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#I'M DYIN RIGHT NOW
farragoofwires · 7 months
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don' dweeblog
frantically googling 'how to tell if everyone at shul hated you this morning' 11 hours after the fact
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Not me goin almost four days without eatin cause I have no money and don't get paid for another week. ☠️
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kirstielol · 2 years
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ahh just how i wanted to spend my evening after working all day... stuck on hold with bell :/
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wall-legion · 1 year
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Question for Zanthe: So uh, how's that demon in your head situation going?
His ears go straight up, then drop down. "Oh! Uh, you, uh, heard about. Him. Huh?"
If he were a dog (or perhaps even a charr) his tail would be between his legs right now, judging by his body language.
"He's... Well, he's quite noisy! Turns out a lot of uncontrolled magic just... drifting around all the time makes him really talkative." He rocks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "It's really getting distracting, actually. He gets loudest when I'm trying to sleep, and he's... Um. He's getting really. Really violent, let's say? But he's in my head, so I think it's okay? Right?" He's trying to smile reassuringly.
It's not working.
"...please don't tell Qirri? Or the rest of the krewe? Or hey, the Commander for that matter? They don't need to know about... all that..."
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clowderofcloudies · 1 year
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🎉🎂🎁 happy third birthday to my chest!
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honeydazai · 26 days
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୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work
feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma
content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public
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It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.
He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.
[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”
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CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.
He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.
“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”
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Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.
He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.
[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”
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FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.
He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.
“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”
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It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.
While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.
“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”
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The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.
When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.
“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”
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the-travelling-witch · 8 months
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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋
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summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in the devildom doesn't make it any better; luckily, these demons are here to help
pairings: mammon :: belphegor :: barbatos x reader
warnings: period-having reader (gn pronouns), blood, mild cramps
a/n: this is literally so self-indulgent, as everything i write is, but whenever i'm on my period thinking of scenarios like this helps me sit through cramps, so i thought i'd share the nonesense with you ♡
obey me masterlist || similar writing: twisted pains [twst]
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𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍
“Human! Open ya damn door!”
“No, please let me die in peace,” you whined from underneath your blankets as the banging against your door continued.
“If ya don’t let me in right now, I’ll kick it down, ya hear me?!” You could practically see Mammon pacing a ridge into the floor in front of your room, so you trudged over there and unlocked it, the demon almost colliding with you from how quickly he opened the door. His snow-white hair was sticking up from his head as if he’d run his hands through it without noticing. “What’s the big deal makin’ me wait so damn long, huh?”
“I told you I’m trying to pass away from this life,” you deadpanned, trudging back to your bed, groaning as another cramp twisted your lower stomach. “First, I have to deal with this shit in a house full of male demons who are absolutely not prepared to handle a human exchange student on their period. And second-“
You paused, for both dramatic flair and to take a calming breath. Then, you turned around and gave Mammon a saccharine smile dipping pure venom.
“I find out that apparently the entire Devildom can smell that I’m on my period if I step a foot out the bloody door.”
“Listen, I’m sorry.” Mammon held up his hands to plead his innocence. “I didn’t mean ta be so rude about it. But in my defence, I didn’t know it’s a normal thing for humans to just start bleedin’. I thought ya were dyin’!”
You painfully remembered how you had dragged yourself out of your room this morning, after luckily finding some hygiene products in the bag you had with you when you were whisked away to the Devildom unannounced (thank the sky guy you threw them into literally every bag and purse you owned). Already in a bad mood, you’d plopped down into your designated seat, ready to fight for your breakfast, only to feel six pairs of eyes on you.
“What?” You had asked, when nobody passed you the bread basket.
That had been when Mammon, eyes as wide as the coaster under your mug, almost jump-scared you into dropping your butter knife. 
“WHY ARE YA BLEEDIN’?!” He’d already pulled you from your chair and started inspecting you for any signs of injuries, tugging your arms up and inspecting your head. “Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Mammon, I’m fine. You can let go of me now.” You almost had to wrestle your arm back from him, heat already creeping up your cheeks. 
“Clearly yer not!”
Exhaling deeply you said through gritted teeth “I’m on my period, if you have to know.”
The demons around the table had exchanged glances, but sadly only three of them had held a spark of understanding, those being Satan, Levi and Asmodeus. Mammon and Beel on the other hand seemed more lost (well, Beel actually had his eyes on his food but that was beside the point) and Lucifer’s face had been unreadable.
“Woah, periods are an actual thing?” Levi had asked incredulously, his voice somewhere between shock and awe. “I thought anime made those up for the sake of the plot.”
“I see,” Satan had given you hope. “I‘ve read about those before in some books on human anatomy but I didn’t think it was a big deal, seeing as it wasn’t talked about much.”
“Satan, pray tell, from when were those books?” 
“The 18th century perhaps?” He shrugged, tilting his head.
“Well, that explains a lot,” you had sighed, whereas Asmo had just dropped his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry about them, hon. But demons don’t experience periods, so I doubt any of them will be much help,” he had squeezed your hand sympathetically.
Lucifer had cleared his throat then. “Well, it appears that we have some catching up to do, now that we are hosting a human exchange student. Given your…predicament, you are allowed to stay home from RAD as long as this affects you.”
You had sighed a breath of relief.
“In exchange, however,” Lucifer had continued, making you dread the next words to leave his mouth, “it will fall to you that my brothers are properly educated on how to handle this side of humanity.”
So, that afternoon, you had found yourself in the common room, holding a presentation on the menstrual cycle in front of the brothers… and the future demon king himself. Yes, of course, Diavolo had gotten wind of your situation and simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn more about humans. At least, him being in the know meant you’d never have to worry about getting period products imported to the Devildom ever again.
Subsequently, you had locked yourself in your room, curled up under a blanket as you scrolled through Devilgram trying to forget this whole ordeal happened. A good hour later, Mammon had started pounding against your door like a madman.
With him standing in your room now, you could see the bag he was holding as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you patted the spot next to you.
“I’ll forgive you. It would have been more embarrassing if I went to RAD without knowing,” you said placatingly. “Anyways, what’s that?”
“Oh, it’s nothin’…” Mammon trailed off, looking anywhere but you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… Ya were sayin’ this stuff could help and we didn’t have any, so I went and got some for ya… Only because Lucifer would string me from the ceiling if ya went and complained! That’s all!”
Taking the plastic bag from him, you peered inside to see various types of human world painkillers, a hot water bottle and chocolates. Despite what the demon had just said, you noted that the chocolate brand he bought was the one you liked best, something you had only dropped in a passing sentence when you talked to Asmo about a new trending dessert.
“Thank you, Mammon,” you smiled genuinely. “That actually is really helpful.”
“Really?” He managed to suppress his grin before it curled further than the corner of his lips before clearing his throat and hiding half his face behind his hand. “I mean, I’m only doin’ ma job, ya know? So Lucifer gives me back Goldie!”
“Sure you are,” you laughed, the first time since your day started.  “Does your job also involve staying with me and watching a movie?”
“Yeah!” This time he was too late to hide his excitement, then he caught himself and tried again, calmer this time. “I uh- I could fit ya in my super busy schedule. Gotta make sure ya don’t die after all, huh?”
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𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑
What a horrible way to start your day.
Well, under other circumstances, it would’ve been near perfect. Waking up snuggled comfortably in your boyfriend’s tight hold as he lightly snored into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 
If it wasn’t for the unpleasant twisting of your lower stomach you might have turned around and slept the morning away. Still slightly groggy, you sat up in bed, hoping dearly it was just a fleeting stomach ache or hunger and not your period, despite the clear symptoms. 
All hope was shattered however, when you shifted and you knew instantly that you could kiss this pair of underwear goodbye. With some effort, you wriggled out of Belphie’s vice grip, looking back at the sleepy demon as he groaned in protest only to see a large blood stain where you’d just lain. At your shocked gasp echoing around the attic, you watched his brows knit together and his nose wriggle, his forehead creasing as if he was deep in thought. Then, he blinked his eyes open.
“What’s—“ he cut himself off with a yawn, “What’s wrong? Are you alright? What are you doing over there?”
“Belphie… I’m so sorry,” you nearly sobbed, guilt bubbling up in you. In combination with your hormones being all over the place and your still sleep-addled mind, tears were threatening to form along your waterline.
In a heartbeat, the Avatar of Sloth was up and next to you, pulling you into a hug and bringing your head to rest against his shoulder, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other holding you close by the waist. You’d never seen him move this fast this early in the morning.
“Hey, hey, what’s up?” He gently prodded, voice still raspy with sleep but soft nonetheless. “Please talk to me, starlight.”
“It’s— Your sheets, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know…” You buried your face deeper in the fabric draping over his chest as you felt him turn his head towards the bed. Then, a beat of silence spanned across the attic.
“That’s what you’re fussing about?”
“Yeah, I mean—“ Collecting your thoughts, you began again. “It’s gross and a pain to clean. I really should’ve known that—“
“Hey, look at me.” Tilting your face towards his, your eyes met amethyst ones as you followed the guidance of his fingers underneath your chin. “It’s not gross, you hear me? No part of you could ever be.”
“But the blood-“
“I’m a demon, might I remind you. You’d think I can handle a little blood.” There was a caring seriousness in his gaze that made you weak in the knees, the love and adoration you found swirling within almost making you cry for a whole other reason. “You didn’t actually think I’d be mad at you about something so natural, did you?”
“It’s generally a bit of a taboo topic and conversations about it can be quite stigmatised, so…,” you shrugged.
“You’re telling me half the population go through this every month and the topic is hushed up anyway? You’re already stressed enough and people give you crap for something like this?” You nodded at his incredulous tone. “Well that’s just stupid.”
For a moment, Belphie just held you, his fingers tracing random shapes into your hip. Then, he pulled you towards a dresser in the corner of the room, never letting go of you completely. 
With how much time you had started spending in the attic it was a somewhat natural course of nature that your clothes would gradually end up moving here as well. Pulling out a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of black sweatpants, you didn’t have time to reach for a sweater before a soft pile of fabric was already pushed into your hands. Upon closer inspection, you identified it to be one of Belphie’s hoodies.
“I know you like wearing them,” he merely shrugged off your raised eyebrow. “Now go and take your time washing up, but make sure to come back straight away when you’re done.”
Practically herding you out of the door, you almost had to snort at the irony of the Avatar of Sloth encouraging you to do something you might not have had the energy to otherwise. But you were incredibly thankful for it because when the shower’s warm water hit you, you noticed how much you needed this, feeling born anew after scrubbing your skin clean.
Climbing back up the stairs to the attic, you already felt a lot calmer than when you had woken up, swaddled in Belphie’s cloud-like hoodie (seriously, where did he find fabric like that?) and surrounded by a mixture of his scent and your body wash.
When you pushed open the attic door, you blinked at the new set of sheets Belphie was lounging on, the old ones nowhere to be seen. Even without you moving, the demon perked up at your presence, extending one arm to coax you back into bed.
“What are you still doing over there? Come here,” he said, voice already drowsy again. “There’s still some morning left to be slept away.”
Who were you to refuse? Sliding under the covers next to him, you turned and twisted into whatever pretzel position made you cramp the least before two strong arms wrapped around you. This was another perk of being with Belphie; if anyone could accommodate weird sleeping positions, it was him.
Warm hands found their way under his hoodie, his palms pressed flatly against your lower back where most of your pain was coming from, while the hips of his fingers slowly caressed the surrounding skin.
“Feeling better?” He mumbled into the crown of your head.
“Mhm, much better,” you breathed into the crook of his neck, sighing as his natural body heat slowly eased some of the constant pressure in both your lower stomach and back. “How did you know about the back pain though?”
“You always complain about it, especially on the first day,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing to know. 
“How did I get so lucky,” you mused, your tone playful but just as genuine. “Makes me feel even worse about ruining your sheets.”
“Literally don’t worry about it, you do too much of that anyway. I left them with Asmo, he knows how to get just about any stain out of stuff.” You tried not to think about the specifics of where that expertise came from, so you rolled your eyes at the very typical behaviour of the youngest to dump his work on his brothers. Then you stiffened. Work. Chores. You were on grocery shopping duty today. “What’s the matter now?”
“I have to go out soon and get everything we need for dinner,” you sighed. Maybe you could convince someone to trade it with an indoor chore for the week.
Before you could reach for your D.D.D, the arms around you held you a little closer to the demon you were snuggled up against, one of his legs draping over your thigh, careful not to put too much pressure on you as he tangled your legs with his.
“Well that’s too bad,” Belphie mumbled into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Looks like Lucifer has to find someone else for the job. Because you’ll be busy all day.”
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𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒
Periods had the annoying habit of showing up whenever they pleased, which mostly meant whenever it was most inconvenient for you. Being well aware of that fact didn’t mean you were any more prepared for it to happen, though. 
So, as you were running errands around RAD with Barbatos, it suddenly felt like your insides were squeezed together and wrung out like a washcloth, making you stagger and pause to steady yourself again. When your companion turned to ask if you were alright, you assured him everything was fine, hoping it was just one bad cramp that would ebb away soon.
But over the course of the next fifteen minutes, it progressively got worse and you had trouble focusing on the task at hand, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you sorted through student council documents. As you reached for a new stack of files, gloved hands came to rest over yours, preventing you from picking up more work.
“You should not overexert yourself, dear,” a soft voice spoke close to your ear. On other occasions, you would have welcomed the way his hands smoothed down your shoulders when it was just the two of you for once, but you couldn’t think about anything but the pain you were experiencing. “Without meaning to offend, you’re looking rather unwell. Allow me to take you to the Demon Lord’s Castle.”
“What about work?” You mumbled but didn’t resist as he pulled you to your feet, steadying you with a hand between your shoulder blades. “And Diavolo?”
“Do not worry about that. There’s no rush to complete these files and the Young Master has given the explicit order for me to take care of you,” Barbatos smiled as he led you out of RAD, careful to avoid as much unwanted attention as possible. “An order I was all too happy to comply with, might I add.”
“So you knew,” you sighed with a smile, not actually too surprised at the revelation. “I did think it was suspicious to have you all to myself the entire day. Do I even have to ask how you knew?”
“Well, as you have come to learn, demons are far more perceptive to certain reactions of the body, hormonal changes included,” he explained matter of factly. “Aside from that, however, I have also made it a priority to learn the rhythm of your body to best care for you.”
“You track my cycle? Despite being so busy already?” You turn your head to look at him in surprise.
“Of course. Not only are you an honoured exchange student, you are also someone who is immensely important to me,” he said as he held the castle door open for you, his verdant gaze full of adoration. “Naturally, I aim to ease your strains and alleviate some of the burden you carry.”
“You really don’t have to—“
“But I want to.” Taking your hand in his, the fabric of his gloves soft against your skin, he brushed your knuckles with a featherlight kiss. “Please allow me to take care of you, my love.”
“I guess I can’t say no when you ask like that,” you laughed sheepishly. Your body seemingly agreed with you as it sent another wave of cramps to make your knees buckle. 
“You must be exhausted,” Barbatos said, no doubt picking up on your unease immediately. “Let me draw you a warm bath to ease some of your tension.”
Said, done. Soon thereafter, you were sinking into a tub that probably cost more than a normal person’s house, the water the absolute perfect temperature to relax your muscles. You also noted how there were no strong scents present, only the hint of something floral and calming, but not overwhelmingly so.
After some time of soaking in the bath and with your permission, Barbatos stepped back into the bathroom. First, he wrapped you in the fluffiest black towel, carefully patting your skin dry so as to not irritate it. Then, he applied a moisturising lotion, gently kneading out any knots in your legs and shoulders with his skilled fingers before helping you into a new set of clothes which felt light as feathers against your skin. 
He also showed you where to find any sort of hygiene product you might need and, to nobody’s surprise, somebody had stocked the guest bathroom you used whenever you came over with every possible product there was.
In your guest room, Barbatos guided you over to the sofa and lounge chairs underneath one of the high windows where a tea set was already waiting for you on the table in the middle. 
“I took the liberty to prepare some tea and a few pastries while you were bathing. This blend has soothing qualities and is known to help with cramping. Given your usual choice of tea, I also think the aroma will be to your taste,” the demon explained and, as always, you were stunned by his level of attention to detail. 
As he poured it, you noticed, however, that there was only one cup on the table and instead of getting one for himself, Barbatos went to fetch a hot water bottle. 
Wrapping it in a cloth he warned you to be careful not to burn yourself before announcing he’d start preparations for dinner, letting you know he’d be making your favourite. But before he could turn to leave, you caught his wrist, a surprised expression flitting over his face for just a second.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” you started, holding his gaze, “would you join me for tea? It’s been a while since we sat down together.”
At your request his face smoothed over into a fond smile, the hand in your grasp coming up to brush over your cheekbone. 
“I suppose dinner can wait a little longer,” he said, clearly as happy as you to spend time with you. “Then again, even if it couldn’t, I’d find it hard to leave you. Especially when your wish and mine are so closely intertwined.”
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donutz · 2 months
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Dogday “x” reader
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Summary||Not romantic, at all, but you do give DogDay his legs back ^_^
Going over to the eerie hall, you see a bunch of cells.
Spooky..
I hear.. footsteps? No, not Catnap’s. It’s someone else.
Considering this absolutely terrifying place, something’s gonna pop out at me. Alright before I almost get murdered I’m gonna go to that area that I didn’t check out.
Oh. They’re fading away.
I see a room. With a big paw in the middle. Well, like a paw pillow. You think this is where Catnap sleeps? There’s little Smiling Critters. 
Cute. I just realized how adorable that is. Catnap sleepin here while little critters are above him. He’s still just a kitty.
Like 10 years ago..
Anyways I’m gonna go back.
I hear footsteps.. Again?
I go over to the last row a cells and— HOLY—
“You… You’re Poppy’s angel”.
I don’t want to exaggerate, but my mouth was WIDEE open. But I closed my mouth because that was pretty rude to do.
“Come to save us”.
I wanna do something but I’ll let him talk, not for long though, I can’t let DogDay be in anymore pain.
“Nothing left to save, not here”...
Lies, I could save you right now!!
“You’re in Catnap’s home, angel”.
Alright I’m done with you talking. I start, luckily since I used to mess with the toys, getting out my tools to start working.
Well, I find the sharpest one so I can cut the belts holding him up.
“Their home”.
“A million pairs of—”
I take one big swing at all of the belts, and fortunately they all snap! Of course I caught DogDay in time.
“I’m gonna make sure you’re okay, puppy.” I declare, not joking. Like 100%, DogDay is not dyin’ on me.
“But Angel I’ll only slow you down—”
“Lies”.
“The only thing I need to worry about is getting you safe, not you ‘slowing me down’!” I tried to sound a lot less annoyed, I’m not, at all. But I don’t want DogDay to burden himself even more.
I was also running from a bunch of small demons so yeah.
They were chasin’ me like they were tryna eat me alive!
No pun intended.
While I was speed crouchin’ through, there was little critters on the right side of me— I kicked them.
“Sorry little one!” I apologized, I didn’t feel fully bad but I still do because y’know! They’re still— a little bit like the bigger, original critters!
Barely.
Even though they kicked the smaller critters, they still apologized.. They really are an angel.
Finally making it out, I see three colored slides. I made a quick decision and decided to slide down the middle one.
Luckily that was the right one.
“Keep going angel, you’re doing good”..
DogDay is by far the best dog I’ve ever known.
I quickly switched my green hand to my purple hand and used the jump pad—
“Hold on”!
We made it on the platform and thankfully a metal door shut behind us, cutting off the smaller critters.
I pressed the button so we could go up, and waited.
“Angel, that was amazing! But why would you save me?” Wouldn’t it have been better if they left?
“Because I don’t want you to die. Plus, you didn’t slow me down. Also are you okay? Y’know, because of how much I was moving..?
“I'm alright Angel, are you”?
“I am completely fine! Physically”!
I gave him a smile, a real smile. Just so he doesn't think I'm lying.
“Plus, I'm really happy that I was able to get you outta there.”
Now, I just need to get the parts to rebuild him. I 100% do not mind doing that.
After some time, you were able to find a somewhat safe spot that was found by Poppy and Kissy.
And yes, you held DogDay the whole time. Like a little kid holding their stuffy.
You placed DogDay on the ground, he held himself up with his arms so you didn't need to worry too much.
“This might take a while, but the result will be worth it. Or not, depends on your opinion”.
“You reattaching my lower body will be worth it no matter how long it will take”.
I was a little surprised that he said that— he's still outgoing and kind after all these years…
I lifted my head and saw that he had a genuine smile— of course, I smiled back.
After— about two and a half hours I was done. My back is kinda sore but that doesn't matter.
“Okay, you wanna try sitting up”?
.
.
.
“Dog—”
There were visible stars in his eyes.
He was in awe because of my work, and gave me a hug. A really big hug.
“Thank you, Angel”...
“You've done so much for me, how could I ever repay you”...
While he was hugging you he stood up at the same time.
Omg he can walk!! I mean stand.
And Jesus he was tall, not 6’2 type stuff but he was like— 5’0! That's tall for a ‘toy’.
I hugged him back and we were there for a while.
I completely forgot he asked me something.
“Oh! Uhh, you do not need to repay me. But your way of repaying me is just being alive”.
“Promise”?
“... I promise Angel”.
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onsomenewsht · 2 months
Text
now playing: Everything to Everyone (Intro)
track 2 >
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》 Alexia Putellas x Reader
》 words count: +750
》 I need the guts to go and give you up / 'cause I'll kill myself tryin' and I'm not scared of dyin'
“Qué es eso de que te vas?!” (What do you mean you’re leaving?)
Legit question, you think. One can leave so many places and in so many ways.
You can clearly read the shock in her naturally stoic face, usually unreadable for people who don’t have the privilege to orbit close to her heart.
Your head sinks, eyes too focused on your unlaced shoes to see Alexia taking a step toward you. But you sense her. And putting some more distance between the two of you is the only response you can give her right now.
She tries to make you look at her, she knows you can feel her pleading eyes desperately trying to lock into your darker ones, but you don't dare to. You will drop everything otherwise. 
“Alexia, please”
“No, no hace esto, ¡no lo digas así!” (No, don’t do it, don’t say it like that!), like she’s the one hurting you.
You take even more steps faraway from her frozen form, hitting with the back of your calves the sofa in the abruptly smaller house. You let yourself drop on it, sitting and rubbing the stiff texture of your jeans.
The catalan takes it as a sign of you being ready to explain whatever this is, to explain this epically huge misunderstanding. But your muffled sob makes it evident to her you need space, space from her.
Dropping your head into your hands is the only way you can think of to make them stop shaking so much.
You can’t let Alexia come closer, you can’t let her touch you in the way somehow capable of healing every aching part of your body and soul. You can’t glance at your lover, you can’t let her look at you the way she does when she needs you to understand the feeling she can’t communicate.
You just can’t.
However, when the blonde starts crying, silently as if not wanting to disrupt your breakdown; you’re sure.
Leaving truly is the only way.
“I got an offer”
“You got offers all the time”
“I asked for it”
You have known her for four years now, getting closer and closer with time passed and shared experiences.
Four years of studying all the finest details of the ways she acts and moves. Three years of falling asleep with your hand on her chest, her heartbeats as the only lullaby that can make you rest. Two years of heading to a future that appallingly looks a lot like the same for the both of you. One year of trying to tell yourself that nothing changed about the way you feel of your life here, of your life here with her.
You have known her for so long, so profoundly, yet this is the first time you meet this Alexia.
A truly, deeply broken Alexia.
And you’re the reason why.
“Tú lo pediste?” (You asked for the transfer?)
“Yes”
The captain moves slowly, dropping on her knees right in front of you and taking your hands in hers. She’s not shaking like you, but you can catch deep worry in her eyes. She’s the most scared she’s ever been. 
You beg every goddess and gods on earth and sky she doesn’t ask you to stay.
If Alexia asks you to stay, you’ll stay.
“Por qué?” (Why?)
She is not hiding her cries anymore and the brutal honesty of her feelings is something you will never get used to.
Something you will never forget.
“I need to leave”
“Me?”
“I can’t leave you, mi corazón”
The catalan closes her eyes and tries to calm herself down, her sudden shortness of breath alarming you. The term of endearment always gets her heart skip a beat, your broken accent somehow making it even more special.
“Me estás dejando” (You’re leaving me)
“I’m not, I’m not leaving you”
Your hands unties from hers, moving fast to hold her face before she panics. You study your lover’s distinctive features one more time, one last time. You know you will never forget her, but you can’t take any chances now.
The older girl closes her eyes, letting even more tears fall. When you gently caress them away with your thumbs, smiling softly, she knows this is a goodbye.
“No puedo dejarte, Alexia” (I can’t leave you)
You kiss her, one more time.
“Voy a dejar Barcelona porque no puedo dejar a ti” (I’m leaving Barcelona because I can’t leave you)
One last time.
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cupids-chamber · 1 year
Text
VOICE MESSAGES FROM THEM your granted a rare opportunity but it's away from your partner, they send you a voice message to you while your away...
GENDER NEUTRAL READER A/N: Originally, these were supposed to be added into my private notebook, so I can look through them on bad days, but some of you may need it more than me!
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— RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS "You're doing great, amazing actually" Riddle's face was tainted slightly red, as he fiddled around with his hands, trying to pick out his next few words of comfort for you to hear. "And you don't know how proud I'm for you.. I love you.. When you come back we can go to that coffee shop that opened nearby!" ... he pauses, and takes a deep breath.. "And hopefully you'll return to me in good health."
— AZUL ASHENGROTTO "Ah I hope this is recording—" Azul shifted in his seat, he let out a small hum before he continued talking "How have you been dear, have you eaten? I know airport meals aren't the best form of cuisine there is— !, I hope you noticed the snacks I packed for you... I made them myself!— I'm quite proud of them.." he took a deep breath in "If you like them.. I'll make you some more..!
— MALLEUS DRACONIA "Child of a man, hopefully you can hear me right now.. I hope this audio message finds you well, I've been faring quite well though your lack of presence does upset me a tad bit, it's quite unsettling.. it pains me to know how far you'll be for the next 2 weeks.. regardless, I love you endlessly, and I hope for your good health, and that you'll return in my arms again soon."
— IDIA SHROUD "Um.. so.. I know your busy but orthotoldmetocallyou but I didn't want to bother— hopefully you know.. that my heart belongs to you!... and uh— .. have you been faring well?... not-that I don't trust that you can't take care of yourself or anything.. but.. just let me know ok?" Idia shut off the voice recorder, feeling his face burn red.. 'God I'm not used to caring about someone this this much' he thought.. at least you couldn't see his face.. he was such a mess..
— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR "Hey.." Leona's had just woken up, and something went through his head and he decided to leave you a message of sorts, but a typical message couldn't express his feelings as well as a audio one "I miss you. How have you been? Have you ate.. I trust you have.. wouldn't want my precious mate' to be dyin' on me, know would I', ah— anyways, please call me back when ya' can.. and! I love you—"
— KALIM AL-ASIM "Good morning! How are you— Oh wait.. you can't reply to this! ... regardless I felt like reaching out first.. I'm guessing you're still on your fight.. you should have let me book an express flight for you!" Kalim let out a exasperated sigh, "Are you doing well? Are you comfortable!... I forgot to tell you this before.. but I'm so proud of you! You've met your goals my jewel, and that makes me so happy... And hey— once you come home.. I'll throw you the BIGGEST Party ever!" The voice message cut off with Kalim's laughter.
— VIL SCHOENHEIT "How are you, have you been well!" Vil didn't quite know how to start off his message, or how to convey his feelings and worries through a feeble audio message.. "Hey.. I hope you ate.. and— call me when the flights over kay? I'm so proud of you.. but not having you near worries me.. I don't enjoy overthinking.. So, be a dear and call me soon okay?.. Hope you sleep well love."
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©cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.
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archangeldyke-all · 2 months
Note
that recent sevika fic with her spanking your pussy got me thinking about something, what if she spanks you so much you start squirting ridiculously hard?
(this got me rubbing my thighs I won't even lie)
hehehehehehehehehehehe
men and minors dni
sevika's been teasing you all day.
you don't think she's aware.
it's mindless, really, the way she's constantly groping you; smacking your ass when she passes you in the hall, smacking your cunt with a little love tap while you guys cuddle together on the sofa, the way her hands claw at your hipsas she stands behind you where you cook at the stove.
you're going insane.
she has no idea.
"whaddya wanna watch tonight, babe?" sevika asks from where she's curled around you, her chin hooked over your shoulder, her hand on the remote. her free hand is, of course, mindlessly groping your tits, fiddling with your hard nipples, palming the flesh. "oh shit, can we watch a slasher? i saw an ad for one on hulu that looks so fucking good..."
"sevika." you whimper. sevika freezes behind you.
"you okay, baby?" she asks. you gulp.
"i-- you-- fuck." you curse, reaching up to grab her hand. you quickly snatch it away from your tits, bringing it underneath your waistband and between your legs.
sevika gasps when her fingers meet your warm, soaked cunt. you shiver.
"fuck." she whispers. you nod in her arms.
"you've been feelin' me up all day." you whine. sevika groans behind you.
"fuck!" she exclaims again. you laugh.
"at first i thought you were workin' up to something but you just kept going." you whine, grinding your ass back against her crotch. sevika gulps in your ear.
"shit, baby, i'm sorry." she mutters, wiggling her fingers against your cunt. you shudder. "i-i didn't know." she whispers. you whine.
"i know, it's so fucking annoying!" you pout. she giggles.
"you don't seem very annoyed." she points out. you chuckle and elbow her behind you.
"'s annoying that you can make me such a mess without even trying."
"i think it's hot." she says with a smile in her voice. you roll your eyes.
"are you gonna clean up your mess or not?" you whine. sevika laughs.
"not." she says. you gasp and strain your neck to look back at your wife. she laughs at your expression. "gonna make it even more messy." she explains with a shrug. you relax and snort, rolling your eyes.
before you can retort, sevika's sitting up on the couch, rearranging you so you're sitting in her lap, your back to her chest, as she shoves your pants and underwear down your legs.
"spread your legs." she commands. you do, humping the air with tiny thrusts as sevika groans behind you. "fuckin' needy, aren't you?" she asks, her hand sliding up your thigh, stopping right before she touches your cunt. you whine and nod.
"need you." you say. sevika coos at you.
"poor baby." she whispers. you close your eyes, leaning your head back to rest on her shoulder.
"sev." you whine. she hums.
"i'll take care a'ya love." she says. then, she smacks your cunt with an open palm.
"ah!" you gasp and twitch in her hold, your thighs squeezing shut, while sevika laughs.
"what's wrong?" she asks as she starts kissing down your neck. "thought you wanted me." she taunts. you gulp, then shakily open your thighs again. she laughs behind you. "there 'ya go baby." she says.
"sevika..." you whine.
"yeah?" she asks.
"i-- fuck!" you shout as she smacks your cunt again. she hums against your neck.
"you're soaked." she teases, nipping your earlobe. you reach up behind you to grab sevika's hair, tugging it, making her hiss. she smacks you again and your grip loosens as you shiver in her arms.
"sevika, i'm not gonna--"
"i know, baby, i know. you're close already, aren't you?" she asks. "poor baby, been teasin' you all day, haven't i?" she mumbles as she smacks your cunt again. she chuckles at the way you shake in her arms. "you've just been dyin' for my touch, huh?" she asks, punctuating her question with another spank. you whine. "and now look at you-- cummin' from a couple smacks to your cunt. 's kinda pathetic, babe." she says.
you groan. "it's your faul-- ah!" you cry as she cuts you off with one more smack. "sev, i'm so close." you whine.
"yeah?" she asks, pulling away from your neck to kiss your cheek. "i'll take care of you, honey." she whispers sweetly. then, she brings her hand down hard against your cunt.
you're cumming with a gasp, and sevika laughs, swatting your cunt as she watches you twitch and writhe.
she doesn't relent, laying into you with hit after hit as you shiver and shake through your orgasm. your mind is blank, the pleasure making you delirious, the pain taking your breath away, sevika's cocky laugh only making you cum harder.
"you're such a slut. fuck, i love you." sevika growls in your ear as she brings her hand back down on your cunt with one final resounding slap!
something comes over you, and you lose all control, cumming again, right on the tail end of your previous orgasm.
you squirt, crying in sevika's arms. you squirt so hard, and your legs are spread so wide, that the stream shoots across your living room, the furthest of it hitting the television.
it just keeps coming, and you just keep cumming, and sevika lets out the sweetest, most shocked and awed little giggle behind you as she watches you with glee.
she brings her hand down again when you're done, smacking you again, relishing in the warm cum soaking her hand, laughing at the weak little trickle that escapes you.
you gasp, finally catching your breath, and clamp your hand around her wrist. holding her still. she hums behind you, her free hand rubbing your legs, peppering kisses on any part of your she can reach.
"holy shit!" sevika laughs. you're panting in her arms. "fuck you weren't kidding, huh baby?" she asks, still giggling. "shoulda told me you were so worked up, goddamn. that was the hottest fucking thing i've ever seen!"
you groan. "you're cleaning this up." you choke out between your panting breaths. she falls into another round of laughter behind you.
"you hit the wall, babe, that's gotta be a record or something." she teases. you snort, finally blinking your eyes open and craning your neck to the side to look back at your girlfriend.
"if you take me to bed and lemme lay down, i'll let you sit on my face." you offer, smirking at her. sevika grins and kisses you.
"no need." she whispers against your lips. "came in my pants like a fuckin' teenager when you squirted like that." she says.
you grin, leaning forward to connect your lips again.
then, when you pull away, you sigh. "that's good. i mighta fallen asleep underneath you." you say. sevika giggles, rearranging you to hold you in her arms before she rises from the couch and carries you to bed. she sets you down gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"go to sleep." she says. you pout up at her.
"what about you?" you ask. she laughs.
"gotta go clean up your cum before it drips into the fuckin' outlet or somethin' 'n starts a housefire." she says. you giggle and grip her collar, pulling her down for one final kiss.
"fine. but come back soon." you say. she smiles and nods, pulling the sheets up under your chin.
twenty minutes later, you wake up when sevika crawls into bed beside you. she snuggles against your chest, wrapping her arms and legs around you, and sighing as she settles in for sleep.
"love you baby." you mumble, groggily.
"after an orgasm like that, you fuckin' better." she teases. you chuckle.
right before you fall back to sleep, you hear sevika whisper. "i love you too, sweetheart."
taglist!
@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki
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fernandoswarcrimes · 6 months
Text
You’re Losing Me x Carlos Sainz
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“Stop.. you’re losing me..”
Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan
Word count: 3.3k
To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌
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You say, "I don't understand" and I say, "I know you don't"
We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't
Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light
Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time
“I don’t understand what the problem is.” Carlos sighed, rubbing at his face in frustration. You’d been at each other’s throats for forty five minutes now, and over something so trivial. What had begun as him (forgetting to do the dishes? Change the laundry?) had spiraled into an outright argument over him not helping around the house, to him being out so late all the time now. “I know you don’t.” You had muttered, shaking your head with a sigh of your own.
“I can’t do this right now, I told Lando I’d meet him for dinner.” Carlos spoke, his curt reply signaling he was done with the argument, with the entire conversation. He grabbed his keys and walked out of the kitchen without another word as you stood there watching him go.
This is how things always went as of late—at least, that’s what it feels like. It’s always just another small bump in the road, one that you would get over. Always something that wouldn’t stop you from being happy again. Now, though, it seemed like nothing was going to fix things between the two of you. Small bumps are fine until you look back and realize there’s so many, the road is no longer driveable.
As you shut the kitchen light off and walk into the living room, you pause. It was one of yours and Carlos’s favorite rooms in the house because of how the light shone through the windows, illuminating the room in a soft glow when the sun set. Dusk was setting in now as you took a seat on the couch, the room falling into darkness as you sat there by yourself wondering if it was finally time to end it or not.
Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?
I'm getting tired even for a phoenix
Always risin' from the ashes
Mendin' all her gashes
You might just have dealt the final blow
It wasn’t even the big things that made you wonder. No, it was the stupid stuff. The small things you wished so badly you could convince yourself to put up with. You knew what the two of you had was special, could feel it in your very being, but it was beginning to not be love anymore. It was tiring, you were tired. Your mother always told you that you reminded her of a phoenix, always picking yourself up and mending your own wounds, never letting anyone help you because you could do it yourself. Times like these, you wish she was wrong.
You didn’t know why Carlos would rather sneak around and lie than just be honest with you. Maybe it was a pride thing. Charles, bless him, had been the one to accidently fill you in on what Carlos has been doing behind your back. He didn’t even mean to, but when he asked if you were at the club with Carlos last week because he thought he’d seen you with his teammate, it was the final blow. You weren’t at the club. You had been at home. You had been waiting on him because he told you he was stopping by his parents house. He had told you not to wait up for him. It started making you wonder what else he’s been lying about and how long he’s gotten away with it.
Every mornin' I glared at you with storms in my eyes
How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?
I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick
My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick
It was five am when Carlos’s alarm went off, making you roll over and glare at him as he slept. Lately, it’s like you aren't even in a relationship anymore. You sighed as you got up, moving to the kitchen and knowing he’d get up in a minute to get ready for his morning run.
As you cooked yourself something to eat you heard him moving around in your room. The footsteps you’d once longed for around the house had become ghostly, the antithesis of what it once was. You dread the sound of them approaching.
It wasn’t like this came out of nowhere, you had sent him signals and tried talking to him to let him know that things between you needed fixing or changing but, he always brushed them off, brushed you off. You were starting to turn into a shell of yourself the longer you stayed in this relationship and dealt with everything alone.
“Love you.” He mumbled, nothing more than a force of habit, grabbing a water bottle and leaving. He knew that things weren’t okay. You knew he knew, and he knew you knew he knew, and on and on and on until the end of time. It didn’t matter what you both knew, though, because he wasn’t ready to admit that out loud that the love you two had was long gone now. The both of you were just going through the motions and with how shitty the season was going he wasn’t ready to lose the one semi good thing he had left going for him.
And the air is thick with loss and indecision
I know my pain is such an imposition
Now, you're running down the hallway
And you know what they all say
"You don't know what you got until it's gone"
The house was heavy sad and you were running out of options. The confusion and grief that came along with the thought of having to leave the man you loved for the last seven years was hard. Harder than hard. Some kind of word that hasn’t been invented yet, hard. You know that your pain and problems weren't easy to deal with, but hell—he isn’t exactly Mr. Emotionally Intelligent, either. It just made you feel guilty that you were feeling this way and maybe that was the reason Carlos was pulling away.
So you did what any normal person would do, you called your mom and asked if you could come stay for the weekend. You needed to get away for a while, clear your head and figure out what you needed to do for yourself and there was no better place to do that than home. You packed a weekend bag and left after Carlos headed to Baku. The time you spent with your mother was eye opening. She had given you advice that you oh so badly needed to hear.
“Why do you keep letting him treat you this way?” she asked you, nudged a cup of tea an inch closer to you. “This is not the way someone who loves you should treat you.”
She was right, it wasn't how you were supposed to be treated. So it was no surprise to hear from Carlos when he got back and noticed you were gone, you’d left him a note on the fridge but apparently that wasn’t good enough. He didn’t realize all the things you usually did for him until you weren’t there to do them. Like help with laundry, cooking dinner and cleaning. Of course his mother raised him right but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t a guy who got comfortable with how things were.
My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)
My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)
You didn’t go to a lot of races, had your own career and your own life that was more than the title of girlfriend, but Barcelona was one you always attended. Things hadn’t gotten any better, but you still wanted to be there to support him—even if you knew it was going to be the last time. You stood next to Blanca, listened to her gush about her upcoming wedding, about the flowers and the dress and the table runners. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you’d have to miss it.
“Have you two got your outfits together yet? I know my brother can be pretty forgetful sometimes” Blanca asked, looking over at you with a happy smile. You did your best to give her a smile back, Carlos hadn’t mentioned it, but you didn’t want to burst her bubble. “I’ll remind him tonight, I’m sure you’re going to look absolutely beautiful.” You meant that, even if you aren’t going to be there to see her in person.
As Carlos pulled the car back into the garage after the race it was almost routine, he’d get out, take his helmet and stuff off before walking over and giving you a hug. You hang on a beat longer than normal, soak it all up—his hair and his smell and his skin and his arms. “I’m going to go grab my things,” you mumbled, motioning him to his waiting family before moving off to go grab your things. You didn’t plan on standing around for any longer than necessary. Each passing moment is nothing more than another opportunity for your heart to break.
How long could we be a sad song
'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?
I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy
And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier
Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me
I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)
And I wouldn't marry me either
A pathological people pleaser
Who only wanted you to see her
Your relationship, if it can still be called that, seems to long outlive its expiration. You don’t know how much longer it can go on like this, all the uncertainty. It felt like nothing but a sad song stuck on repeat, something that you couldn’t come back from. There had been times where the both of you got this way in the past but you were able to bring the relationship back to life but this time?
This time things were too far gone.
You had given him nothing but endless empathy everytime Ferrari screwed him over, everytime the media pulled quotes from their ass, everytime someone twitter blamed him for someone else’s mistakes. It was always you there for him. You were the only one fighting for him, right front and center when he had a bad race or when strategies didn’t work out, everything.
Yet, it was for nothing.
“Don’t ignore me Carlos, please,” you said softly, but the crack in your voice is clear. You’re at a party—Lando’s, drug here against your will, against your better judgment. You knew he needed to let loose, but all you wanted was to talk to him. You knew you had to instigate, that he’d ignore you all evening if you didn’t.
He was still losing you.
Everybody talks about the seven year curse. You never saw it coming, even if it was staring you square in the face.
1. You stop being curious about each other
First, it was the little things. No more questions, no more answers. You didn’t spend your time telling him about your favorite breakfast foods and he didn’t spend his time asking. Years came and went, and you thought it was endearing that there weren’t questions, that it was proof your relationship was strong. He knew you like the back of his hand, you’d told yourself.
2. You start keeping secrets from each other
The secrets, though, that’s a new development. A few months ago, he never would’ve sat at the table with his phone face down, never would’ve leaned away from you when he typed or managed to spend time with Lando even when Lando wasn’t in town.
3. You’re spending less meaningful time together
It’s hard to spend time with someone who’s never around, who never wants to be around. That’s all there is to say about that.
4. You start taking each other for granted
It was no secret Carlos had taken you for granted. Everyone knew it, they could see it anytime the two were together. You were at his beck and call, his personal chef, his maid and his housekeeper and his butler. His trainer and his assistant and whatever else he might possibly need.
5. You don’t discuss your goals anymore
You stopped wondering if he would ever propose two years ago. Well, you told yourself you stopped wondering. Everytime he asked you to go out or suggested you dress up nice or acted even the slightest bit weird, you were bouncy at the idea of him on one knee.
6. You’re drowning in criticism
What was harder than accepting you were never going to be his wife, maybe, was coming to terms with the fact that everyone else wanted it more than you. Seven years is a long time. It hung over both of your heads like a storm cloud of implication. You wondered if he ever planned on marrying you, or if the last seven years have been nothing but fun to him.
And lastly
7. You have no fight left
If you still had any fight left in you, you wouldn’t be googling the seven year curse while he silently sat at the other end of the sofa. You remember the moment you lost it, that last little bit of fight and fire. You remember it easier than you remember what it felt like to be in love with him.
You had shaken your head as Carmen sent another article of some “close friend” talking about how the media was portraying you as a pathological people pleaser. It hurt. Sure, you knew marriage wouldn’t fix everything but it was the fact you didn’t feel wanted or appreciated anymore that finally broke the walls down like a wrecking ball.
Carlos looked over at you watching you shake your head and pocketed your phone. “What’s that about?” He asked, he could tell something was bothering you and he had an inkling of what it could be, but, he wasn’t going to bring it up. If he did, that would make things real.
“Nothing, just… just Carmen sending me another article. I wouldn’t marry me either, you know? Since I’m such a pathological people pleaser,” you looked at him, waiting to see what he’d say. But when the room fell into heavy silence and he just continued to look at you, all you could do was give a curt nod and purse your lips as you got up off the couch and walked upstairs. You couldn’t stand looking at him anymore if he wasn’t going to fight for the relationship you two had.
Sure, you may have been a people pleaser, but that’s just who you were. You liked helping, liked making people happy. But the one thing you wanted most of all? You only wanted Carlos to see you, to see that you’ve been there for him through everything. Not as a complacent stand-in girlfriend, but to mean something to him like you used to back when.
And I'm fading, thinkin'
"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)
"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me)
"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)
"To believe, unless you're choosing me"
Two weeks had gone by and all you could think about was begging him to do something, to say something, anything, to you about how he was feeling. Give up his pride to show he still cared and loved you like you had loved him. It was his choice to make, you couldn’t force him to love you. He had to choose, all he had to do was choose.
But when he didn’t, you took it as a sign. Stop kicking a dead horse, pick yourself up and get on with your life. If he won’t then someone else will. Slowly but surely, every time he left for a race you’d pack up more things and ship them to your parents house. It took a bit longer than you figured it would but when you’ve spent seven years living with someone you realize just how much of your life is grounded in one place.
Once you had gotten all that you had, you stood in front of the dresser mirror looking at the necklace that you had on, remembering the memory of Carlos giving it to you when you both were teenagers. Your fingers play with it and it brings tears to your eyes to reach behind your neck and unclasp it. This would be the first and last time you ever took it off since being gifted it. As you held it in your hand, all crumpled and ready to be tangled, it made you realize that this was real, you were taking the step and finally walking away like you should have when all of this first started. You grabbed your bag off the bed and sat the necklace down on his nightstand knowing he’d find it whenever he got home. Taking one last look around the room you walked out and closed the door behind you, leaving the house key on the kitchen counter as you passed.
A necklace and a house key. The only implication that you were ever here, that you never would be again.
You're losing me
Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me
Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me
I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore
Carlos didn’t realize it until it was too late. He had unlocked the front door and the house was eerily quiet and cold. He frowned, set his bags down and realized you must’ve gone out. He checked his phone to make sure he didn’t miss a text from you letting him know, but there was nothing. No text, no call, nothing. It confused him even more as he shut the door and walked further into the house.
He paused when he entered the living room, everything looked normal until he sat his hands on the back of the couch making him pull his hands back in confusion, the fluffy blanket you always had laid there was gone. That made him look around the room even closer, quickly noticing the books and candles you had on the coffee table were no longer there. The pictures above the fireplace were gone, every single trace of you ever being in the house was no longer there.
He skipped half the steps on the way up the staircase, through the hallway and into your room; empty and cold, like the rest of the place. He moved over to the closet swinging the door open, his breath catching in his throat when he saw your side totally bare and empty. The dresser drawers matched.
But he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, laying on his nightstand. As he walked over the tears started pooling in his eyes as he picked the item up, it was the necklace he had given you when you both were sixteen. He had gotten it for you, wanting to show how much he loved and appreciated you. Holding it now just signified how much he had fucked up. You had never taken it off, no matter how many fights you two had gone through over the years. Never. Not until now.
You had given him so many signs that he blatantly ignored or brushed off thinking you would always continue to be there for him despite him acting the way he was.
And now?
The relationship that was so full of love had died and he couldn’t find any way to bring it back to life.
He finally lost you and it was completely his own undoing.
380 notes · View notes
ohmykiyo · 10 months
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🪦 title ; when they ask for a kiss genre ; fluff & romance warnings ; cute bf alert, lowercase intended characters ; sakusa, suna, atsumu, bokuto, oikawa, semi, ushijima 🗝️ jeilly's notes ; idk tbh thinking about sakusa being clingy makes me blush fr and i'm so proud, i finished this in 2 hours LOL, reqs r open!
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SAKUSA shifts around uncomfortably as you keep your nose stuck in a book. you flip one page after another and he continues to watch you intently. he frowns and pouts but you don't notice.
"baby can you look at me?" he pouts. you turn to him, finally acknowleding him.
"what is it, love?" you sigh, flipping another page. he frowns at your clear dismissal.
"could you- i mean uhm- can i-" he stumbles over his words, frustration taking over. he's never been one to ask for things, but he can't help it when it's you.
you place your book down, not before bookmarking where you left off. you shift your body to face him completely, and he seems to stutter even more.
you smile, "what is it, baby?"
he doesn't know how to ask, he panics internally before fiddling with his hands. you sense his shyness, and put your hand over his to calm him down.
as if he's under some spell, he calms down almost instantly.
finding some bit of courage in your touch, he lifts his index finger and points at his lips.
you stare for a moment.
then you burst into uncontrollable giggles.
sakusa only watches as he deflates, turning away from you in a fit of irritation. "okay, be like that then, i don't care." he huffs.
you place your hands over his face, forcing him to face you.
you flash him the smile he adores so much, before giving him a kiss.
it was light. feathery, even. and it left sakusa craving for more.
he huffs before a shade of red tinted his ears, then he pulls you in for a few more.
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SUNA sits beside you as you study in the school library for an important test coming up. he lays with his head down, facing you, eye boring into the side of your face.
you roll your eyes, "rin, stop staring, i can't focus."
he snickers before pulling out his hand to catch yours. "you're so pretty, how can i not?"
you cheeks flush with red as he finishes his sentence. you snatch your hand away to cover your face in embarrassment.
"you piss me off, hope you know that." you groan. he only chuckles at your remark, returning to his old position.
you then go back to studying. scribbling notes in your neat handwriting every few minutes.
you don't realize it, but your lips jut out in a small, unnoticeable pout.
it sends suna off the edge, wanting to lay his lips on yours.
he watches and watches, but you don't notice the stare he's giving you.
he grows impatient. the fact you clearly don't seem to glance at him makes him rolls his eyes and huff. you hear the little grunts of irritation and turn to face him.
"i can feel your bad energy radiating right now," you deadpan, "what's up your ass now?"
suna shoots you a glare, side-eyeing you in the process.
"what's up my ass is the fact you keep pouting your lips," you look at him in confusion, "you're practically begging for a kiss so c'mere."
you dodge his lips, and he sits there dumbfounded. you break into a series of giggles as he pouts and mutters a little "damn brat" under his breath.
"fine, come here baby." you say, before tugging him lightly. his lips landing right on yours.
he savors the taste of your lips, keeping you there a lot longer than intended.
once you pull away, you're out of breath, and suna's only smirking at your appearance.
you turn away with all shades of pink tinting your cheeks.
and suna knows he'll have your lips on his once again.
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ATSUMU whines every five god damn minutes, hoping that it'll catch your attention. the attention which is on your phone, and you're scrolling carelessly on tiktok.
atsumu grunts once again before speaking, "can ya give me like two minutes of your attention, am dyin' over here and ya don' giva shit!"
you roll your eyes playfully, finally turning to your man-baby of a boyfriend. "okay 'tsum, you got two minutes."
"babe!" he yelps, basically sobbing dramatically at this point.
"what?" you say defensively, with a smirk plastered across your face. "you said two minutes, so i'm givin' you two minutes."
he frowns, showing you his infamous puppy eyes. you stare.. and stare.
but you don't budge at all.
"babe, am beggin' ya." he huffs, arms crossing defensively over his chest.
you couldn't believe that this six-foot blonde was pouting like an absolute child.
"fine, what is it, you big baby." you say, placing your hand on his thigh.
this only fires him up even more, craving the touch he hasn't received.
"kiss?" he pleads.
you decide to tease him a little. just a little.
"hmm? sorry, i didn't hear a please." he gets even more impatient as you test him further.
"please, ma angel, i wanna kiss ya." he frowns again, but you finally decide you comply with his wishes.
pushing his hair back and caressing his face, you pull him in for a kiss. it's a little peck, but he only wants more.
so..
he does.
pushing your head down lightly, but just enough to deepen the kiss further.
you push him away lightly.
"there, you got your kiss baby." you giggle.
he craves more, but chooses to wait a bit. leaving his hand on your plush thigh, he stares at you lovingly.
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BOKUTO deflates as he witnesses you being quite busy chatting up your best friend.
he was hoping that you'd spend the dinner with him.
he knows it was a team dinner, but he didn't expect your best friend to be at the same restaurant.
he felt ignored, and a little neglected. but, he genuinely wanted to be with you at that moment.
it took a bit, but you finally slide into the booth your boyfriend was in. it didn't take long for you to notice the gloomy mood bokuto was in.
"somethin' wrong, honey?" you coo. bokuto swears he melted at the sound of your voice.
he scoots closer to you, nudging his head into the crook of your neck.
you allow him to, your hand moving up to play with the soft locks on his head.
"missed you." he whispered, scattering light kisses around your collarbone.
you smile, looking down at his cute face.
knowing him all too well, you whisper, "you craving something from me, baby?"
he sits up instantly, staring at you with neediness.
"mhm!" he perks. he waits patiently.
"tell me what you want, honey, i'm listening"
he takes your hand and allows your finger to brush lightly over his pretty lips.
"want a kiss," he says, "please."
you hum in satisfaction, guiding his face unto yours where his lips find yours.
his mouth molds against yours, almost as if he was entirely made for your existence.
he craves you more and more, hands sliding up and down your waist.
you pull away, pecking his forehead after.
bokuto sighs with content as he cuddles up impossibly closer to you.
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OIKAWA lingers around in your bedroom, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence.
you're too busy scribbling things he doesn't bother to care about in your notebook.
he waits..
and waits.
and waits...
but doesn't get a hint of your attention.
he was growing agitated at the lack of attention. he could even go as far as saying that you were neglecting him.
he finally gives in, choosing to tap you lightly on the shoulder.
it was only then when you realized he was home.
"oh! tooru, hi babe!" you chirp. you don't even seem to notice the slight furrow of his eyebrows and the pout on his lips.
"i've been here for an hour, y/n." he states. your face contorts into disbelief.
exhaling, you spoke, "i didn't realize.. did you need something?"
yes, he needed something.
he wouldn't say it though. opting to wait until you're needy for him.
he's greeted with disappointment when you don't give him what he wants, turning away from him.
"okay cutie, i'm quite literally going to die here." he exclaims.
you turn to face the little drama queen behind you.
groaning playfully, you ask him, "okay, what is it my love."
"kiss me," he demands, "i haven't received a single one since my arrival."
you roll your eyes, standing up and dragging your feet towards his tall figure.
tip-toeing to reach his lips, you tug his shirt to pull him down.
finally, your lips rests on his, giving his the satisfaction he craved.
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SEMI strums his guitar again and again, hoping it would catch your attention.
you don't look at him, because youre busy playing with the cute puppy named bear on his bed.
you baby-talk the sweet creature, scratching behind its ears.
"y/n can you put bear down, i'm literally right here." eita sighs.
you giggle at his remark, looking back at him for a split moment.
"i know, honey, but a few minutes without my attention shouldn't kill you." you deadpan.
he only shoots you a disappointed look that you obviously didn't see.
after a few minutes, you finally get up and sit beside your grumpy boyfriend.
your entire body faces him, "babe, i want a kiss."
he side-eyes you, "okay, go kiss bear then."
furrowing your eyebrows, you just shrug before getting up once again.
you're immediately stopped by semi grabbing your wrists lightly.
"jesus woman, you were supposed to stay here and beg." he rolls his eyes.
"too bad, bear likes me more than you since you didn't wanna give me a kiss."
he blinks, clearly dumbfounded. "i've been sitting here for 30 minutes waiting for a kiss myself."
you shrug again, trying to release yourself from his hold.
"whatever, eita." you pout.
he only tugs your arm gently before you're landing flat on his chest.
he lets out a hearty laugh before lifting your chin up with his thumb and index finger.
staring into each others eyes for a few moments, he finally places his lips on yours.
you deepen the kiss, hands moving up to caress the nape of his neck.
then you push him away.
with a pout, he stares at you. "not in front of bear, honey."
you snicker as he only huffs and looks away. his hand unconsciously coming up to caress your thigh.
you both, in fact, still madeout in front of poor bear.
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USHIJIMA wasn't one to ask you for affection.
moreover, it was definitely you who asked him.
but for some reason, the way you were busy chatting up his close friend, tendou, sent him over the edge.
he craved your touch more, and it's almost like he needs it to survive.
he comes up beside you, while you don't even notice his presence. thanks to tendou greeting him, you probably would've taken awhile to even acknowledge him at all.
"heyyy wakatoshi!" tendou exclaims.
your head snaps up at the mention of your boyfriend's name.
you smile warmly, "hi, love."
that was all you said before you become completely immersed in your conversation with tendou. tendou being equally immersed as you were.
ushijima hated to admit it, but he actually felt neglected.. maybe even ignored.
he doesn't know how to steal your attention, and seeing his best friend have what he wants makes him antsy. he feels nervous, fiddling around with the hem of his shirt.
he holds back the urge to wrap his arm around your waist, pull you closer to him, and just kiss you in front of everyone in the room.
he itches to have his lips on yours, but he just doesn't know how to ask.
he taps his fingers impatiently on his side, hoping that you'd turn to face him at some point.
yet, as if luck was on his side, tendou excused himself for a moment, leaving you entirely alone.
and boy did he take that chance.
he stood beside you, snaking his arms around your waist. you look up at him, being quite familiar with his touch, you leaned into him.
he leans down to whisper in your ear, "chatting up my best friend instead of being with me kind of stung, my love."
his deep husky voice had your legs feeling like jello. you motion for him to lean low enough for him to hear you whisper back.
"jealous, honey?" you smirk.
he clenches his jaw before he feels your soft lips kiss it.
he softens at the contact, melting from your touch.
he quickly maneuvers your chin to connect your lips with his.
god, he never knew how addicted he was to you. youre the only thing he'll never get enough of.
you pull away, leaving one last peck on his jaw before leading him back to his teammates.
safe to say ushijima will definitely start asking for more of your kisses.
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forestshadow-wolf · 5 months
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Cw: implied homophobia, drinking and smoking as coping mechanisms, angst
Part 1 || Part 2
Soap was always so put together. Ghost always admired that, just a bit.
Which is why is was so shocking to see soap drunk off his ass, alone in the rec room, in the small hours of the night.
Ok, saying he was drunk off his ass was an overstatement, but he was clearly a bit further than buzzed. Didn't even acknowledge ghost when he walked, just continued idly running his finger around the rim of his glass, staring sightlessly into the amber liquid. Where he even got the bottle of scotch was a question ghost didn't bother to think on.
Ghost took it upon himself to situate himself next to soap, pressing his thigh into the scot's.
"How much have you had, Johnny?" He asked softly, something colored his voice that he didn't wish to look deeper into — that's why they worked. Soap toed the line between too much, and ghost let him, laughing it off when it circled too close, and soap always followed.
"Enough. I should pack it up." Soap said equally soft, solem, but he made no move to do so, simply continuing to cradle the glass between his hands. — so that's it, huh. That's how he stays so composed. He's self-aware. Maybe too much for his own good.
Soap pulled the cup up to his lips to take a sip of the warm liquid. Ghost's hands gently guided the glass out of his hands before it reached its destination. Soap let it happen. He still hadn't even glanced at ghost, and he was being unusually quiet. Ghost didn't like it.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Or ghost thought they did. Then a moment later he hears the flick of a lighter, and he turns his head to see soap lighting up a cigarette. Simon frowns behind his mask. Soap takes a delicate pull off the cigarette, and lets the smoke steam out of his mouth slowly. Still, it's like he's looking anywhere but ghost. It's like he's looking through ghost. Ghost sighs — he doesn't like this johnny. — his fingers automatically itch for a cigarette of his own, his body so used to sharing one with the man beside him. He doesn't. There's no real need for one at the moment, just a desire to share something.
"Tell me?" Ghost offers. It's gruff, and hardly sounds like a question at all, but an offer all the same.
Soap doesn't answer. He's eerily quiet. The only sound is their breathing, and the occasional pull of the one lone cigarette.
It's quiet for a long time. Ghost doesn't force anything, just sits with him. Then–
"My da's dyin'." It's small, quiet, as if saying it too loud will shatter whatever's in the air between them. "I should take some leave, be there... but... I won't." The cigarette's almost burned down to the but now. He takes one last drag off it, then snubs it out.
Simon stays quiet, letting johnny think, it's not his place to speak. It's not what Johnny needs right now.
"He'd be furious, I think. He'd tell me to go to hell, maybe in a few more words." Johnny chuckled darkly. "Mum will be devastated if I don't go. And my sisters will never forgive me if I'm not there — mum will though, she's too kind — but... I can't go." He said wistfully, the words come out slow — it's probably the alcohol — he spoke like he didn't know how to stop the words from coming out, and wasn't sure if he even wanted to stop them.
"Why not?" Simon prompted gently, he could almost see the words burning a hole in Johnny's throat.
"We can forget about this come morning, act like this never happened." Soap answered instead, like the words were stuck, but still seared with a need to come out. Or maybe it was the alcohol making him hare-brained
"Johnny..." It was soft, too soft. Soap laid his head on his arms and began tracing formless shaped on the table with his finger.
"... haven't seen him in over a decade, and he was so... angry then. He caught me an- an a boy..." the words seemed to get caught in his throat. "Barely even let me pack my bags before shipping me off. He was so nice before... before he knew. He was so amazing. I always thought I'd be like him when I grew up." Johnny's eyes were wet now, instead of the eerie dryness from before, but that's all it was, no tears. "I should see him one more time for that at least... but I won't. I-..."
"Johnny." Ghost felt like he was intruding, he was seeing something he wasn't meant to see. But johnny plowed on.
"I-... but I don't think I can- that- that I'll-... I don't know h-how I'll survive if- if he tells me to- to go to hell or- or t-to get dead again. I can't- I can't do it again." Johnny's voice shook as he spoke, and the words seemed to trip and stumble uneloquently from his lips.
He seemed to burn out after that, and it was so quiet, like they'd gotten sucked into space. Or maybe it was just simon who was in space, and Johnny was cast adrift in the ocean. He didn't know.
"Lets get you to bed, Johnny." The words were gentle, pillowed in all the corners. Johnny let himself be guided easily, searching for any kind of life raft.
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tieronecrush · 11 months
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water in your hands
joel miller x f!reader
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rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI. you will be blocked if you don’t have age/range in your bio)
word count: 9.7k (she's long but hopefully good?)
summary:
You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin' But you're holdin' me like water in your hands…
Joel will only end up failing you. You deserve better than him. He needs you to move on, to give him peace of mind. So, he gets married to someone else, to try to force you away. Except he just can’t let you go, and you always come back when he calls. Like a dog with a bird at his door.
warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, cheating (it’s moon song y’all), marriage, age difference (joel is canon age, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, discussions of water/drowning, ANGST, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, fingering, praising, lowkey possessive joel & reader, undefined relationship, alcohol use, mentions of john lennon cause he needs his own warning, joel is messy and selfish
author’s note: this is my first time writing any sort of fiction in literal years, but i couldn’t help but try to write this idea cause i'm a sad girl who wishes joel miller was real! apologies for any typos/errors, i am the actual worst at proofreading (see, my master's diss that i read at least 50 times and still had typos in the submission). any interaction is appreciated <3
PART II HERE
dividers from @saradika
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Fresh snow had fallen this morning, wiping away some of the evidence of daily life here in Jackson. The air was biting, you work your sleeves over ungloved hands to keep the chill away, cheeks flushed. Snow crunches under your boots while you rush from your house to work at the Tipsy Bison, Jackson’s bar. Because of course one of the first things restored in the commune, in the middle of the apocalypse, was the one place with all the alcohol. Not that you were complaining, it gave you a job in town that you enjoyed; you got to pass time by being around people and making conversation, something you didn’t get in the small cottage that you occupied by yourself.
Keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you walk, careful to watch out for patches of ice, you only look up when you hear your name called. It’s the familiar voice of your boss; at least, you call him your boss cause he makes your shifts, but he hates to feel any sort of claim over the place since, y’know, the whole communist thing.
Tommy Miller stands near the steps up to the bar, clad in his signature look of denim and chambray, denim’s sister (the man wore a Canadian tuxedo nearly every day, you kept a tally). He’s waving you over, and before you can greet him, your attention is pulled from Tommy to the pair standing next to him. 
A man, looking slightly older than Tommy but eerily similar with light grays sprinkled in his brown hair, donning a suede winter coat that was fitted across broad shoulders. His beard was patchy, not covering much of his strong jaw. Hooked nose, syrup brown eyes, olive skin looking pale from the season. There was a scar on his right temple, and other healed injuries dotting around the exposed skin. He’s handsome.
The young girl next to him just reached the man’s shoulders at her full height, bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and an open coat that didn’t look very warm. Her beanie framed her face along with her brown hair, the look on her face one of obvious teenage annoyance. She looked barely fifteen.
Tommy started introductions, barely getting a word out before the mystery man cut him off.
“I’m Joel, Tommy’s older brother. And this is Ellie.” He gestures to the girl and she gives you a nod. Joel removes a glove and extends his hand. You meet halfway, feeling the need to apologize for your cold skin chilling his own much warmer. Work-worn fingers wrap around to meet the skin on the backside of your hand. Your mind wanders to how those hands would feel in other places like -- 
Tommy’s voice breaks up your thoughts, “They’ve been traveling for a few months now to come here to Jackson.”
A smile crosses your face, grip not yet leaving Joel’s. His mouth ticks up slightly to one side.
“Welcome to Jackson, Mr. Miller, and you too, Ellie. It’s nice to put a face to the brother that Tommy’s been telling me stories about.”
“Please, just Joel. And it’s nice to meet you too, I hope he’s only told the good stuff.” Before you can respond, Ellie quips in.
“For months you have refused to tell people your name and now the first pretty girl in this perfect fucking town and you’ve given it twice.” She rolls her eyes so hard they disappear into her skull. Been there, Ellie. The attitude of a teenager is universal, even in the apocalypse.
Joel’s head snaps to Ellie and he grits out under his breath a little too loudly, “Ellie, quit cursing.”
Blush creeps across his face and you note that he didn’t say anything about Ellie knowing he thought you were pretty. Joel breaks eye contact and lets your hand go.
“Alright, hon, we should be on our way. I won’t subject you to any more of my older brother. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” Tommy teases. Joel gives Ellie a run for her money with the intensity of his eye roll.
Waving to the newcomers, you step back to head up the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Joel take the smallest step towards you, about to follow like a puppy. 
“See you later, boss. Nice to meet you again, Ellie and Joel, enjoy your tour of our perfect fucking town.”
Joel glances back over his shoulder to watch you walk into the swinging doors. Lord, if you could read his thoughts. He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw that damn smile.
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The last few weeks have been torture to Joel. He and Ellie had been back in Jackson for about a month now, getting settled in their new normal. However, it wasn’t the lifestyle change that was anguishing him.
He’d thought of you a few times after he’d met you that winter; remembering your smile when Ellie was quietly resting against his back on the horse, a fever dream of you when he was in the basement of that abandoned house, a rush of nerves when Tommy brought him to the bar for the first time since he’d been back. He was infatuated with you, and now that he’s living in the same town as you, it’s gotten worse. Foolish mind daydreams of you and him together, feeling like a teenager again with the way you make his knees weak. He’s been careful not to spend much time alone with you, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let someone like you get involved with someone like him. All he’d do was fail you, fail to give you a good life. Words were carved into his skull at this point:
You’re too broken, too bruised, too scarred, and full of guilt - you’re going to fail her, too..
The small two-bedroom cottage diagonal to his and Ellie’s house was yours, and the proximity wasn’t helping his situation. And not only were you his neighbor, but you worked at the place where Joel spent a good chunk of his free time - the bar. He’d get drinks with Tommy or other guards after a shift, and that evolved to going by himself in hopes to see you and drown his guilt over those hopes (among a lot of other things).
It’s these nights when he’s become a bit looser with his self-inflicted rules around you. He occupies the stool at the end of the bar, stealing glances as you help other customers. His index finger rims the dry glass in front of him. You approach with that same damn smile aimed at him. It’s a dangerous combination along with the liquor, both fuzz his rationality.
“Another one, Mr. Miller?” you nod to his glass, reaching out to take it from him. Soft fingertips brush over his skin, sending a jolt of energy up his arm. 
He clears his throat and answers, “Now, darlin’, I think I told you to call me Joel. Actually, at this point, I think it would be classified as begging. Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”
Throwing your head back with a laugh, the skin of your neck is exposed. His tongue involuntarily wets his lips when he thinks of leaving a mark there.
“Feel old? You are old, Miller,” he fakes offensive, eyebrows raised, “Aw, c’mon Joel, you know I’m just kiddin’. You’ve still got it. That silver fox thing you got goin’ on really does it for women ‘round here.”
He wants to be bold enough to ask if it’s doing anything for you, but instead, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, taking the two fingers of whiskey you poured.
“And how do you know that, darlin’? Haven’t had many offers for courtship since I got here.”
“I work in the bar. Women get drunk and spill their every thought. Including that the new guy with the daughter is hot,” you lean over the edge of the bar top, face less than a foot in front of him. Your eyes shift down to his lips. “Plus, I might encourage the conversation with my own thoughts.”
That smile again, except now it’s more of a smirk. He sips his drink, capturing the lingering alcohol with a lick of his lips. Your eyes go again, watching his tongue.
“I’m glad I can be such a riveting topic of conversation for you, sweetheart. Hope it’s good thoughts only.”
“Wouldn’t say the thoughts I have about you are good, Joel,” he swallows hard hearing the flirtation in your comment, feeling his jeans tighten.
Snapped out of hazy judgment, he resurfaces from the alcoholic tides; the rules he has about you act as a life preserver for him to cling to before getting caught in your rip current.
Joel throws back the rest of his drink, standing from the stool. He needs to get out of here if he wants to keep his promise to himself. Well, not that he wants to, but it’s what’s right. He can’t get you involved with his broken self. Your face drops slightly at the sight of him leaving, and part of him wants to lean over the bar to grab your face and kiss you hard in reassurance that he has the same kind of thoughts. But he can’t.
So he wishes you goodnight and walks home, angry with himself for nearly crossing the line. But he can’t help but think of your smile, and those flirty comments, as he tries to fall asleep.
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You’re wide awake. Every time you close your eyes, your brain starts looping your conversation with Joel. Fingers rub circles in your temples, cursing to yourself as you get the replay of his extremely quick exit after you’d said you have…not so good thoughts about him.
The only indication you’d gotten from him that he felt any type of way toward you is his periodic visits to the bar on his own, spending the night chatting and laughing with you. You’d sometimes find yourself meeting his stare when you’d see each other across the street from your porches or in town.
But he’d never made a move, hell the most he’d touch you was to take a glass of whiskey or beer bottle from you. So why did you think he would suddenly reciprocate when you’d made openly flirty comments?
You needed some air. Just to clear your head of this embarrassing play-by-play. You pull yourself to stand and grab the sweatshirt at the end of your bed before heading out.
Jackson had the sort of late spring, early summer climate that happened to be your favorite. Warm, mildly humid days that brought the colors back after winter, and chillier nights, the right temperature to keep your cotton sleeping shorts on and add an extra layer up top to keep you warm.
Without thinking, you started towards the old barn on the edge of the residential area. The structure had seen better days, mostly used for storage now, but the open field behind it had an incredible view of the sky at night. It was a place you loved to go when that deep, dull ache in your chest wouldn’t quit.
Gravel crunches softly under your feet, small pebbles slip out from under your soles with each step. Not remotely focused on what’s in front of you, it comes as a surprise when hands land on your biceps. Your knee-jerk reaction is to scream, but as you look from the ground to the person grabbing you, the sound dies in your throat when you meet chestnut eyes.
“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me! Hasn’t anyone told you, you can’t just go grabbing women at night? Well, at any time of the day, really.” Your voice is rasped into a whisper despite the fact that there’s not a soul around.
“Maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your surroundings when you’re walking by yourself at night, sweetheart” Joel counters, mouth ticking up to the side as his drawl continues, “Don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows in little ol’ Jackson.”
“You’re apparently the only person lurking, and you’re not doing a very good job since you just came right up to me.”
“Couldn’t help myself, I guess. What’re you doin’ out here at this hour?”
Heat burns under the surface of your skin when Joel drops his hands from your arms, the sensation radiating throughout the rest of your body. “Couldn’t sleep. I was gonna go sit out in the field behind the barn for a bit, admire the moon.”
He lights up with the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. He has the best poker face out of anyone you know, but a part of you hopes that he feels like he doesn’t need it around you.
“Mind if I join ya, darlin’? Might be nice to stargaze a bit.”
You have to hold back from nodding frantically, attempting to play it off as if you’re weighing your options, “I don’t mind at all. You can teach me about the stars.”
The walk over is quiet but comfortable. At the shabby split-rail fence, you lift your foot to the lowest rail and push off the ground to mount the barrier. Joel’s hand meets the small of your back to hold you steady. Heat emanates from the spot, fingertips brushing your sweatshirt. His warmth leaves you as you make it over, watching as he easily clears the fencing with one smooth movement.
“Any spot in particular?”
As an answer, you grab Joel’s hand. Nerves bubble in your stomach, two steps ahead with your arm outstretched behind. His larger strides are quick to close the gap, arms between your bodies with palms pressed together. His hand shifts in yours, fingers lacing with yours and curling around the outside of your smaller hand, his thumb skimming back and forth.
Steps slow at a small clearing in the tall, overgrown grass, settling down on the dewy ground. He lays back with you, not focusing on the stars right away. His eyes are a cooler shade in the moonlight, yet no warmth is lost in the way he looks as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
Suddenly aware of yourself under his stare, you lightly clear your throat and turn toward the sky. “Do you know a lot about astronomy? I never got to learn much, other than my brother teaching me how to find the north star to navigate.”
Joel’s attention moves to the stars, his voice coming out lower and softer than in the daylight, “I used to know a lot more. Did a lot of camping before and learned to find the major constellations. Taught Ellie some of ‘em, and now she’s got a few books on astronomy. She kept saying how she wanted to fly, go to space or the moon like Sally Ride.”
“She’d be a pretty badass astronaut.”
He laughs softly, nodding before his expression settles into one of reminiscence and guilt all muddled together.
“You’re not wrong,” he pauses shortly before continuing, “But, I think I can still remember most of the constellations. What’s that thing called where you’re assigned one when you’re born?”
“Astrology?”
“That’s it. I know where my constellation is. I’m a Libra, whatever that means.”
Joel lifts your joined hands, his index fingers extended as he traces out the shape of scales in the corner of the sky.
Pulling the limited memories you have from the book you’d found sitting on a shelf at home, you follow Joel’s finger, “Libras are supposed to be balanced, that’s the whole scales thing, I guess. And impartial, but sometimes indecisive. Oh, and charming.”
Joel nestles your hands back on the ground. “Balanced, impartial, and indecisive? Sounds a lil’ vague, darlin’. Not sure I’m believin’ the stars can tell you about your personality.”
“Well, they got the charming part right about you. You’re certainly a Southern gentleman, got ladies swooning left and right.”
“Nah, I don’t even notice ‘em. Too busy focused on someone I’m pretty charmed by myself.”
You let go of Joel’s hand, turning onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, and you take the chance to lean in. Lips touch together with a brush, breaths fanning over both of your faces as you wait for his response.
Joel sits up, weight resting on his elbow. Broad shoulders lean over to shift you onto your back, rich eyes never leaving you. His touch is confident, a large hand fully cups the side of your face. Fingers sprawl along your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone. His frame leans further over yours, lips hovering as his voice breaks the moment of silence in a rasp, “This okay?”
Your voice thick with anticipation answers, “Yes.”
His kiss sends ripples of tension over your body. Fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves, feet press into the dewy earth, chest tightens with quickened beating, lips match his depth. He tastes minty from toothpaste, mixed with notes of the Tennessee whiskey he orders. It’s intoxicating, reminders of him to seep into your daily life.
Joel brings you closer with a hand in your hair. His tongue traces your lips, parting them to let him in. When his fingers leave the crown of your head, his touch floats over your body, caressing your waist, sprawling under your breast, and jumping to your exposed thigh. He’s pressing your skin back against your body as if you were going to flow out from under him.
His frame shifts over you, pulling him away and breaths mix from open-mouth exhales. Legs open and hands find purchase on his expansive shoulders, heat pooling at your center when his knees settle between yours.
“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” Joel’s earthy tone sighs, his hands moving along your body with a rumble of satisfaction brewing out of his chest.
His touch surrounds your cheeks as if he was bringing water up to drink from his hands, only your lips are the means to quench his thirst. You moan into the deep kiss, finding a frantic rhythm together. Fingertips dance along his torso to reach the hem of his navy t-shirt.
Hot, humid kisses line your neck to the collar of your sweatshirt. Tugging at the fabric and slipping his hand underneath, you comply to get the material off. Your t-shirt follows in its wake, the chill of the ground and Joel’s touch spreading goosebumps on your skin.
You breathe out a moan at his teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder, hands pulling at his shirt. He follows the silent order, getting the soft cotton over his head.
His hips grind down, arousal flooding your core. Another moan slips at the feeling of Joel’s breath meeting a small peak on your chest, sucking the pebbled skin.
Hips jerk up against his bulge, Joel’s throaty groan cutting into the night.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so soft…”
He gives the same treatment to the opposite breast and large fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, tugging lightly to ask permission.
“Touch me, please. Wanna feel you…”
Joel’s lips separate from the skin with a pop. Your shorts come off, Joel retaking his place between your velvety thighs.
His eyes worship your body, dark with lust but still harboring a warmth. A slight ache burns in your hips that you completely ignore when his knuckles brush up your covered slit.
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There isn’t a single thought in his head that doesn’t revolve around you.
His fingers slide against the last piece of fabric covering you, feeling your wetness through it. Your delicate sounds encourage him, thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. He watches for a moment, eyes catching your face as you whine.
“Joel, please…”
His teasing doesn’t cease. Instead, he removes his thumb from your clit, hooking his finger to pull your panties to the side and exposing your wetness to the chill of the night.
“Gonna have to tell me what you want, darlin’. Not a mind reader…” He grins as you huff out your frustration.
“Please, Jesus Christ, want your fingers inside of me…” you look at him impatiently as you wait for an answer.
Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he pulls your panties off to leave you completely naked under him. His mouth waters, taking you all in as his touch runs up your bent knees.
Two fingers gather your wetness, pressing harder circles into your clit. Your whimpers egg him on, slipping down to tease your entrance with one finger.
“Good girl. ‘M gonna make this pretty pussy come around my fingers.”
With a smirk, one finger slides into you. Moans fill the still air, the tightness of you around his middle finger making him stiffen. A second finger easily joins the first to work you open.
His name is repeated like a prayer when he hooks his fingers on the uptick, searching for that rough patch inside your walls.
“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good,” you writhe under his touch, the sight and sound of you falling apart making him ache. He uses the hand resting on your stomach as a temporary fix for himself, a deep moan interrupting the orchestra of your whimpers and wetness. He pulls his hand away from his jeans, the need to feel you come overpowering his own.
He moves in circles around clit while fingers work in and out quicker, wanton moans growing louder and higher in pitch to accompany the sounds of your drenched cunt.
“So tight around my fingers. Feels good, yeah? You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”
The sounds you make in response are lewd, pleasure overtaking you as you rasp out, “Joel, I-I’m-”
“I know, baby. Let it happen.”
His words push you over the edge, fingers nearly pushed out from how hard you clench around them. Moans flood his ears, and all he can focus on is making that feeling last for you.
Soft breaths return when you’ve recovered, hand finding him hard and working your palm. Fingers open his button and fly, shoving the fabric as far down as you can manage.
“You sure, darlin’? We don’t have to, watching you was enough for me.”
You make your way inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. He’d never really been one to care about underwear in the middle of the apocalypse, and right now he was thanking his past, lazy self for the lack of barrier. A shudder ripples down his spine, your touch so much better than his own fist.
“‘M sure, baby. Need you inside of me,” he twitches in your loose grip at the request, pushing his pants down just far enough to free himself.
Nails scrape against his scarred chest, a moan escaping you as he guides the head of his cock through your slick before positioning himself at your entrance.
His eyes lock onto where your bodies meet as he enters with a gentle thrust, your nails biting into the skin under his collarbone. He looks for a second at your face, your nod permission for him to move once you’ve adjusted to the stretch. 
He nearly comes at the sight of you taking him fully, your tightness and warmth making the edges of his vision blur. “So, so good, baby…Feels so tight and warm and wet. Perfect, you’re perfect.”
Wetness pools around the base of him and onto the grass below, drenching the sound of skin meeting skin. He watches your eyes screw shut, whimpering as you take every thrust, “Fuck, Joel. Feel so full, ‘m close already.”
His hips work you harder, feeling that taut rope in his gut near its breaking point. One hand leaves your leg held against him, licking his thumb to make quick movements on your clit. His name tumbles from your lips in a high-pitched whine and your head presses back against the ground.
“Come for me, baby.”
Your walls grip him tighter and nearly knock the wind out of his lungs, your back arching off of the grass and nails biting into his shoulders. Eyes open when you settle, clouded and full of pleasure. His thrusts grow sloppy as he chases after his own high.
“Fuck, ‘m close. Feel so damn good.”
“Come for me, please Joel, wanna see you come.”
Your begging snaps that taut feeling in his gut; he quickly pulls out and replaces your warmth with his fist. His chin falls to his chest with a guttural moan as he watches his spend cover your lower stomach, glistening in the soft light. Warmth spreads across his body in a tingle, pleasure clearing his head.
They say drowning is one of the more peaceful ways to go. Once the first few breaths of water fill your lungs, your muscles relax and there’s a warmth that washes over you. Then you pass out and everything goes black. It’s not comfortable, but the tranquility makes it better.
Joel feels like he’s drowned in you, muscles relaxed, warm peace in his chest. His vision is black for a moment, breaths deep in recovery. His eyes adjust to see moonlight flooding your face and body in cool blue. His hands start roaming again, softer this time. Pulling out of you slowly, your whimper meets his small hiss.
He lays you on your side to face him, your form molding like fresh clay.
“You okay?”
Your eyes close contently when his fingers brush your hair from your face, humming, “Fantastic. I wanted that to happen ever since I met you.”
His heart beats quicker at your confession, his mind immediately repeating those words - you’re going to fail her, too.
He only holds you closer in response, and by the time you’re both dressed again and walking back to your street, he knows that he can’t let this continue.
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Guilt harbored in his chest over forcing himself to avoid you for weeks after you’d given him exactly what he longed for. He didn’t want you to think that he saw you as a one-night stand, it had felt like more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t seek you out to apologize. If he saw you alone, he’d end up doing it all over again. He didn’t regret it. He was just trying to do right by you. Give you space, give you the means to move on before you’d drift too far into the deep end with him.
So he decided to move on himself, try to force your hand into someone else’s if you saw him coupled up. It was cruel, but that’s who he was deep down. Cruel, guilty, undeserving.
He asked Tommy to set him up with someone, and his brother told him about a nice widow who’d been in Jackson since the beginning and had mentioned how cute she thought Joel was. That was enough for him. He asked her out that night.
He’d been dating Heather for a couple of months now. She was pretty, with medium blonde hair and blue eyes. Not much younger than him. Everyone knew they were together, and he assumed that meant you did too. He’d seen you around, eyes never meeting while he walked to his house hand-in-hand with her. He heard rumors of you leaving the Tipsy Bison with a guy in tow a few times, and despite the pang of jealousy that he felt, he kept reminding himself that this was right. You’d fall in love with that guy or someone else, forgetting all about him.
A few months of dating led them to a quick engagement. Joel still couldn’t get you out of his head and took extreme measures to ensure nothing more would happen. They got married in his backyard in a small ceremony. The occasion was lowkey, at the request of Joel. Word spread after the first outing Joel had taken to the market, the silver band on his finger telling everyone what they wanted to know. Each conversation came with congratulations to him and his new wife. He returned them with tight, polite smiles, hiding the oozing guilt that was filling his chest.
Joel had found out that you’d skipped work a few times when Tommy mentioned it in passing on patrol, which was extremely unlike you considering you loved your job. He knew it was because of his marriage.
He tried to bury his worry, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. For him and for you.
Heather had lived her young life with her first husband, she wouldn’t grow to resent him for what he failed to give her. You would move on, as he did, and find some nice guy to settle down with, who could give you what you were looking for. What you deserved.
The worry carried over the day, his brain jumping to worst-case scenarios. He had to make sure you were okay. He would knock on your door to see if you were there. It was the neighborly thing to do.
Joel silently left his bed with his wife sleeping next to him, slipping out the front door in the hours before dawn. He needed to check on you, even if he had to look in through your windows to make sure you were alive. Knuckles lightly rapped on your door, and just as he was nearly about to go find your bedroom window, the door cracked apart from the jamb, and your face was lit by the soft night light.
“What are you doing here?” He can taste the bitterness in your tone.
He swallows down at the toes of his boots, raising both shoulders in a small shrug.
“Tommy said you skipped out on work most of this week. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. That you were alive.” He tries to joke, but your expression remains annoyed.
“Well, I’m fine. Alive. You should probably go, your wife’s at home.”
The door starts to shut, but he quickly grips the edge, rasping out, “I need to talk to you.”
You pause for a second before opening the door. Not waiting for him, you move to sit on your couch. Joel strides over, sitting at the other end and cheating his body towards you curled up in the corner.
 “What do you need to talk about?”
“I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you after that night. Hell, that night shouldn’t have even happened. I got caught up-”
“Do you regret it?”
He thinks about saying yes. It would make everything so much easier. You could hate him, call him an asshole for fucking you and breaking your heart. But he can’t lie to you.
“No. I could never regret it.”
“So why shouldn’t it have happened?”
He sighs, wringing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.
“Honestly? I’ve been trying so hard to do right by you, darlin’. You deserve so much more than me. I’m broken, bruised, scarred. I’ve lived an ugly life, and I don’t want to end up giving any part of it to you. I can barely live with myself for the things I’ve done, even if I’ve done them to save my people. I’ve lost so much, and taken all the same. You’re so bright. I see it in that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve someone who can add beauty to your life, to live a long while with you. I can’t do that for you. All I’m going to do is fail you; it’s all I can seem to do these days. So I chose for us, and I moved on, and I hope you can find the same thing.”
After a breath, he feels like he can face you. That confidence crumbles immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, the soft sniffle as you wipe your runny nose with your sleeve.
“That’s not true, Joel. You could never fail me because all I ever wanted you to give me was yourself. I love you, Joel. You are someone that can give me a beautiful life. Or could’ve, I guess, but now…” your eyes flick to the band on his left ring finger, “What you did was so fucking selfish, Joel. You couldn’t even have a conversation with me. And no matter how angry I get with you, I still can’t help but fucking love you.”
All he can do is kiss you. He’s spilling every emotion he can’t speak into this kiss. It would be wrong to tell you what you want to hear from him, even if it hurts to keep it inside him. His hands run over your body, gathering you in his arms and guiding you back to your bedroom.
He shouldn’t keep going. He should stop. But the feeling of your lips on his, your soft skin in his hands, and the fact that you love him keep his feet moving down the short hallway.
He can’t give you up. He was in way too deep and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to pull you in with him.
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Despite the anger, sadness, and betrayal, your love for him overpowered it all. You needed to show him, to let him go with a searing memory of how you feel.
All of the actions between you two are sloppier than before. Each touch is rougher, grabbing at whatever you can take in the midst of heady kisses. Every movement is filled with unspoken words.
Joel gently pushes you the last few inches onto your bed, kicking off his boots and working at the buttons of his shirt, “Take it all off, baby, don't wanna waste a second.”
You’re only apart for as long as it takes for clothes to be shed. Back against the pillows of your unmade bed, arms pull Joel in and legs spread wide. His weight is supported with one arm, a soft moan exhaled as he bites his mark into your neck. Fingers move through your wetness, circling your clit.
It’s your turn to be selfish, and all you want is for Joel to feel himself inside of you. To remember what it’s like to have you when he goes home. To think about you when he fucks his wife. It feels wrong to want that, but you can’t help but feel a claim over him. The fingers tangled in his hair pull his head from its spot at the curve of your shoulder. You meet his lust-blown eyes and speak your demand.
“Fuck me, please, I need you now.”
Joel groans, fingers ceasing their movement as he questions you, “You sure, darlin’? You ready for me right now?”
“Yes, ‘m ready, please, baby,” you plead with him.
Joel repositions himself upright on his knees between your wide legs, stroking himself to get fully hard. He drags the head of his cock up your slit, coating it with your wetness before he presses the tip inside of you. You feel a tinge of pain as he splits you open, but you whisper for him to keep going.
When he’s completely inside of you, Joel sighs out your name, hands gripping your thighs and bringing one up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to sink further.
“Please, Joel, want it hard…” you whimper out, feeling the sensation of him in your gut. Joel needs no further instructions, pulling back to fuck into you hard and deep.
He watches where your bodies connect, how the drag of his cock swells your cunt. Lip pulled between his teeth, the sight makes his hips snap roughly against yours.
He’s leaving bruises with how tight he’s holding onto you, keeping you from moving up the mattress with the power of his thrusts. You don’t say anything until Joel breaks, fucking you with a possessive drive, “Mine. You’re all mine.”
“Only yours, baby. ‘M only ever gonna be yours.”
“You’re made for me, sweet girl, made to take me. Feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”
You’re relieved when his eyes leave yours as he watches him hit inside you again, tears pricking your eyes from the pain and pleasure pounding through you and the thought that he won’t ever be completely yours.
That stupid piece of metal around his finger burns against the skin of your thigh. It should be a symbol of you, not someone else.
Hurt, anger, and pleasure meld together. Hands move to Joel’s shoulders, using your strength to flip over. His back hits the crumpled pillows at the headboard, sitting up as you straddle him.
“Look so beautiful on top of me, baby,” his chest rises and falls in quick succession, the next inhale sharper as you sink down completely, watching his eyes screw shut and a deep moan vibrate his chest.
“Oh fuck, take what you need, darlin’. Use my cock. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Your mouth opens to tell him you can’t have what you want most. Because of what he decided for the both of you. Instead, a moan tumbles out, hips starting to roll to work him back to that near-ecstasy feeling. The room is filled with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin mixed with wanton moans. Your movements keep you both near the edge, your head back and eyes closed as you scream Joel’s name. He doesn’t reprimand you for potentially exposing yourselves to the neighbors, only reaching a hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You can tell he’s close when his feet dig into the mattress, hips under his vice grip. He starts fucking up into you, both of your rhythms meeting to work you higher. One hand leaves his chest to hold the side of his head, forcing him to meet your eyes.
“‘M yours…” you echo his lust-filled words. You need to remind him that at least part of him will always belong to you, that only you can make him feel this good, this loved. That you’re the one who fucks him like this. “Made for you, right? Just for you, baby. No one besides you can make me feel this good, make me come like you can. Ruined me for everyone else.”
“Mhmm, that’s fuckin’ right, darlin’. This pussy’s mine. You belong to me, all to me.” Joel’s thrusts become frantic and you lose your rhythm, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick circles.
You come hard, screaming his name again and whining with each thrust after your intense orgasm. Joel’s right behind you, your sounds pushing him over the edge. Warm ropes coat your walls, his husky groan reverberating under your palms pressed to his chest. Your voice can barely reach a whisper when you look at him, fingers moving to tug his hair, “And you belong to me.”
He doesn’t say anything if he even hears you, his skin sticking against yours and his come dripping out of you onto his stomach when you move to lie down. Joel gets up after he steadies his breath to grab a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. He crawls back into bed, slipping under the covers after tossing the dirty washcloth into the hamper. Your head finds his chest, curling up into his side with his arm wrapping you up. He kisses your forehead as you drift off, feelings of guilt, anger, and love rising from your gut to sit square in your chest.
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Cold sheets. That’s what you wake up to. Sitting up in bed, you glance around your room with sleepy eyes, searching for any evidence of Joel.
Nothing. He must’ve left after you fell asleep. You can’t blame him. It definitely wouldn’t look the best if his wife woke up in the morning and he was nowhere to be found. And he couldn’t risk someone seeing him sneak out of yours in the morning light.
You’re remembering your confession that was met with his claim over your body. Your own stupid attempt to make him believe that he belonged only to you, spurred on by his possessive words.
Something on the nightstand catches your eye. A note from Joel:
Meet me at our spot tonight, sweet girl
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You met him that night, and nearly every night since then, too. Mostly in that overgrown field behind the barn, sometimes at yours when you craved complete comfort of the couch or bed.
Joel started staying later with you, holding you after the possessive claims he made over you like a prayer. He opened up about his time with Ellie before Jackson, stories about Boston, about Tess. What it was like growing up with Tommy, confessing he loved to sing and play guitar, even wanted to be a singer when he was younger and somehow ended up as a contractor. He even told you about his daughter Sarah, how beautiful and bright she was.
You told him your own story too. Leaving the Chicago QZ with your brother and sister when everything went to shit with FEDRA and the Fireflies. How you lost your sister soon after, bit by a straggling clicker in a gas station you were raiding. How your brother was the one to shoot her when she begged you both. Stories about traveling west with him, how he protected you until the day he died. You were chased by raiders looking to kill you both for your supplies, running through the forest just along the river outside of Jackson. You didn’t know the community was there, but it ended up being your saving grace. Your brother pushed you to run over the bridge, the men finally catching up to him. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. All you could do was scream as you heard a gunshot.
Joel held you as you cried, you comforted him when he needed it. He never told you what happened after he and Ellie left Jackson that first time, he didn’t have to if he didn’t ever want to. These vulnerable moments brought you closer together.
But it was never close enough to stop the cycle he developed of pushing you away after a few weeks together, getting so in his head about the situation, feeling guilty, or getting paranoid if he suspects that Tommy or Maria or his wife are catching on. His abandonment would last a few days or even a week at a time.
And you always wait it out, always come back when he wants you.
Like a dog with a bird at his door, you gave all of yourself to him.
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It’s a late night at work for you. Joel parked himself on his usual stool, drinking ‘til last call after his buddies left, something he’d done often in the last few weeks.
Tommy finished restocking the fridges under the counter and tossed you the keys to lock up. As he leaves, he gives Joel a knowing look and you a sympathetic one.
Joel slaps his hands against the bar top, standing when you walk from behind the counter. His steps falter a bit as he gets used to the ground underneath him. Steadying him with an arm around his back, he wraps his own around your shoulders to keep you at his side.
“Let me walk you home, baby.” Words slurs together, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. It would be a bit endearing to see him without his usual stoic persona, but the fact that this is the third night this week that he’s gotten this drunk is concerning.
You end up carrying Joel all the way home, and just when you’re about to get him to his front door, his strength overpowers your own and he pulls you away with him, dragging you two in a drunken stupor down the road.
His steps are heavy and sporadic while he whistles some song in your ear, reaching the field. He flops down into the grass, his arms sneaking around your waist when lay down with him. Joel pulls you in close, kissing you deeply and sighing against your mouth. He smells of whiskey, leather, and musk; all combining to be uniquely Joel.
You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him about getting home so you let him kiss you, let his hand under your shirt. You listened to him recollecting the night with the patrol guys. The only touches exchanged were his fingertips running up and down your side under your loose t-shirt and your cheek pressed against his denim-covered chest.
He brought up a song that was playing on a record at the bar, John Lennon’s Woman. He reminisced about hearing that song as a young teen for the first time, and telling you how a couple of years later he wrote the lyrics down for his tenth-grade girlfriend, telling her he wrote a poem for her.
“She read it, obviously knowing the song. She crumpled it up, said ‘That’s John Lennon, not you, Joel Miller,” and walked away from me. Needless to say, she broke up with me.”
“Wow, a breakup over plagiarism. Must’ve been a real stickler for academic honesty,” you reply, sending both of you into giggles.
His laugh faded slightly, the wrinkles still showing next to his eyes and his smile lines present, jovially commenting, “You probably barely even know who John Lennon is.”
He laughs but his words made you feel small. He teased you before about the age difference, but for some reason, you couldn’t brush this one off.
“Y’know, I still remember what life was like then.”
His hand finds your chin, tilting your head up with a sigh, “That’s not what I meant, darlin’, you know I was just teasin’. You probably didn’t even know it was John Lennon if you heard one of his songs when you were young, baby.” You sit up quickly, separating from him.
“He was a fucking Beatle! Like the biggest band ever. I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid. They were around even before you were born, so yeah, I do know who John Lennon is. And did you know he cheated on his first wife, like, a bunch of times and left her for one of those women? Sound familiar, Joel? Actually, probably not, ‘cause you’d never actually admit how you feel about me and leave your wife, even though you love me,” your words come out before you even have a chance to think about them, and as you look at Joel, you can tell he’s letting his anger and annoyance come over him, his expression turning to stone, “I feel like you just see me as some naive girl who doesn’t know anything or hasn’t dealt with shit in this world -”
“You haven’t done nearly a fraction of what I’ve had to do in this world, darlin’, so don’t get started. You are a naive girl. You’ve always had someone to protect you, and I’ve always been the protector. You don’t know nothin’ about losing yourself or having to do the worst possible thing just to save yourself or your people,” his voice is low and unwavering with an intensity you hadn’t heard before. He’s trying to hurt you now, bringing up the protection that you’d been given by your brother before he died to save you, the fact that you’ve always had support from him or the people of Jackson.
Your eyes gloss over, blurring his hunched-over figure. His words are venom seeping through the well-worn cracks in your heart. Curling up into a ball and chin on your kneecaps, pressing down into the bone to keep your lips from trembling. How childish you must look like this. Joel doesn’t move to comfort you, staring a thousand yards ahead, emotionless.
“I know you think I don’t know the guilt or pain or heartbreak that you feel 'cause I’ve been protected for a lot of my life in this world. But being in love with you, being some dirty secret to you, has given me enough guilt, pain, and heartbreak to last for the rest of my life.”
A shaky breath slipped out of your parted lips, untangling your limbs from their locked positions to stand. You turn away, legs carrying you home. You don’t look back, wiping your tears away as quickly as they fall. You’re exhausted from him, from this whirlpool of loving and leaving that he’s pulled you into. A part of you breaks just the slightest bit more, a new piece for you to mend whenever he calls you back.
You should hate Joel. He pulled you in and pushed you away, and all you could do was fall, but now it felt like sinking. And your feet won’t ever touch the bottom.
He’s taken your love willingly, and only given you possessive invocations over your body, only made your constant pain burn hotter. Linen soaked up the tears that were left on your cheeks as you laid down in bed, exhaustion taking over.
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The image you see feels warm, blurred around the edges. It was his home, no sign of his wife but evidence of Ellie in the comic book and worn-out sneakers near the chair across the room. Soft strums of a guitar float around, and your sights lock on him at the other end of the couch. You have this feeling that you need to say something to him, but can’t remember for the life of you what it is; the moment overwhelming. He’s singing and playing guitar, unabashed, and with a genuine smile only for you. Tender brown eyes glance away as someone walks into the room. Ellie’s holding a lopsided birthday cake with a few candles lit. It’s decorated with a sloppy frosting drawing of the ocean, a boat on the horizon. It was a reminder of the daydream you had vocalized to Joel, spending a life on the shore in a small sailboat together. The song he was playing softly fades into Happy Birthday, his smile matching Ellie’s. All you hear, before the image fades, is his voice as you lean in to blow out your candles, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I love you.”
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The clinking of stacking glasses is the only sound echoing through the empty bar as you and Tommy close out. Joel’s been ignoring you, has been for a couple of weeks after your fight, spending his free time picking up shifts or staying at home with his family. The rag you’re holding moves in circles over the shiny bar top, reflecting your face back to you. You can see the pain in your eyes seeping back after spending the night putting on a face for your customers.
“You don’t need to keep on paintin’ that pretty smile on your face, hon. I hate seein’ you looking like you’re gonna crack your jaw from forcing yourself to look happy,” Tommy sighs, looking over at you while he continues to polish the glass in his hand. “What he’s doing to you, it’s wrong. You deserve to be treated with respect.”
“He wasn’t doin’ anything I wasn’t letting him do. It takes two, Tommy. Think you’d know that with a newborn around,” you try to lighten the mood, kicking yourself for still defending Joel.
“I know. But I also know how you look at him. Like you’ve been drownin’ at sea and he’s the one who’s come along to save you.” You finally look up from your reflection on the bar surface; the shame in your face becomes too much for you.
“At this point, it feels more like he’s the one pulling me under.” 
Tommy sets the glass down and tosses the rag at it. Closing the small space between, he pulls you against his chest, arms around your shoulders. You can’t cry in front of him, embarrassed that he even knows about you and Joel in the first place, let alone that he feels sorry for you. You reciprocate the hug, gingerly wrapping your arms around his torso. The sound of the door swinging echoes in the large room. Tommy let’s you out of his comforting embrace and turns to meet the late patron.
Joel.
He’s standing across the room, eyes moving between his brother and you. He came looking for you, not expecting Tommy to still be closing out the bar with the baby at home. A furrowed brow creases lines between those soft, guilt-ridden brown eyes. The same look he’s had every time he’s shown up at your door at 2 AM to apologize, kiss you, show you how much he needs you. You fall every time, wanting to be his comfort, his relief. His lighthouse in the storm of remorse he’s constantly battling. Loyal to a fault.
At this moment, you wish for a wave to pull you under and sweep you into the tide.
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Tommy asked him to wait outside.
Asked is generous. More like, grabbed Joel by the collar and dragged him outside like a scolded puppy, pointing his finger and giving him a strong, “Stay.”
He did as he was told, leaning against the post at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed over his chest and anxiously tapping his foot against the wood porch.
Both you and Tommy left at the same time. Joel would be knocked out on the spot if Tommy had his way, judging by the look on his face. The younger Miller wished you goodnight and you gave him a reassuring nod as you stayed back to face Joel.
Tommy’s out of sight and out of earshot before you break the silence.
“So…why’d you come here? Thought you’d be done with the naive girl.”
Joel raises to his full height, taking a hesitant step toward you. You don’t move away, but he keeps his distance in order to get his thoughts out.
“Darlin’, I’m -” he starts, pausng for a moment to gather his words, “I keep doin’ this, don’t I? Being happy with you, then pushing you away and hurting you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I know what you’ve been through. You’re not naive. You’re mindful, attentive in ways I could never be. I hurt you. I haven’t done this the right way. I haven’t protected you like I should’ve 'cause I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m what you needed saving from and I’ve been too selfish to keep us both from drowning.”
You worry your lip between your teeth as tears gloss over your eyes. He steps closer to you, hands reaching up to cup your face. He’s not sure if you’re going to slip between his fingers, but he’s trying his best to keep you there with him. Tears fall, his thumbs working to wipe them away. Not letting a drop of you to slip away from his touch.
He can see the innerworkings of your brain in your eyes. He knows how to read you; he can see the battle in your head about whether or not he’s saved this time. Your voice is coated in emotion when you finally speak up again, “I’ve heard drowning is actually kind of a peaceful way to go, all things considered. And if it’s going to be with anyone, I’d choose you.”
That damn smile finds its way across your face in spite of your tears, and he can’t help but mirror it. It’s a welcome home for him, the light pulling him into your harbor - safe once again. He leans down to press a soft, tender kiss to your lips, deepening it for a moment when you reciprocate.
His hand finds yours when he pulls away, “Let’s go for a walk, sweet girl.”
Joel leads you away from the bar, walking down your street. You slow down when you get in front of your cottage, moving to walk down your path. He stops you, shaking his head and mouth ticking up in a small smile. His eyebrows are raised in a silent question, asking you to come with him. You fold easily, taking your place next to his side, hands intertwined.
He takes you to your spot where he’s set up a blanket and a couple of flickering lanterns for some light, but not enough to disturb the view of the moon.
“Joel…this is wonderful, I’m - I don’t know what to say, thank you.” Your hand squeezes his and he shrugs the praise off.
“Don’t thank me, baby, I should be doin’ this for you all the time. ‘S what you deserve.”
He’d gotten a couple of strange stares when he’d been walking down the road with a blanket under one arm and the lanterns in his hand. It occurred to him that people would think he was doing it for his wife, that they might ask her about it tomorrow and he’d be in for a line of questioning. But damn the consequences, he needed to do this for you. To give you something.
Joined hands pointing out more constellations he remembers and ones that Ellie knew, having asked her specifically to help him find the one for your zodiac. As the two of you lay on your backs, curled into each other, he’s taken back to the conversation Ellie and him had about their combined dream of a sheep ranch on the moon. Now that dream, at least for him, included you, too.
“I think it’d be nice out there. Without this world, feeling weightless.” He wishes for that down here, to lighten the load on his chest and the guilt on his shoulders. A different life.
You hum in agreement and he continues, “I wish I could just bring the moon down here, to take the weight off us, and to give Ellie the chance to get her dream.”
You’re quiet for a beat before your words wrap him in warmth, “If I could give you the moon, I would.” 
You’d do anything for him, he knows that. And he’d do anything for you.
As those words cross his mind, the ring from his finger burns in his pocket. He’d taken it off to rid you both of the reminder of how this night would end, how every night would end. A little metal circle that has decided your fates, at least for now. His voice is slightly gravelly in his throat as he answers, “Maybe in another life, yeah?”
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if you got to the end, i'm giving you a big smooch.
taglist: @swiftispunk (supportive bae)
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kouchabu-archive · 8 months
Text
Hajime Shino 4☆ Feature Scout 2
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Title: President Grass and Pizza
Writer: Suika
Season: Summer
NOTE: I EXPLICITLY PROHIBIT USAGE OF ANY PART OF MY TRANSLATIONS ON ANYTHING THAT RELATES TO AI.
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Rinne: (Hehe, today’s my lucky day!)
(Who knew I'd bag a big win in the slot machines today! Ain't that enough to make up for my losses this month?)
(I thought that of course I'd come home and celebrate, but I pro'lly got carried away and bought too many ingredients.)
(Well, not that I need to worry about leftovers when Niki's right there.)
(I gotta get back quick and let Niki—… Hm? That guy over there is…)
Hajime Shino-kun from Ra*bits, ain't it?
Hajime: Amagi-senpai? Hello~
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Rinne: He~ya. Thrillin' to know that you remember this li'l ol' me's name.
So, what're ya hidin’ in the grass for? Up to somethin’ sneaky?
Are you buryin’ treasure or somethin'? Ya look like a little puppy digging like that~
Hajime: Oh, no. I just came to pick these up.
Rinne: Huh. Your bag has…some leaves and grass?
Hajime: That's right! I got quite a lot of them ♪
Rinne: Pickin' up wild grass, huh… Why?
Hajime: ? I'm going to eat them, of course?
Rinne: ………Ah, I got it. I can see what you're up to now.
That's for a TV show, isn't it? You should've told me earlier~
Hajime: Oh, this isn't for TV though? It's just that I got a craving for it since it's been a while since I ate these so I went here and got some.
Rinne: ………………
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(From what I remember, aren't Ra*bits supposed to be a popular unit?)
(Well, not as much as UNDEAD or Akatsuki from the same agency but… each member seems to be goin’ strong in their own way, right?)
(So to see him here picking up grass like this… Never thought they're in deep shit that they can't even properly keep their stomachs full.)
'S that so? But ain't Seisoukan fully stocked with food? There's also lots of snacks in the ES break room, yeah?
If you're havin' trouble finding something to eat, ain't those better places to search in?
If anyone sees their precious idol foraging for grass in a place like this, that's not really a good look with the public, y'know?
Hajime: Trouble finding something to eat…?
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Ah, no! You've got it wrong! I'm not gathering grass like this because I'm having trouble with money!
When I got on the phone with my family, we happened to talk about how we used to eat grass a lot when I was younger.
And then I just suddenly craved that nostalgic taste so I came here to pick these up. I normally eat properly, so please don't worry that much about it~
Rinne: Oh, so that's it? You made me uncharacteristically nervous for a sec there.
Hajime: I'm sorry for making you worry.
Rinne: Nah, don't mind it. My fault for jumpin' to conclusions so fast.
In fact, those grass growin' out there are delicious too. I also used to forage for them back when I was a li'l boy so I get ya, Hajime-kun.
I even used to go to the mountains to pick up some edible wild plants.
Thanks to that, I got some basic stuff down when it comes to edible grass. This one and this one can be eaten. This one's not. This one's edible too, but it's not really good.
Hajime: Wow! You didn't miss any! You're really knowledgeable about them!
Rinne: Hehe, told ya right? This ol' me won't ever lie ♪
This one's tasty if you blanch it a little. And this one's something that only Niki could munch on.
Hajime: Huh?! Shiina-senpai can eat this? I had an upset stomach when I ate this one by mistake.
Rinne: Yeah, same here. After eating it, I felt like dyin' the next day—couldn't move at all. But that guy's all fine and dandy.
Maybe it's got somethin' that only his stomach can digest. He's the one who cooked it, after all.
Hajime: Shiina-senpai is really good with cooking, isn't he? ♪
Rinne: Yeah. That guy's real good with his hands when it comes to food. Everything he makes is delicious. When I get home, I'll have him cook for me; that's why I got a lot of stuff here with me.
Hajime: Oh, that's indeed a lot. Let's see… Cheese, ketchup… There's also salami and basil… Are you planning to make pizza?
Rinne: Spot on ♪ Niki's pizza's always bangin', y'know? I end up eating too much if I don't watch it.
Hajime: Fufu, that's wonderful! Are you celebrating something today?
Rinne: Celebrating? No, not really…
Hajime: Huh? Is it okay to eat pizza on a normal day?
Back in my home, I was taught that pizza is a treat that you only eat on special occasions.
Rinne: Oh, is it now?
My bad, my bad. You're right, Hajime-kun. Of course, today is a special day~
And it's somethin' so important that we can't ever, ever forget about! None other than President Pizza's birthday!
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Hajime: President Pizza's birthday?! I never knew about the existence of someone that great!
Rinne: You don't know him, Hajime-kun?! Man, that's really, really bad.
Hajime: W-What's wrong with it…?
Rinne: When it's President Pizza's birthday, everyone's gotta feast on some pizza.
If you only knew about it today, then I guess Hajime-kun never got to eat anything these past years, huh…
If that's the case, then it ain't good if you don't eat all those years' lost servings of pizza…
Hajime: All those years' lost servings of pizza… Are you saying that I should eat 17 years' worth of them?!
Rinne: Ah, then what I have here won't be enough. I gotta get back and grab some more ingredients, huh…
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Hajime: I can't possibly eat that much!
Can't you do something to help me?! If I eat that much pizza, I'll end up hating it!
Rinne: Pfft… Ha…
Kyahahaha! Your reaction's takin' me out, Hajime-kun!
Hajime: This isn't a laughing matter! Uuu~ what am I supposed to do now?
Rinne: Don't ya worry your pretty li'l head. I was just messin' with you. That's a lie.
Hajime: A lie..? From which point was it a lie?
Rinne: Everything startin' from President Pizza's birthday.
Hajime: So, uhm… I don't have to stuff myself full of pizza until my stomach explodes?
Rinne: Yup. President Pizza doesn't exist.
Hajime: T-Thank god…
Rinne: I didn't expect you'd just take all of that without even questioning me.
You gotta put it in your head to suspect people a little more from now on, 'kay? Shino "Majime"-kun~ ♪ [1]
Hajime: Geez, you're so mean to deceive me like that, Amagi-senpai! You really scared me back there!
Rinne: Come on, sorry for bein' like that~
Oh, got it. As an apology for messin' with ya, lemme treat you to some pizza.
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Hajime: …Are you sure you're not lying this time?
Rinne: Kyahahaha! Talk about a fast learner! Ya immediately got on your toes and suspected me! You take things so seriously. You really are Majime-kun, huh?
Hajime: M-My name is "Hajime"!
Rinne: Yessir~ Come on, let's bounce back home and have a feast! ♪
And while we're at it, let's use those grass you picked and make some wild grass pizza!
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Hajime: W-Wah, please don't just drag me around, Amagi-senpai!
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Translation: Sophie
Proofreading: Ara
NOTES:
[1] “Majime” / まじめ = lit. means as a person who’s earnestly sincere and honest, and therefore takes things seriously at its face value. It’s a syllable off Hajime’s name, which makes it funnier given how Rinne has a penchant for giving silly nicknames to people he encounters.
Also can I just point out how Hiiro, who’s actually Hajime’s classmate and therefore theoretically closer to him, calls him “Shino-kun” (last name) while Rinne calls him “Hajime-kun” (first name) right off the bat. I just think his shamelessness is hilarious LOL
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