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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

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My Heart I Surrender

This was a writing challenge by @iamasaddie and it was soooo much fun to partake in! I got a really angsty moodboard, so I apologize for the tears you might spill 😭 I LOVED doing this and hope to do more very soon! I just jotted all this out this afternoon, so I hope you enjoy 🥰 This is also in Joel’s POV!

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Angst, feelings, angsty Joel, smut, confessing feelings, more angst

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The rustic, spinning clock ticks over the soft patters of rain against the fogged up living room window. It’s like a competition, the vibrating sounds colliding together in a deafening noise that reverberates around your mind. Tick, tick, patter, patter. It’s too much, too loud for you to handle.

You hold your head in between your hands and cover your ears, trying to drown out the suffocating noise in your mind. You close your eyes tightly and try to forget. Forget the sounds of her walking out of the room, forget the way she slammed the door and ran out. But you can’t forget. It’s too fresh, too paralyzing.

Tick, tick. You gnash your teeth together and crush your head between your knees, desperate to escape the haunted ticks that keep coming. Louder, louder. It’s enough to drive a mad man crazy.

Tick, tick. That’s it. The final straw to make you lose control again. You push yourself out of the leather recliner and throw the empty whiskey glass at the clock. It immediately crashes to the floor, glass and broken pieces go everywhere against the dark wooden floors. The ticking abruptly stops and so does your pounding headache.

You run a rough hand through your messy curls, slicking it back into place. You sigh haggardly and slowly turn in the direction of the worn out couch, freezing at the mere sight of it. Your jaw clenches up as soon as you see it. Right in the center of the rose colored couch is the imprint of her. You run your calloused fingers slowly over the velvety material, feeling exactly where she laid. It’s almost like she’s still here. Almost. It’s still damp, still dripping with her arousal. You can smell her. The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon lingering in the air, just like the memory of her.

You pull your hand back and bite your tongue as you feel blood run straight down your throat. It’s the taste of loss, the taste of resentment. You did this to yourself. You. You throw yourself over the cushiony material, splaying your hands all over the damp material. Come back, come back. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

You remember her sitting in this spot not even an hour ago, with your head in between her creamy thighs. The way her breathy moans sounded as you tasted her. Your wet tongue sliding up her folds as you circled her clit nice and slow, sucking her into your mouth as she moaned your name and tangled her fingers through your mess of wild hair. She tasted so good. Just like a fresh sip of lemonade on a warm summer day that quenched your thirst. And God, the taste of her slick as she came in your mouth again and again. That warm salty and sweet taste mixing together that formed like hot cider on your taste buds. It was addicting. You couldn’t get enough, could never get enough.

You dig your fingers into the soaked material, trying to claw your way back to her. Come back, come back. You rest the edge of your face right where she sat, feeling your rugged scruff blend in with the smell of her. Too much, this is too much.

You remember how it felt being inside her as you thrusted yourself into her again and again, can still hear her ragged moans against your ear as she wrapped her legs around you and dug her nails into your back, slowly scraping red lines against your skin. She clung to you, ripping into your plaid shirt as she squeezed you tight, not ready to let go. And you fucked her like it was the last night you’d ever have with her. You made it passionate, slow, rough, exotic. And you made her cum three different times, but it wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough.

But it was the last night. Just like she told you when you saw her at Tipsy Bison earlier. One more time, she said. This is the last time. It was a love letter that ended with you. No more, this was the last straw. She was saying goodbye. It was a goodbye. But goddamn it, you didn’t want it to be. You never wanted it to be. This can’t be over. It won’t be over. Not if you can help it.

You pick yourself off the floor, crawl your way to the door as you grab a single cigarette that sits in the pocket of your denim jeans. You stopped smoking, she killed your bad habit as she always grabbed them out of your hand and threw them in the trash. You don’t need them. They’re bad for you, she’d say. She was always good about that, killing your bad habits. But she wasn’t here to tell you no. And God, you needed something to numb the pain. Anything.

As you stand up and walk to the white wooden door, you caress your fingers on the brass knob and close your eyes, remembering exactly how she left. You could still feel her hot skin, feel the echoes of loss and torture swirl around the room as you remember the way she left. Her eyes were filled with tears. Those sparkling, gorgeous eyes that took your breath away every time you set your sights on her. But this time she was broken, a torn fragment of your imagination now. She was so sad, so distraught in the worst way. And the way she looked at you before she walked out… God, it nearly kills you to think about.

Please, don’t go, you called after her. Desperate to keep her here with you, to stay one more night. If it meant you got to hold her one more time. One final time.

I can’t stay. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.

I….. You almost told her you loved her, almost broke down when you saw her opening the door. But almost wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

I have to go, she said. And then she walked out that door, leaving you hollow and broken inside, just like your now empty, vacant house.

You ran after her, calling her name, yelling her name. Please, please. Don’t go, you pleaded. Your voice a scratchy, hurling mess.

She turned so slowly, bloodshot with red eyes and tears spilling down her crimson cheeks. She shook her head no, digging her hands inside her violet jacket. She was right on the verge of collapsing, so close to barreling over in agony. And she said the words, those frozen, utterly dreadful words. I can’t… And then she fled, running back to her house, away from you. For good.

You stood there watching her, fisting your unruly curls with your fists and trying not to break down. But you had already broken down the moment she walked through your door, the moment she walked out into the rain and left you standing there, broken and beaten. A bottled up case of whiskey blues.

You punch the door, your knuckles hitting like jagged scars across the wood. Your knuckles turn red and start bleeding, just like your black heart. You step out on the vacant porch, the wood squeaking beneath you as the pounding rain hits against the edge of the wooden porch. You light up the cigarette, sticking it in your mouth and inhaling a puff of nicotine, desperate for some kind of relief. Any relief. It shoots through your lungs, numbing the pain just a tad as it takes the edge off. You blow out the smoke as it curls around the drizzle, mixing in with the whispers of the howling wind. She’s gone.

You inhale the smoke like it’s oxygen to your lungs, fighting every feeling in you to numb that empty space in your heart. The space where she’s missing. Your petal made from roses. Your sweet, intoxicating rosebud. But she’s not yours anymore. She’s not yours.

You finish the cigarette and stomp it out with your leather, worn boot, pushing it to the side so you don’t have to be reminded of the bad habits you said you’d stop. You did stop, but she’s gone so why does it matter anymore?

As you look out at the foggy, rainy night, you can almost see her. See the ghost of what once was an hour ago. Can see the way her long hair clung to her shoulders as the rain dripped off onto her back. Can see the look on her eyes before she ran off. She was torn, eaten up with hurt as she walked away. Her figure was only a mere memory now.

God, you couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t stand the mere thought of losing her. Not after you held her in your arms night after night. Not after you entwined yourself in her and lost yourself in her body over and over again. Not after her lips had marked yours, singeing her scent all over you as the cinnamon flavor swirled through your mouth. She was what brought you peace. Her. But you fucked it up. Fucked it up with every pointless fight you started because you were so fucking angry with the world, and you didn’t know how to control yourself. But she helped to calm you, helped to part the seas of your chaotic crashing hurricane. She was like a gentle spring day, a bed full of soft roses where you could lay your head when it got too much. But now it was just cloudy thunderstorm days without her. It was pure torture, no more spring days to mask your pain.

A wave of nausea pulls at your insides as you stumble forward, anxiety coursing through you like a hard metal bullet. You feel like you can’t breathe, your chest so tight that it hollows in on itself and leaves you bleeding inside. It’s like a sharp knife slicing you in two, tearing open your insides as you bleed to death. You hold your chest as you step into the rain, trying to calm your racing thoughts as you claw at the wooden railing on the edge of the porch.

The rain comes down hard on you, covering you in a sea of regret and longing. It dawns on you now that you can’t lose her. You can’t say goodbye. You won’t say goodbye. So without thinking, you run as fast as you can, dodging mud puddles and holes in the ground as you run like lightning. You have to stop her, you have to apologize. You have to get her back. You can’t lose her too. No, you just can’t.

You’re wheezing, coughing your lungs out as you run faster and faster, getting closer to her house. God, you wish you wouldn’t have smoked that cigarette, but it was too late. And now all you care about is finding her before it’s too late.

You make it to her front porch and pound on the rusty door, desperately clawing your way back into her life. You have to try, you have to try. After two more sharp pounds to the door, she opens it swiftly as shock registers on her face.

“Joel, what are you…”

You cut her off, too desperate to wait any longer. You come back crawling to her like a starving dog that’s lost its owner, pleading for her to take you back. You say her name anguished, your eyes tearing up and filling with puddles as you feel a teardrop trickle down your cheek like the soft droplets of rain that encase your cold body.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For always starting fights, for blowing up in your face from things that weren’t your fault. For breaking your heart over and over. I just… I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me, please. Because if you don’t then I can never forgive myself for ruining what we have because it’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. I need you, baby. I need you,” you desperately plead as more tears fall down your face, blurring your vision from the beauty that stands in front of you.

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. I’m right here. See?” She asks as she grazes her warm hand over your scruff, catching a falling tear with the tip of her thumb as her eyes glaze over yours, regret filling her face. “Joel, why did you come?” she asks as she looks into your eyes eagerly, looking for an answer in your blurring eyes.

“To apologize. To tell you I can’t live without you. I…I…” you struggle with the words, getting caught in your throat as you choke them out. But you say it, you have to say it. “I love you…” you whisper as your voice fills the void, your heart bleeding out on the dirt that you stand on, screaming her name as you try to claw your way from the hollow ground.

“You love me…?” She asks with softness flowing off her voice.

“Yes. So much. Please, baby. I love you so goddamn much it hurts.”

Her hand brushes your jawline, narrowly tracing your beard as her eyes start to water. You slowly graze your fingers against her cheek as you catch a falling teardrop and wipe it away shakily.

“I…I love you too. I always have. I always will,” she chokes out.

You close your arms around her and bring her into your chest, crushing her against the wet plaid material as more tears spill down your face, landing in her damp hair as you run your fingers through it, feeling that velvety touch that you missed so goddamn much. “I’m not letting you go again, baby. Never ever,” you breathe out, clinging to her like your life depends on it.

“I’m sorry for walking out. I didn’t want to, I really didn’t. I just…I…”

You tilt her head up and crush your lips to hers, feeling that soft, velvety skin that you longed to taste again. She folds into you, wrapping her hands around your shirt and pulling at the buttons, desperate to get near you again. You slide your tongue in her mouth and encase her flavor all over your tongue, basking in her warmth as you melt into her. She pulls you into the house and slams the door closed, still connected by her touch.

She pulls apart from you and stares up at you with longing eyes. Loving eyes. “Don’t go back tonight, Joel. Stay with me,” she says in a desperate, needy tone.

You draw a line with your thumb down her jawline, memorizing every perfect feature on her face. “I’ll stay. For however long you want me to,” you promise, your words filling up your chest with warmth as another tear slips down your face.

“Forever?” she asks with hope filling her eyes.

“Forever.”

You spend the rest of the night just holding her, both of you in wet tears as you lay all your emotions on the table. It’s exactly what you should’ve done all along. This is what you needed. You needed to feel your feelings, not bottle them up. But this felt good, it felt…natural. And so you stay like that the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other and losing yourself in one another. But this is where you belong, where you need to be. You’re home. With her, with your love. Your glowing, beautiful rose petal. Your forever and always.

Tags: @iamasaddie

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tokkiwrites · 3 months

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FUCK YOU, DON'T LEAVE ME HERE.

tokkis note : this is a short story for @iamasaddie 's mood board game/ ✏️ challenge. i was so excited to start writing for this omg. it's also my first ever angsty fic,can u believe it!?? again, thank you, @iamasaddie, for the beautiful mood board and happy reading <3

c.w : dieter bravo x reader, gn reader, angsty ?? toxic rs mentioned, dieter bravo is your superstar fuck buddy but you wish he was more than that & he wishes he wasn't.

"shit, you know this isn't ㅡ we aren't meant to be." he covers his face with both pals, heaving out a long sigh of frustration. "I'm not cut for this shit, yeah?"

"so you think you have the right to tell me when and how to forget about you?" you scream back at him, tears already spilling. you didn't know why you were crying at this point: happiness because after months you are finally near him, so near his cologne is clogging up your sensesㅡ or out of frustration because you knew this would happen. yet you always let him in.

"I really don't wanna hurt youㅡ fuck, baby, look at me." dieter steps in closer, reaching out to wipe the tears that stain your cheeks. "you're a hypocrite. you can't fuck your way into my heart andㅡ and then tell me you don't wanna hurt me!" slapping his palm away, you turn your back, sucking in a deep breath. you hated to let him see you cry, let him see what effect this has on you.

"I thought you knew what this all was...from the beginning." he chuckles as if the situation didn't make you feel stupid enough. of course you knewㅡ deep down you hoped he'd see you as his and not a temporary somebody. people in his life come and go, the risks of a movie star you could say, but fuck wouldn't you want to be someone that stays forever.

"I knew, butㅡ"

"but what?" he interrupts. "thought you could 'change' me?" he shakes his head in disbelief, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning your body around to face him again.

"look me in the eyes and tell meㅡ tell me you don't love me." you manage to speak, through wispered sobs. "fuck you for trying to make me the bad guy in all of this!" dieter gasps, laughing as he point his index directly to your chest. "Aren't you?" mustering your voice again, you ask rhetorically.

"What is up with you and needing to point the finger at someone, huh? has it ever occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, it's both our fucking faults?" he bawls his fist in holds it up to his chest. "both of us. me, because i gave you more than I needed to give and you because you ate every crumble of it." Dieter groans, frowning as you let his words wash over you. "Aren't we both fucked up?"

and you sit in silence, unable to unravel the knots tied in your throat. no tears are willing to fall, nothing is left to be spilled ㅡ only the thoughts that maybe he is right.

Dieter's frustration simmers as he watches your internal struggle unfold. The weight of his words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to navigate the intricacies of your shared pain.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Dieter murmurs again, his tone softer now, a hint of remorse breaking through the intensity. "But, fuckㅡ we're stuck in this cycle, tearing each other apart. Is this really what we both deserve?"

"I don't want to hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "then don't." he replies, gaze fixed onto the ground. your eyes search his, seeking answers in the depths of his turmoil. "I can't keep doing this." you admit. "I can't let you go and come back to me wheneverㅡ i can't stand to see you on that screen with anybody else, and i know-" you swallow "i know you can't control that, but please...please don't tell me this was nothingㅡ I was nothing.."

"You were never nothing," he says, his voice holding a sincerity that cuts through the tension. "I don't want you to be nothing," Dieter finally admits, his gaze softening. "and you know it."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fic #✏️#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sluttytangerine · 2 months

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🪴

#lemon with a gold tooth on my brain!! he won't leave #ig tangerine is there too...#bullet train #tangerine bullet train #lemon bullet train #✏️

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annamaryllis · 3 months

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no suspense, foreshadowing, buildup, or ominous vibes in this show. nothing feels like it has weight. like this is supposed to set up a series-long conflict with kronos. I hate how percy was just like "it's kronos" like omg. so anticlimactic. kronos is supposed to feel like a major threat. when annabeth starts to put the pieces together, she doesn't even want to say it. the revelation should have been built up with some effort like damn

#pjo show crit #pjo tv #✏️

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screensandtangledwires · 1 year

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#✏️#💌#📱#text #ai greentext #objectum #os/or #posic #robots #this screenshot was almost from a year ago too..... but since i recently figured out im objectum i figured i'd finally post this somewhere

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kim-woonhak · 10 months

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long time no sketchbook dump 😌👍

L to R: hangyul, juyeon, new, dk, scoups, seungkwan, hoshi

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applesontheground · 2 months

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quiet coyote ⛓️

CHAPTER ONE take me far from here | AO3

hey, joy ride fans. pspspsps. so, like any other big scary slasher that’s Like This, i immediately developed a crush. one could even say it hit me like a truck (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-4-gLlF0uw). so, i’m writing about it. rather, i’m planning an entire multi-chapter thing about it and about him... and i’m making it extremely self-indulgent while on the way. this is a bit of a “for myself” project, but you guys are more than welcome to read, too! ♡

SFW | Word Count: 2,367 | Rusty Nail x Female Reader

contains canon typical/incoming cringe 2000s protagonists, dk if this needs a warning but casual misogyny + slut shaming is brought up quite a bit!

continued in making me feel like i’m guilty

🎼: x

Dawn on a motel, the dirt not kicked up and the mirages still fast asleep in the sand. Without neighbors for miles, the evenings were mostly silent lest a group travel through late in the night, coming to an oasis of air conditioning and leg room for a reprieve before heading back out to where they needed to be.

“Why are we out here again?” A boy asked, squinting up at the Sun. “Buttfuck, Nevada… Desert on one side of the road, brothels and shitty motels on the other.” He gestured to the small stop they had stayed, now in the process of being put behind him in the poorly paved parking lot. “What a cool place to spend the one break we get before finals season comes and fucks us over.”

The other guy scoffed, almost offended but still waking up and unable to commit to a strong emotion. “I told you why we were out here. Vegas is like, forty minutes away.”

“No it isn’t,” From the other side of the car, one of the girls in his group shouted over the hood of their car, looking down at a map in her hands. “It’s more like four hours, dipshit. Stop trying to talk us into it.”

Standing with her was another girl, one who was bothered with a hangnail on her hand. The third one was crouched low to the asphalt, watching a beetle to pass the time as they finished checking out, also too groggy to engage with the world just yet.

“Earth to [Y/N], come on. Don’t tell me you were watching a fucking bug while I was giving the directions.”

Looking up, you were taken from your trance by the insect making its way under your car. You sighed as you stood, twinging your expression at one of the guys who had teased and asked, “Well, what else did you want me doing? We were waiting for you guys to go return the room keys and stop talking about Vegas.”

“He wants to go to Vegas,” Natalie muttered under her breath from where she had been fixed to the map. Heather stopped picking at her hand and muttered, “Yeah, no way in Hell I’m sitting in the car for that trip.”

You nodded briefly and shrugged, “I’m sorry the getaway’s been kind of a bust. Sucks when it’s all we got in the Southwest that isn’t balls hot or Mormon country.”

“I’d take Mormon country over sharing the hotel room with these two,” Heather added, making both you and Natalie hide smiles and halfhearted snickers. She then saw Mel approach sheepishly, giving her a look of disbelief.

She scoffed at him, leaning in to meet his lips. “Fine, sharing with Dean. You’re alright.” He sighed in relief to her, genuine in tone, “Great, I’m good with being alright.” He was hugging her around the waist as she hummed another laugh.

As the Sun stopped gracing the yellow hills on the horizon, taking to the sky for another blistering day in the state, you finally did enough soaking in it to start helping throw everyone’s luggage back into the car for another trek, half in the direction of home and half in the direction of wherever looked fascinating.

“Want to find that Clown Museum,” Mel, the other guy that was along for the ride, said to you as he helped you shove a suitcase against the aged carpet in your car’s trunk, “Think it’s closer than anything else worth the time.”

“Nah, son.” Dean then piped up from where he had been tunneled into the backseat, shaking his head at him, “We aren’t fucking with that demon shit.”

“Vegas, the blow and hookers capital of the world, is in Dean’s safe square, “ Mel retorted, standing straighter and shaking his head, “But the supernatural’s where the line is drawn?”

“Ghosts don’t suck my dick.” Dean joked, sure to smack the guy on the back of the head as he walked back towards the hotel room. “I don’t blame them,” You grumbled to yourself, making Mel break into his own laughter and Dean to call back, “What was that, [Y/N]?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You ended the conversation before it even had legs to stand on, giving one more look over the contents of the trunk before slamming its door down on top.

“Hey, why’d you close up?” Dean smacked his hand on the trunk, giving you a befuddled frown from behind square-shaped sunglasses, “There was room for another bag in there.”

“It can sit in the backseat,” Natalie groaned, “Come on, dude. I want to get out of here. It’s [Y/N]’s car, anyways. Maybe we should trust her judgement when she says enough is enough.” You gave her a thoughtful glance as Dean made a jerk-off motion but instead headed for the backseat with the last backpack.

“Where’d you get this, anyways?” Heather asked, “It looks like a classic, nothing like the clunkers that putt around campus.” You turned, admiring the smooth navy blue paint under where you were leaning against the passenger door, “Hand-me-down from an uncle. He heard I was looking for a decent car when leaving for college, so we made some shit happen and sold it to me…partially under the promise that I take care of it, of course.” You crossed your arms, smiling as Natalie complimented, “It’s one of the cleanest cars I’ve ever gotten in with classmates, that’s for sure.”

“I hold myself to my word,” You commented, peeling off when you heard the horn suddenly honk, shattering the pristine silence of the badlands surrounding you and your classmates. Seeing those shades in the windshield, you snapped your fingers and pointed at Dean.

“Aht!” You barked at him, “Out of the front seat, asshole. I told you I’m the only one driving this car.”

“Nice honkers,” He pointed to the wheel while getting out, making Natalie jeer at him as he snickered, “Should let me take it for a spin some time.” He wasn’t even worth the insults, merely rolling your eyes before ushering him out of the way of the open door to the driver’s seat and putting your own sunglasses on.

“All I’m saying, [Y/N], is that you should really be more focused on Spring breaking.”

You gave Dean a disinterested glance from the rearview, hands mutely flexing on the wheel in reply. It was all he was getting out of you.

“Oh yeah, enjoy the break in the middle of-“Natalie threw a hand to the windshield, presenting the empty landscape bowled in by orange mountains. You found it rather peaceful, something scenic enough for your taste to appreciate with a flick of your eyebrows, but Mel scoffed in agreement. “Fair, I kind of wish I brought a book or something now.”

“I’m telling you guys; Vegas is our oasis from this honky tonk.” Dean insisted, and Heather groaned, “Not this whole deal again.”

“Hear him out, maybe we can watch him get drunk and catch Syphilis.” Natalie sneered, and you held your breath with straight lips as Dean blew up, “Oh, fuck off, Nat. If anyone knows about STD’s, it’d be the one who blew half the baseball team.” She gave him a ghastly glare from the passenger seat, manicured nails combing the worn leather behind her shoulder.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You asked, and Dean gawked in a mockery at you. “Uhh, maybe. She’s a fucking slut for anyone on campus, sounds pretty wrong to me.”

Mel and Heather sat further back in their seats as Natalie retorted, “Yeah, no. I might like to sleep with athletes, but I don’t take that shit from someone like you.” She turned back around with a sassy thump against the back of her seat, “You and your stupid radio show that feeds off school drama like vultures.”

“The TMZ of college reporting,” You mumbled under your breath, and Dean belted out, “Oh, boo hoo! I still get more clicks than your articles, Walter Schlong-kite. Because all you want to write about is…Oh man, I wish I knew!”

He hung his wrist off the side of your seat, making your entire body press closer to the car door as he asked practically in your ear, “What is this groundbreaking story you’re choosing over hanging out with your friends, anyways?” You wrinkled your nose at him, but slowly replied, “It’s about truck driving.”

Silence overtook you again as he started laughing, giving him one more wary glower through the mirror when he slapped the roof of the car in his charades. Luckily, the turn leading into the lunch stop you were all thinking on was coming up, so you just let it go and turned off the long trail.

You had maybe sat for ten minutes before wanting to get up and get some interviews. You were coyly eyeing the crowd, finding the types that you felt may fit the bill for what you wanted to share in your article. Their conversations, the second they touched the side of a Peterbilt or a Lowboy, made you zero in. It wasn’t a lie: you were doing a story about the truck driving industry. The desert wasn’t a total bust, considering it fell into a good route between big cities. You sometimes had to cross it to and from California, Vegas was right there, and opportunities of the sort.

Still, it wasn’t great company despite keeping an open mind. You knew your friends were all watching in bemusement as you hopped from booth to booth, even coasting the diner��s counter with your notebook in hand and eyes alight. “Hi, I’m a student reporter wanting to get the perspectives from truck drivers. Would you care to give an interview?” The interest wasn’t exactly brimming, let alone willing to shell their two cents. Even the guys you did speak with weren’t much for good quotes. Still, you kept the polite smile on your face, and scribbled down whatever you could for good measure.

“You know, if you weren’t a girl, you would’ve gotten smacked by a few of those guys.” Mel teased as you retreated to the booth, seeing the soda you had ordered sweating harder than you were while running around a diner in midday heat. Sliding back into your seat, you replied, “Why would you say that, Mel?” He seemed lost, and you clarified, “Why do you think these guys are all rough and tumble, that they’d kick the shit out of anyone who looks at them twice?”

He stammered, and Heather put her hand on the top of his and sighed, “[Y/N], you know that we’re just kidding.” You hummed, and still went on, “Well, that’s honestly why I’m writing this. The job’s not all fighting, anger…gross sex in restrooms. Don’t think I’ll be going there unless I have to, though.” Dean snorted, and you once again corrected, “Jesus Christ, I mean I’m not going there in my article. I’m not that interested in the story.”

“It’d be a good one that’d actually get an audience, though,” Dean’s hands fanned up as he swooned, “Truck Stop Restrooms: Just How Many Glory Holes Does It Take?” Natalie covered her mouth, but you rolled your eyes and groaned, “Very classy. You should take that idea for your work, Dean.”

“I think you should be here to have fun over anything else, [Y/N].” Mel suggested, and you gave him a level stare, “Really, you’re not even started on this story and you’re already acting like you’re handcuffed to it.”

“It’s an important idea. I mean, you heard yourself.” You gestured at him, “This sorta job keeps shelves stocked, and all you got to ask about it is which stall I’m going to get blown in, or who’s shanking me afterwards.” Dean scoffed again, “What, like driving in a straight line for nine hours a day is hard? I’d want to kill someone, too.”

You turned to him, finally giving him that sweet reaction in the form of a face to face answer, almost brushing noses with him. “You really think it’s easy?” You looked out the window, seeing a line of parked vehicles almost taller than the building itself as you murmured, “Look at how big their trucks are…How heavy they must be, all that?”

“Well, to you, maybe. You know women and driving don’t mix.” Dean commented. You whipped around, giving him a disgusted sneer before Heather piped up, “Oh, are you really playing that card?”

“What did you expect from the guy who thinks going to Vegas is any indication of getting laid?” Natalie added, throwing a sugar packet at him. You once again swallowed the venom in your mouth, turning to the window again while Mel also sat back, getting a strawful of water and avoiding eye contact with any of the girls at the table.

Smart guy, you mused to yourself.

The rest of lunch went without a hitch, you paid, then walked back out to your car. You took advantage of a couple men eyeing your car as you walked out to speak with them, chat up your vehicle while also getting some interest in your story. Lucky for you, they were both drivers. Heather and Mel did a good job of keeping Dean’s mouth shut, pushing him into the car while you talked on the outside.

One of the men even asked for your info, and you shared the website that your school let you publish on graciously. “Very nice,” He commented, “I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for it, little lady.” Beaming, you replied, “Thanks for the kind words, I really appreciated your perspectives.”

“Look at that, you got some story after all.” Natalie grinned as you got into the car, setting your notebook down at her feet and nodding. “Yep, they knew I had some interest in truck driving.”

“Why? How’d they know? From your car?” Mel asked. You sat back upright in your seat, elbow brushing the cord of the speaking device to a HAM radio that was fastened on the front panel of the car.

You shrugged, and hummed, “Must’ve heard me in the diner, I guess.”

#rusty nail x reader #slasher x reader #quiet coyote #✏️#⛓️

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