#because he’d be too drunk to notice and it would kill him

[ringneckedpheasant]

having lived with someone with celiac for over a year i have a fairly good understanding of just how careful you need to be about cross contamination with Everything in your kitchen but this customer today…. came up to the counter, said she’d called the store earlier and couldn’t get a clear answer from whoever she’d talked to, and asked whether we prepared foods on different surfaces because she has celiac and kept rephrasing it and both i and my manager repeatedly said that yes, everything gets cooked on the same surface because it is a flat top that was within her line of sight (like it gets scraped off, but there’s not enough space or time to clean it completely between plates), and she said “now i KNOW that’s not true... he doesn’t REALLY cook pancakes the same place he cooks bacon,” then repeated the question another 3x— as i could see him doing exactly that— and i just???? i’m aware of how hard it is to find GF options and i’m sure that it really sucks but i don’t know why she would think i was lying when i tried to tell her that we can’t make things that are completely allergen free (unless i was just completely misunderstanding her throughout that interaction, but i felt like her question was fairly clear from the get-go)

also had someone send their bacon back to the kitchen because it wasn’t crispy enough and i get that but she wanted me to take back JUST the bacon and not the whole plate, so i went to grab another plate to put it on, and she grabbed it and held it out for me to put the bacon on it, and i just kind of stared at her because i didn’t have a fork or anything to pick it up with, so i said “i’m sorry, i don’t want to touch your bacon” because any normal person would probably have an issue with a busboy touching their food with their bare hands, and she responded “well I don’t want to touch it >:(“ and it took her another 30 seconds before she huffily grabbed a knife and scraped it off onto the other plate because picking up bacon that you’re going to eat in 3 minutes is disgusting i guess???? do people actually eat bacon with forks??????? am i the freak in this situation

#we couldn’t use the same side of the toaster etc etc #one time he got super drunk and ate an entire half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream that was mine. i’d paid for it. #and first of all he was just like ‘lol it’ll probably happen again’ #but second of all. i complained to his daughter/my friend at the time and she told me to sprinkle flour on my ice cream next time #because he’d be too drunk to notice and it would kill him #i do not know if she was joking tbh because she almost killed her (admittedly abusive) step-dad once #anyway #marc.txt

[gracieheartspedro]

Who We Are

pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.

word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.

author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!

“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors. 

You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses. 

“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age. 

Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.

“Well good, keeps you busy.”

You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.

Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare. 

You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes. 

Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice. 

“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”

His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself.  You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response. 

“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily. 

You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed. 

When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained. 

“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm. 

“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.

“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”

Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”

Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds. 

So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long. 

You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired. 

You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually. 

Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door. 

You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man. 

-

You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one. 

When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.

But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough. 

“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”

You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms. 

“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head. 

“Just weak.”

Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older. 

When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief. 

“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”

She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”

“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly. 

Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment. 

She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods. 

“Always is, kiddo.”

-

The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some. 

It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics. 

But for now, you should get some rest. 

Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts. 

You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have. 

You need to remind the council of all your father does. 

You need him to get better. 

You need him. 

-

“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce. 

You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer. 

“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”

“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”

“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”

Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death. 

“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”

Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family. 

“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”

You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?” 

You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either. 

“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”

“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms. 

“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”

“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side. 

Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”

Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital. 

You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller. 

He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”

Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”

He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him. 

It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.

“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.

He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”

You didn’t even think that far. 

“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”

You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face. 

“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question. 

“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”

“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”

-

Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more. 

As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime. 

He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands. 

You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time. 

Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile. 

“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”

“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”

You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.  

“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”

It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”

His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you. 

“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”

“Roger that, kiddo.”

-

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls. 

He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse. 

“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”

Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun. 

Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.

You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company. 

Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson. 

“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”

He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt. 

“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”

-

“How is Ellie doing?”

You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage. 

He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”

You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot. 

“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”

Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him. 

“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”

You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were. 

“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”

He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”

You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits. 

Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy. 

“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”

But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself. 

The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in. 

You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice. 

“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit. 

Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”

That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious. 

He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes. 

“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud. 

He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”

You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now. 

“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”

You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”

You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”

-

You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake. 

“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.

“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse. 

He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward. 

You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof. 

“Is this yours?”

He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”

You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you. 

You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings. 

That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”

How could you ever say no to an offer like that? 

You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”

-

Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.

He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away. 

When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view. 

“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”

He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure. 

“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”

You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time. 

“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”

He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you. 

You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”

He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that. 

“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”

You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face. 

He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable. 

“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”

You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”

-

You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours. 

“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire. 

“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”

You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”

You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it. 

You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually. 

Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man. 

Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls. 

After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember. 

He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing. 

You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there. 

He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 

It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you. 

-

The second day starts off a bit rough. 

When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.

You are panting like you just ran a mile. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked. 

You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”

He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”

After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller. 

You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life. 

When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind. 

-

When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia. 

“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say. 

You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you. 

He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly. 

“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him. 

“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”

“I cannot wait.”

The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame. 

“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”

He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket. 

-

He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day. 

He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds. 

He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?

He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.

“You okay, Joel?”

You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city. 

“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”

You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep. 

You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him. 

You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion. 

Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him. 

“Can I help you?”

You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”

“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”

You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses. 

Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night. 

“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”

-

The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances. 

Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much. 

“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”

“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now. 

“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”

“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”

You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”

He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.

He wanted to keep looking. 

“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind. 

You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy. 

“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”

Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard. 

“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”

You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”

-

You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit. 

You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask. 

“When was the last time you were here?”

He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions. 

“Over a year ago.”

You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”

You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.

“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?

It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew. 

You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense. 

“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital. 

You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you. 

You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town. 

You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him. 

Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward. 

“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up. 

You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”

“What do ya’ mean?”

You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same. 

“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”

The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him. 

“Right, of course.”

-

When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run. 

You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding. 

To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side. 

You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety. 

“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”

You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack. 

“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back. 

You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read. 

levofloxacin 

amoxicillin

“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”

He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”

You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through. 

You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”

“Yeah, right behind you.”

Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie. 

You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything. 

Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it. 

It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials. 

You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room. 

“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”

You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it. 

“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”

Then you hear it. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him. 

Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern. 

You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body. 

She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire. 

You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came. 

You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City. 

“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum. 

You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing. 

You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step. 

“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”

You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods. 

When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body. 

“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”

You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip. 

He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you. 

“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you. 

“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully. 

“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”

He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”

“Why not?”

Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything. 

Right?

“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”

You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”

-

It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat. 

When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind. 

You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire. 

You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel. 

When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you. 

“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice. 

“You all clean?”

You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”

He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”

“Use mine.”

Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”

“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”

He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”

You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body. 

“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”

He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”

Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in. 

He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”

-

Joel can not do this. 

You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?

You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked. 

Why were you doing this to yourself?

Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”

He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again. 

“We can’t.”

You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”

You two know better. You know better. You know better. 

You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better. 

It’s almost like you two silently made the decision. 

“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. 

Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”

His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel. 

He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this. 

“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”

He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”

It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation. 

But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window. 

This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste. 

He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”

You can’t help but giggle a bit. 

“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”

It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.

“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”

He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted. 

As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away. 

“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap. 

“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”

He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment. 

“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”

You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want. 

You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth. 

When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big. 

“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas. 

Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips. 

“Joel, what are you doing?”

You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”

Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out. 

You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. 

Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does. 

When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows. 

“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him. 

When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair. 

“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance. 

“Joel, please.”

He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”

You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious. 

“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears. 

“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”

When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him. 

“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more. 

You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach. 

“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”

Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.

“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”

The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive. 

As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.

The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm. 

“Yes, Joel!”

His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over. 

The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach. 

“Shit.”

You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky. 

“I came inside you.”

You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”

He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that. 

Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess. 

You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button. 

Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess. 

“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air. 

“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”

You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin. 

-

When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you. 

You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open. 

Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors. 

“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”

All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”

“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”

You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you. 

“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”

He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you. 

“Yeah, we are all set.”

Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him. 

He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend. 

“We have to get home,” Is all he says. 

And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again. 

-

You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself. 

Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky. 

The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest. 

You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home. 

“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”

He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you. 

“What do you mean?”

You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks. 

“Tell them what?”

He has to be messing, right? You think. 

But no, he’s deadly serious. 

“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together. 

“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”

If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”

-

When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life. 

You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already. 

The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father. 

A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive. 

When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week. 

“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”

You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter. 

“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”

You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel. 

“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid. 

You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit. 

Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables. 

As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you. 

-

Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked. 

“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”

“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”

“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”

“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”

“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”

He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it. 

“You won’t what, Joel?”

He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud. 

“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about. 

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then. 

“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”

Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”

“Joel-”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”

-

Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal. 

You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home. 

For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong. 

You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door. 

“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”

She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.��

Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”

Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly. 

“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it. 

Joel stands there, your bags in his hands. 

You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially. 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”

“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”

Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up. 

You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left. 

“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle. 

It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom. 

He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all. 

“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys. 

The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray. 

“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”

You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one. 

“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”

“Baby-”

“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”

Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions. 

“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”

He can’t let you make this mistake. 

But you’re not easing up. 

“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want. 

“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”

You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you. 

Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you. 

You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him. 

“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy. 

“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”

Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips. 

You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.

“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips. 

When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”

The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice. 

“Yeah?”

You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door. 

“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”

Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”

“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit. 

The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby. 

Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him. 

“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages. 

“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”

“Dad-“

“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”

You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air. 

“Sorry?”

Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought. 

Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”

“Dad, he’s not dum-“

“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”

You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets. 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?

Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him. 

He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads. 

“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“

“I’m a dead man.”

Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly. 

“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”

You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”

Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face. 

You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. 

And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for. 

“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief. 

You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles. 

“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 

You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.

THE END

or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:

No One Fucks With My Baby

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel x reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel last of us smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #post outbreak joel #dbf joel #dbf joel miller #gracieheartspedro #fic: who we are

[rissouu]

I’M THINKIN’ BOUT WIFIN’ YOU, plug!jean.

he realizes he’s in love with you

“man, what the hell you doin’ now?” jean watched you toss shoe boxes out of his closet as he sat back in his manspread— proceeding to roll the blunt that was once behind his ear.

“im helping you clean out this damn closet! you got it a mess in here boy,” the nurturing side of you always seemed to come out— especially around jean. the careless man hardly took anything seriously and that’s why you made it your job to put his ass in check.

you didn’t know it yet, but that’s one of the things he loved about you. that motherly spirit, the scoldings you would give him, how easily you could put him in check.. he loved it all.

one time ony jokingly asked ‘who’s the first person you call before you get into some shit?’ and jean quickly said it would be you, no hesitation. shit, the only person that could stop him from doing crazy shit was you truthfully.

if anybody else ever talked to him the way you talked to him, he’d kill them— no questions asked. the only one that was allowed to correct his behavior was you, and he’d made that clear several times before. not even his best friend— connie was allowed to tell him right from wrong.

jean just wasn’t that type of person.. and he never had been, except when it came to you. it’s honestly hilarious, because you two weren’t even together but you might as well have been. everyone assumed it anyways, and you two never denied it.. the title was more of friends with benefits, for now.

“cmon ma, it wasn’t even that bad so don’t start that scolding shit,”

“no cause how many times i gotta’ tell yo’ ass start being more organized?” you rambled on and on about how irresponsible he was, and how he never listened to you. but it was actually the opposite— if anything he listened to you more than he’d ever listened to anyone else.

he’d do whatever you told him to— no complaints. that’s how obsessed he was with you, everyone could see it but you. mikasa and sasha tried convincing you time and time again that jean was clearly feeling you, but you always waved them off.

jean and you were strictly friends, sure you guys made out a few times when you got drunk, but so what? that meant nothing, they were just harmless little kisses.

“’m sorry baby, ima do better for you. c’mere,” he mumbled small apologies before spreading his legs and patting his lap— signaling he wanted you there, now.

he noticed the look of confusion spreading across your face, but he didn’t feel like explaining himself. he just wanted to feel you.

the only thing running through your head was the fact that you’d never sat in anyone’s lap before, you felt you weren’t exactly “skinny” enough to do little things like that.

“jean i don’t think-“

“c’mere, ion wanna have to say it again.” his voice had bass behind it this time, and you knew better than to question him further. your feet moved on their own until you found your way to him— standing awkwardly in between his legs.

you wanted to do as he said but your anxiety just kept working against you.. “boo i don’t want to hurt you or anything, are you sure?”

he tilted his head slightly— giving you a blank expression, almost as if he was saying ‘girl are you serious right now?’ without actually saying it. instead of replying he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you down onto his lap.

you gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck tightly, “now you know you didn’t have to pull me that hard! don’t get popped jean,”

letting out a low chuckle, jean’s grip on your waist became tighter. he was eager to touch you.. eager to feel your warmth on his, he couldn’t go too long without physical touch from you.

before you knew it his hands slipped inside of your shirt— resting on the soft skin of your back. he used his thumb to soothingly trace circles onto your skin, and you truly couldn’t complain. his touch had you feeling things you’d never once felt around him before.. it scared you.

“mm, when you gon’ stop playing wit’ me mama?” now his lips were grazing your ear— whispering in that sexy voice of his. you didn’t know if his highness was finally catching up to him or what, but something definitely came over him.

it started getting more heated once you felt him leaving trails of wet kisses down your neck, and his hands left your back— now resting on your ass.

“j..jean” you couldn’t stop the moans forming in your throat, where was this about to go? jean was your best friend after all, this would completely mess up the dynamic of your friendship.. but clearly he didn’t care, so why should you?

“i want you, y/n.. as my woman. and i can’t keep sitting here pretending that i’m not in love with you.. because if you were to ever even think about getting with anyone else, i just might blow his head off.” his hand quickly found its way to your neck and he wasted no time giving it a tight squeeze.

jean needed you to know he was dead serious about this, he wasn’t no little ass kid. so all that beating around the bush shit was dead now, period.

your breathing became shallow as you tried to shut your legs together for some type of friction. but there’s only so much you could do while being in this man’s lap, and he knew that.

“does that turn you on baby? knowin’ i’ll kill somebody over you?” jean grinned, pulling your face closer to his with the hand he still had wrapped around your neck.

all you could do was nod at this point, you didn’t trust your voice to do the talking right now. any time you tried to talk the words got stuck in your throat so what was the point, right?

“words pretty girl.. talk to me, let me know what’s on your mind?” he gave your ass a light slap, causing you to bite back a moan.

“y..yes pa, mm i love that shit.”

you found yourself moving your hips in his lap, searching for any form of release you could get. it didn’t take long before he joined you by wrapping his arms around your waist— rocking you up and down on his lap.

by now he was just letting you dry hump him because he knew how much you needed it, shit.. he needed it too.

“you gon’ let daddy get some of his pussy baby? hmm?” jean dragged his hand across the valley of your breast before making his way down to cup your pussy. “cause this shit mines, you hear me? i’m killing folks ‘bout this.”

“o..oh my g..god yes baby! all yours, ’t’s all yours!”

he grinned once he heard those words fall from your mouth, you really didn’t know what you just signed yourself up for. “that’s daddy’s girl, gimmie kiss baby,”

your lips swiftly met his as both tongues fought for dominance, this was way more intense than any other make out session you two had ever had before. in the end it was jean who won, which was obvious from the start.

he gave your lower lip a small bite before slowly pulling away for air and you watched him intensely, searching for any looks of regret on his face. but surprisingly.. he didn’t have any. if anything, his eyes held this type of glint to it that you hadn’t ever seen in him before.

“now get yo’ pretty ass on that bed, we ain’t no where near done.”

©rissouu 2024 (part 2?? lmk and ill do it!)

#malora’s works! #new fav work of mine im not even gonna lieee #yes this is black/chubby reader but anyone can read #chubby reader #black reader #aot x black reader #aot fluff #aot smut #jean kirstein #plug!jean kirstein #plug!jean #jean kirstein x black reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean x chubby reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein fluff #attack on titan smut #anime smut #poc!reader #aot x poc!reader #black y/n #smut

[yourfriendowlbear]

Protection (Astarion headcanons)

Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Astarion notices how you've protected him over the years.

Warnings: brief mention of manipulation; murder; small act 3 spoilers; brief mention of nightmares

Note: this is my first astarion piece I'm posting! let me know if you'd like to see more headcanons, or if you have something you'd like to request

He’s watching you adjust a curtain to block out the afternoon sun from the drawing room when he realizes it. 

You spend so much energy protecting him. In big and small ways.

Just now, you’re balanced on top of a stool, fighting with the thick cloth to get it to lay just right over the window just so that he can feel comfortable in the home you share together.

But really, you’ve been doing it since the beginning. Looking out for him whether you realized it or not.

You’d been so willing to protect him from the intellect devourer that he'd made up to manipulate you. Hadn’t even thought about it, just sprung into action because he’d asked for help.

And then, only a short time later, you’d protected him from the Gur Hunter. You’d followed his lead, allowed him to pace the conversation. And then, when it was clear what needed to be done, you’d killed the Gur, an arrow loosened from your bow piercing the hunter’s throat.

Countless battles, you’d fought by his side, felling enemies before they got too close, tossing him healing potions when his injuries were too egregious.

You’d even plotted out a damn near-perfect strategy for taking down Cazador, spent countless nights reading ancient scrolls in the Devil’s Fee and padded the pockets of more dark wizards than Astarion could count to arm yourself with as much information as you could gather.

And when you were in Cazador’s chambers, your plan was put into motion. He hadn’t been particularly happy about hanging back, but when the fight started and Cazador still hadn't seen him, Astarion was glad for your thorough mind.

He did notice, just as Lae’zel went in for the first blow, that you’d placed yourself directly in Cazador’s path, blocking him bodily from accessing Astarion. Of course, there was no way you could stand up to the vampire master’s magic, but the barrier stood as a warning–Cazador would not get to Astarion easily.

You make sure his tea is the perfect temperature, make sure he’s well-fed, keep him company, bring him more books when he desires.

And when the nightmares plague his rest, your touch is gentle as an angel’s as you stroke his hair and try to lull him back to calm.

There are tomes on the table in your bedroom, ancient, dusty things that tell of events long forgotten. You’d heard a drunk orc make mention of a ring that allows vampires and drow to walk in the sun, and that was all it took to set you off on another quest to defend him–this time, from nature itself.

The stool wobbles under you, and lightning quick, Astarion is there to steady you. His hands find your hips just as the stool tips over and he’s able to brace you and let you down gently.

Maybe he protects you, too.

#astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion headcanons #astarion romance #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[lululandd]

part-time psycho;

pairing: yandere!ghost x f!reader

wordcount: 1,921

warning: mentions of murder, implied cheating, jealousy, possessive behaviour

note: please understand this is fiction, i do not condone any of these behaviours irl (also on ao3)

summary: 

He’d be out drinking with his work friends, he said. Won’t drink too much because he had to drive home after, he said. You don’t have to pick him up because he doesn’t know what time he’ll be back, he said. Some of his friends might get super drunk and he might have to drive them home, he said.

Those were the things you remember him saying before he kissed you goodbye. 

You were roused from sleep by the sound of the front door slamming, and then people talking. There was an unfamiliar voice besides Simon’s, but you try not to listen too hard. But even your sleep-addled brain noted how odd that there were giggles and chuckles one moment and then… dead silence. Something felt wrong, the little voice in your head—the voice that kills people in horror movies, Simon would say—tells you to go check to see what it is. Groaning a little to shake the lethargy from your bones, you get out of bed and walk towards the stairs, but you only made it halfway down.

A woman was sitting on top of him, on the sofa. The woman Simon introduced you to months ago. His co-worker, his teammate, the person that has taken a bullet or two for him and vice versa. You can’t lie, she intimidated you from the very beginning. Their apparent closeness, their easy banter that you can never follow, the countless inside jokes, the way her hand always landed on him when she thought you weren’t looking, and her features. They were so similar to yours, and you don’t know which is worse, whether you came into his life first, or her.

Drowsiness left you as anxious dread seeps in. They spoke too quietly for you to hear, but you don’t care. Friends don’t sit on each other's laps like that, and certainly not facing one another. Feelings of inadequacy filled your mind as you walked briskly towards the front door and took off, grabbing whatever coat was on the hook. You just had to get out of there, far away from what you had just witnessed. Wiping the tears that blurred your vision, you notice your feet take you to the nearest pub, and you stand outside dumbly for a couple of seconds. 

That night was bitterly cold, and you wished you had taken a thicker coat. Putting your hands in your pocket, you realise you have no money. You didn’t take anything but the spare house keys, your phone, and the coat on your way out. The slippers you're wearing are the fuzzy kind meant for indoors. Digging in your pockets, you hoped past you left a couple of quid in there. You found two tenners in the inner pocket, and you shuffled inside to get a drink or two.

The pretty bartender with the large earrings noticed you immediately and asked whether you need help and if she should call the police. Glancing at the mirror behind the bar, you saw you were a complete and utter wreck and she was right to be worried. You made sure to convince her that you were just sad and not some victim of domestic abuse before ordering some shots. She gave you a worried look before grabbing the drinks.

You downed both drinks in quick succession as soon as they arrived. The first burn hadn’t even registered fully before you chased it with another one. Today’s not the day for sane choices and comfort, you need to dull the pain as quickly as you can.

It’s funny, being tipsy. Your brain doesn’t even know when it started, you suddenly are. It doesn’t matter much anymore that Simon had brought a woman that looks much like you home, you can live just fine without him. It’s not like he’s the best boyfriend anyway, he left so often and so long sometimes you don’t feel like lovers. Maybe he had already demoted you from that position long ago and you were too stupid and blind to notice.

It took you a while to realise someone was sitting next to you. Letting out a deep sigh that definitely lasted longer than you thought you could, you didn’t even have to look to know it was him.

“Will you be coming home tonight?”

You’ve heard this tone before. It’s the careful one he uses when he knows you’re upset. The voice that is laced with sympathy and understanding. But this time you don’t know if that question was borne out of malice or legitimate concern, so you ignored him. The glass of water that the pretty barkeep gave to you looks very interesting right now.

The silence stretched for a painful amount of time before it was Simon’s turn to sigh. “Would you believe me if I told you I was drunk and rejected her advances?”

You were bitterly reminded of how she was sitting on his lap earlier. How close her face had been to his. How her hands had been curling on his neck, and his hands probably sitting on her waist. You didn’t see or didn’t remember, but that’s where your mind placed it, the only logical place it could be.

He slid his car keys your way. “Wherever you’re going, at least take the car. Don’t take cabs this late at night.” And when you didn’t react, he left.

You left the pub after your fifth glass of water and a repeated play of Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby’—the staff were laughing while you heard one yell out profanities from the backroom—to check on the car. It suspiciously had your wallet, his hoodie, some cash haphazardly thrown on the front seat, and a large knife when you checked the glove box. You looked at your phone and mass texted your friends to see which one of them was awake and kind enough to let you crash at their place for the night.

One of your best friends replied, and you decided to go there immediately. They kindly offered their place for a week or two, but you ended up leaving on the second day. You had calmed down a little, and your friend suggested you talked this out instead of just making more and more assumptions in your head.

“The longer you’re not talking, the more your brain makes shit up.”

You joked that they just wanted you out asap and it ended up in a pillow fight that made you forget about your problems for a little while.

Driving home was the hardest. The scene keeps replaying in your head and your brain racks up the jealousy. How long have they been going behind your back? Is he just dating you because he can’t have her for some reason? Was whatever he was saying true, that he rejected her advances?

You found a parking spot not far from the house because for some reason you didn’t want him to see you coming.

As you opened the front door, you were met by two set of eyes looking bewildered at your direction. Simon’s arms were still on her waist while hers were draped over his shoulders.

Fuck these people.

Fuck him.

You threw Simon’s car keys on the floor and walked out, ignoring his pleas for you to wait and listen.

There was only one place to go now. Your parents. They welcomed you graciously, knowing you had a fight and wanting some space from your boyfriend even when you didn’t tell them at all about what happened. A week went by without any calls or texts from Simon, you decided it was time to go back and pack the fuck out of your stuff to live with your parents for a while. Why should you even think about being with him when he doesn’t even try to apologise. Living with your parents has reminded you what love could–should–be. Waking up next to each other every day, knowing they’re safe and within reach and not whatever it is you have with Simon where he goes missing for months at a time without contact. It was nice waking up to the sight of your parents chattering about, jokingly telling you to not burn the house down as they go to work, reminding you of your teenage years.

Thankfully Simon wasn’t home when you went to pack. It’s decided that you’ll only take your clothes for now and leave the paraphernalia for later. If you’re lucky, his job called while you were away and you can pack in peace.

But you weren’t so lucky.

“You’ve lost weight.” You jumped at the sound of his voice. Simon was a deathly quiet man when he needed to be. You didn’t hear the front door being open and shut or even his footsteps. He looked awful, his face unkempt with bloodshot eyes, his hair mussed, and his clothes dishevelled.

“I’m not wearing makeup so I look shit.” You retorted.

You had to look away as soon as you saw him bristle. He stayed silent for a while, his gaze focused on every facet of your face before going back to staring you down.

“Why are you lying?” His voice came as a quiet snarl, a low gruff that sounded like it hasn’t been used in days. 

“Because that’s also what you’re doing.” You threw the meanest look you could towards him, and you’d like to think that’s why he broke eye contact with you. Unable to help yourself, you continued, “Rejecting her advances my ass, Riley.”

Hearing his last name, he proceeded to cut across the room and reached for you, strong arms instantly curling around your waist as he turned you around to face the open armoire. You felt the need to run, to fight back, but what else could you do but submit? The man is 193 centimetres of pure trained muscles that can hold you full nelson for however long it takes him to fuck you in front of the mirror until he feels satisfied, while you run out of breath carrying the neighbour’s fat tabby for two minutes. You are a little rabbit at the mercy of a wolf.

Weak.

Pathetic.

“I'm truly sorry you had to see me when I tried to lure her into a false sense of security.” He pulled you even closer, your back gently bumping against his chest. “If I drove you to where her head is buried will you finally believe me?” 

Only half the words registered in your mind, “Simon this isn’t funny.”

Trying to wriggle away awarded you with a hiss and him nuzzling on the crook of your neck. 

“Wasn’t joking, love.”

“Simon.” You pleaded desperately. You felt sick. You knew he was a dangerous man, but he had told you, convinced you, that he would never hurt y–

Realisation hits in a revolting wave of nausea. He had never said he wouldn’t hurt others. “Simon?”

“Yes, dear?” He muttered, lips pressing intently against the sensitive parts of your ears.

His hold no longer felt safe, there’s desperation and a dangerous kind of hunger lingering underneath his touch. “D-did you keep a trophy? Of her, I mean.”

You think if he could just show you some sort of proof, you could somehow take it and just start running.

“Why the fuck,” Simon’s voice was suddenly laced with seething fury that you flinched in his arms. “Would I keep trophies of people that caused you pain?” His statement chilled you to your core and you stopped trembling for a moment. 

A choked, terrified whisper escaped you. “S-Simon?” Sickness curled your stomach, your knees buckled as you swayed. You don’t know when your Simon had left and replaced with this monster, or whether there was a Simon at all in the first place.

You felt his lips twitch and curl into a smile on the junction of your neck. "Yes, love?"

“Why was that plural?”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #yandere simon ghost riley #yandere!ghost #yandere simon riley #yandere mw2 #scuffed writing #scuffed yandere #call of duty #yandere call of duty

[pyro-chaos]

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Sometimes

Pt. 2. to This Series

Summary: How life’s going with the new roomie!! Smutttyyy, kinda smutty

Tropes: And they were roommates. Smut fluff, and a smidge of angst

Word count: 2317

A/N: Yooo, this is my first attempt at writing something… saucy. Lol, what do you think??

At first, Mike had reservations about moving in with you.

He thought it would… change the relationship dynamic.

It does, but not in the way he expects.

“Morning, Abby’s brushing her teeth,” you hand Mike a plate of toast with jam and scrambled eggs, “I have to stay late today. Our department has a project due.”

Mike nods, “Okay,” he swallows a mouthful of eggs, “what time should I go for you?”

You put the egg pan in the sink, on top of two other plates.

“Actually, I’m going out tonight. So I think you’re good until tomorrow morning”

Honestly, it surprised him a bit, when he found out you had other friends.

Well, that sounds bad, he’s just surprised by the activity within your social life. It makes him crave something he didn’t know he cared about.

“Will you be home tonight?” He asks.

You gulp down the last of your coffee like a shot. Then you shrug, “I wouldn’t count on it, but maybe.”

Mike swallows his last bite and takes his plate to the sink, “Okay, be safe.”

You smile and finish getting ready for the day. Mike does the dishes.

To be honest, Mike loves having a roommate.

You split the bills evenly. Mike takes half the rent, you take the water bill. Mike gets electric, but you have the insurance.

It’s nice. It feels like he found an island after struggling to keep afloat.

He can afford to go way down in hours. Rather than carry the weight of two full-time jobs, Mike only has to manage one, with the odd double shift.

There’s a park within walking distance from your house. It has a tire swing. Mike has the time to walk Abby there on weekends, and the energy to give her a boost.

Sometimes, You come home smelling like booze.

Sometimes, Mike stays up past Abby’s bedtime to make lunches for the next day. Or to catch up on forgotten chores.

Sometimes, he stays up just ‘cause he can do that now; without feeling mind-crushing guilt.

Sometimes, you run into each other on those nights.

It’s Friday night, a week after you successfully completed the work project, and you stumble into the house at an odd hour.

You smell like a mix of someone else’s cologne and cheap alcohol. Your lipstick is smudged and your clothes look ruffled.

Mike watches you wobble to the sink after kicking off your shoes.

He pretends not to notice the hickeys littering your neck while you chug a glass of water.

“Rough day?” He means it as a joke, but Mike doubts the concerned tilt of his eyebrows makes it seem like one.

“MMmm nuh uh” you answer; slightly out of breath, “S-sorry, just a lil’ thirsty.”

Mike chuckles. He puts a bowl of leftover pasta in the microwave.

If anyone ever asked, he’d deny it until his tongue fell out. But Mike thinks you're cute drunk, and he likes how the curve of your breasts peek out of that top.

Nights like this make him feel kind of gross. He goes to bed soaked with guilt because he knows he shouldn’t ogle anyone like he’s ogling you.

If you ever found out about how he stared at you after you slumped into a kitchen stool, he’d kill himself.

You’re wearing a skirt, and he can see… he can see the inside of your thighs. You’re slouching too. He can see the trail of purple outline your collar bones, and lead into - No.

He sets the bowl of pasta in front of you and then sits down across from you. He’s praying you didn’t see him twitch under his pants.

You slowly eat the pasta, like you’re having trouble feeling your mouth.

Mike stirs his tea.

He tries not to think about your mouth.

When you’re finished, you look a little less, unbothered. Your eyes go a little dark, and you’re holding your head up awkwardly.

“Ready for bed?” Mike questions. He hopes you don’t hear the desperation hidden in the softness of his voice.

You nod.

He leaves an old pot by your bed before heading to his own room.

Nights like this, Mike feels how long it’s been since he’s gotten pussy.

His dick is throbbing. It’s begging, and it hurts, but he fucking refuses to give in.

Mike tries to clench his legs and think about anything, other than how you might’ve looked riding someone else’s dick.

His hips buck up into nothing.

Your tits would bounce. The other guy probably loved it. Mike bets the other guy couldn’t resist popping your nipples into his mouth. Or maybe he used his hands. Maybe he gripped your tits so hard that you saw stars.

Mike rolls over - face down - his pelvis squishes his boner into the bed at this angle. He’s glad for the pillow that swallows his groan.

He thought the new position would help, but it doesn’t, the friction just makes everything worse.

Mike can’t get those damn hickies out of his head. They’ve seared into his mind like a brand that just keeps bleeding. He wants to lick them. He wants to know what you’d do if he licked them.

Oh god, and your thighs.

It takes him a moment to realize that he’s grinding against his sheets.

He huffs, practically ripping off his boxers and gripping the base of his dick.

He gives in.

He thinks about how you’d look sprawled on his bed.

What would you do? - Mike wonders - if you woke up to him between your thighs?

Mike would go slow, he’d go so slow, and he’d make it feel good. He wouldn’t leave until you shake.

He’d spread you open first; let your legs rest open like a monument. He might indulge himself with a kitten lick along your clit.

Then, he’d slide a finger through your slit.

Would you want to sit on his face?

Mike's balls go tight, his dick jumping as he imagines your weight on his tongue.

He licks his lips, hoping to taste something he’s never had.

He finishes all over his stomach, and tries not to imagine how you’d look licking it up.

He doesn’t know how he’s gonna look into your eyes tomorrow.

It's Saturday, and Mike said he’d give you a ride to a car that you found on Craigslist.

“What happened to your car?” Abby asks at the beginning of the drive.

Mike glares at his sister through the mirror, but he can’t shush her without revealing that he’s already figured out what happened to your car.

“It’s not mine anymore” you respond. Your tone isn’t sad, or forlorn, but the mood shifts anyway.

Mike fills the awkwardness by asking what Abby wants for lunch.

You don’t end up buying the car.

The guy on Craigslist listed the car under Used, Like New but the car was definitely not, Like New.

You apologize to Mike so many times he stops keeping count, but he really doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal.

He had to look for months before he found a reliable car for an affordable price.

He’s sure to tell you as much, but he still finds extra cash in his glove compartment the next day.

Sometimes it feels like you don’t think of him as a friend, just someone you’re living with.

It bothers him.

You go out again on Sunday night, you come home smelling even worse.

Mike’s in the living room when he hears something fumble with the locks. At first, he thinks nothing of it, but then he hears a thump against the door.

Mike peeks through the peephole, and rolls his eyes after he watches you almost eat shit when you lose your footing.

You’re too drunk to stand on your own. Mike doesn’t even bother to ask if you’re okay, he just helps you to your room and puts the old pot near your bed, again.

Abby sleeps across the house, so she doesn’t hear you puke your guts out at 3a.m.

Mike does, and it makes him feel something bad. It’s a feeling he’s not used to associating with you. Disappointment? Disgust?

Something like that - there’s a bit of anger in there too - but it’s also mixed with worry. You’re not the type of person to get black-out drunk on a Sunday night.

But still, that’s two nights this week you’ve come home drunk.

In literally any other circumstance, Mike would mind his own business, but you live with Abby now.

He remembers the little furrow of Abby’s brow when he told her that you got sick. How worried would Abby get if she heard you puking in the middle of the night? How the fuck could he even begin to explain that to her?

Mike doesn’t want her to be around someone who’s drinking themselves stupid; It’s dysfunctional. Didn’t you have enough respect for Abby to understand that?

He’ll talk to you about it tomorrow night, but tonight, he checks the medicine cabinet. Just to make sure you have enough aspirin for tomorrow morning.

The next morning goes normally. You make breakfast. Abby gets ready. Mike does the dishes.

He doesn’t want to deal with the aftermath of the upcoming conflict quite yet.

Mike just picked you up from work. You applied extra makeup this morning to cover up the dark circles under your eyes, but Mike knows they’re there.

“So, wanna talk about what happened last night?” He doesn’t even bother hiding the judgment from his tone.

“What happened last night?”

Mike feels a flame of anger roll through his body. He has to take a breath before responding, “Don’t play dumb”

You stop sipping on your coffee and lean against the back of the seat. You look out the window for a moment, like you’re thinking really hard about something.

Mike’s thumbs lightly tap the steering wheel. He can feel his temper simmer under his vertebrae.

You lick your lips, and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, “Okay, but first I want to apologize.”

He stays silent, but he’s a little surprised.

“I’ve been irresponsible, and inconsiderate, and I’m really sorry. It’s not fair for you to have to deal with the fallout of my bullshit.”

Mike agrees, but he’s not sure what he could say without expressing that agreement. So, he stays silent.

You rub your eyes, “Oliver and I broke up.”

Mike knows this. You didn’t tell him, but he lives with you, it’s not that hard to put two and two together. Why does it matter?

“I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him, you know?”

Oh. No. He didn’t.

“I just… I’ve been taking it kind of hard,” you sit up, and your voice gains a bit of confidence, “it’s not an excuse, though. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Mike hears your promise, and releases a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oliver. That’s… it makes sense that you’ve been getting drunk a lot.

“It’s okay,” he adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, and keeps his tone soft; like he’s trying to caress you with words, “it’s just with Abby - you know?” he shrugs and allows his sentence to hang in the air.

“No, yeah absolutely, I get it. I’m sorry I put you both in that position.”

Your words sound genuine.

Mike literally feels the fight flood out of his nervous system. The emptiness leftover makes him want to go to sleep.

The thought of the conversation tugged on his brain all day, like he was unconsciously gearing up for a fight, and now that it’s over he feels drained.

The drive stays silent until he arrives at Abby’s school. But it’s not submissive or uncomfortable silence. Mike doesn’t feel suffocated by the lack of conversation.

He’s parked at the front of the school when you talk again.

“Are we okay?” you ask, and the softness of your tone makes Mike melt.

“Yeah,” for the first time in the entire conversation - Mike looks at you - and he’s kind of surprised to find you already looking at him, “Yeah, we’re okay.”

Mike did not expect the apology, but he’s glad he got it.

If he’s being honest, he expected you to justify why you’ve been drinking, but your willingness to take accountability came completely out of left field.

That’s not to say Mike feels the apology was unnecessary. It’s more like, he wanted a justification for your behavior; he wanted to understand why you did what you did before getting truly upset with you, but he didn’t expect you to acknowledge how your crisis affected him. But you did.

It’s like, he went into a restaurant expecting his favorite meal, but instead he gets his favorite meal plus an ingredient that he didn’t know would make the entire meal better.

It makes him feel seen.

It makes him like you more.

After that, you seem more comfortable around Mike, and you don’t go out as often.

If you do, you’re home before midnight, and you’re sober.

If you’re not sober, you call, and let Mike know you’re staying at a friend’s for the night.

You act a bit differently too.

It’s kind of strange, because Mike thought you felt comfortable around him before that conversation, but apparently he underestimated how often you try to keep a professional facade around him and Abby.

But now, you allow him to see you in pajamas.

He didn’t even know you owned pajamas.

They’re cute and baggy; fluffy sweats that pool around your ankles, and a matching sweater.

You buy a shelf for Abby’s art supplies. You put it in the living room, in case she wants to draw while she watches TV.

Mike starts to wear sweats too.

Abby’s drawings start to fill up the empty space on the refrigerator

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf daycare attendant #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutchinson #five nights at freddy's

[iconicstoner]

i found you

gn!reader x spencer reid (fluff)

words: 1778

summary: You and Spencer have been friends for years, so it only makes sense you went to a local St. Patrick’s Day parade together. However, when he loses you at the parade he realizes how important it is that you know how much he loves you, so of course he confesses.

Spencer pushed through the crowd, fighting to find you. You had been his best friend for years. You’d helped him through the fear his work caused, and you were even there during his addiction. He thought of you as his whole world. You reminded him of why it was worth it to deal with the horrors he saw every day. You were his light in the darkness, and now you were lost in a giant crowd of people. It was packed, and there had to be thousands of people around. It was one of the biggest St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in the entire country. 

Spencer’s mind started to race with different ideas. You could’ve been kidnapped, or even killed. He knew the statistics on that, but he tried not to think about them for his own sanity. His mind flashed with different victims he’d seen over the years. You could be in the same situation as any of them right now, but he prayed you weren’t. 

He called out your name as loud as he could, trying to make himself see above the crowd, but the only response he got was a disapproving side eye from a mother carrying her child. He felt embarrassed but knew he couldn’t stop till he found you. His heart was beating in his ears, and his breathing was shallow. He knew this could turn into a panic attack at any second, and as much as he wanted to break down he knew it wouldn’t help him find you. 

He quickly turned around, thinking he heard your voice, but instead found a visibly drunk man. 

“Sorry about that,” the man said as he stumbled, spilling beer all over Spencer’s shirt. The beer smelled awful, and now his shirt was uncomfortably sticky, but the thought of finding you kept him together.

“It’s fine,” Spencer responded before quickly darting off, still set on finding you unharmed. He tried to clear out the horrific images in his mind, but there was little he could do. He rushed back to where he’d last seen you, deciding maybe you hadn’t gone that far after all. The sun was starting to set, and it put him on edge. When it went dark it’d be so much harder to find you. 

He regretted walking away from you earlier. He told you that he had to go to the bathroom, but he actually wanted to surprise you with a drink he noticed you eyeing at one of the drink carts. He had to wait in an excruciatingly long line, but he thought it would be worth it because it meant getting to see your beautiful smile. When he returned to where you were supposed to be waiting for him you were already gone. Looking back, it was stupid, but in the moment he didn’t think twice. He was an intelligent and trained FBI agent who was carrying a gun, so he felt safe, but he didn’t think twice about the fact you didn’t have any experience with dangerous criminals. 

He pushed through people, standing once again in front of the drink cart. He looked around, but there was no one there. He considered calling Garcia. Maybe she’d be able to hack into the security footage and use facial recognition software to see where you went and who you were with, but Spencer knew that would take too much time. Besides, it would be way too embarrassing to admit he was freaking out so much over losing you for 20 minutes. Garcia knew all about his feelings for you, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her teasing at a time like this.

Spencer noticed the street lamps starting to flicker on. They were the only light left now that the sun had set. As embarrassing as it was, he decided maybe it actually would be a good idea to call the BAU. Or Garcia at least. 

He noticed the diner sitting on the road’s edge in front of him and decided to wait there while he called. Running around in a packed crowd clearly wouldn’t help him find you, and it definitely wasn’t making him feel better. 

The diner had a muted brown roof with big white letters that spelled out Tony’s Place. It hardly had walls at all, as most of the sides were large glass windows. There was a quaint wooden bench outside of it facing the street. It was unsuspecting and matched every other building on the street.

Spencer Walked through the door, hearing a bell ring as he did. The place was crowded, but much less crowded than the parade was. The interior looked something straight out of the ’50s. There were black and white checkered tiles, booths with red leather seats, and a bar where people sat sipping their drinks. He could smell french fries and apple pie coming from the kitchen. 

“How can I help ya, sugar?” An older waitress with dirty blonde curls asked him. She looked tired, and Spencer noticed the pack of cigarettes in her apron. Her name tag read Darlene. 

“I just need a place to sit,” he told her nervously. She smiled at him with an understanding, motherly smile. 

“Sounds great,” she told him as she ushered him over to a booth. It was next to a giant window that faced the parade. He looked around, but there was no one who even looked like you. “Can I get you anything to drink?” She asked sympathetically. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that he was upset. 

“Coffee please,” he responded quickly. She nodded and quickly left to get him a cup. He fished his phone out of his pocket and let out a sigh. He anxiously dialed Garcia’s number, almost hitting the wrong keys in a rush.

“Hello, Mighty Professor. It’s not like you to call me like this when you’re not at work,” she said joyfully. Spencer wasn’t sure how to respond. He almost felt bad telling her what was wrong. She loved you too. “What can I help you with, sweetie?” She asked again. Spencer was usually eager to ask questions and get her help, but now he wasn’t saying anything at all. 

“Well, it’s just-“ he stopped himself, not sure how to even explain it. His leg was anxiously bouncing, and every second that passed felt like an hour. Before he got the chance to explain it all to Garcia the waitress had come back with his cup of coffee. He could see the steam emitting from it and he thanked her. 

“Just doin’ my job baby,” she told him in a reassuring voice. He could tell she was used to dealing with people who were upset, and just this once he didn’t mind being treated like a kid. 

“Who’s that?” Garcia questioned from the phone.

“It’s no one, just a waitress,” he responded. “That’s not the point. I need your help, Garcia.” Even from over the phone, Garcia could tell Spencer was anxiously biting his lip.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“I need help finding-” Spencer quickly cut himself off. Across the diner he noticed you. Even though your back was to him, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind it was you. He knew everything about you like the back of his hand. It was your hair, your clothes, your body. 

“Nevermind. Thanks, Garcia. Gotta go,” he told her before quickly hanging up. He stood up and quickly ran across the diner to you. He didn’t even realize it, but he was starting to cry. “Thank God it’s you,” he said. You quickly turned around and he wrapped his arms around you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” You asked, feeling one of his hands around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He held onto you tightly, not ready to ever let you go. 

“I couldn’t find you,” he breathed out. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“Spencer, I’d never leave you,” you respond. He nods and you look at him to see the tears running down his face. 

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the abduction cases I’ve seen before. All those people who died. I wasn’t ready to lose you too,” he tells you. You’ve never seen him so upset before. Working at the BAU wasn’t easy, and he was finally letting it show. You hold onto him, trying to let him know that you’re safe now. You hear his heartbeat, and it’s pounding quickly. His hands are shaky as they hold you, and his breathing is still shallow. 

“I found you,” he whispers in your ear. He pulls away from you just enough to kiss you. He keeps one hand on your waist and moves the other to your jaw, holding onto it as he kisses you passionately. He slowly pulls away, wanting to be as close to you as possible. 

“Take it outside!” An older man sitting at the bar playfully exclaimed, causing Spencer’s face to flush. He grabbed onto your hand, leaving a twenty on the table for Darlene, and led you outside to the wooden bench in front of the diner. The two of you sat down together, the soft glow from the street lamp illuminating him. A few stars could be seen shining brightly above you. There was a chilly breeze, but with how close Spencer was keeping you the two of you were plenty warm. He wasn’t crying anymore. He just sat next to you, admiring your presence. 

“I need to tell you something,” he says, gently squeezing your hand.

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“When I lost you, I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the bad things I’ve seen. I didn’t know what I’d ever do without you, and because of that, I don’t ever wanna be without you again. I know dating can be really complicated when you’re in the BAU. Plenty of relationships fail. But I love you so much, and I really think if you gave me a chance this might work, even if it’s statistically unli-” You interrupt him, softly kissing his lips. He leans into the kiss, and you can smell the aroma of coffee and leather that lingers on him. Reluctantly, you both pull away, but only by a few centimeters. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, “did you do that because I was rambling again?”

“I did that because I love you too,” you whisper back. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he mumbles before kissing you again.

He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time. He hoped he’d never have to.

------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: Special St. Patrick's Day post lol! Also, I know I’ve been getting a lot of Twilight requests- and I’m so happy about it!! (and I am working on them)- but I wanted to take a break to write a fun Spencer Reid oneshot bc I love him sm lol

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #bau team #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #penelope garcia

[xhoneygirlxx]

because work has been kicking my ass and i'm a wh*re for virgin Eddie, here is this small little blurb as a treat :)

virgin!eddie x reader (reader and Eddie are both in their 20s)

rated r: smut, oral receiving, swearing, mentions of sex. (18+ minors GO AWAY)

You and Eddie sit on the small couch in his trailer living room, the blue glow from the tv highlighting him in the most beautiful way. The eerie music of Halloween plays through the tinny speakers, the soundtrack of your night. Although the metal head has watched this movie more than he can count, you can’t help but notice your best friend has become instantly tense the moment Lynda’s tits appear on screen.

Eddie’s virginity wasn’t a secret in your friendship, he’d constantly asked you for advice on how to please his partner when the day finally came, but watching him squirm in his seat at glimpse of bare tits makes your heart melt. To be completely honest you had a crush on your bestie for as long as you can remember, to be fair who wouldn’t? You’ve thought about him a few times when your hands were in between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt.

You’ve thought about offering taking Eddie’s virginity but you would hate to take something so special from him especially when it should be with someone he loves. So you kept your offer to yourself, helped him with any advice he’d asked, and remained supportive in his search of a partner.

The continuous bounce of Eddie’s knee pulls your attention from the screen, too entertained by his constant fidgeting. The scene that got him so riled up as now ended with the pretty blonde being killed but his growing length beneath his jeans continues to strain against the unforgiving material.

Even though it’s selfish and you’re dying to know what he hides beneath his pants, you give in and ask him the one thing you’ve been dying to ever since the two of you turned eighteen.

“Eds, are you good?” Leaning forward, you curl your legs underneath your bum.

His head snaps towards you, eyes bugged out and cheeks flushed. “M-me? Yeah I’m fine, m’good.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, not only trying to convince you of his words but also himself. Your face falls, mouth pulling into a straight line clearly unamused by his horrible acting.

“Okay let’s try this again but this time tell me the truth,” You say sternly, “are you good?”

Letting his head fall to the back of the couch, Eddie closed his eyes and lets out a harsh breath. “I’m just, the movie it’s,”

The nervousness in his voice won’t let him finish his sentence, every thought in his brain melting together in a bowl of mumbo jumbo.

Placing your hand on his thigh, a little higher than usual, you look up at him from under your lashes. “Her tits got you all hot and bothered, is that it?”

Snapping his eyes open down at you, he stares at you as you spoke in a completely different language. Having too much fun with his blush intensifying, you lean forward just a bit more putting your cleavage on display.

“It hurts, huh? Feels like you’re gonna burst at any moment.” Your voice is sweet like sugar, dripping with an intoxicating amount of intensity that Eddie’s never heard.

His hands that sit by his sides clench and unclench, jitters pouring through him at an alarming rate. Too dumb to speak he nods, curls bouncing with every motion.

“Awe baby, s’okay,” you coo as you hook your legs over his thighs, “if you want I can make it all better. Want me to kiss it better?”

Eddie stares at you unblinkingly, mouth parted slightly in awe. Again he nods but this time you tsk at him, shaking your head back and forth in disapproval.

“I asked you a question, honey, I need your words. Do you want me to make it better?” You pout your lips at him and he swallows harshly.

“Please make it better, hurts s’bad.” He slurs, already drunk off your touch without even really feeling it just yet.

“Such a good boy begging me so nicely.”

Slowly you move forward, capturing his soft lips into a needy kiss. Despite being a virgin Eddie does a good job kissing you, not going overboard with too much tongue or sloppy movements.

Taking a chance and wanting to take care of the growing pulse that grows in between your thighs, you begin to rock hesitantly over his hard length. The intense spark you feel jolting through your veins is verbalized with the wanton moan that rips from Eddie’s throat and vibrates into your mouth.

Picking up your momentum you can’t help but roll your eyes into the back of your head, the rough material of his jeans adding extra intensity to your pulsing bundle of nerves. Eddie isn't any better, his face is flushed red, bangs sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat that beads from his hairline, and his chest rattles from all the moaning sobs that leave his open mouth.

Opening your eyes you can't help but snort at Eddie's awkward hand placement. They hang in the air, itching to grasp at something but too nervous to give into the temptation.

Letting your hips come to a complete stop, you gently cup his cheeks in the palm of your hand. Hazy eyes open and look right at you, a thousand tiny specks of glitter shimmer in the big brown pools, sweeping you right into his vortex.

"Eddie honey, do you want to touch me?" Despite the dryness that lingers in your mouth, your words drip and saturate the boy beneath you in love and care.

"If that's okay with you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. So like if you don't want me to I won't-" You stop his rambles with a quick kiss to his lips.

Pulling away with a small giggle you look at him the same way he's looking at you, disgustingly in awe.

"I want you to touch me, Eddie. Bet your hands would feel so nice on me, so big and strong."

With the thought of it makes your underwear even wetter, so wet that you know when you get off his lap there will be a big wet stain. Not wanting to wait any longer you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the pretty white lace bra that holds your breast into place.

Eddie looks something like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with unspoken words that get caught in his throat. Although it's funny watching your best friend so speechless, you can't help but adore his childlike wonder.

Gripping his wrists in your hand and pull them towards you placing them on your tits, squeezing his fingers around the doughy flesh causing you to hiss in satisfaction.

"F-fuck you're so hot." It's breathless when it comes out.

Eddie follows your lead, fondling your round breasts in the palms of his big hands. The feeling of his grip causes you to resume your motions, grinding harder on his lap trying to relieve the hammering thump in between your legs.

You remember in the fog of your lust that this wasn't about you, it was in fact about your best friend who is currently trying to hold himself together.

Again you stop your movements, pulling his hands from your lace covered chest, and move from his lap.

"W-wait, what's- what are you doing?" Eddie is more than frantic, he's completely distraught with the absence of your weight on his legs.

Pinching his cheek sweetly, you push his legs apart to create enough room for yourself. Sinking to your knees, you move into the space you've created for yourself.

"I'm doing what I said I was going to do, I'm going to kiss it better." You drag your nails up his jean covered thighs, gazing up at him with doe eyes acting as if you aren't making one of his dreams come true.

"Yeah yeah, fuck okay." Babbling like an idiot, Eddie stares at you completely shocked as if you didn't promise this to him earlier.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you wait for him to catch on to what you're waiting for. It doesn't hit him until you clear your throat and point at the handcuff belt that hold his jeans in place.

"Oh shit, right. Let me just get these off." Going as fast as his shaking hands will allow him, he goes to undo his belt and push his pants just below his balls.

His cock bounces from their confines, hitting his tee shirt covered navel with a small thud. You can't help but gawk at the sight of him. Eddie's packing more than you ever imagined, long and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside. The tip is a pretty pink shade that shines from the pearls of precum that dripples from the slit.

Your mouth fills with saliva just from the sight alone. The dark brown thatch of curls that sit at the base match the hair on his heavy balls. You weren't someone who found genitalia appetizing but man oh man was did your best friend's look good enough to eat.

The small silence that settled between you two has clearly made Eddie anxious. His chocolate brown eyes look anywhere but you and the thick chunky rings that sit on his fingers have become his clear fascination, twisting them around and around his thick digits.

Not wanting him to sit with his thoughts any longer, you lean up enough to capture his kiss bitten lips in a passionate kiss. This time it's all teeth and tongue, spit swapping between the two of you.

When you both pull away you wish you could continue kissing him, fuck the oxygen that you need all you want is Eddie.

Sitting back down on your knees, you let spit dripple down onto his stiff shaft. Clasping your hand around him you begin to jerk him off slowly, not wanting the moment to be over fast.

Eddie on the other hand is fighting for his life, lip pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows pinching together. You drink it up like a plant in the middle of a drought.

"You're s'pretty, Eds and your cock, fuck it's so pretty too." You coo, to prove your point you press kisses up and down his length.

"Mmm s-shit, your ha- your hand feels so good." Eddie's voice is completely strained, his jugular vein pocking out every once and a while.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Eddie's nearing the end, the shaking and tensing of his thighs a clear sign. Wanting him to experience it all, you envelope the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and licking along the slit to collect the salty bead of pre that beads out of it.

Moving your mouth lower, you take him halfway into your mouth and allow your hand to jerk off whatever you can't take. The hand that braces itself on his thigh snakes its way to the heavy sack that sits just below his cock, kneading it in the palm of your hand gently.

Without needing instruction Eddie's hand finds it's way to your head, gripping your hair at the scalp and pulling out it with vigor. The pain and arousal that sparks within you causes you to moan around him, making him sob out in ecstasy.

"F-uh, oh don't stop I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum!"

Moving your head as fast as you can, you move to the tip to avoid chocking on the salty release. Still pumping your hand up and down on his cock you collect his warm seed in your mouth, letting it pool on your tongue.

Above you Eddie is a screaming mess, blabbing nonsense and groaning loudly. To no one's surprise Eddie cums and he cums a lot, so much so that it starts to dripple out the sides of your mouth with the string of your spit.

Once his breath returns to his lungs and his grip loosens on your hair, you let him fall out of your mouth with a lewd pop. When your eyes make eye contact with his own, you open your mouth to show him the pearly white of his release that sits on your pink tongue. Closing your mouth and swallowing it with a loud hum, you open your eyes to see Eddie completely gobsmack.

"Jesus sweetheart, you can't do shit like that unless you want me to get hard again." He says with an airy laugh.

You take his words as a threat, one that you'd be stupid not to take with the way your pussy flutters in need.

"Who said I was done, Munson?"

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

i know your already working on my series but just hear me out okay. hear me out. crazy x crazy trope but with ethan and reader puts bratty cocky ethan in his place. "not so confident now are you, you little bitch? or are you that drunk off my pussy you can barely think?" while he just pouts and glares at her but is quite literally unable to speak and can only whine and whimper for her. double points if she's ghostface with the baileys, taking revenge because of lets say she was either ambers ex or younger sister and is PISSED at tara for taking her girlfriend/older sister away. (TRIPLE THE POINTS if she knew ethan, quinn and richie since childhood too) sorry its thot hrs and i wanna dom him

I hope you like this! I was determined to finish it tonight. I love a good psychotic moment💕

Savages - Ghostface!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You and your childhood best friend both lost someone from what happened in Woodsboro at the hands of the Carpenter Sisters. You start to plot with him and his family to get revenge, but he's being a little brat after his first kill.

Contains: 3.2k words, Sub!Ethan, Dom/Psycho!Reader, Oral - m and f recieving, Face sitting/riding, p in v, unprotected sex, mentions of death and violence/blood. (If I missed anything, please let me know. My brain has tapped out for the night haha)

A/N: I hope y'all like it:) I love sub Ethan and a good psycho!reader moment.

Ethan knew he loved you, but the second you put on the Ghostface robe and mask, he fell even harder. It’s hard to believe that the two of you made it to this point. He was a sweet kid, and you were always with his family growing up, until the day your parents moved you to Woodsboro. You tried to remain friends with him, until you got a girlfriend. You weren’t anything more than best friends at that point, but he’d message you like a controlling boyfriend. He professed his feelings, but it was too late. You’d already found someone in your new town. Someone you could experience a relationship with.

He was devastated when you rejected him, and when he wouldn’t let it go, you eventually had to block him. Amber was pretty much the exact opposite. She even asked you about opening the relationship up to other people, just because she wanted you to experience other things. She wasn’t possessive like Ethan, but she never wanted to just let you go.

When Richie showed up to the hospital with Sam after Tara was attacked, he recognized you immediately. He pretended he didn’t, though, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he wasn’t originally from the area where he met Sam. You finally pulled him to the side one day and talked to him, and he pleaded with you to not tell anyone that you already knew him. That was the moment that you knew he had something to do with what was happening.

You didn’t suspect Amber, though, until the day of the party. You were upstairs in her room when she pulled out a knife.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, plunging the knife into your abdomen.

“What the fuck? It’s you?” you sobbed, dropping to your knees as you noticed the blood starting to drip onto her carpet.

“I can’t have you on the suspect list. You trust me, don’t you?” she asked. You hesitated before nodding, “I didn’t stab you anywhere that will cause a lot of damage, okay? I’m going to call 911, and by the time they get here, Richie and I will be done, and you’ll be saved.”

“I feel really dizzy,” you cried out, Amber’s hand wrapping around your mouth so you couldn’t make anymore noise to draw attention to yourself.

“You’re going to pass out soon. You’re losing a lot of blood,” she said, before the rest of her words sounded muffled, your vision completely fading.

She was right, you were saved. You woke up in your hospital bed the next day, and learned that Amber and Richie didn’t survive. You were devastated, but you knew the one person you could talk to that would understand your pain.

You unblocked Ethan’s number and called him. You could hear the tears in his voice as he answered. When he found out that you’d been a part of everything, he was mad at first, screaming at you until his voice was raw. He eventually heard you out, mainly because he had no voice to speak, and learned that you had nothing to do with what happened to Richie. The two of you decided that the Carpenter sisters needed to pay for taking away your loved ones.

You fake-smiled when Sam and Tara walked into your hospital room a little later in the day.

“Someone’s doing better,” Sam said, pushing Tara up beside you before taking a seat at the foot of your hospital bed.

“Yeah, I’m on a lot of good drugs,” you laughed, as Sam and Tara exchanged their glances. “What?” you asked, feeling like there was something they knew and you didn’t.

“Richie and Amber were, uh…” Tara said, looking over to her sister for help.

“They were what?” you asked, turning your attention to Sam as well.

“Your girlfriend and my boyfriend were together,” she said, a stoic look on her face. “We were both getting cheated on by psychos.”

You were livid that Sam was talking about her like that, but you felt a little hurt. You and Amber always promised that if you were going to see other people in your relationship, you’d let the other person know. A few tears started to slip out as Tara offered you the box of tissues on the bedside table.

“Thanks,” you said, grabbing a couple out of the box before Tara sat it back down. “How do you guys feel about getting the fuck out of here? Like, once Tara and I graduate?”

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asked, thinking that it might not be the worst idea.

“I think we should go to New York. I grew up there, and I really think you guys would like it,” you smiled, as Tara nodded.

“Fuck it, let’s start looking into schools. After you get out of here, of course.”

You called Ethan, squealing in excitement when you and all your friends got their acceptance letters. That’s when the plan was officially set into motion, with the help of Quinn and his dad. Having a detective on your side of things was going to heavily benefit the outcome of everything, and you couldn’t wait to make the people that took Amber from you pay for what they’d done.

Once you started school, you were ‘introduced’ to Ethan. No one could know that the two of you already knew each other in attempts to not ruin the plan before you got to do any damage. Fortunately for the two of you, when you immediately hit it off and seemed to have your own little inside jokes, they chalked it up to young love.

You weren’t official with Ethan for a while, until your “Friends’” constant nagging about it convinced you to give him the chance he wanted. Once you found out that poor boy was a virgin, and you helped him out with that, he was wrapped around your finger. He worshipped the ground you walked on and would do anything you asked him to. The only thing he hated was when you brought up Amber. He hated that she got you first.

The night Ghostface “killed” Quinn and actually killed Anika, you were waiting in the alley on the opposite side of the building for your boyfriend to finish what he went in there to do. You were both supposed to be in econ, but you were his alibi. They’d never suspect you, so they could never suspect Ethan if you said you were with him in class.

He was stripping off the robe as he bolted down the fire escape. He tossed it down to you, and you quickly put it in your backpack as he joined you to walk in a normal pace towards the alley exit at the back of the building.

“How was it?” you asked, smiling at him.

“God, baby. It was the biggest rush. I wish you could’ve been in there with me,” he said, pulling you into a kiss once you made it onto the sidewalk.

“I’m so proud of you. You’re doing such a good job for me,” you praised, ruffling your fingers in his hair a little as he started to pull away. “I can’t wait to make the others pay for what they did to Amber.”

He huffed, his irritation at the mention of her name obvious as you cocked your eyebrow at him. “Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, I do. I was so excited about what just happened, but then you mention your stupid fucking ex. I feel like she’s all you care about,” he said, his angry tone and harsh remarks about Amber pissing you off. “We’re in this together, remember? Me and you?”

“Yeah, and your dad, and Quinn.”

He started to walk away from you, heading towards his dorm. You followed him, trying to keep up with his pace.  

“Quit acting like such a brat,” you said, a few feet behind him on the otherwise empty sidewalk.

“Quit being such a bitch,” he muttered, but the second those words left his mouth, he knew he was in trouble. You quickened your pace, slamming him against the brick wall the second you made it to him.

“What did you call me?” you asked, his eyes going wide at the lust in your tone. He stayed silent, just watching you. “Huh, nothing to say now?” you scoffed, “You know I’m in charge here, baby.”

You pulled away, smiling sweetly at him as you took his hand in yours.

The walk back to the dorm was silent because Ethan knew what he was in for. He was excited, but also nervous. The few scenarios where he did decide to get mouthy with you ended in him being edged to the point of tears, begging you to finally let him cum. He was hard at the thought, but he was always scared you’d just walk away and not let him get the release he needed.

Once you made it inside the dorm he shared with Chad, you knew you had plenty of time to be alone with him. Chad probably wasn’t coming back for the night, but you knew you’d have to get back home at some point.

“Take your clothes off,” you said to Ethan, the stern tone in your voice making him comply. You watched him shed each article of clothing and smirked when you saw the tent in his boxers once he removed his jeans. “Aww, baby. Did you get hard from killing someone? Or was it me pushing you against the wall earlier?” you cooed, as he slid his boxers down, his cock standing at attention in from of you.

“It’s because of you,” he said, his arms resting at his sides as he waited for you to tell him what to do next.

“That was the right answer,” you smiled, “Lay back on the bed.”

He did what you said, watching you intently. You walked over to him, and started to stroke his cock that was resting against his tummy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, before you leaned down and took him in your mouth. He thought you were going to take it easy on him tonight, until you pulled your head away after a minute, his cock drenched in your spit. “Babe,” he whined out.

You rolled your eyes at his neediness. “I want you to grab your cock and start stroking, baby.”

He did what you said, your saliva making his hand glide up and down with ease. After a few minutes, he started to whine.

“This doesn’t feel as good as when you do it,” he whimpered, the tip of his cock turning red as he tried to get himself to cum.

“Well, that’s too bad, baby. What was it that you called me?” you fake-pondered, your pointer finger going in between your teeth, “Oh that’s right. I’m a bitch.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said, his eyes pleading for you to touch him again. You noticed his hand was no longer moving.

“Did I say you could stop?” you questioned, as his hand movements started back up. “Good boy.” He whined at your words, his hand moving faster. “Do you want me to keep praising you, baby?”

He nodded his head as he kept going.

“You did such a good job tonight. You know how wet you made me when you killed her?” you said, your sadistic side on full display. “I’m so proud of you for doing whatever I ask you to.”

You noticed he was starting to get close, his hand moving even faster and his heaving chest, along with his whimpers making it obvious. Just as he was about to cum, you stopped him.

“Don’t you fucking cum,” you scolded, his hand coming to a stop as he started to whine even more from the lost orgasm.

“I needed it so bad,” he begged, as you shook your head.

“I don’t know if you deserve to cum. Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to call me names…” you trailed off, as he started to get really frustrated.

“I wouldn’t have called you that if you wouldn’t have brought her up,” he snapped, your eyes getting dark at his words.

“Hmm, I think someone’s a little insecure. Are you worried that she fucked me better than you do?” you questioned, “Because I don’t know what other reason you have to be jealous of someone that’s dead.”

“Stop talking about her,” he said, growing furious at the thought of you having sex with someone else.

“You are just too cute,” you said, slipping your shirt over your head. “I can’t believe that you think you’re going to have the upper hand in this, ya know? Like you really think that I’m going to stop talking about her. I loved her, Ethan.”

His eyes stayed on you as you continued to strip out of your clothes,

“What? Cat got your tongue, baby? You have nothing to say?” you asked, sliding your panties down. “Even if you did, I know the perfect way to shut you up.”

You crawled up on the bed, your knees right beside his head as you swung your leg over to straddle his face.

“You better make me cum, or you don’t get to cum. Got it?” you asked, as he nodded before you lowered yourself.

His tongue gently moved against your clit at first. He knew just how you liked it, so he wanted to pace himself. Once he started to lick a little faster, your hands went down to his curls as you really started to ride his face.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you moaned out, his hands going to your hips as he helped you move against his mouth.

You whimpered when his tongue dipped inside you, the muscle massaging your walls as he ate you out. Once he could tell you were getting close, he lifted your hips a little to focus on your clit again. The second he sucked it into his mouth, you started to feel your orgasm building. You gripped the headboard to keep yourself stable, your hands and legs starting to shake.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whined out, one hand staying on the headboard as your other went back to his hair. You were tugging at it as that euphoric feeling hit, his groaning from your pulling making the orgasm more intense. He kept your hips moving until you rode out your high, your body getting a little tired from the release.

You got off his face as he tried to catch his breath. He was anticipating what you’d do next, because he made you cum, and he was hoping you’d keep up your end of the deal. You didn’t say anything as you straddled his waist and lined his cock leaking precum with your entrance. He groaned out when you sank down, the feeling making his brain turn to mush.

You started slowly; your hands placed on his chest as you took your time. He was desperate for more, but you weren’t going to give in that easily.

“You aren’t so cocky now, are you? You little bitch.” You put extra emphasis on that word because that’s what he called you, and he needed to know his place. He glared at you as you continued to take your time with him.

Whimpers flooded out of his mouth when you started to bounce on him, his cock almost completely out of you before you sank back down onto him. His hands went to your hips to help you keep your pace feeling like he was finally getting somewhere. He started to babble, his words sounding like ‘I fucking love your pussy’. You smirked at his current state.

“Look at you, so drunk off my pussy that you can’t even talk,” you said, your breathing getting heavy as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot. “Are you okay, sweet boy?”

He started to whimper again, his orgasm quickly approaching. You decided to let him cum, as you leaned forward, your chest almost pressed against his. He gripped your hips harder as he started to thrust up into you, your hips rolling back to meet each one.

Your orgasm was right on the edge, your walls starting to flutter a little. He was trying so hard to get you through another one before he came.

“Fuck, baby. I’m cumming,” you moaned out, as his whines got even louder. Your walls spasmed around him, making his breath hitch in his throat.

The skin slapping and his sounds were bouncing around the room as he kept pounding into you.

“Can I please cum?” he begged, praying that you’d say yes.

You were proud of him for using his words that he hadn’t been able to form. “Yes, baby.”

He whimpered out as his hot cum painted your walls, his grip on your hips getting shaky as he slowed your movements.

“Holy fuck,” he said, his hands rubbing against your back as his cock stayed inside of you.

You listened to his heartbeat as you got out of your dominating headspace, starting to feel a little bad.

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much. I really loved her,” you mumbled against his chest.

“I guess I just feel like I’m always coming in second place to her,” he sighed, sadness in his voice.

“You aren’t, though. I think we would’ve ended up together one way or another,” you laughed a little as he kissed the top of your head.

“After we’re done with all of this, can we just focus on us?” he asked, as you nodded against him.

You laid there for a few more minutes, before remembering that you needed to head back to the apartment.

“I have to go, baby,” you said, sitting up. He groaned as you slid him out of you.

“Do you have to?” he asked, wanting nothing more than for you to stay in his bed with him a little longer.

“If we want this plan to work, then yes,” you said, noticing his cum dripping down your inner thighs as you tried to grab your clothes off the floor. “You came a lot, fuck.”

You grabbed some tissues and wiped it from your thighs before you started to put your clothes back on. He started to laugh a little as you glanced over to him. “What?”

“My cum is going to keep dripping out of you,” he said, as you rolled your eyes.

“Lucky for you, I think it’s hot. It’s a nice little reminder of how good I made you feel,” you said with a smile. “I love you, baby,” you said, kissing him before grabbing your purse and rushing out of the room.

“I love you, too.”

You’d almost made it to the apartment when you noticed all the flashing lights up ahead and could see Mindy and Chad sitting on the sidewalk.

“What’s going on?” you asked, looking around to see the black tarp covering a body in the alley.

“Anika,” was all that Tara could say, before Sam spoke up, “And Quinn. Our apartment is a crime scene right now.”

“Oh my god,” you said, turning on your crocodile tears as you looked over to Mindy. “I’m so sorry.”

“Was Ethan in class tonight?” she asked coldly, her question catching you off guard.

“Yeah, he was sitting beside me the whole time. Then we went back to his dorm for a little bit before I came home,” you lied, as she started to shake her head.

“None of this makes any fucking sense.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #scream #smut #Ghostface!Ethan Landry

[nerys-nerie]

Ethan Landry x MILF!Reader

Would you look at that it’s my yearly post, anyway.

Warnings: Mentions of Masturbation, Ethan being a stalker(what’s new?), I’m not sure if that’s it. I gave you a last name. It’s your husbands.

And I’m already writing a part two, with smut, so I’ll post that soon. This is for those people that told me they would like to read this. I’m not about to edge them so here it is.

I tried not to make it long because someone said not to like the last one.

————————————

Ethan heard a knock at the door. It was you. You were standing there with the food you’d just made for his family. You grinned when you saw him.

“Ethan, it’s so good to see you. How’s college going?” You asked kindly while walking in the door.

“It’s good.” He hoped you couldn’t hear the nerves in his voice.

“Good, good.” You rubbed his arm and walked to the dining room to his mother. You gave her a big hug and set your dishes down near hers.

Ethan watched the interaction with a small huff. He couldn’t believe after all these years he still couldn’t talk to you like a normal person.

You were his neighbor, well more than that. You were his middle school infatuation that led to his high school obsession and the current love of his life. You also happened to be his mom’s best friend, with two kids, and a husband. And you were about to enter your thirties.

It wasn’t his fault your curves just called to him. The way you walked, talked, and even the way you breathed had him hard. He could just smell your perfume and he suddenly found himself in a private setting pumping his cock to you.

He’s only ever looked at someone else when he was drunk and they kind of looked like you. It was so embarrassing for him when he was drunk and making out with a girl. He said your name so desperately that even in the girl’s drunken state she knew it wasn’t her he lusted for.

He apologized to her profusely but still, that's as far as they went. That’s as far as he’s ever gone. Ethan doesn’t exactly have the best luck with women so the man was still a virgin.

Ethan suddenly remembered he needed to put the pictures of you that were on his bed currently needed to go back under his bed. Yes, pictures. Not all of them are dirty ones, some are just you walking to get the mail. The dirty ones are from you accidentally leaving the curtain open when you were getting dressed.

Sometimes the little shit would notice you and your husband about to get freaky so he would knock on the door and ask about something only you would know. He was a constant cockblock if he could help it.

He watched you talking to his dad. He was always watching you. He watched as your husband placed his hand on the small of your back and how your little boys clung to your legs.

His father looked at him for a moment. Bailey pointed everyone’s attention to Ethan and began to brag about how good his grades were in college.

“It’s nothing.” Ethan shrugged and tried to look at his dad but his eyes were always on you.

“Don’t downplay your achievements.” You leaned out and touched his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “You should be proud of yourself.”

Your husband didn’t say much, he just stared down your shirt. He looked up and saw Ethan staring at him. He smiled at the boy politely.

“I’ll try not to [Name].” Ethan accidentally lets your name slip.

“Mrs. Sharp.” His mother corrects him.

“No, no it’s fine. [Name] is fine. Mrs. Sharp makes me feel so old.” Your eyebrows furrow as you beam at him.

“You’re not old.” Mr. Sharp insists.

Ethan would’ve said it too if your old husband didn’t beat him to it. Your husband had to be at least ten years older than you. He couldn’t protect you if someone broke into the house. He’d take too long to get off his ventilator. The curly-haired boy prays Mr. Sharp would need a ventilator soon so that statement would be true. Ethan on the other hand could protect you, kill for you.. hell, he’d die for you if it meant you’d kiss his cold lips before he left this world.

You look at your husband and kiss his cheek. “He has to say that or I’ll divorce him.” Your face hurt from smiling and laughing at old people's jokes.

You wished you could go home and sleep. God, you were so tired. It was hard raising two boys basically by yourself. Not to mention you and your husband weren’t exactly the happy couple you pretended to be. You had a huge argument right before this while you were stressing about cooking.

“Let’s eat.” Officer Bailey stated suddenly. It wasn’t suddenly you had just zoned out for a bit.

You put back on your polite face instead of your dissociative one and sat down to eat. Ethan made sure to sit right next to you. Your husband was on one side of you and Ethan on the other.

His father noticed that.

One of your sons looked around. (I am not naming your kids so get used to thing one and thing two.) “Mommy, where are the eggs?”

You looked around for a moment and noticed you’d forgotten the deviled eggs at your house. Your head was placed in one of your hands as you let out a disappointed sigh at yourself.

Your husband looked at you sharply, silently telling you to straighten up.

Ethan noticed that and placed a hand on one of your thighs. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine. I just forgot about the deviled eggs at home. I’ll go get them. You guys can start without me.” You start to stand up to leave.

“Do you want help?” Ethan asked and reached out for your arm with a soft touch.

“I’ll help her.” Mr. Sharp gives Ethan a stiff smile.

“Thank you, dear.” You say with another cheek-hurting grin. Fake, of course. You’d rather not be left alone with him.

Ethan stares as the happy couple leaves. His mom, dad, Richie, and Quinn seem none the wiser about it. They’re just stuffing their faces.

“Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.” Ethan gets up and pretends to go upstairs before making a beeline to the front door. He could hear shouting already when he stepped off of his family’s freshly cut lawn.

He peeked into the window. Why were you crying? Ethan saw red. Your hand was bleeding and you were trying to clean it at the sink while your husband just huffed. He took a swig of alcohol in a finely cute glass.

Your house looked expensive and so did everything inside it. It looked like one of those magazines with everything modern on the inside.

Ethan watched as you picked up broken glass from the floor as you cried. Your crying only seemed to annoy your husband further. Ethan didn’t realize how tired you looked before when you were all smiles and laughs. Now with your face frowning and crestfallen he could tell.

He felt the need to comfort you above all else. Your tears made him frown too, but they also filled him with rage.

Mr. Sharp decides he’s had enough of your crying and picks up the deviled eggs you’d made and starts taking them over. Ethan quickly hid so he wouldn’t be seen.

Once he had walked past Ethan, Ethan decided that he needed to comfort you. He knocked on the door that was left half open by your husband slamming it.

You looked up at who entered the door. It was Ethan. You wiped your tears away when you made eye contact so he wouldn’t see you crying. You gave him a big smile. “Hey, what’re you doing here? Couldn’t wait for the deviled eggs so you had to get them yourself?” It was a shitty attempt at a joke you knew that.

Ethan kneeled in front of you and grabbed your bleeding hand. “[Name].”

Your bottom lip wobbled when he said your name. Ethan couldn’t take it anymore seeing your sad face. He hugged you.

You took some deep breaths but eventually ended up crying into his chest. It had been a very long week for you. Long marriage really.

He didn’t shush you he just stroked your back and hair. You couldn’t see his face but it was holding a silent rage.

Ever since he was young you would take care of him. When he fell over on his bike and scraped his knee in front of your house when he was fourteen. You came out and put a bandaid on him. You ruffled his hair and gave him a quick peck on his forehead. You treated him with such care when he was a teenager.

Another time when he got arrested after he was pulled over and had alcohol in his car when he was sixteen, you were there to pick him up. His parents were too angry and wanted him to stay in jail for a night before they picked him up. You felt so bad you bailed him out as soon as you were told. In your mind, Ethan was a good kid who had made a bad decision. You let him stay over that night and baked him cookies.

There were more times he could remember but the one thing he kept noticing in all these happy memories was that your husband wasn’t in them. He used to go on long work trips when he didn’t get airsick and his heart didn’t give him problems. What if he took your husband out of the equation? Permanently.

He’d have to be smart about it. He’d have to get away with it. He could wear a mask. Like the mask and costume, Richie has in his shrine. That’s a Ghostface costume though… Ghostface wouldn’t just kill one person. He’d have to kill multiple people before your husband for it to seem like the serial killer was back. He could do that if it meant you were free. Ethan found himself not even feeling guilty as he made a random list of people he could kill for you.

—————————

Please don’t hate this <3

Have nice day!!! 😊

(I don’t know how to tag people. Sorry.)

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #scream iv

[glitteringmoonlight]

In my time in the MDZS fandom, I’ve seen people use Wei Wuxian dismissing the bathtub scene with “it’s normal for men to be like this sometimes” as evidence that he’s oblivious, but none of it ever takes into account the context of that dialogue.

First off, the quote from Chapter 96 is this:

Wei WuXian only put on one boot before continuing, “But you don’t have to feel too apologetic either. Uh, it’s normal for men to be like this sometimes. Please...don’t take it too seriously.”

Here’s the thing: Wei Wuxian doesn’t truly believe what he’s saying here! He’s saying what he thinks he needs to say to salvage their friendship! He thinks his confession has just been rejected and that he’s provoked Lan Wangji into doing something that he didn’t really want to do

[Side note, I’m using the ExR translation (with the exception of one scene, where I use multiple translations) because at the time this post was begun, it was the only fully translated version of these chapters I could find]

The sequence of events are as follows:

1. Wei Wuxian tries to express his feelings 

Wei WuXian, “I have to tell you something.” He breathed lightly before speaking, “Lan Zhan, thank you.”

With thousands of words, there was nowhere to start. If he didn’t meet Lan WangJi when he came back, Wei WuXian didn’t know what he’d be like right now. In reality, even if he roamed around alone, it wouldn’t necessarily be that bad. But no matter what, he believed that nothing would be better than this.

Unfortunately, he didn’t notice that after Lan WangJi heard this, his body froze slightly. 

The surging heat finally began to retreat. Wei WuXian’s head was still dizzy as he rambled on, “In these two lives, you’ve helped me a lot. I know you’re... really nice to me. You’re really great! Apart from thank you, I don’t know what else to say to you... Anyways, towards you, I feel... I feel...”

He’s trying so hard to convey his feelings that he doesn’t realize that as soon as Lan Wangji hears the words ‘thank you’, he thinks Wei Wuxian slept with him out of gratitude. So on one hand, we have Wei Wuxian sincerely trying to confess his feelings, while on the other hand, Lan Wangji believes that Wei Wuxian only slept with him because he feels grateful to him, not because he actually wanted to. That leads to,

2. Lan Wangji pushes Wei Wuxian away

But this wasn’t the point at all. Wei WuXian had never confessed like this to anyone before. Even someone whose face was as thick as his felt a bit embarrassed. He could only first pick a few random things to say. Just as he was thinking how to explain himself to make it sound sincere and serious when Lan WangJi suddenly pushed him away.

Now, we as readers know the reason for Lan Wangji pushing Wei Wuxian away, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t. Wei Wuxian is yet to realize that Lan Wangji has a thing about being thanked. That realization only happens later, in Chapter 111.

Wei WuXian looked at him, “Lan Zhan, you’re really scared of me telling you ‘thank you’, aren’t you? I suddenly remembered. Many of the times we parted ways in my past life, I said ‘thank you’ to you right before. And every time we separated, I worsened the next time we met.”

The time they killed Wen Chao and Wen ZhuLiu at the courier station, the time they met each other through the flowers at the tower in Yunmeng, the time they parted at Yiling’s Burial Mound. Every time, he used the word to mark a clear line between him and Lan WangJi, stretching out the distance between them.

With a long while of silence, Lan WangJi replied, “Between you and me, there is no need for ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’.”

At this point, to Wei Wuxian, the only reasonable conclusion to make about Lan Wangji pushing him aside when he’s trying to confess his feelings is that Lan Wangji doesn’t return his feelings. Worse, that he has taken advantage of a drunk Lan Wangji. (Many people have already pointed out that Lan Wangji has already sobered up by the time they have sex, but again, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know that!) 

This is Wei Wuxian’s immediate reaction.

Although Wei WuXian didn’t know when he woke up, now that he was awake, Lan WangJi’s reaction meant that one thing was clear: he didn’t want to continue what they were doing. He didn’t want to listen to Wei WuXian finish what he was saying, either.

A little later, he thinks

That the most disciplined person would throw tantrums, hit people, mess about after he was drunk, meant that Lan WangJi’s drunken actions weren’t self-controlled. And, even though Wei WuXian knew this, he still took advantage of the easy manipulation, purposely provoking him and leading him to do what he wanted. 

[...]

This situation clearly verified the worst possibility. Lan WangJi was indeed very nice towards him, but... it probably wasn’t the kind of nice he hoped for.

He already knows and acknowledges that Lan Wangji treats him in a special way! In fact, he was hoping that it meant Lan Wangji reciprocated his feelings, but he didn’t know for sure. The fact that Lan Wangji pushes him away when he starts to confess solidifies for him that Lan Wangji does not reciprocate his feelings. Which finally leads to

3. Wei Wuxian apologizes for taking advantage of Lan Wangji and tries to reassure him by saying ‘it’s normal for men to be like this sometimes’

It’s made clear that Wei Wuxian is trying to assure Lan Wangji that it’s normal because he doesn’t want his feelings (that he believes are not reciprocated) to ruin their friendship.

Originally, Wei WuXian thought that compared to having his feelings be found out and them become so awkward they couldn’t even be friends, he’d much rather have Lan WangJi feel that he was a cheap, flippant person instead. But right now, he began to regret saying those idiotic things without thinking about them first. He whispered, “... I’m sorry.”

The text literally specifies that he says what he says because he thought it would be better for Lan Wangji to think that he was a “cheap and flippant person” than ruin their friendship! He does not actually believe what he’s saying! That’s also why Wei Wuxian’s confession in the Guanyin Temple begins with “Back then, I really wanted to sleep with you”. 

For more clarity, this line has also been translated as

He had only said it as an offhanded comment, but unexpectedly, Wei Wuxian came to the realization: "You're not wrong."

"Lan Zhan! Lan Wangji! Hanguang-jun! I—Earlier I—slept with you because I genuinely wanted to!"

  — spicychickenyang’s translation

and

He had only been thinking out loud. Little did he expect Wei WuXian to suddenly go, “You’re right.”

With that, Wei WuXian proceeded to shout at the top of his lungs, “Lan Zhan! Lan WangJi! Earlier, I—I truly wanted to sleep with you!”

  — Chapter 100, boat-full-of-lotus-pods translation

 Now that Lan Xichen’s monologue has revealed that Lan Wangji does return his feelings (and probably because he has been able to connect all the times he said ‘thank you’ to Lan Wangji with negative reactions from Lan Wangji), Wei Wuxian immediately figures out why Lan Wangji reacted the way he did and clarifies it.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wwx is not oblivious #wwx does not actually believe he has no feelings for lwj after they have sex #it is precisely /because/ he does have feelings for lwj and knows it #(and believes that lwj does not reciprocate) #that he says what he does

[misstycloud]

Yandere Slasher

Yandere!slasher who is your long term boyfriend of five years and absolutely loves you to death. He can’t imagine himself with someone else.

Yandere!slasher who has a secret hobby, something he can’t tell you or he’s sure you’d leave him. It is rather….different after all.

Yandere!slasher who reassures you that nothing bad will happen to you, like those other kids you often see in TV. He wouldn’t be entirely truthful if he didn’t say he enjoyed the moments when you tremble in anxiousness and he could be there to comfort you.

Yandere!slasher who has teamed up with another student of his collage to kill the people going there. But he has of course made sure the guy knows you’re off-limits. Otherwise, he’d find himself next to be on the news.

Yandere!slasher who knows you’d be horrified and heartbroken if you realised it was him all along who was causing this havoc, your sweet lovely boyfriend. So that’s why he needs to make sure no one will ever get the chance to snitch.

Yandere!slasher who got a real scare when one of their victims nearly got away while having accidentally seen his face. In a struggle they had managed to rip off his mask for just a second, but it was enough to connect to dots. Luckily he succeeded in getting rid off them before they could tell anybody.

Yandere!slasher who hates imagining your reaction to his special fun, he couldn’t help it though, something in him wouldn’t let him stop. It told him to continue. This thing had been in his mind as long as he could remember; growing as he did, getting stronger. The only person he didn’t feel this way towards was you. You, his darling little girlfriend.

Yandere!slasher who gets a fine opportunity to do some killing, because for some stupid reason decided to host a party despite the recent increase in murders- like what? How dumb can you be? They’re basically asking for it, the killer laughed. A house full of unsuspecting and intoxicated teenagers; it’s perfect.

Yandere!slasher who is surprised and a little nervous when you tell him you want to attend the party, even when you preferred staying in your dorm ever since teens had started turning up dead. Apparently your friends had convinced you to go anyway, they thought you needed to loosen up a little and could use some fun.

Yandere!slasher who let’s you go, but initially tries to talk you out of it; reminding you how jittery you’d been the last weeks. He didn’t manage to persuade you and went together with you. He was gonna go anyway but wanted to convince you that he had work that night and would come by later, after slaughtering his victims.

Yandere!slasher who with reluctance made sure you were knocked out on the couch. When he began his atrocities a lot of people had already started making their way home, and there wasn’t too many inside the house. The ones still there became his victims for the night.

Yandere!slasher who quietly slips away unnoticed to put on his disguise and curses his partner for dissing him without warning for the night and let’s him do it himself.

Yandere!slasher who knew no one would pay attention to his actions because of the raging alcohol and drugs. Which was good, it only gave him the advantage.

Yandere!slasher who has a chase with his prey through the house. When they notice you laying on the couch, they take you for a drunk who doesn’t have the capacity to run away. Distressed they choose to be a good person and tries to wake you up by shouting and shaking you, but ultimately fails.

Yandere!slasher who somehow lost sight of the victim. He wanted to punch himself, how could he let one escape! Then he realises that he hadn’t failed, because he suddenly hears loud screams from downstairs.

Yandere!slasher who immediately becomes aware of their intentions. They were trying to wake you up! Regardless of his intervention, he wasn’t sure you wouldn’t wake in case of someone screaming their lungs out right beside you.

Yandere!slasher who rushes downstairs and quickly ends it, with no conscience to their crying. It doesn’t matter how much they beg, it won’t change anything.

Yandere!slasher who winces when he sees that some dirt has splattered on your shirt. He then picks you up in his muscles arms before bringing you back to your dorm.

Yandere!slasher who hides his costume well and takes off your shirt, quickly throwing it in the laundry. What would you say if you discovered that stain? It’d undoubtedly raise questions. Tomorrow when the bodies were found, he didn’t want the police to suspect you if you turned up with blood on your shirt.

Yandere!slasher who cuddles you until you groggily open your eyes. You ask him what you were doing home, the last thing you remembered was being at the party. Your boyfriend tells you that you drank a little too much and ended up passing out, that he then carried you home pretty early.

“I’m worried, what if I’m the next victim-or worse, what if the killer targets you?”>

<“Whoever it is they won’t be able to lay a single hand on me, and not you either. Trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?”>

<“I just know….”

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #toxic #yandere oc #bad relationships #yandere #short story #possesive #yandere boyfriend #slasher #horror #scream inspired #slasher yandere #slasher boyfriend #yandere slasher boyfriend #yandere slasher #serial killer #murder #killer #killer boyfriend #killer yandere #yandere killer #yandere serial killer #victims #girlfriend reader #collage #party #headcanon #HC

[shiggybrainr0t]

you only smile like that when you’re drinking

warnings: drinking, blood, self harm (it’s shiggy scratching)

it’s not hard to find dabi in the haze of smoke and rambunctious men and women surrounding you. you just follow the lingering smell of burnt flesh to the bar, and find him right where you knew he’d be-slumped over the sticky bar side with his hand loosely around a glass wet with condensation. a heavy feeling takes over you as he turns around quickly, like he could sense your presence.

your heart contracts whenever he sees you, because he smiles so big you’re afraid the staples on his cheeks will split. you rarely see that smile, so carefree and unburdened by his life’s mission of destroying everything he once loved. you quicken your pace to him as he cheerfully calls your name, drawing unwanted attention to yourself from the people surrounding him.

when you reach him, he pulls you into his arms clumsily, making you recoil at the sharp smell of liquor that surrounds him like mildly priced cologne. pulling back to look at him more closely, you frown when you notice drying blood under his nose. you lick your thumb and wipe at it, and the sudden thought that you act more like a mother than a girlfriend sometimes hits you.

dabi laughs loudly, before proudly stating “he hit me first but i hit back harder. I burned him a little-“ seeing your frown deepen he hurries on, gripping at your hips tightly. “I only burnt him a little! I didn’t kill him, because I know you don’t like that. I did good, yeah?”

he leans forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, the barstool he’s sitting on having him at the perfect height to do so. you push him upright, and help him off the barstool, knees almost crumpling when you have to support his body weight.

“let’s get you home.”

“hmmmmm, our home~”

you don’t reply to that, but dabi is too out of it to notice. the run down bar where the league stays at is thankfully only a short walk away. whenever you reach the broken door, dabi finally seems to notice where you’ve taken him and he makes a confused sound.

“this isn’t home.”

he means your apartment, where you’ve already cleaned out all of his stuff and taken it to the headquarters earlier that evening, toga and twice watching you come in and out somberly.

“it is for tonight, dabi.”

“no, no- not dabi. not with you. ‘m touya with you. I love you.”

if you called him touya any time other than when he was drunk, you’d be afraid that he would burn everything you own. but drunk dabi is the most honest dabi.

dragging him inside, it’s only shigaraki sitting at the bar. he glances at you from under his hood, and gives you a nod before turning back around. the scratching sound of him going at his wrist is the somber music that guides you down the hall to dabi’s room, the room he hasn’t slept in for months.

dabi falls to the bed, failing to notice the boxes littering the room. before you can stop him, he pulls you down into his arms, once again engulfing you in the smell of hour old alcohol and sizzling flesh. he’s warm, but he always is whenever he holds you. his grip borders on painful when you try to get up.

“where are you going? we always sleep together. stay with me. stay, stay, stay-“ his rambling gets slower and more drowsy the longer it goes on, and soon enough he’s asleep. you brush hair out of his face tenderly, stroking the locks fried from being dyed so often, before kissing him on the forehead and walking away. shigaraki isn’t at the bar whenever you leave.

when dabi wakes up the next morning, his head is pounding and he doesn’t remember what happened the night before. he goes to rub his eyes and winces whenever his fingers hit his sore nose. he looks around for you, comfortable in the fact that you’re never far.

it’s only when he sees the multiple cardboard boxes in his room that his heart starts to pound. his mind hasn’t caught on yet, but he knows something isn’t right. the first box he opens has a polaroid you took of the two you on a night months ago on top of raggedy sweatshirts. you’ve got your face smooshed up against his, and dabi looks disgruntled but he remembers the warm feeling he had whenever you turned to kiss him on the cheek.

as he opens the other boxes, he finds all the personal items he had slowly brought over to your apartment. he finds the stuffed teddy he broke into a claw machine to get for you whenever you couldn’t win it and clutches it tightly in his fist. everything is here- except the most important thing. you.

a cold shoulder at closing time,

you were begging me to stay ‘till the sun rose.

strange words come on out of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broke.

pictures and passin’ time,

you only smile like that when you’re drinking.

#title and lyrics at the end from #Zach Bryan’s I remember everything #mat’s writing #dabi #dabi angst #dabi fanfic #dabi fanfiction #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi todoroki #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #bnha dabi #dabi x you #touya x y/n #touya headcanons #mha touya #touya todoroki #mha #touya x reader #bnha touya #my hero acedamia #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero imagines #my hero academia headcanons #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x reader #my hero academia #angst

[batrogers]

Febuwhump Day 20: Truth Serum

Fandom: Linked Universe

Approx 1300 words

Rated T for alcohol consumption and mature themes (politics and violence, not sex)

(References a lot of my own backstory ideas for the boys from other headcanon posts I've made, and other writing.)

In which the Chain tries to relax, and a few lips get too loose.

“Frankly some of you should be grateful you don’t have a Queen,” Twilight said, and Link leaned back in his chair and reconsidered if he really wanted to keep up with the amount of liquor the others were having.

They were already a pitcher of arkhi and two bottles of wine down, most of which had gone into the older men’s glasses. Link was drinking, but he’d been drinking kumis and beer most of his life because the water wasn’t safe. It was getting better, slowly – as far as he could tell, monarchy and Hyrule seemed to make the world repair itself when they were aligned – but that wasn’t Twilight’s experience.

Wasn’t the rest, either.

“Why not?” Wind retorted.

“A queen’s at least better than a King,” Time said. He spoke over the smaller boy, his chair tilted back and a small smile on his face as he looked into his nearly empty cup.

“There’s no reason a Queen’s better than a king. Rusl doesn’t trust her, and he did know the old King.”

Link frowned. “Is it usually a King causing problems for all of us?” he asked. It was true a King had been why the younger Zelda was put into a centuries long sleep, but...

“King Daphnes did what he could to save Hyrule,” Wind insisted.

“I know King Rhoam was trying...” Wild added.

Warriors – sitting between Twilight and Time, and Link was beginning to suspect this was for the best – chuckled. “We haven’t had a King in a long time, but everyone does say it was a Queen that set us up for where we are now.”

Time raised his eyebrow. “That sounds like a bad thing.”

“Oh, it is.”

Link looked desperately at the bar. Legend and Sky were getting more food for their table, but they’d gotten caught up talking and didn’t seem likely to return soon, but by all the Gods Link hoped they would before this got any further.

“I told you,” Twilight continued. “A Queen isn’t better!”

“Does your Zelda know you think that?” Four asked.

“Yes!”

Time burst into laughter. “I imagine she takes that well.”

Twilight slapped one hand on the table. “She doesn’t have to take it well. It’s not like she can argue, they haven’t found the path into the castle grounds.”

“Is your Rusl one of the Sheikah?” Warriors asked, and Link rapidly tried to remember who the Sheikah even were. Judging by the look on Wild’s face, this was bad.

“No. Why?” Twilight made a face. “The Sheikah nearly died out, their village was destroyed.”

“Did the Royal Family kill them off?” Time asked.

Wild put his face in his hands. “Hylia’s fucking tits,” he muttered and pushed his chair back from the table. He got up, and the other three didn’t even notice. Wind followed. Four, seated next to him, continued to watch with a look of near fascination. Link was pretty sure he was drunk as well, given his size.

“Why would you guess that?” Twilight retorted.

Time shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. As if there was nothing unusual at all about his guess. As if he wasn’t about the say the worst thing Link could imagine: “I’ve seen what they did for the Royal Family.”

Warriors reached for the pitcher of wine again, and Link debated if he should take it away before they dug the hole deeper. “For them or to them?”

“For them.” Time blinked and offered his cup. “Why would you ask about what they did to them?”

“Zelda spent nearly four months not revealing herself again in case Impa was working with the Witches to try and kill her. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the Sheikah killed a King.”

Link’s throat caught, but that, of course, was the moment Legend and Sky returned. He waved for them to sit down and Legend shut his mouth on the obvious question and laid down the basket of bread before sitting to whisper in his ear.

“What the fuck are they talking about?”

Link swallowed. “Their royal families and the Sheikah, now.”

Time, unhelpfully, laughed again. “Did someone start telling that story then?”

“What story?” Sky asked.

“That it was a Sheikah who killed the King.” Time took a long drink and wiped his mouth. “I mean, I know Twilight comes after me so I suppose the distrust of the Royal Family would stick after what Zelda’s father did.”

“What did he do?” Legend asked. He looked like he wanted to regret it immediately, but stuck it out and kept his face even.

Time stared blindly into his cup and shrugged. “He tried to change Hyrule to suit himself. He killed Zelda’s mother and sisters and left her alive thinking she couldn’t inherit the goddess’ blood because he considered her a son. He was wrong, obviously.”

“Didn’t you say he was still alive?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, he is, but he can’t do anything.” Time gestured broadly with his glass, drunk enough he nearly spilled. “Zelda would hardly let him try even if he could. He narrowly survived an attempt on his life and stays in his rooms now.”

“By the Sheikah?” Warriors guessed.

Time, unnervingly, laughed again. “Well. Sort of. What about yours, Twilight? Did Rusl kill the King?”

Twilight sighed. “Yeah, him and a group of his friends. They were helpful when Zant took over, because that meant they could get me into the castle and help out but Zelda knows they exist now so it makes it harder.”

“So better for them you’re with them and she can’t retaliate,” Time pointed out.

“Can’t she just tell you to stop?” Warriors asked. “Like – wait you’re not in the army are you?”

“No, of course not.” Twilight rolled his eyes and shot Warriors an annoyed look. “Why are you?”

“What?” Warriors blinked from him to the rest of them. “It’s not like I had a choice, I’m the eldest son. All of us belong to the army.”

Four sat up straight. “Wait, belong to, like you’re stuck there?”

“Yeah, like that.” Warriors toasted the smaller man. “You’re too young still, aren’t you?”

“For another year or so, but I’m not sticking around for it.”

“Who would?” Legend muttered. “Hylia’s cunt, Wars, just leave.”

Warriors’ cup hit the table heavily and he spread his hands with a dark smile. “I can’t, Legend. It’s not allowed. If I go anywhere, my mother and sister goes to jail, and me too if I’m anywhere they can find me.”

Time put his hand on Warriors’ shoulder then. He closed his eyes with an almost pained look, and Link swallowed the lump in his throat.

He knew of people trapped like that. Usually young women in the cities, caught by charity that turned into demands they work off the debt before they could leave – but what debt had Warriors had? Was it something about the war?

He couldn’t ask. Wouldn’t. He could already tell the question had left him cross and angry, and Time pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We all have duties we can wind up trapped by,” Time said. “Fuck this...”

“Sure you’re trapped by loyalty. Not all of us get hung up on that,” Twilight snapped. “Did Zelda buy you off?”

“She gave me Lon Lon Ranch, if that’s what you mean,” Time said. He turned a deceptively mild smile Twilight’s way. “Mostly because I needed some protection after she blamed her attempt on her father’s life on me.”

“On you?” Warriors’ chair hit the ground with a snap. “Why?”

“It was convenient. Everyone already knew I’d lost my mind in the last battle.” He touched his face, over his scarred eye, then shook himself off. “Excuse me, I should go to bed. You, too.”

Warriors didn’t need more convincing. Twilight muttered something rude under his breath, and left not for the bedrooms upstairs but the stables. Link let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and swore.

“How much of that do you think they’ll remember in the morning?” Legend muttered. “Fuck. Hyrule, what the fuck else did they even say?”

#Linked Universe #LU Time #LU Twilight #LU Warriors #LU Hyrule #alcohol #discussions of murder #politics #questionable authority #rebellion #Everyone has a bad time #LU Hyrule POV #Febuwhump #FebuwhumpDay20 #damn I was tired but oh well

[allzelemonz]

Family Approval: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’, ‘son’, and ‘brother’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Mentions and witnessing of a sexual encounter Warnings: Dutch and Hosea are concerned dads, John and Arthur are protective brothers, Reader is a Van der Linde-Matthews kid, being walked in on, drinking, brotherly relationships Summary: Arthur and John stumble home drunk one night and see something in the woods they never want to see again, but they really need to talk to their brother.

Arthur and John are lucky they’ve made it this far without annoying their horses, but as they reach the trees surrounding camp the beats have had enough and throw them. In their drunken states they fall like ragdolls and laugh in the dirt as the horses trot towards camp. Arthur groans as he stands and John shushes him,

“We can’t- we can’t let Dutch see.” John slurs. “You remember what he did last time we…”

Arthur laughs at the memory swimming in his inebriated brain and John has to shush him again. He doesn’t want to be stuck with laundry and dishes because his brother can’t keep his mouth shut. They stand, wobbling and having to lean on each other for support. They lose the path right away, too busy trying to stay upright to care about getting lost in the trees. Then a noise makes Arthur pull at John’s shoulder to get him to stop.

“You hear that, Marston?” He mumbles. “What’s that?”

John pulls him along, his survival sense numbing the liquor enough for him to have some rational thought. He stops short of the noise, leaning on a tree for support while he keeps Arthur upright. The sight in front of him, the noises he hears, make him wish he had drank more. Before he can stop Arthur from looking, hoping to save him from the traumatic sight, the older gunslinger looks up in horror.

Their brother, you who declined their offer of going into town several times that day, in a state that neither of them even needed to see. Your back is pressed against a tree, your head tilted as sounds fall from your mouth that makes your brothers blush. A man stands in front of you, his hand on your waist and his face hidden from view as he pays attention to the sensitive skin on your neck. Arthur finds images coming to mind, marks on your neck barely hidden by a bandana or a shirt.

For a moment the brothers smile, simply happy you’re having a good time. John steps back to leave you to it but Arthur stops him and points. John’s eyes return to you, as much as he hates to invade your privacy. But Arthur was right to point. The man lifts his head, revealing the long, light hair and the unmistakable face of Micah Bell. For a moment John is frozen in place. His brother is tucked away in the woods with Micah fucking Bell. Arthur puts a hand over his mouth, holding back vomit as he doubles over.

John notices the extent of what they’ve walked in on when his eyes fall downwards. Very clearly outlined in shadow, is Micah’s hand wrapped around… He snaps his eyes down, trying to make his mind shut up. He grabs Arthur, pulling him away and marching back to camp as quickly as his stumbles will allow.

“Did we see-?” Arthur starts.

“Shut up, Arthur.”

John pulls him to his tent with flushed cheeks and clouded head. Arthur falls onto his cot and slips into sleep before John can get to another bottle of whiskey. He thought he’d had enough for the night but after that he doesn’t think he’ll ever drink enough again. He’s not even sure what to think. How long has this been going on? Would Arthur help him kill Micah? Should he tell Dutch? Should he tell Hosea? What possessed you to do that shit with such a slimy rat?

“John.”

Dutch’s voice startles him. The tone even more. It makes him feel like some teenager, like Dutch is chastising him again.

“Late night, son?”

John taps the bottle in his hand, thoughts racing. “Yeah, Dutch. Real long night.”

“I saw Arthur got back alright.” Dutch puts his hands on his hips and John is reminded of a distinct memory of the man doing the same thing when he misbehaved as a boy. “Care to tell me why you’re married to the bottle so late?”

John sighs. “I-I ain’t sure ya wanna know all that, Dutch.”

“Son, if somethin’ happened in town-”

“Wasn’t in town…”

Dutch knits his eyebrows in confusion. “Okay?”

For a moment John thinks about telling your shared father figure, but he knows it’s not his place. Dutch is capable enough to find out if he wants to and you have the sense not to keep secrets from him or Hosea. But he will be having a long conversation with you in the morning.

“It’s nothin’ ya gotta worry about, Dutch.” John waves it off. “Just somethin’ odd we saw on the way back.”

Dutch sighs. “Alright son, you get to bed.”

He takes the bottle from John’s hand before he can protest, leaving John with his swimming thoughts. As he stumbles to his tent he catches sight of Micah leaving the trees. Anyone else would think he was out there messing with his guns or taking a piss, but John’s stomach sinks because he knows why the man has a bit of a strange walk. So he waits, his eyes fixed on the trees, because he knows you’ll come out sooner or later.

“You okay, John?”

He jumps, turning to face you. “The hell?”

“There a reason you’re staring at the trees?” You chuckle.

John screws up his face, ready to tell you off, but he takes a breath instead. “We need to talk.”

“Maybe when you’re sober.” You say, smelling the whiskey on him. “Go to bed.”

“Ya ain’t the boss a’ me.”

“Sure, John, sure.” You wave him off.

He watches you enter your tent, closing it up behind you. John isn’t going to be able to sleep with all of this in his head, but he lays down anyway. For a long while he stares up at the fabric above him as he tries to think of horses or guns or robbing trains instead of his brother fucking Micah Bell.

Arthur’s sleep is peaceful but he wakes with pain in his neck from the position he collapsed into on his cot. He groans as he stands, putting a hand to his head as the hangover hits him. Before he can blink, a cup of coffee is shoved under his nose and he takes it without much question. John watches him down it despite the heat as he nurses his own cup.

“You remember what we saw last night?” John asks.

Arthur knits his eyebrows as his thoughts swim around. He saw a man dancing on a table in the saloon, a working girl talking to a few boys outside as they left, some real pretty horses outside of the stables, a nice herd of deer he should tell Charles about--Oh.

“Yeah.” Arthur groans, rubbing his eyes as if the image is stuck in them. “I remember all right.”

“Well what are we doin’?”

“The kid up?”

“I can wake ‘em up.” John says, turning to your tent just next to Arthur’s. “He’s got a hell of a lot ta explain.”

John wastes no time once Arthur closes the tent off behind him. You wake with a start as your brother shakes you.

You sigh when you see the idiots. “What?”

“Sit up, boy.” Arthur grumbles. “This is serious.”

“It’s too early for this.” You mutter, trying to get comfortable again.

“Was it too early when you was in the woods with Micah?”

At that, you sit up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Arthur stares you down, pointing a finger at your chest. “You know damn well what we’re talkin’ about.”

“Just how drunk were you two?”

“That ain’t the point!” John yells.

“Alright, John.” Arthur pats his shoulder before turning to you. “Be happy it waddn’t Dutch or…” He chuckles. “Or Hosea.”

“Okay, okay.” You sigh. “Fine, whatever. Rather brothers than dads. I get it.”

“So what was you doin’ out there with that snake?” Arthur asks.

You cringe at the question. “I don’t think you want specifics, Arthur.”

“I’ll kill him.” John mutters, trying to push past Arthur.

“Stop it, John.” Arthur says. “We just wanna make sure it ain’t nothin’ ta worry about.”

“Oh, it’s somethin’ ta worry about!”

John manages to push past Arthur and it’s only once he’s out of your tent that you can both get his arms hooked to hold him back. This, being right next to your father figures, causes a scene from your worst nightmares.

“What the hell are you boys doin’?” Dutch yells, pulling Arthur off of John.

Hosea comes around and gently pulls you back as well. The fathers look at eachother, then at each of their sons in turn.

“Well?” Hosea asks.

John opens his mouth to speak but a look from you and Arthur keeps him quiet.

“Just a little rough housin’.” Arthur laughs. “Nothin’ ta worry about.”

“You boys are a little old for that.” Hosea chuckles. “What’d John do this time?”

“I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Hush.” Hosea says. “Arthur?”

The man shuffles on his feet, glancing at Dutch and regretting it because he gets that stern father’s stare. “We, uh, we just got a little disagreeable is all.”

“About what?” Dutch asks, that stern look fixed on his boy.

“It was stupid.” You cover for Arthur. “John’s still a little drunk is all.”

Dutch and Hosea both look at John who is very much still swaying a bit on his feet.

“That’s all?” Hosea asks gently. “Just a little brotherly banter got outta hand?”

Arthur and you nod together, John has zoned out of the conversation to clutch his now throbbing head.

“You’re sure?” Dutch glances between his sons. “Nothin I gotta worry about, boys?”

“Course not.” Arthur laughs. “We’ll get genius over here back ta bed.”

Dutch hesitates, looking between you and Arthur for a moment. He meets Hosea’s eyes and finds that look, they both know they’re sons are hiding something but they’ll let it slide for now. Arthur and you drag John the few feet to his tent and set him on his bed.

“I’ll go get Abigail.” Arthur mutters. “She can babysit ‘em.”

As Arthur disappears into camp John reaches out for your wrist.

“Why the hell are you fuckin’ Micah?” He asks, still clutching his head.

“Do you want me to be honest, John?”

“I just don’t understand it.”

You kneel down to be eye level with your brother, taking his hand in some mock sympathy. You’re going to mess with him because he’s being stupid and he woke you up early.

“Well, John, Micah is probably one of the most attractive men I’ve met and his voice is damn sexy and his di-”

“Okay, okay, Jesus!” John groans. “Stop it!”

“Stop sticking your nose in people’s business, Marston.”

“I was just tryin’ ta help.”

“I don’t need help, John.” You sigh. “Micah’s about as wrapped around my finger as Molly is Dutch’s.”

John chuckles. “He that bad?”

You nod. “You don’t have anything to worry about. You or Arthur, so just keep it to yourselves.”

“You know they’ll figure it out.” John sighs. “Dutch and Hosea.”

“I know. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

“Ya really want one a’ them seeing what Arthur and me saw?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “What exactly did you see?”

John shakes his head. “Don’t make me think about you like that, Christ.”

“Or Micah.” You mock.

John shoves your shoulder lightly. “Fuck off.”

“John Marston!”

You snicker at the sound of Abigail’s voice. “Have fun, John.”

Abigail spares you a smile as you exit the tent and she enters to give John a worse headache. He argues back but he has a smile hidden on his face as he does.

Arthur sighs, nudging your arm. “Micah nag like that?”

“Shut up, Arthur.”

He chuckles. “Ya know if he ever gets outta line, I’ll kill ‘em.”

“You really think I need your help killing him if he deserves it?”

“He does deserve it.” Arthur mutters.

“Maybe…”

“Boys?” Hosea startles you both. “Don’t you have chores ta do?”

You and Arthur both part ways under Hosea’s stare. He watches you go to different ends of camp and work just as hard as he raised you to, then he joins Dutch outside of his tent.

“What do you think is wrong with those boys?” He sighs.

Dutch taps his foot, surveying the camp. “I think our son has a sweetheart.”

“A sweetheart?” Hosea asks, following Dutch’s eyes to you. “Who?”

“I ain’t sure.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell us when he’s ready, Dutch.”

The words only do so much to reassure the outlaw. His eyes scan the camp as if he’s looking for a rat. This sort of thing makes him impatient. John and Abigail he knew about right away, but this hiding is something he can’t stand. He doesn’t have to wait long though. It’s unmistakable, the way Micah leans against a tree to talk to you. He even has a stupid grin on his face.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader #x reader #x male reader

[thebucketpail]

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt 11.

Cw. Drugs and Scarcrows fear gas.

Pt.1 pt.10 Ao3

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It was a beautiful day in Gotham City. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the wind had picked up the previous night and had blown the sea breeze in, making the air somewhat more breathable. Danny and Jason had even planned to go on a picnic at the park that afternoon. Yes, everything was great.

That is, until the city was put on lockdown due to Johnathan Crane being found missing from his cell at Arkham Asylum, canceling not only Danny’s, and every other student’s, classes but his plans as well. And as the topper on the melted ice cream sundae of a day; Danny was now experiencing probably the worst period cramps he’d had in the entire span of his existence. Something he attributed to Gotham’s less than stellar air quality.

So yeah, Danny wasn’t having a good day.

He couldn’t decide whether the worst part about it was that the dorm building was packed with students who seemed more than at ease with the lockdown and seemed more interested in finding every possible way to make Danny’s headache worse, or the fact that he’d run out of ecto-infused snacks. Maybe it was the Snack thing. The people were only an issue because of the snack thing.

Not long after the accident that Danny had realized, while his parents’ blatant disregard for lab safety had rendered almost all the food in their house inedible for regular human people. The ecto-contaminated food did wonders in not only boosting Danny’s energy, but also acting as sort of a pain relief where medicine tended to fail. It was like if drinking twelve cups of coffee was actually healthy for the human body.

Ever since, Danny had made it a point to keep a steady supply of ecto-infused snacks squirreled away wherever he could stash them. He had been meaning to restock the supply in his dorm but had gotten a little… distracted. He didn’t even have any vial of pure ectoplasm- which if drunk like a shot could heal any particularly bad injuries- lying around because as annoying as Tristan was, Danny thought that giving his roomate radiation poisoning wouldn’t be such a good idea given the city he was in.

Now a simple solution to this dilemma would be to just make a portal to the realms and travel to Amity that way, no harm no foul. The problem arose with finding a place to make said portal. Tristan adamantly refused to move from his bed, which ruled out just portalling from their dorm. The Halls and Bathrooms were populated by untold amounts of student sheltering in place, and on top of all that; there were guards posted at the entrance to every building on campus. A precaution taken due to Gotham U being one of Cranes favorite places to go fuck shit up after a breakout. Suffice to say; Danny was trapped.

As he doubled over to clutch at his abdomen, Danny thought over his options. Climbing out the window would probably be the worst idea. If Tristan didn’t stop him then the guards two stories directly below the window would. He briefly re-entertained the idea of opening the portal in their room and hoping Tristan was too engrossed in his phone to notice, but portal making was a lot of things, cool, mentally draining, useful, but one thing it wasn’t was discreet, so that thought was quickly discarded. That left either finding a secluded broom closet (unlikely) or hoping the roof was available (Slightly more likely).

He chose the slightly more likely option.

It took a bit of effort to drag his pain ridden corpse out of bed, but Danny got there eventually, despite the stabbing pain in his side. He grabbed a water bottle off the floor and muttered some half hearted excuse to Tristan who didn’t even look up from his phone - again Danny considered just portaling from there.

“You do you man,” his roommate said as Danny shambled out the door.

The halls were buzzing with various conversations. Someone had even pulled out a portable speaker and was blasting music down the hall. Stepping around various board games littered throughout the hall, Danny made it about halfway to the stairwell before getting stopped by some of his classmates.

Miranda and Jaime - if his albeit fuzzy memory served him correctly- were heading a debate on whether or not the fuzzy images from a recent mission to Venus proved that sentient beings had at one point inhabited the planet, or if the “structures” were just naturally occurring land formations. It was an interesting debate, both sides were making really good points, and Danny considered staying until a sudden flare of pain reminded him of his goal.

Right, Amity.

The stairwells were much the same as the halls if not louder. It was a relief once Danny stepped out into the cooling fall air, the din of the crowded dorm getting cut off as the door closed behind him. The sun had just begun dipping in the sky, casting a warm orange glow across the generators and ac units and a breeze rustled through his hair. The half ghost could almost feel the comforting stickiness of the Infinite Realms’ Ambient ectoplasm on his skin.

Maybe if he hadn’t taken a moment to appreciate the roof’s silence he could have made it there. But as it were, Danny was not alone on the rooftop.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” The voice was raspy, as though the owner made a habit of gargling thumbtacks, or screeching about becoming a god. Danny froze as his eyes locked on its source. Fuck.

He could barely think as Scarecrow stalked toward him. On one hand; he couldn’t let Scarecrow get inside the building, that would undoubtedly result in casualties and Danny had friends in there. But on the other hand; Danny was in no shape for a fight that wouldn’t end in the rouge's immediate demise, and he didn’t need the Bat on his ass for totaling another of Gotham’s crazies.

His thoughts were sluggish and by the time the imminent danger had registered; Crane had already bridged the distance and had sprayed something gross in Danny’s face.

“You will be the first of my soldiers, boy, and you will help me bring Gotham to its knees. But of course every great leader instills fear into the hearts of his subjects.” Scarecrow then proceeded to laugh maniacally as one does when they are a supervillain, but Danny hardly heard him. He was too busy floating.

Danny had only gotten high once. It was sometime in sophomore year, around the time the bullying eased up and a good portion of the school was singing his praises for finally decking Dash during a particularly bad week. Someone- Danny couldn’t remember who- had dragged him to a house party. Beyond tired and stressed to hell from the relentless barrage of ghost attacks plus a crazed up plot from the fruitloop, he had been dead on his feet, literally and metaphorically, the whole week. So when a stranger offered him a plastic bag full of pills, he took them.

The high hadn’t lasted long with his metabolism, but for a few amazing moments, Danny Fenton was walking on air. All the stress and pain that had plagued him all week was washed away in a wave of overwhelming calm.

Scarecrow’s fear gas felt exactly the same way. Just with the added bonus of hallucinations.

Danny blinked the spots out of his eyes as the toxin raced through his system. He could feel his senses dulling and was vaguely aware of the pain in his abdomen dissipating. Something bright flashed in his peripheral and he thrashed around to look at it. His movements felt slow but floaty, like he was moving through water, and sure enough; once he looked down he confirmed that he was in fact floating.

That’s not right, Danny thought. He couldn’t be floating, what if Batman showed up? He hadn’t told the stabby baby ghost that he could fly. What if he got in trouble?

Danny screwed up his face in concentration as he focused all his effort into lowering himself back to the ground, but his body stubbornly remained several feet in the air.

“Fascinating,” Scarecrow muttered, drawing Danny’s attention back to him. “My toxin has never had this effect before. You wouldn’t perhaps be a meta? We don’t get many of those here in Gotham. I wonder- tell me boy, what do you see?” Danny rubbed his eyes, trying to focus them on the gangly mess of fabric and straw before him. What did he mean ‘what did he see’? Sure things are a bit fuzzy but- Then there was that bright flash again, this time Danny managed to catch a glimpse of bright orange hair before it disappeared behind an AC unit.

“Jazz?” he asked, perplexed.

“Who is Jazz,” the Sack man asked, a bit of curiosity hiding in his voice.

“ ‘is my sister,” Danny mumbled, voice coming out slurred and sluggish, which probably wasn’t good. He turned back to where Jazz was walking out from behind the unit. “What’re ya doin’ ear?”

“I’m not actually here baby brother,” She said, rather Jazz-like, “I’m a figment of your imagination brought on by Scarecrow’s fear toxin.” So apparently that wasn’t Jazz. But it looked like Jazz, and it talked like Jazz. And there’s that thing people say about ducks so how could this not be Jazz. Not-Jazz seemed to pick up on his confusion because she moved closer, outstretching her arms to Danny, who reached back but only became more distressed as he couldn’t seem to reach her. Not-Jazz looked at her hands sadly before letting them drop to her sides. Danny let out a small whimper.

“Look Danny, it doesn’t matter what I am,” she said, “you just have to make sure Scarecrow doesn’t get in that building.” Oh, Danny’s eyes widened, Maybe Not-Jazz was his subconscious telling him what to do. That did sound like a very Danny thing to say.

Wait, The half ghost frowned, something not clicking, Who’s the Scarecrow again? OOOOh right it’s that Sack guy that’s been talking to him for a bit. Can’t let him get inside. Okay what’s the plan. Danny turned slowly before locking his eyes on something. The door! Can't get in if the door’s locked. Need a distraction, He thought.

“What’s that!” Danny shouted, pointing at something behind the Scarecrow’s head before bolting for the door to the roof. However it seems he forgot he was still floating and thus moved in much the same way an intoxicated goose crosses the street; ungracefully.

“Awww, Kitty, look at Babypop! He’s learning to fly.”

“Aww, they grow up so fast, seems like it was just yesterday that he was chasing us with a soup thermos.” The apparition wiped a fake tear from her eyes as she watched on, distracting Danny enough that he slammed face first into the metal doorframe.

“Ember?” he asked, nursing a bruise, “Kitty? What’re you doin’ here? Where’s Johnny an’ Shadow?”

“Oh don’t mind us Babypop, just checking up on you. Carry on,” Ember waved him off but Danny only narrowed his eyes at the ghost teens.

“Are you guys more a’ thoes Hallu-halla- hul loose in ay shons?”

Kitty brought a hand to her chest in a mock gasp. “Well I’d never! How could you say such a thing? Well it’s true,” she added, “But still! Danny almost felt bad at her hurt expression and was about to apologize before getting cut off.

“Well this experiment has been fun, but the clocks a’ ticking and I have a city to rule and a bat on my tail. So if you could move out of the way that would be fantastic.” Sack man said as he walked through Ember, eliciting a very long string of curses and expletives.

Danny shook his head, “No,” he mumbled sternly, “Can’t let you in.”

“Yeah, you go Babypop! Stick it to the man!” ‘The man’ in question didn’t seem as fond of that answer.

“Pity,” he pouted, “I would rather like to have studied your reaction to the toxin. Alas.” Scarecrow lunged. Danny moved on instinct, however slow it may be, and kicked out at the man. His floatyness putting him at the perfect height to land a hit right at the Scarecrow’s face, sending him sprawling.

“WOOOO, Go Phantom! Just hold the line until the Bat can get here,” Kitty called from her perch on a nearby generator. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Danny’s gasp caught in his throat as his flight finally gave out, dropping him hard on the concrete with a loud thwump.

A few yards away Scarecrow began picking himself up as a giant shadow, out of his element in the strong evening light, dropped onto the roof. “Why you little-” he started but was cut off when the shadow jumped out at him.

“It’s over Crane, you’re going back to Arkham,” the shadow growled. The fighting continued as Danny pulled himself to sit against the cool metal door. Earlier’s bliss had begun wearing off and his head was swimming. Another gasp sent him into a coughing fit as he started feeling his aches again. Suddenly he was shoved forward by something heavy. Fuck. Everything was getting fuzzy but Danny forced himself to stay alert ( well, alert-ish).

Groggily, Danny turned to find out what had shoved him and ended up gaping up at a godlike figure. They were as big as a mountain, with a bright red face mask, and incredible form. The lowering sun holoed them perfectly and- Wait, they were saying something.

“-nny! Danny? Danny, oh my god, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Danny? He knew that name, who?- Oh! That’s him! Why would the god person be asking if he was okay? Danny narrowed his eyes. The person had grabbed his shoulders and was checking him over. Wait, they kind of looked familiar.

“Ooh, this one’s cute. Where’d you find him Babypop?” Danny’s face burned, why did it burn?

“Shu’up ‘mber, I h’ve a boyfren’,” he muttered. The person checking him over froze.

“Danny? Danny it’s me Hood. Are you okay?” OOH! Hood! Danny knew him. What was he doing here?

“I intercepted a transmission, I recognised the name of your building.” Oh had he said that out loud? Hood laughed. “Yeah, yeah you did,” he said, “Danny does anything hurt? can you tell me what happened?”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. What had happened?

“Was tryin’ ta’ get ta’ Amity,” he slurred, “got sprayed with something’ icky. Couldn’ let him in.”

“Amity?’’ Hood asked.

“Careful Babypop,” Ember warned.

“Don’, don’ worry ‘bout it,” Danny muttered, swatting at Hood’s arm. “Hey was’ that?”

‘That’ was the giant shadow- Batman- stalking toward the two, Skulker hot on his heels and ranting about how ‘tying up your prey is so unrefined and Batman should invest in good quality cages’. The thought of Batman lugging around a giant birdcage full of old timey crooks made Danny giggle. Hood’s arms tensed as they wrapped around the half ghost’s torso.

“You’re a long way from Park Row and your drug rings Hood,” Batman growled.

“Why does everyone always say that, I can leave Crime Alley you know,” he grumbled but was met with a cold glare, “I heard Oracle tell you what building Scarecrow was on. I had to make sure he was okay.”

Batman paused. “Why him?” he asked. In the silence that followed, Danny- pressed against the man’s chest- could almost hear Hood’s core. The low thrum threatened to lull him to sleep but he blinked it away.

Finally Hood spoke.

“I don’t know,” he said, “There’s just something about him that feels familiar somehow. I don’t know why.”

Danny knew this one. He’d asked Frostbit once why the ghosts were drawn to him and to Amity. There was a bunch a of jargon about ghost politics and the portal and stuff but there was also.

“S’cuz we’re th’ same,” He mumbled, shakily poking at Hood’s chest, then at his own, right above where his core sat. “Yer like me, mm diff’rnt.” The two men above him seemed stunned, Why? What did he say?

“Babypop’s got a friend.”

“I know right? I’m kinda jealous. Hey kid, you should visit us sometime. Admit it, you miss us,”

“Yes! I would enjoy a good hunt for your pelt Ghost Child!”

Danny giggled, “F’course, I’ll vis’t soon, an’ Skully can chase me an’ you an’ Johnny can run away fr’m me, an’ we c’n all fight an’ stuff.”

“See you soon Baby brother.”

Danny startled, “Oh Jazz, f’rgot you were here,” he yawned.

Not-Jazz laughed. “I’m not here baby brother, I’m a figment of your imagination, remember?”

“Oh riiight, yer a hallucinamation.”

“That’s right,” she chuckled, “Now get some rest, you still have a lot of toxin in your system.” Danny’s eyelids suddenly felt a lot heavier with the mention of sleep, and with his older sister smiling softly at him, he finally gave in.

“G’night guys,” he mumbled before dozing off to the comforting hum of Hood’s core.

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Jason didn’t know what to say. To B or to himself. He didn’t know how to react to what Danny said before passing out in his arms. It was really disturbing how little he knew right now. Luckily, he didn’t have to break the silence.

”Do you know what he meant?” B asked. Jason shook his head and looked down at the man in his arms. Danny was really cute when he was sleeping.

“The part about being like me, or the fighting someone bit? ‘Cause either way I have no clue.” Jason sighed, feeling Batman’s stare even through the helmet. He contemplated taking it off and throwing it at him.

Another few moments passed in silence before B grunted in typical B fashion, and disappeared.

Jason let out a sigh then looked back down at Danny.

“Alright, let’s get you back to your room, hero.” The meta was deceptively lightweight and carrying him down three flights of stairs proved easier than expected. They garnered a few stares in the hallway but were left alone for the most part. Danny’s roommate didn’t even look up when Jason nudged open the door and set Danny down on his bed.

He didn't stay long after that, but Jason couldn't help but whisper "sweet dreams." Before turning and leaving

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Pt.12

#when you accidentally kill a clown #dp x dc jason todd #dp x dc danny fenton #dead on main #bucket writes things #fic #long post #lowkey i write this on my period so as a trans masc who has to deal with that #i may have projected #just a little #also high Danny anyone? #probably one of my favorite dp x dc tropes