinks like he can’t believe that you’re standing outside of his door in nothing but your sleepwear, before his face suddenly shifts and he strides over to you.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” he hisses as he pushes past you to unlock his door and all but drags you inside his apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him before turning to you again. “Have you not seen what the fuck is going on out there?”

“No… I mean… What do you mean, what’s going on out there?” you parrot him, casting another nervous glace to the door behind you. “I’m more concerned about the weird shit that’s happening here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know Mr. Takeshi? One floor down from us?”

“Should I?”

“Well— it doesn’t matter anymore I guess.” You mutter darkly. “Point is, I think he’s really sick. He’s not acting right and he smells like something died.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as you recall the memory.

“He came pounding on my door out of nowhere and I let him in thinking he needed help, next thing I know, he’s trying to bite me! I got away and locked him in the bathroom, but I didn’t know if the door would hold, so I bolted out of my unit.”

You try and give him a smile. It doesn’t work. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to see if you were home. Thankfully you showed up when you did. The hallway looks like it’s got blood smeared everywhere and I haven’t seen a single person all night-“

“He didn’t bite you, did he?”

“He—what?” you ask, caught off guard by his question.

“The dude in your bathroom, he didn’t bite you, right?” Touya asks impatiently, gesturing towards you. You shake your head.

“No, but he tried to. Why?”

“It’s not just him.” Touya juts his chin towards the front door. “He’s not the only one acting like that. I don’t know what it is, but it’s everywhere. They were downtown too.”

“There’s more people like him?” You groan, fighting the urge to panic at the news. What the hell was going on? Was it some mutant case of rabies, or was it something worse…

“Trust me, you haven’t seen half the shit I’ve seen.” Touya mutters as he crosses over to the windows on the other side of his living room, and pulls back the black-out shades covering them so he can peer out into the darkness. “Downtown is a fucking nightmare. People are biting people and tearing into them, doing all sorts of other nasty shit. It looks like fucking World War III has broken out, but with cannibals instead of nukes”

“The hospital close to here exploded.” You mutter, thinking back to that final news report. “Did you see it?”

“I felt it.” Touya corrects you with a grimace. “I was driving back here and was about two blocks away when it happened. I’m amazed the windows in my car didn’t implode. Shit was loud as hell.”

He lets the drapes fall back into place, plunging the room into darkness again and you hear him fumbling around in the dark for a moment, muttering obscenities under his breath. You hear a small click somewhere to your left and his T.V. turns on. The glare illuminates Touya’s lanky form and you see his brow furrow as he rapidly surfs through T.V. channels – all of them are broadcasting static.

“Shit.” He mutters as he tosses the remote down on the couch, raking a hand through his hair. “No T.V. That was fucking fast. The people on the radio wouldn’t shut the hell up about some viral sickness while I was driving back here, but I lost the channel about a block away. Couldn’t get any other stations to work either.”

“The radio stopped working as well?” Truthfully, if he hadn’t had told you, you wouldn’t have known. You switched to Spotify a while ago and never looked back, but the knowledge that the radio broadcasters have fallen silent, possibly for the last time, is chilling.

“Same as the T.V.” Touya grumbles as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps it and lifts the cracked screen to his face, scowling as he holds it out in front of him. “I don’t have any bars, do you?”

You may not have been smart enough to grab a knife from your kitchen before you ran out of your unit, but thank God your phone never leaves your side. You nod and reach into the back pocket of your sleep shorts and pull out your device. You unlock it and shake your head, holding it out so he can see.

“No, I don’t have any service and I can’t access the internet. It must be a provider issue.”

“Fuck sakes.” Touya snarls as he jams his phone back into his pockets. “No T.V., no phones, no radio. You know what this means right?” he looks at you expectantly and you nod, dread pooling in your stomach.

“We’re alone.”

“You got that right.” Touya is silent for a moment. His gaze falls to his feet and then back to the covered window. He doesn’t look at you as he mutters “My brother works at that fuckn’ hospital.”

“Your brother?” he nods, still not looking at you, but you can see the worry shining in his eyes as he bites at his lip. You can see the outline of his tongue toying with one of the piercings in his cheek. He’s stressed. He doesn’t have to tell you, you know.

“Younger brother. He’s in school to become a doctor. He’s doing his residency there. I can’t remember what shift he’s on right now.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings.” You say. You don’t know how to comfort him, but you know it’s not a wise idea to let him linger on his brother’s whereabouts. Touya nods absentmindedly.

“I’m the oldest of four. My sister’s an elementary school teacher, my younger brother works at the hospital and my youngest brother’s still in high school. He’s supposed to graduate next month.” He frowns. “Haven’t spoken to them in ages aside from Natsu – brother at the hospital. Kinda regretting that now.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” You tell him quickly, stepping closer to him in an effort to get him to look at you. It works and cerulean blue eyes turn to focus on you. You swallow and continue.

“Don’t assume anything until you get actual answers. Right now, nobody knows anything, but what I do know is that we probably shouldn’t stay here. I have no idea what’s going on out there, but if the downtown is as bad as you say it is, then it probably won’t be long until whatever it is makes its way over here.”

“It’s already here.” Touya mutters. “Didn’t you say one of those fuckers is locked in your bathroom?”

“Yeah.” You turn to eye the wall that separates your units and you swear you hear faint yelling and banging coming from the other side. “I don’t think I can go back over there.”

“No.” Touya agrees with a sigh, and he turns on his heel and disappears down his small hallway to where you assume his bedroom is. He returns a moment later with two backpacks and tosses one at you. “Help me pack some shit and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

“Where?” you ask him as he strides to his kitchen. You hear drawers opening and closing and cutlery being rattled around.

“My family home. It’s out in the country, away from the city. As much as I don’t want to pay my old man a visit, it’s the only other place I can think of that’s remotely safe. I can say hi to my mom at least, siblings too, if they’re at the house.”

“Would they be okay with me tagging along?” you ask hesitantly. You may have been neighbors for the past several months, but this man is still practically a perfect stranger to you. The most you’ve ever talked to him was today. He doesn’t need to do anything for you.

As if he can read your thoughts, Touya’s head peaks around the corner to stare at you, eyebrow quirked and shit: his eyebrows are a hell of a lot lighter than the ends of his hair. How you only noticed it now, is a mystery.

“Well, I’m not just going to leave you here.” He tells you with the hint of a smirk before he ducks back around to keep packing some essentials.

“As far as I know, you might be the only other unaffected person in the building. I might be an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole, Princess.”

“You think so?” you ask, peering into the bag, only to see an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants staring back at you.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t see anyone living coming up from the parking lot, but there’s a whole lot of blood in the stairwell and our hallway doesn’t look much better—ah shit.”

You hear him hiss in annoyance and you put your bag down to join him in the kitchen. You round the corner to see him holding his shoulder, wincing slightly. He pulls his hand away after a moment and stares down at his hand.

His palm is covered in red.

He looks up and your eyes meet. “It’s not mine.” He says quickly, but the look on your face tells him that you don’t believe him. He shrugs off his dark leather jacket with a curse and you can see the shoulder of his white t-shirt is stained through with blood.

“It’s not all mine.” He tells you again, making you look up at him. He grimaces. “I got jumped by one of those assholes as I was getting out of my car. She didn’t bite me, but she put up a hell of a struggle.”

He pulls down the collar of his shirt for you to inspect. Sure enough, there is no bite mark, but there are two long angry red gashes that are slowly oozing blood down his inked arm.

“We need to clean that.” You mutter. “I don’t know what this is, or how it’s spread, but you don’t want that getting infected.”

“It might be too late for that.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his and he looks away. “What?” you ask him quietly. “What did you say?”

Touya only looks away from you. “Forget it. Just… help me get some things together and then we can go.”

You pack in relative silence, the static from the T.V. acting as background noise as Touya directs you on what to pack. You ask about the spare change of clothes in your bag and he shrugs, muttering something about how you probably wouldn’t make it far in what you’re currently wearing.

It almost feels like you’re packing to go on a trip with him. You could almost trick yourself into believing it – if you ignore the muffled banging and inhumane snarls coming from the other side of the wall where your apartment is.

That’s not the only disturbing thing that you’re hearing either. The once quiet hallway outside Touya’s door is starting to come alive with the sounds of low groans filling the air. You swear you hear shuffling footsteps moving past the front door on multiple occasions, but every time you turn your head to look in the direction of the door, there’s nothing there. It does nothing to ease your nerves or help your paranoia.

What you’re really worried about, is Touya himself. His movements are slowing down, and he seems to be slightly uncoordinated as he shoves a set of knives into his pack. You hope it’s just pain from the claw marks on his shoulder that’s making him act strangely, but based on what you’ve already seen-

“I think that’s it.” Touya sighs, casting a look around his messy apartment. He breathes out through his nose, before reaching into his jacket pocket and fishes out his car keys with a small jingle. He looks at them longingly for a moment, before tossing them to you. You barely have time to react before he’s pushing his bag towards you as well.

“Those are the keys to my car. It’s parked near the front entrance. If you move fast and don’t get distracted, you should make it no problem.”

“That’s fantastic, but why are you telling me this?” You press, as you hold his keys back out towards him. “We’re going together. I don’t know where your family home is. If you want me to drive, I’m going to need directions.”

Touya laughs, but it’s not a kind one, as he shoves the keys back to your person. “About that… I don’t think I’m going anywhere Princess.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to leave you here—”

Your words die in your throat as Touya aggressively shoves down the front of his shirt so you can see the gory scratch marks on him, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach.

They look so much worse then when he first showed them to you. The skin around them looks like it’s peeling back from the gashes, and seems to be turning black around the edges. It almost looks like the wound is starting to rot, but you don’t know how that’s possible. He only got injured recently. There’s no way that it could’ve gotten infected that quickly-

“Listen to me.” He almost begs you, snapping you out of your reprieve. “I’ve been feeling like shit since that bitch downstairs raked her fucking talons down my arm. I’ve had a fever since it happened and it’s not letting up.”

He points to the worst of the marks. “This happened an hour ago, and I’m already worse. I don’t think it matters if it’s a bite or not – if one of these things manage to get your hands on you, it’s game over.”

No. No, no, this can’t be happening. He can’t possibly be suggesting what you think he is.

He can’t be turning into what Mr. Takashi currently is. he just can’t.

“Touya, I can’t leave without you.” You start, quickly cutting him off as you see him open his mouth to protest. “I just moved here. I don’t have any family in the area, and I don’t know anybody else aside from you and my roommate, and she never came home, so you’re all I have now.”

You hate that your voice cracks at the end, but it’s true: you don’t have anybody else, and if he kicks you out now, then you’ll truly be alone.

You don’t know what’s scarier: the potential horde of crazed lunatics waiting for you outside, or the crushing loneliness of being by yourself in an uncertain world.

You’re not sure if you want to find out.

“I’m not going to tell you again: you need to leave.” Touya urges you as he thrusts the keys back into your hand, closing your fingers around them. “Shizuoka Prefecture, that’s where you need to go. My house is logged into the nav, just follow the directions and you’ll get there. My family will recognize my car. You’ll just need to explain to them why I’m not there—”

“Touya I’m not going.” You tell him firmly, setting his keys down on the counter next to you. “No one was prepared for this to happen. Not you, not me, nobody. Even if I do make it out of the building, I’m not going to last long on my own.”

“If you stay here with me, there’s a good chance that you won’t make it at all.” Touya warns with a breathy laugh, but you can see that he’s fighting back a grimace. His hand moves to cover his wound, but his movements are slow and shaky. If you focus on his eyes, you can just start to make out a familiar haze starting to cover his brilliant blue irises.

Fuck.

He’s sick. Not as sick as Mr. Takashi was, but you’re certain that he’s got whatever he had. Realistically, you know that he’s right and you should leave, put as much distance between yourself and him as you possibly can, but where would you go? Even if you made it to Touya’s childhood home, there’s no guarantee that his family would help you, not that you’d blame them. You’re as good as dead if you leave.

Granted, you might be screwed if you stay here with him, but…

“At least I’m with someone who I know.” You point out gently. “If the world really is going to hell, I’d much rather spend whatever time I have left with someone who isn’t a total stranger.”

Touya falls silent. For once, he doesn’t have a retort for you. Finally, he shrugs in defeat and slides down the wall closest to him, seemingly not having the strength to hold himself up any longer.

You try not to stare at the dark red streak he leaves on the wall behind him.

“If you wanna stay, be my guest, but if I do end up turning into one of those things, do me a favour and put me out of my misery, won’t you, Doll? Wouldn’t wanna rip your pretty face off.”

You want to laugh. The situation is so absurd. You think you may have tried, but a choked sob is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

You’re dangerously close to the brink of tears, but you don’t want to cry in front of your clearly sick neighbor, knowing that your tears aren’t going to help anything. Touya, despite it all, is still as annoyingly preceptive as ever. He sighs heavily and pats the spot next to him.

“C’mere Princess, sit down before you have an aneurism.”

You cross over and slide down the wall so you’re sitting down next to him. Next thing you know, Touya drapes a heavy arm around you and pulls you into his side. “It’s okay.” He tells you in his gravely voice, even though you know it isn’t. “It ain’t your fault. Just… sit with me for a little bit, yeah?”

Of course, you would, you wouldn’t deny him that. You don’t think you’re in the right to deny him anything right now. You feel oddly indebted to him.

This was the first time that you actually got to hang out with your ridiculously attractive neighbor since moving here, why did it have to be when the world was going to shit?

“It’s not fair.” You mutter into his side, feeling like a small child. “I wish I could have met you at a better time.”

“Naw Doll, you met me at the perfect time.”

This time you can’t stop the tears you feel threatening to overflow, and they pour down your face silently as Touya holds you against him.

You don’t know how long you stay with him like that for, but you gradually hear the hallways outside Touya’s door become louder, as the stagnate air fills with the sounds of the undead. At the same time, you listen as your tattooed companion’s breathing becomes more and more labored with each passing minute.

You know what’s happening. He sounds eerily similar to how Mr. Takashi did in your apartment before he turned on you. You know you should move away from him, but you can’t bring yourself to leave his side.

He hasn’t said anything to you, but judging by the way he’s still tightly gripping onto your side, despite getting progressively weaker as time drags on, your presence is comforting to him.

You want to say something, anything, to bring him some small measure of comfort, but you regretfully don’t know him well enough to do so. Instead, you ask him the question that has been on your mind since your initial conversation with him earlier that afternoon.

“You never did tell me what your natural hair colour is.” You croak. Touya manages to wheeze out a laugh and presses a light kiss to your temple.

“White.” He murmurs softly in your ear. “It’s white.”

His chest rises and falls one more time before stilling, and your neighbor is gone.

You don’t know how long you stay there for. A part of you can’t fully accept that he’s gone, even as the arm around you grows heavy and limp, sliding down your back until it reaches the floor behind you with a muffled thud.

You feel hot, wet tears slide down your cheeks as Touya’s head lolls to the side, exposing the deep, ugly gashes in his shoulder. They’ve grown darker in colour, and the smell of meat on the verge of going rotten fills the air. It’s only when you can’t stand the smell anymore do you finally get up from your spot on the ground, but you don’t move far from him, you can’t. You don’t want to leave him like this, it’s not right.

You know that you shouldn’t stay here. You should grab his keys, and try your luck at reaching his car before your spotted by whatever’s lurking out in the hallways, or worse, before your neighbor potentially comes back as one of those… things.

But you don’t move from your spot. You run over all the possible variables in your head, and you come to the conclusion that regardless of whether you stay or go, you’re fucked.

You have no family close to your location that you could stay with, no friends either. You had let your roommate use your car tonight to get to work, and your doubtful that you’ll ever see it or her again after tonight, and even if you took Touya’s keys and tried to make it down to the ground floor to escape using his car, you have no idea how many of those creatures are out there waiting for you.

By the amount sounds you keep hearing outside the door, you can assume that it’s a lot.

You eye Touya’s keys. They’re still laying in the same spot on his counter, but you don’t make a move for them. What’s the point.

He told you to get to his family’s house in the country, but considering how the phones aren’t working, you’re not sure if his car’s navigation system would work either. Even if it did, and you were somehow able to make it to his car without getting attacked or bitten by the hordes of possibly infected people out there, there’s no guarantee that his family would help you. You wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

If you stayed here, you were fucked. If you left, you were definitely fucked.

Either way, you were going to lose, so you might as well pick the slightly less shitty option.

If you were going to die, then you were going to at least chose how, or rather, who was going to take you out.

So, you lean yourself up against the wall opposite to Toyua’s slumped over form, and wait.

You’re not sure how much time has elapsed, but a slight movement from Touya’s hunched over form draws your full attention to him. You watch as his arm, the one that was previously draped around your shoulders, jerks out at an odd angle, his fingers flexing and extending slowly. His legs twitch sporadically, almost as if something is shocking him, and a low growl emits out of his throat, deep and inhuman. Slowly, his head lifts from its crumpled position, and you watch as blurry turquoise eyes slowly lift upwards until they focus on your own.

They’re Touya’s eyes, but there’s no life behind them. He’s gone. This is just a hollow corpse that looks like him.

For a brief moment, you think about the set of knifes that are packed in one of the bags next to you. You contemplate about reaching for them, but you decide against it. You don’t think you could do it anyways, even though you know the creature that’s eyeing you up isn’t Touya.

You watch with silent tears pooling in your eyes, as the creature’s mouth pulls into a snarl, and forces’ himself up off the floor on unsteady legs. He shuffles over to you slowly and for every step he advances, you take one step back, until your back hit’s the opposite wall and there’s nowhere else for you to go.

He reaches for you and you slap his hand away with a sob. This creature may be your death, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. If he wanted your life, he’d have to earn it.

Suddenly, one of the last things that Touya said to you before he succumbed to the sickness crosses your mind as the creature slowly advances on you. He never wanted to turn into one of these things. Hell, he even asked you to take him out if he turned.

You swallow shakily. You don’t want to. You really don’t want to… but now… you might not have a choice. Regardless of what happened to you, you won’t leave Touya as he was now. You’d honor his last request to you. Even if it ended up costing you your life.

The imposter reaches for you again, this time with both hands, and you shove him back with an angry snarl as fresh tears begin to run down your face.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s just not fucking fair.

A glint of light reflecting off the countertop catches your eye. Touya’s car keys are sitting innocently at the end of the countertop near where you’re pressed up against the wall. Due to your earlier hesitation, you won’t be able to grab the knives packed away in the bag before he’s on you, however Touya has numerous keys on his lanyard, some of them look quite sharp…

You twist to the side just as the creature reaches for you again. You duck under his outstretched arms and grab the lanyard, fisting the keys tightly in you hand as you try and keep your distance from the aggressive corpse that Touya has become.

An irritated rumble pulls from the imposters intricately tattooed throat, before he suddenly swings his whole body towards you and slams you up against the closest wall, knocking the wind out of you. He grabs your arms before you can recover, pinning them to your sides with a strength that you didn’t expect from a walking corpse.

You squirm and thrash, trying to claw at him, but in the end, you know it’s futile. You resigned yourself to this fate when you chose to stay with him despite knowing the outcome. At least you’ll die at the hands of someone you know. Not out there, alone and scared.

You cry out in pain as Touya sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle as his canines sink in deep, locking him to you. You feel blood gush out from the puncture wounds his teeth have made in your shoulder, and run down your torso, staining your shirt crimson. His arms are still pinning yours to your sides, trapping you in some kind of death embrace, as you feel the strength slowly start to leave your body. The sickness that took him, already taking hold inside your body.

You feel your mind start to go fuzzy and your vision start to swim. You can’t tell if it’s from blood loss or the infection itself. In one last ditch effort to bring some measure of comfort to yourself, you weakly raise your arms up so you’re gripping Touya’s biceps in a mock embrace. You feel him growl into your shoulder, and his hold on you relaxes slightly.

You don’t hesitate.

With a strangled scream you rip the arm holding Touya’s keys out of his hold, and drive them into his neck. You hear Touya let out a choked sound of surprise as the keys pierce his jugular, and he retracts his teeth out of your shoulder, tearing the delicate flesh, leaving deep gouges behind in his wake.

He backs away from you, clawing at the keys that are buried deep in his neck, and you swear you see the fog in his eyes clear for a moment as he looks at you, gasping for air as blood fills his lungs. He falls to his knees, one hand extended out towards you, the other still clutching at the keys in his neck, before toppling over. He twitches, once, twice, and then he is still.

You let out a shuddering breath as you cover the gaping wound on your neck with your opposite hand. Blood is still pouring down your arm and chest, and you know that you probably don’t have long to live. You feel tears pool in your eyes as you stare down at Touya’s unmoving form.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out as you feel the strength in your legs leave you, and you collapse to your knees next to him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to. I’m so sorry!”

You feel your vision start to swim and you gingerly ease yourself onto your side so you’re lying next to him, placing your bloodied hand in his outstretched one. The last thing you remember seeing before the darkness takes you, is Touya’s cloudy turquoise eyes, fixed unblinkingly on your dying form, and then everything fades to black.

FIN

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x female reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki #touya x reader #touya x y/n #touya x you #riseofthedead🧟‍♂️collab #my hero acedamia #boku no hero acedamia #alternate universe #alternate universe zombies #angst #no happy ending

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everythingelseisextra · 7 months

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Scar Tissue (Tommy's POV)

Part Twenty of Twenty-One

Description: Tommy makes a deal. Weeks after the night of your escape, you and Tommy finally talk. Warnings: mention of rape, self harm, references to suicide, guns, language, UNEDITED BE NICE TO ME I'M TRYING Author's Note: My portrayal of the reader character is not what I originally planned, but when I wrote the first draft, she felt too much like a victim and not a survivor. My apologies if it feels inaccurate. Word Count: 3079 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @Majesticcmey @Optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @ay0nha @mgdixon @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel @ce1iat @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul @notalxx @chaengist @cookiez56-blog @skxawngs @h0neylemon @kmc1989 @darling-imobsessed @eleanorthemo

Liszt is not a man. Liszt is not a vengeful God, sent to this earth to scorch the lives of innocents with brutality and thinly veiled torture. Liszt is not even a single entity.

“It’s a group, yeah? A group of well-sourced people united under the cause of money,” Alfie explained, the day before the fire, the rescue, though it’s arguable who rescued who on that night. “They know what you don’t. They’re connected in a way that you aren’t. And you think, right, that you can wriggle in there and start a cave-in, but you can’t, now can you? Now, I knows a man who’s part of this organization. A Lisztomaniac, if you will, who might be pushed in your direction if the right price is offered to him. Deplorable, that shit is, but knowing how to move people from one place to another is, eh, useful.”

I know now that this is not a group I can destroy. They are not united under a single person, but spread between countries, well-connected. What I can do is protect my own. What I can do is business between men considering their women. She’s done enough fighting. I failed her once; I refuse to do it again.

I’ve been on the outskirts of a twisted world for months now, watching, waiting, trying to collect information that, knowing what I know now, was beyond me. There’s a humor to it, that I spent those days searching for an answer that dangled above my head when all I did was look down. Above me, puppeteers watched their puppets dance.

I meet one of those puppeteers at a pub not far from Birmingham. A quiet, clean place, where well-dressed men sit and smoke at the bar, glasses of amber or dark liquid sitting in front of them. A gentleman standing at the bar glances at me as I walk in, says something to the barkeep, then moves away to a table. No one else takes notice. Unusual.

There’s a holster over my shoulders and a gun rests below each arm, underneath my suit jacket, and still, I am wary. Those I met that night were drones, and even they overpowered us in sheer numbers. These are the Kings and Queens of the hidden ring, royalty of a sick trade. I meet him at the table, he shakes my hand and murmurs a greeting, and we both sit.

He doesn’t speak, just watches me with large brown eyes. I pull a cigarette from the case in my pocket, light it, take a drag of it. I exhale my words with the smoke.

“There is a price to living. Name it. For the woman who escaped you, for the girl, Hollis.” I sit back in my seat, casting my gaze over him, a discrete, weakly-built man with tight lips and a raised chin. “I assure you, I can pay it.”

“We have no need for money, Mr. Shelby.” His voice is quiet, soft, almost gentle. “We have a need for assurances and alliances from prominent figures in certain trades.”

A thin-lipped smile spreads on his face.

“I was told that Liszt has interest in different currencies to support his—”

“Currencies can be defined as loose as you like. I’m simply a spokesman for this territory, after all. And I don’t need money from anywhere.” His fingers steeple on the table. “You are dealing with me, not Liszt.”

“Tell me, then.” My eyes slide down to the glowing embers at the end of my cigarette, then back to him.

“You are a political man, Mr. Shelby. You have a rising name.”

I incline my head. I have a faint, sickening sense of where this path leads, can feel the seed of a secret being planted in my mind. It will grow, I think, until I cannot keep it anymore. I blink, and it’s gone, replaced by the gentleman in front of me.

“We request only that you not expose Liszt, or the white slave trade, at any point in your career. We request that, if the circumstances arise that we cross paths once more, you turn a blind eye.” He gives me another smile. “Hollis isn’t the only young woman in our roster in the surrounding area, you see, and if more are unearthed, well, you must simply carry on.”

I take quiet note of the apparent fragility of their organization, how one man could speak out and blow it all apart. If I had known, if Alfie had told me names, this could all have been avoided. And, yet, I sit here blind, the man across from me nameless, and his demands unavoidable.

I nod once. “I understand.”

“You have a son, I believe, Mr. Shelby?”

“Yes.” I keep my face straight, despite the urge to curl my lip. I can hear the threat behind his words, the warning of what would happen if I were to break this agreement.

“A good boy, I assume, having been raised by a man such as yourself?”

I stand, pushing my chair back. “Where’s the girl?”

“Charlie is his name, if I’ve been informed correctly. He stays at your home in Warwickshire most days.” He smiles up at me, those gentle words, so conversational, a thinly veiled threat. I shake my head. He’s offered no new information, no new danger, and so I step out from in front of my chair.

“Where is Hollis?”

“I see you’re itching to leave with her, Mr. Shelby, but I’m sorry to inform you that Hollis has work to complete. She will be delivered to your home in a week’s time.”

It makes my skin crawl, the softness of his voice, the elegant way he stands to walk me to the door, all the while speaking of children forced to serve in ways they must hardly understand. Even more so, the way I have such little power in this bargain, how they seem to be placating me.

I drop my voice as we reach the exit of the pub. “Understand that if she is not, I will use the information I’ve been given.”

“We understand, Mr. Shelby, but would also like you to note that it does little to poke the bear.” He smiles and opens the door. “Good day, Mr. Shelby.”

—-

She comes out at night. I hear her ghostly footsteps in the hall outside the drawing room, bare on the cold tile. If I move to view her, she slips back into the darkened corridors of the house, skittish of my sight. I’ve asked Frances to watch her, so I know that she ventures from the room she’s barricaded herself in to eat and drink, to clean and bandage the wounds of the day, wrought out of fingernails or the inky sharpness of pens or whatever else she can find that is sharp or hard enough to pierce or scrape her skin. While she creeps around the kitchen, I make my way to her room.

Sometimes I find vomit on the floor, half dried from the day of sitting, or sometimes I stumble upon a smashed vase, a remnant of some stricken panic or fit of rage, I can’t be sure. Either way, I clean up in silence. Change the bloodied sheets and search the room for anything sharp, try to slip into the mind of someone self-destructive. I find myself staring at the still-warm indent she leaves in the bed, where she feigns sleep while the sun is out. My eyes slide shut and I remember in the hospital, her hand slipped over my waist, her breath on my back. Some of the tension leaves me. There was closeness once; if I’m good, if I’m strong, there will be again.

I’ve been hearing silence on the other side for too long now. She haunts Arrow House, somewhere between living and dead, a purgatory that she commands both of us to stay in. It’s lonesome, stuck in this cycle of missing each other. When she feigns sleep and avoids me, I am too cowardly to chase after her. There is power to her refrain, to her quiet. Filled with a silence that neither of us know how to break.

I blink. I’ve been looking endlessly at this hollow spot on the bed, lost somewhere. I have never felt further from her. Even for the distance I’ve created at times. Even for the moments of anger and fear that we’ve nurtured between us.

She died, I think. Somewhere in the violence of that night, her life ended. She’s like me, now, living each day like it doesn’t matter any more. Drifting through weeks on end without contact with any form of humanity, disassociated from any light or form of life.

I sit down on the edge of her bed. There’s a window at the head of it, and I face that, looking out at the silent stars. Her sickness weighs on my own, and I hate that we are separate. There is nothing keeping her here with me, no reason for her to remain alive when all she has are nights she spends alone in the dark.

I look to the night sky and wait for the edges to lighten, for the black to give way to misty gray, then pale yellow, then wander into the subdued oranges and pinks of a new day. I wait for her footsteps, and when I hear them, I don’t turn. I keep my eyes on the dawn and my elbows on my knees, chin resting on clasped hands propped up between them.

She falters in the doorway. I’m usually gone by now, gone back to the side of the house that still belongs to me. She wavers, her appearance in my periphery rippling like water disrupted. I rethink how it all happened, how my fatal mistake turned her into this haunted figure in my house, this otherworldly woman, one foot in the grave.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, she steps back and disappears, back into the bowels of the manor. I stand and follow, trying to move as light as she does, as silently. My essence is heavier than hers, burdened by the worldly needs and wants and desires, whereas she becomes this separate being, breathing but not alive, feeling but not vibrant.

I follow her down certain half-lit hallways, with the dawn glowing faintly through windows and our shadows passing on the opposite walls. Her shoulders are drawn back, her head held high, each step certain and purposeful.

When she finally stops, it’s in a room I rarely visit. Books line half the shelved walls, but she gives them no notice, walking to the windows that cover the other half. In the dreamy morning light, she seems to float, the colors wrapping around her. I release a slow breath. I can’t say it, but even after everything, she’s beautiful.

She sits on the bench in front of the windows and faces me, crossing her legs and tilting her head. I haven’t heard her voice in weeks, haven’t been this close to her in days. She’s become a recluse of a certain kind.

I find I can’t speak, even with my intentions being to find something to say. What do you say to someone who went through a hell that you would never understand? What do you say to someone who has no reason to trust you?

She shakes her head, turning to look at the bookshelves, a faint smile on her lips that quivers. “You don’t even know what to say.”

“Can I sit?” I ask. She follows my gaze to the open space on the bench.

“I think you should stand.”

“You’re avoiding me.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. I am clumsy in the art of verbal tenderness, a child new to the gentle touch of a kind word.

“Do you blame me?” Still, she stares at the bookshelves, not at me.

“No.” I try to soften, try to be calming, an anchor. I’m used to rousing, to evoking something closer to hatred or vengeance. I am not good at this. “Something needs to change.”

“Yeah? What do you suggest?” There’s bitterness to her words.

“Your horses need keeping.” I flip open the cigarette case in my pocket and pull one out, light it, take a drag. “Charlie asks for you. He wonders what happened to you.”

She scoffs. “Back to life as usual, then. Pretend it never happened.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes.” She looks at me. “You did.”

“What I’m saying is that you need to live.” I incline my head slightly. “Stop doing this shit you’ve made a habit.”

“You know…” She closes her eyes. “Yesterday, when you were at work, I went into the drawing room. Grabbed the gun and held it to my head. Put my finger on the trigger.” She exhales, sounding as though even just the thought gives her relief. “I didn’t pull it. I will not let you bury me. I will not let you find me dead on your desk, brains spilled onto the paperwork. So I’m doing the next best thing.”

I remain composed. I take another drag. Let the smoke fill my lungs, drying out my throat. “I—”

“I’m at peace with it. I’ll wither away, slowly carve my body into scar tissue. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Nothing does.” She shrugs. “Sleep during the day, eat at night, go back to sleep.”

“I made an agreement.” I step towards her and her eyes snap to mine. “You belong to me, and they know that. So, you leave here, make your own way. You live. I won’t shelter you if you choose to wither.”

A rueful expression falls over her, and she stands slowly, drawing herself up and facing me. “You think I fear you still? You think there’s part of me that thinks you can hurt me, abandon me? I know who you are, now. Little man with a big gun, afraid of the dark. You couldn’t save me. I saved me. You could never own me. I won’t join in your game of make-believe.”

I change tactics as quickly as she counters them. “Your horses need you.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy, will you ever say something you really mean?” Her jaw clenches. “All you do is play games. If I wanted that, I never would’ve tried to escape.”

“I’m as—”

“‘I’m as bad as they are,’ yeah, whatever, you’re not. You can pretend you are all you want, but I’ve seen both sides.” She mocks me, a hint of disgust in her words, which fades away with her next sentence. “You’re a man who tries to be good as best he can, and I see that.”

I take a breath. Words bubble like a babbling brook in my head, fragments slipping through my thinking. She wants me to say what I mean. “You live in my house and I never see you. You wound your body and refuse to acknowledge it. You want to die.” My gaze wanders to the windows behind her, out into the pale morning. I take another drag. “‘Suppose I’m selfish.”

She crosses her arms. “Why?”

Honesty does not come naturally to me. I glance back at her, hiding my hesitation by appearing to analyze her expression. I speak slowly, a plodding, thoughtful pattern to my words. “It’s not right to wish for you to be whole and healed when the pain you feel is my fault.”

Her head tilts again, and she nods. “You miss me.”

I pause, then sigh. “Yes.”

“It was your fault. That doesn’t mean I blame you. And— maybe I didn’t say this in the most straightforward way— I’m alive because of you. If it wasn’t for you being, well, you, I’d have blown my brains out by now.” She blinks slowly, eyes falling as she does so. “You refuse to say whatever you feel, you get stuck in your own world, but you’re also… earnest. You’ve been taking care of me for weeks even though I haven’t allowed you to. I can’t leave you alone. I can’t leave you like that.”

“How do you find the words?” I find myself asking. “How do you talk easily about this?”

“I don’t know. I feel as though the person who went through all that isn’t me, sometimes. Like I watched myself be raped and hurt instead of being present for it. I can talk about it because I’m separate from it, mostly. Other times, though…” Her head lowers. “Other times it’s all I can feel.”

I resist the urge to step towards her. “Something needs to change.”

“Why?” Suddenly defensive, she steps back and sits back down, head still bowed. “Why does something need to change? I’m fine. Everything is fine. We can keep going like this for—”

“I can’t. I can’t watch you wither. I’m too—” I huff out a breath, fingers tightening on the cigarette. “Too fucking fragile for that.”

She laughs humorlessly, then sobers. “I think I’m sick in the head.”

I nod. “You can be sick in the head and carry on. You can be fucking scared and shell-shocked and still live. Let me help you.”

Her eyes, still pinned to the floor, flicker back and forth. “I don’t need—”

“Yes. You do.” I step forward and she flinches, then softens. “You need me. I need you. Let us be, then, or neither of us will feel alive.”

Her next words are mumbled, half agonized, half hopeful. “I’m not the woman you love anymore.”

“I have faith that no matter who you become, you’ll always be someone I adore.” The words slip quietly from my lips, and I lift the cigarette to them, hiding the vulnerability I shared.

She swallows hard, head still bowed, arms wrapped around herself. Slowly, I close the gap between us and reach out, fingers gently touching her chin, lifting her head.

“Chin up,” I say quietly. “Back straight. Will you let me help you, now?”

She nods, staring up at me with those glassy eyes, a touch of light in the pupils. She hesitates, then stands. I step back, hand falling to touch her arm, where shallow cuts lace.

“I wish we’d met sooner,” she murmurs, stepping forward to lean her head on my shoulder. “We would’ve done so much good for each other.”

“Not too late.”

“No,” she sniffles quietly. “Not too late.”

#only the wild ones #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic

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jksprincess10 · 9 months

Text

Exile 1. So long and goodnight

Summary: After Steve Murphy's unforgivable death in the never-ending fight against Pablo Escobar, Javier Peña finds himself stuck with a new partner. A girl that they brought from Miami. Smart, devastating, strong. Nothing he would have thought her to be. Their rivalry builds up to something intense, destructive.

CW: canon violence, mentions of death, smoking and drinking, language, bullshitting my way through the Narcos plot, no y/n (3rd person), no physical and racial descriptions of the girl, eventual smut. 1500 words. Divider by @cafekitsune Masterlist for exile Notification blog

He can’t look at anyone in the church. But he feels the weight of their stares. The weight of the unsaid words, the weight of “it’s your fault”. He couldn’t protect the gringo. He was too fucking late. And now he was laying in his casket, stab wounds hidden under a painfully black suit. White face even whiter under the powder hiding death. Stillness incarnated.

When the priest starts talking, it’s getting too real, death’s hands reaching for his neck. He leaves to breathe. Sits on the concrete stairs and lights a cigarette. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels salty water sliding down his cheeks. He curses, uses his wrist to wipe them away.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there until he sees the people starting to come out of the church, a party of various shades of blacks. When Connie sees him, she heads straight to him. She’s in tears, understandably. And she grabs him by the collar, brings him up and looks at him with all the pain she has. He lets her. He understands. When she’s done, he hugs her, begs for her forgiveness. He knows she doesn’t forgive him.

But he tried.

So he leaves.

She’s sorting through files when the boss calls for her. Her heels clack against the impersonal tiled floor as she gets to the main office. She sits down, crosses her legs while she assesses the man’s expression. Is she in trouble? No, she doesn’t think so.

“Thank you for coming so fast. We think you should get more… hands on in the Pablo Escobar case.”

“Meaning?” She asks.

“You’ll be sent to our office Bogotá. There’s a free position for you there. You’ve been good at dealing with the narcotics crisis here in Miami. But we think that keeping you here is wasting your potential. You’re a smart girl.”

She feigns her surprise, like she hadn’t hoped for this position and worked towards it for years now. She gets up and shakes hands with her boss, her grasp surprisingly strong. She smiles like a hungry wolf.

“When do I leave?”

“Can you leave on Monday?”

That left her a week to get ready.

“Yeah. That’s enough for me to do my goodbyes and pack.”

She didn’t have much. She lived alone. Her family was scattered.

“Then, I suggest you go home early and start packing.”

“Thank you.”

With that, she leaves and goes home. She already had multiple luggage stored just in case. She knew her job was something fragile. She knew that she would have to leave one day or another.

She calls her mom first.

“Allô ma chérie? Tout va bien?” (Hi honey, is everything okay?)

“Oui, oui… je voulais juste te prévenir que j’ai été transférée à Bogotà. J’ai eu une promotion. ” (Yeah… just wanted to tell you that I got transferred to Bogotà. I got a promotion.)

“Oh mon dieu ! C’est super. Je suis fière de toi. ” (Oh my god! That’s amazing. I’m proud of you.)

“Merci. Je suis désolée que ça m’éloigne encore plus de toi. ” (Thanks. I’m sorry to go even farther from you.)

“Si c’est ce que tu veux, ma chérie, je suis contente pour toi. Tu vas prévenir ton père? ” (If that’s what you want, honey, I’m happy for you. Will you tell dad?)

“Oui. J’irai le voir demain. Je pars... Lundi prochain.” (Yeah, I’ll try to see him tomorrow. I’m leaving… next Monday.)

“D’accord. S’il te plait, fais attention à toi. ” (Okay. Please, take care of yourself).

“Promis.” (I promise).

She hangs up the phone and stars packing under her cat’s worried and piercing yellow eyes.

“I’ll bring you with me, don’t worry Riri.”

The black cat purrs and curls around her ankles.

“I know that Agent Murphy’s death is so recent, but we have to keep moving, Agent Peña.”

“Of course.” He offers coldly as he lights his cigarette.

It had been a rough couple of days. But when he got back to the office, he had to do as if nothing happened. The show must go on. Escobar didn’t wait. He kept getting richer and richer.

They couldn’t mourn. There was no time.

“We assigned you a new partner. She’ll be here on Monday; you must get her at the airport. The usual. Her name is –”

“Wait. She?” He frowns as he sets his cigarette down, some ash escaping the tip.

“Is that a problem, Agent Peña?”

“Are we sure… she’s fit for the job?”

“Believe me. She is. Or else she wouldn’t be transferred. She worked on the case from Miami.”

“Look… I don’t wanna question your decisions, but –”

“So, don’t. You’ll pick her up Monday afternoon and you’ll make sure she moves in next to you safely.”

“Yes, sir.”

Emptiness filled her space now. She packed her bedroom already, keeping only the necessities out until the last minute. Her dad had taken the news surprisingly well, he knew how important that job was too her. And maybe, just maybe, she would meet nice people there. She would be less lonely, he had said.

Her dad worried for her. Constantly suggesting she gets a partner, but she brushed him off. This job wasn’t fit for partnership.

She left on Monday in the early morning, her possessions fitting in two big luggage, a carry-on bag and a cage for Riri. The rest of her life, she left behind. The flight went smoothly, and she slept for most of it.

Her new work partner was supposed to wait for her at arrival. So, she looked around to find someone who would have her name written down on a cardboard sign. She finally finds him.

He’s not the tallest man. His body is lean. He has dark hair, gelled down. He has thick sideburns and an equally thick moustache. His lips are pouty, and she can’t see his smile even as she approaches. His nose his generous in size, so are his deep brown eyes. He’s dressed casually but professionally: a light-colored shirt that stretches over his shoulders, dark-washed jeans, and a brown belt.

“Agent Peña?” She offers her hand, but he looks at it and doesn’t take it.

Lovely, she thinks.

“First lesson. Don’t mention our job here.” He says as he gets closer to whisper. Her arm goes back to her side. His breath smells vaguely like mint with a hint of cigarette.

“You’re coming here to teach English. Got it? Do you have all your luggage?”

He looks down at the cage and rolls his eyes as he sees the black cat staring back at him defiantly.

“Yes.”

“Then, let’s go.”

She lets him do the talking, communicating in perfect Spanish. She acts like she doesn’t speak a word of the language to make her character more believable.

Even when they’re in his car – a black Jeep, he doesn’t pay much attention to her. She keeps the cage on her lap to reassure her cat, who seems to hate her new co-worker already, hissing at him.

“Can I have your first name?” She asks to try and strike up a conversation.

He barely looks at her through his yellow aviators. “Javier. But let’s keep it professional and stay on a last name basis.”

“Wow. I feel so welcomed.” She says sarcastically.

He parks the car abruptly – at her new home, she presumes, and turns to her, lips fused in one line that shows his annoyance.

“Look, I can send you back home if you don’t feel welcomed enough, princesa. But we don’t have time for this shit here. You won’t have a castle. You’ll stay in a shitty apartment next to mine. And you won’t get a carriage with beautiful horses. You’ll ride with me every day. So, try to make this fucking bearable, will you?”

“Trou de cul.” She mutters under her breath.

“What was that?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never mind.”

“Let’s go.” He says as he slams the car door behind himself. He takes most of her new partner’s luggage, and she’s left with her carry-on and her angry cat in her hands.

Javier unlocks the door, and it’s almost like it protests with the noise it makes. But she doesn’t make any comment. The apartment is so unbelievably grey, but still warm, like someone just had left. But she didn’t ask questions. The man parks her luggage in the entryway, and she lets the cat out to explore. It spits at Javier before it runs away, tail up in the air.

“We leave at 7 AM tomorrow. If you’re late, I’m not waiting for you.”

“I won’t be.”

“Good. There’s a grocery store three streets from now. I hope you speak Spanish because they don’t speak English.”

“I do. Or else why would I take this job?”

“Right. Don’t play smart ass with me, chiquita.” He says as he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Thank you, Agent Peña. Now, if you’ll let me…”

“See you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he’s gone. She finally breathes. What a fucking asshole.

#exile #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x dea agent #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x foc #javier pena x female oc #javier pena x female reader

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lambertdiary · 7 months

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hi girl! you're my favorite dalton lambert writer i love your blog sm!! can i plz request a cute fic where dalton and reader are excited about halloween in their off-campus home? maybe not a part two but it does take place in that same universe and reader is kinda excited to buy candy for the kids on their street and dalton thinks its really cute and then he tells her that halloween wasn't as exciting after his coma and y/n feels bad for him so she wants to make it up to him?

sorry if its too specific but thank youu ily

- 🍃

A/N: THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL REQUEST. I loved writing it so much and I do have to say I got a little carried away with the idea, so if this is too cheesy that’s why. Anyway thank you so so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy this so please let me know what you think 🫶🏻🤍

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: established relationship, mentions of having kids, EXTREMELY CHEESY, fluff, mentions of Dalton’s coma

MASTELIST ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎✩ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SEND ME A REQUEST

Home Sweet Treats

One chilly October evening Y/N and Dalton found themselves roaming around one of the local thrift shops looking for Halloween decorations. As soon as the calendar turned to October 1st, they excitedly declared that it was officially ‘spooky season’, but it was especially Y/N who couldn't wait to celebrate their first Halloween in their home.

“What do you think about this one? Is it too spooky for the kids?” Dalton held up an old looking halloween mask, a big notorious rip at the top.

Y/N stared at it for a moment, trying to picture how it would look outside their house “I think it’s kinda lame”

Dalton scoffed, his eyebrows coming together as he scanned it again “I think it would look okay, we can make him wear a hat to hide the ripped part” Y/N didn’t look too convinced so Dalton put the mask on slowly and held his breath almost immediately, it was an old mask “See? It doesn’t look too bad when it’s over something”

Y/N giggled at this, walking towards him and taking the mask off “Let’s keep it for now in case we can’t find anything else”

They had spent their weekend exploring every Halloween store they could find, but decorations were a little more expensive than they initially thought so that’s why they ended up scouring thrift shops. They were also planning on picking out a couple of pumpkins from the nearby pumpkin patch and brainstorming costume ideas for the so awaited Halloween party Chris couldn’t stop talking about. But there was one thing that they were the most excited for: buying sweets for the little trick-or-treaters.

Y/N had some fond memories of dressing up and going to every house asking for treats and they were determined to create something memorable for the kids in their neighbourhood, so the spooky decorations outside had to be perfect if she wanted it to be the full experience, and when she shared her idea with Dalton he couldn’t help but love her even more.

A couple of Sundays before the big day, they decided to take the entire day to pick out a couple of pumpkins and carve them. Their trip to the pumpkin patch was quick but a little intense, it was hard to find the ones that were big and steady enough since it was filled with kids and their parents who were looking for the same thing, but once they secured their pumpkins they made their way back to their home.

“So I’ve never actually done this so you’re gonna have to help me” Dalton said with a soft chuckle, laying the pumpkin carving tools on the living room floor.

“Never?” Y/N looked at him in disbelief as Dalton shook his head.

“At least not on my own, when I was a kid my parents used to help us do it but after… you know, my coma, Halloween wasn’t the same”

Y/N came up to him and softly placed a hand on his cheek “I’m sorry to hear that, baby”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I missed out on the Halloween experience, at least I get to do it with you” He replied with a smile.

Y/N nodded and placed a quick kiss on his lips “Then I’ll make sure it’s perfect” She whispered.

They sat next to each other so that Y/N could walk him through the entire process, giving him the steadier pumpkin so it would be a little easier for him.

“We’ll start by cutting out a lid” She grabbed a serrated knife and carefully pushed it into the pumpkin “Make sure you do it with an angle though, otherwise it will fall into it” Dalton was paying close attention to her as she went around the top of the pumpkin, taking his own knife to start with the process “Your lid should be bigger than mine, you hand has to fit inside the whole to take the seeds and pulp out”

Dalton nodded and did as she said, smiling when the top of the pumpkin came out in a perfect circle. They proceeded to scoop the insides of the pumpkin with a spoon over a plastic bag to avoid making a mess, putting everything in a bowl to try and make a recipe Y/N’s mum had sent her.

“Do you know what design you want to do?”

“Uh-” Dalton stopped and pulled out his phone, and after a moment he showed her his screen.

“Jack Skellington and Sally? I can barely make a regular face”

“Is it too hard?” Dalton was genuinely asking, he thought it was just like drawing something.

“Well… drawing isn’t the hard part, but we do have to carve it into the pumpkin and that can be a little tricky” Y/N took Dalton’s phone and zoomed into the pumpkins, analysing them closely “There are a lot of tiny details”

“We have the smaller detail sculpting from the carving kit, I think we can make it”

She looked up at him, he had a big smile and hopeful eyes, most likely waiting for Y/N to say yes. She sighed as she gave him back his phone “I’m sure you’ll do great, you’re an artist after all, but you’ll draw mine”

Dalton’s smile grew bigger. He excitedly drew on both pumpkins their respective designs, biting his tongue in concentration as his eyes focused on it. Y/N was right, he did a great job and both pumpkins looked amazing, now all they had to do was actually carve it.

That took a little longer than Y/N had anticipated, since she had never done such detailed faces but she was extremely happy at how they ended up looking, they were identical to the reference photo Dalton had shown her.

“You did fantastic, love” She said, hugging his side.

“We should do this every year” He hugged her back and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist “It could be our very own halloween tradition, we’ll buy the biggest pumpkins and our kids will learn how to-” He said that without even thinking, stopping as soon as he realised. Y/N looked up at him immediately, a smile forming on her face and noticing how his face was going red “Sorry-”

“I think they’ll love it” She interrupted him “And you will be a fantastic pumpkin carving guide” Y/N stood on her tiptoes and placed both hands on his shoulder blades, kissing him softly. Dalton smiled into the kiss, his eyes filling with tears as he thought of his future with her.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★

Halloween was just around the corner, it was the weekend before and Y/N and Dalton set out to buy all the sweets they would need to satisfy the little trick-or-treaters in their neighbourhood. Y/N walked through the shop’s hallways as Dalton followed her around with a shopping cart. They filled it with a mixture of chocolates, gummies, lollipops, and other sweets she thought the kids would love and a few others for them to keep.

"You two are going to be the most popular house on Halloween night!" The cashier smiled at them as she scanned everything they were buying, making Y/N and Dalton blush.

Back at their home they were finishing up with their decorations. It was pretty much done and it was already looking great, including the old mask they got a few weeks ago, but Y/N found a big skeleton that would be perfect to hold their sweets. They had everything ready, including their matching costumes for the Halloween party which was a good thing since the days seemed to fly by, and before they knew it, Halloween had arrived.

The plan was to meet Chris back on campus at 8:00 PM, giving them enough time to hand out sweets to at least a few kids before they had to leave. They were getting ready in advance, Y/N had told Dalton how much she loved it when someone in a costume opened the door for them, even though she doubted the kids would know who Ghostface and Casey Baker were.

As the sun began to set, children in all sorts of costumes began to trickle into their neighbourhood and soon enough the first group of kids were ringing on their door bell.

“Quick, should I keep the mask on or off?” Dalton asked, holding the mask next to his face.

“Definitely on, otherwise they’ll think a black long robe is your costume” He nodded and put it on, following Y/N as she made her way to the front door.

“Trick or tick” Four kids said at the same time as soon as they opened the door, their eyes lighting up with excitement as they noticed Dalton’s costume.

“What do we have here?” Y/N said, taking a handful of sweets and dumping them into their tiny baskets “A fairy, a princess, a witch and a ghost!” “Are you a ghost too?” The little ghost asked Dalton. “Yes, but a cold one, that’s why I’m wearing a robe” He replied, making the kids laugh.

“What do we say?” A woman behind them talked.

“Thank you” They said in unisound, waving them goodbye and leaving their front door.

After that more and more kids started showing up at their door, and Y/N couldn’t be happier. They chatted with the parents, admired the creativity of the costumes, and shared stories of their own Halloween experiences.

Sadly the time for them to leave came, so they placed the remaining sweets in a big decorated bowl outside their door, next to the skeleton.

“Thank you for doing this with me” Y/N said as Dalton locked their door and took her hand.

“It was my pleasure” He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss “I think this is the best Halloween I’ve ever had, and that’s thanks to you, darling”

Y/N blushed at the pet name, she was used to them by now but it always made her feel some type of way “I wanted you to have good Halloween, and hopefully next year will be better”

"Well I can't wait to do it all over again with you"

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert x you #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert fanfic #dalton lambert fluff #insidious #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #ty simpkins

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thelightsandtheroses · 9 months

Text

Secret Smile: Chapter Five - Unsteady

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 3.5k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used Author Notes: As always, thank you for all your feedback, likes and reblogs so far – it means a lot and I’m having so much fun writing this fic. I’d love to know what you think of this next chapter so please feel free to comment, reblog or even send an ask!

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It’s clear to you now that you spend more time in Javi’s office than your own. Once again, you’re sitting on his chesterfield couch at an unsociable hour, wondering what on Earth the job you’ve taken actually is.

As a lawyer, you’ve almost always been involved with a case after the arrest is over. When you worked as a prosecutor, you helped get warrants, but were never involved in the planning of an arrest. Your job is crafting the arguments, responding to surprises, making sure the case is solid and you can help people achieve justice. You duck and weave and argue and make the case real to a jury. That’s your job.

This is new to you.

While planning the operation remains the responsibility of the DEA, you’ve been observing, supporting where you can by working with Martinez’s office to confirm the legal arrangements, but mostly just taking it all in and trying to fight your exhaustion.

Ever since you went to his apartment, something changed for the two of you. It feels like some element of your friendship from before has started to return.

You notice him sometimes as you walk down the corridor and you can’t help but smile at him.

He’s not the same Javi you remember, but he’s getting closer.

“And you’re sure you can trust him?” you ask, folding your arms as you speak.

“Blue, Martinez is one of the only people I could trust with this.”

“Calderon worries me.”

There’s a lot more than Calderon bothering you. What Javi’s planned will be a significant blow to the cartel, one that will start to fulfil the people’s need for justice, for consequences.

However, you’re not naive.

This could destroy the negotiation. This could cause significant pressure for you and Javi at the embassy too. The ambassador and Stechner have made it clear that they endorse this negotiation, the bloodless transfer of power.

And of course, you don’t want there to be blood. Justice though, you want there to be justice.

“So, Martinez is arriving in Cali separately - and you need to go soon to make your flight, Javi. I’ve been talking with Martinez’s office; mostly him and his secretary and trying to get this warrant sorted discreetly. The chances of success are higher if less people know.”

“We won’t get a chance like this again; this needs to work.”

“I know. Javi, there will be consequences to this, even if it goes off perfectly.”

“For you?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“No, it’s by the book. I mean, I don’t know if Stechner will be my biggest fan by the end of the week, but I can live with that.”

“I like to think that it’s a good thing if you’re on his bad side,” Javi jokes, “but honestly, just tell me you won’t -“

“I’m a big girl, Javi, I’ve got this. And if you and your team can pull this off? All bets are off.” You exhale slowly.

“We’ve got this, we’ve planned for this,” Javi looks over at you and smiles broadly, “We’re arresting Gilberto Rodriguez.”

It’s not your mission but you feel like it might as well be. Despite the mountain of paperwork, warrants and legal documents you need to complete today, you spent your morning thinking about what might be happening in Cali the whole time.

You couldn’t help thinking about Javi too.

Now, you regret that indulgence though and wish you’d got some work done.

Your phone won’t stop ringing, the paperwork is piling up. The arrest of Gilberto Rodriguez hasn’t so much caused waves as complete and utter destruction. If you thought the Duffy and Lopez situation was stressful, this is a whole other league.

In a way, you’ve missed this. You’ve missed the adrenaline rush of a case; the artful interplay between you and the other side as you bat arguments back and forth and hope to win. Small things have often stressed you out, but when you’ve had to go through bigger things; the adrenaline raising things that should be terrifying? You handle those with ease.

One of your old university tutors had said you were designed for this career path. You wonder what they’d say if they saw you now.

You take a gulp of water when you finally hang up the phone after a particularly tense conversation with the Colombian justice department.

The negotiation might be ruined. Gilberto was the one pushing for it, they say, you and the DEA might have just started another war.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Linda looks over at you with a sympathetic expression. “Rough day?”

“Definitely not dull.”

“They’re airing the press conference from earlier now,” she says, indicating to the tv in your office.

You shrug and indicate the pile of paperwork and your phone on your desk. You simply don’t have the time. You take a gulp of cold coffee and move on to the next call.

After you finally finish the urgent calls and things start to feel slightly calmer, you make your way to Javi’s office. You haven’t seen him since before he left for Cali and that feels like a lifetime ago.

The walk to his office feels familiar now, you feel like you could make all of the right turns, know exactly where the stairs are, with your eyes shut. You pass Martinez leaving Javi’s office as you go to knock on the door.

“I think they’re going to be toasting you at the bar,” you say gently as you walk into his office. Judging by the empty glasses on the desk and Javi’s expression, he’s already got started though. For a second, you’re annoyed that you’ve been fighting fires and had to find solutions, while he’s been toasting success, but then you realise his face tells another story.

You expected Javi to look happy at the clear victory his department has just achieved, but something’s clearly wrong. You doubt he’s spent his evening being yelled at in multiple languages, but you’re not sure how the arrest went, whether everything had been accounted for, or what Martinez has just told him.

“I hear you’re man of the hour, got yourself on TV and everything. It’s a good result, Javi,” you persist.

“Great.”

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Martinez - they’ve set him up, he’s had to resign.”

“Because of the raid?”

“I think it was in motion before, but probably didn’t help.”

“Shit.”

“He’s a good man and -”

“Javi, should you be drinking that on an empty stomach?” you ask, looking at the glasses at his desk. There’s a difference between a drink with people toasting you and drinking alone in an office.

“I could have eaten today,” he argues half-heartedly.

You cross your arms and point at the dirty ashtray. “I may not be a doctor like Rafael, but even I know cigarettes aren’t food.”

“Fine, do you want to get something to eat then?” Javi asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You reply without thinking, “Okay, yeah. That would be nice.” You eye the glasses. “I’ll drive.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when Javi asked if you wanted to get some food. Would you end up at the usual bar people went to after work, or some street food stall perhaps?

Whatever you had been thinking, you hadn’t expected Javi to direct you here - you’d insisted on driving after eyeing the empty glass in his office. It’s a small restaurant a short walk from your apartment, there’s only one other group eating but it’s getting late and you think it may have been a lot busier earlier. This is the sort of place it would be easy to walk past but clearly that’s a mistake.

Your ex always used to say you could tell a lot about people by the food choices they made; the restaurants they were drawn to, or wherever they chose for an outing. You used to just think that was because Sam was a chef, but now you’re not sure.

The food here is delicious; that perfect combination between home cooking and something more elevated. The spice level is just right, the flavours and colours rich and welcoming. It’s easily one of your favourite meals since you arrived in Colombia.

How did you not know about this place? How did Javi?

You take a bite of food and sigh cheerfully. “This is so good.”

“Told you,” Javi says lightly, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ve lived here a while; I know the best spots by now. Haven’t been back here since I got back though, so thought it would be a good choice.”

“Well, considering I haven’t seen you subsist on anything but alcohol or cigarette in recent weeks, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“Subsist? Wow, okay, you’re just showing off that fancy law school education now.”

“It has to come in useful sometimes,” you say, “Scrabble. It can be useful for scrabble.”

“You played a lot of scrabble in the evenings back in DC then?”

“There’s nothing wrong with scrabble. But I wasn’t - I wasn’t boring, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Javi says before flashing one of his winning smiles at you. It’s disarming, Javi’s disarming. You can see how he’s good at his job, how he’s good with people.

You briefly wonder what this scene looks like to people who don’t know you. Do you look like colleagues, or friends? Perhaps people would even think you were together, as laughable as the idea may seem to you in the moment. There’s a small pang of anxiety about this that rises in your stomach but you swallow it down. Not here, not now.

You’ve spent the evening getting to know Javi all over again and vice versa. Neither of you are the people who left Laredo years before, and perhaps neither of you had realised the ways you had changed.

This Javi is looser and lighter, he seemed to subtly shift the further away from the office you got and for the first time in a while, you feel like you’re with the person underneath all Javi’s masks.

You’ve talked about music, hobbies, things that aren’t work. You’ve somehow even promised to lend Javi a copy of the book you’ve just finished reading after enthusiastically describing how much you’d enjoyed it, how it had made you think and feel and do everything a good book should.

“Did you prefer Austin or DC?” he asks suddenly.

“I don’t know. I went to law school in Austin and it was my first real job as a lawyer after graduating and passing the bar. It was fun, I mean, I liked my life there - lots of music and it was so much bigger than Laredo. In DC, it was a whole other world entirely though. I was not prepared for the winters.”

“Oh no?”

“Javi, we’re Texans, do I look like I can handle snow?”

Javi laughs, full and deep. You want to tell him about the first snowfall you remember in DC, about how you stepped outside, taking in the beauty of the fresh blanket of snow and how it concealed so much and made you feel like a child again for just a moment. Wonder, that was what it was. Everything felt so full of possibilities and opportunity. DC had quickly quashed that naïveté though.

“Not really a problem here - you’d have to head up to the Andes for that.”

“I think I’ll survive without that. I’ll leave it to you, Javi, what with your adventures all around the country.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Have you been based in other places than here?” you ask in a low voice, curious about what had inspired his original question. The other group have left now and the people who own the restaurant are back in the kitchen; this is as close to a private setting as you could get, but you’re never sure how much you can trust your surroundings.

“Mexico, briefly - wasn’t long after I graduated, but then I came back to the US and they sent me out to Colombia after that. Most of my time has been here though.”

It’s hardly surprising Javi cares as much as he does about getting things right here, about bringing down the Cali cartel. He’s spent most of his career out here; it’s as much as a part of him now as Laredo is.

You think you understand him a little more now.

“Wait, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Javi says in a low voice as you unlock the main apartment building door and walk towards your front door.

Somehow after dinner, you had insisted that you should give Javi the book you’d mentioned straight away and that he could order a cab from your apartment.

“I’ll just get the book and you can call a cab,” you say breezily, becoming surprised as Javi follows you, shaking his head the whole time.

“What number do you live in?”

You reply without thinking and notice Javi’s eyes bulge. Without concentrating on it, you move to unlock your front door.

“I’ll get that book,” you say quietly, “it’s late.”

“This - this was my apartment,” Javi says softly, stopping by the phone but not lifting it.

“What? What are you talking about, Javi?” you ask, dropping your handbag by the couch as you head for the bookcase to find the book you mentioned. Javi closes the door behind him and looks around your living area with wide eyes.

“Before. This was my place the last time I was here. I’m in a different building now. Well, you know that, you turned up there.”

“Oh, right.” You scan a shelf and then add, “Really? Here? This apartment?”

You’re concentrating on finding the book, focused on your mission and his words aren’t quite connecting. What does he mean - that this was his apartment?

“Where are the dog pictures?” he asks, wandering around the open plan living area. “Did they get rid of them?”

The dog pictures? It suddenly clicks.

“You were responsible for the dog pictures?” you ask incredulously. “The dog pictures were yours, Javi?”

“No, no. They uh, came with the apartment. And even if they didn’t, what was wrong with them?”

Oh, they definitely didn’t come with the apartment when Javi moved in.

You laugh as finally find the book you were looking for and take it off the shelf.

“I don’t remember you being such a dog person back in Laredo, Javi,” you tease, turning back around to face him. “Wait, so you lived here? As in here, in this exact apartment?”

“Yes. I’ve said that already. I lived here, Steve was upstairs … fuck, this takes me back. It’s barely changed. How did you end up here?“

“It’s just the apartment the embassy assigned me when I got here, luck of the draw, I suppose.”

Javi lived here? You look around, suddenly horrified. It suddenly sinks in - Javi once lived in your apartment. You’re rapidly filled with horror at the rumours you’ve heard from Linda and Judith about Javi’s reputation with women over the years and oh - please will Javi at least tell you that the furniture is different? You cannot think that he might have slept in the same bed as you in the past.

“Please tell me they deep cleaned and changed the furniture because … no, I don’t - why are you smiling? Oh god, what did you do in this apartment, Javi? Stop laughing! What did you do? I’m going to have to burn everything, aren’t I?” Javi’s leaning on the end table, doubled over as he laughs.

You haven’t seen Javi laugh like this in years. It immediately transports you back to when you were younger, back to your childhood home in Laredo and the few times you would hang around with Rafa and Javi. He’s younger, lighter, and as disturbed as you may be by the revelation, it’s almost worth it to see him like this.

“The comforter’s new,” he says sweetly. “It looks like they changed a few things around.”

“I bought the comforter,” you exclaim, arms folded.

”Oh.“ Javi holds his hands up in mock defeat.

“I can’t believe this.”

“You’re telling me!”

“How long were you here?”

“A while. The whole time I was here before.”

“Wow, that’s - wow, I don’t know what to say. I uh - ” you trail off. “One hell of a coincidence, huh?”

“Yeah. Of all the apartments in -”

“It’s fate, right? Like my friends says.” There are too many coincidences now, too many signs from the universe that you and Javi were meant to collide at this moment in time. You’re not sure what that exactly means, only that it surely means something.

“Maybe it is.” Javi replies thoughtfully. “Can’t believe this, Blue.”

“You know, I thought you’d want to spend tonight differently,” you say suddenly, changing the subject from whatever Javi has done or not done in this apartment before.

You’re leaning against your dining table as he moves closer to you. His eyes are bright from the moment before and you can smell the slightly spicy aroma of his cologne.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, at a bar with your friends, or … I don’t know, with different company perhaps. Celebrating the win.”

“Is it a win?” Javi asks, suddenly serious. He meets your gaze with his deep, questioning brown eyes.

You lower your voice instinctively, even though it’s only the two of you in the apartment. ”You did something everyone else didn’t think could be done. This needed to happen, people need to see consequences. We talked about it.”

“I fucked over the negotiation. You weren’t here before, Blue. We can’t go back to those days.”

Suddenly he doesn’t look comfortable here, as though being in this apartment has resurrected ghosts he had long since forgotten and the laugh has entirely faded from his face.

“You arrested a criminal, a leader of a cartel. Javi, it was a win.”

“Martinez has been set up. He’s not dirty, there’s no way. And that’s on me - it was my choice to bring him in.”

“It was his choice to accept,” you say, “He strikes me as the sort of person who wants to do the right thing. Reminds me of a couple of other people I know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean my brother’s a doctor and everything.”

“I hate you,” Javi says, shaking his head and fighting a smile.

“No, you don’t.”

“Not at all.”

“You’re a good person, Javi,” you say, because suddenly it feels like that’s what he needs to hear, to know. And he is a good person, of course he is.

“I’m not the kid you remember from Laredo anymore.”

“Neither am I.”

“No, neither are you.” His voice is lower, heavy like molasses and it sends heat pooling in your stomach. “You - you’re something else, Blue.”

Somehow, he’s right in front of you now and your back is against the table, a hand stabilising you and he’s here. You can hear him breathing, feel the warmth radiating from him next to you. He’s so close, and he smells so good and you could easily kiss the freckles on his neck, you could easily meet his lips and -

You haven’t been with anyone in months; you’ve barely allowed yourself a moment to even think about intimacy, to think about missing this. You hadn’t realised how much you missed being next to a person, so close to you, and knowing what’s about to happen, the anticipation, the impending fires and soaring heat.

Maybe this is the reason why you’re both here. Maybe this is what’s been written on the cards for the two of you.

You close your eyes and part your lips slightly and it’s going to happen -

Immediately everything in you runs cold. What are you thinking? What’s wrong with you? You can’t do this.

You cannot possibly do this.

After everything that went down in DC, pursuing this would be one of the most stupid things imaginable. After everything that went down in DC, it’s reprehensibly foolhardy. After everything that went down in DC, you cannot believe you are still this stupid.

You move away rapidly, fast enough that Javi looks at you with worry.

“Are you-”

“We can’t do this. What - that - that would never happen, Javi.”

“Why not? Because I know your brother?” Javi asks, a bewildered expression on his face.

“No, because we work together. I can’t - I don’t - I won’t cross that line. I will not be that woman.”

“What woman?”

“The woman that fucks around at work. Please go, Javi, please. Let’s just forget this - our emotions are heightened, it’s been a long day, we’ve both been drinking.”

There’s a rising panic in your body, you can feel how your palms are sweaty and how your mind is getting muddled between then and now, between DC and Colombia.

It’s just the food, just the alcohol you tell yourself. It’s familiarity and all sorts of things confusing the receptors in your mind. It’s not real. That moment between you and Javi was just a blip.

“I’ll call that cab,” Javi says sombrely as he walks over the landline.

There’s a tension in the air and you feel guilty, confused and upset all at once. He’s not standing so close to you now, he seems to be keeping as much physical distance as he can from you.

“Are you-”

“I’m fine, Javi, just tired and - please let’s just forget this. Please?” The two of you had made so much progress and in just one moment, one stupid moment, you feel like everything’s ruined.

“Of course, Blue,” he says.

It is only after Javi has left, book in hand and confusion in his eyes, that you finally allow yourself to break down.

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