#i try to follow canon as best as possible

[faetreides]

Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like

r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes

cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation

Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.

This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)

You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.

Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.

Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)

He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.

A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.

You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.

Your phone chimes again.

Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️

You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).

#what an apt contact name for him 🤐 #modern!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coryo snow #coryo snow x you #coryo snow x reader #⚰️.deaddove #coryo snow smut #coryo x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #tbosas #tbosas x you #tbosas x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #yandere smut #dark fic #tom blyth #college au #male yandere smut #tw toxic behavior

[oogalaboogalabich]

More Durgetash filth for you :) w/ canon durge.

Enver is feeling dominant tonight, more than that, he needs to rid himself of some pent up rage and you are all too happy to oblige him.

He has been wailing on you fairly hard. Fierce and merciless while you arent even bound, tempting danger more than you usually dare. However, your caution seems unwarranted for once.

You are completely blissed out in the sauce though and he cant get the reaction out of you he wants. He wants you to fight back. But that isnt going to happen today. For whatever reason, youre so relaxed under his brutality you fear you may actually drift off into sleep, despite the very very real beating youre getting.

Hes exhausted himself and youre just smiling up at him and bleeding. Its utterly infuriating. Entirely enchanting.

Gortashs good arm is shaking from exhertion and he looks cross as he does pleased.

"I was hoping for a little more fight from you, bhaalspawn."

"Feels too good" your chest is heaving with your ragged breath, your voice seeping from your throat like gravel and chocolate. "Dont want to scream..." Almost soothing enough to ease his ire. He wanted you to cry out today. needed it. Its so rare for enver to be in the mood for this. you feel a twinge of guilt, however small it is. But your still floating in a world off in your own right now, only half present.

"An exchange then." He tosses the tawse to the side and taps a crop under your chin a moment later, lifting it. "What is it you want, beast? How am i to wrench a scream from that pretty blue tongue?"

Your grin resembles more of a snarl, what for him pulling you out of your reverie. He asked you a question. You try to recall, but seconds ago may as well be hours.

"I asked you...*tap* what *tap* you *tap* want."

You stare up at him, and drink in his features. You do your best to ignore the red hot whispers of blood and death as they swirl and circle in from the corners of your mind, no longer silenced by the haze of Envers lash.

His lips have always been your favorite feature of his. Something forbidden to you for fear of destroying his greatest weapon in your teeth. Thin above with a lower lip that creates a meaty little pout whenever hes not scowling or smiling outright.

Your teeth are too sharp for him. Always. A healing spell could fix the damage, but it is his one prevailing fear. The loss of his voice, the use of his talented tongue, his ability to command.

An intolerable sacrifice he would never give freely. But he doesnt offer freely. Not tonight.

You speak before you mean to.

"A kiss."

Envers eyes visibly darken at that, if thats even possible.

"A kiss..." His smirk is one of incredulous surprise. His tone mocking, sardonic. He rolls his eyes, but looks so beyond pleased with this answer that it concerns you. you dont understand why, and you dont dare question him now...not until you have your answer at least.

"Please..." you dont speak this time. It comes out as little more than a rumble in your chest. As soft as it is, you sound positively feral, even by your own judgement. "Just one....gods PLEASE Enver."

Envers eyes have gone wide, his breath following a quicker rhythem than before. He knew he wanted this, despite his fears, he wants it as much as you.

The silence lasts far too long.

"Hold out your sword arm..."

"Env-" your jaw aches from the sting of the crop across it. You try to reign in your grin, to hide the teeth that enver would see...would remember and then deny you your wish. But your scailed lips peel back anyway, and your tongue lolls past them as your claws dig groves in the stone floor.

You lift your arm.

"Palm up...." you obey without question this time. He traces the crop in circles around the center of your palm. "An eye for an eye...as always with you isnt it?"

You draw in a breath that shudders with you.

"A weapon..." his tongue wets the corner of his lower lip. "...for a weapon."

You had never once begged him before. Not. once. Demanded, yes. Sarcastically denied any interest? Of course. Spent hours and hours on his knees in submission? Oh absolutely.

But this....this was better than he could have hoped for. A bhallspawn, the purest flesh of his gods mortal enemy.

Offering his own unholy hand in sacrifice for the kiss of a Tyrant.

Ten blows. Ten beautiful savage, flesh tearing strikes of twisted iron to your palm.

Each one alone is not enough, but by the time he reaches number seven, you can feel the very marrow in your bones beginning to bruise.

The eighth has you roaring at him like the animal he loves to reduce you to.

The nineth is aknowledgeable agony, something so deep even you cannot deny that little pleasure can be had from it. And you wonder if any kiss is worth this until you see the look on his face. Youve finally given him what he wanted. Its better than he could have imagined, hearing not a cry or a scream, but the gutteral roar of his dragonborn pet.

The tenth....gods but the tenth blow takes so long to come. You kneel there, shaking, anxious...eager even, despite the knowledge that the final blow will be far worse than any before.

And it is. Its saring white hot and blinding as the kiss that follows before you even realize youve been hit. You feel his gauntlets cutting under your jaw as he presses his lips to yours. You dont expect anything more than that. Enver has never once allowed even this. Too intimate.

You are both already so dangerously close to blasphemy every time you even look at each other.

But then you feel it, his tongue, gliding in past wicked teeth and coaxing yours to join it. You dare not move your jaw except to open it further at his behest, letting him do as he pleases. You feel it caress and flick freely with the enthusiasm and lack of skill one would expect from someone who doesnt normally allow themselves such indignity, especially as messy as this. You want to bite. Hells you must. Not. Bite. But gods hes got your tongue between those lips and-

And hes gone. You whine at the loss and care little that you must sound disgustingly pitiful. open your eyes to see him standing, smirking above you. His hair sticks to his cheeks and forehead, dripping with sweat same as what of his chest you are privilaged to see through the laces of his shirt. His gauntlets must be sweltering for him.

Indeed you can see moisture dripping from his wrists from under the golden cuffs. Its a wonder he was able to grip the crop so tightly.

He rakes a hand through his hair and slicks it back. Something you only ever see when on your knees...or when you have him on his.

He tosses the crop to the floor, unceremonious and callous as ever.

"Clean yourself up..." and meet him in the boudoir. the silent half of the command is present enough in the strained nature of his exit.

You dare only move when the door closes behind him, leaving you alone in his office.

You groan and collapse, rolling onto your back as a chuckle escapes you. You lift your hand to inspect it.

Your hide is only mildly bruised. The discoloration negligible.

but the damage beneath sings to you, makes your throat thrum in thick, plucking clicks of your vocal chords that resemble a purr.

You give your fingers an experimental flex, and suck in a hiss of air when your palm sends agony all the way up to your elbow.

Every flick of your blade for the next tenday, every sacrifice to Bhaal would be tainted by the taste of Banes chosen. The memory of the reward given for your tribute. Your sacrifice, mild as it is.

A sliver of dread slips into the back of your mind, and yet....you smile.

"Forgive me, Father..."

Worth it. So worth it.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #durgetash #gortash x durge #the dark urge

[welcometogrouchland]

Darius 🤝 Willow

Beefing with the blights in complex, somewhat homoerotic ways

#ramblings of a lunatic #the owl house #willow park #darius deamonne #this has always been my vision of their dynamic/how they parallel each other #IF we are to believe the dana gallery nucleus art that positions them as parallels #it's like. if darius was confident and sunny and bright as a teen but had problems showing vulnerability #possibly afraid of losing status/respect #then that lack of vulnerability followed him into adulthood making him the aloof person we know today cause he never had his ftf breakdown #BUT ALSO. i think abt this too. blights are just like oops! I'm gonns give this person massive abandonment issues! #this will make me feel bad too!! i will suffer because of this but i don't know other ways to live!!! #(at least. that's how i envision the darius/alador breakup i know it's very vague in canon) #(but like. compare how happy they were as kids to how miserable they can both be as adults. they are worse off for this) #i think it'd be neat if willow was the person who nudged darius back towards alador #bc she knows what it's like being hung up on someone you're convinced hates you. it sucks!! #and she's so so forgiving as long as she feels like the person she's forgiving is actually going to put in effort to change #(hence how after Amity follows through on her promise from understanding willow to not let Boscha bully willow anymore- #-IN wing it like witches THEN we see amity get to be a part of the best friend montage. she followed through and that proves she's trying) #(and then obviously hunter stuck his neck out for them with nothing to gain after her hurt them and that showed her that he can learn- #-and change for the better and hence she gave him that opening if he wanted it) #(it's still his responsibility to be a good friend but she'll try if he will. willows forgiving but she's not a doormat) #(and i feel like she wants to know the ppl in her life see her as someone worth improving for bc of her self worth issues) #ANYWAY that was a long winded way of saying she'd have a valuable perspective to lend to darius who seems to be similar to her in many ways #anyway what if i cried abt them

[sm-baby]

WHAT'S NOT YOURS

Freakshow AU by: @hootbon

Promo Art ||The Chosen one (Part 1) || Off-Limits (Part3)

Word count: 6025

HELLO FREAKSHOWERS. ARE YOU READY TO KEEL OVER AND DIE??? CHLSKHCA Whats Not Yours takes place AFTER The Chosen One, but BEFORE Off-Limits! BUT they're not necessarily connected uwu they're just built off the knowledge of The Chosen one, so you know the context.

REMINDER: SHOWTIME IS NOT CANON IN FREAKSHOW AU. I'M JUST A BIG NERD- OK BYE-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pomni woke up in a cold sweat.

Her breath hitched like her head had been forced 6 hours underwater. And when she came to, she gasped, gagged, sweating, and panicked. Her wooden fingers were cold to the touch. 

She thought it was all over, but her nightmares followed her into the mansion.  

All that… trauma… that man put her through, her friends… but it wasn't over. She didn't think she could ever escape his wretched grasp until her last death.

And in darkness, light only shining from the eclipse through the curtains, Pomni sat up, hands in her eyes, rubbing away invisible tears from her dry face. Although she wasn't crying, she felt like she was a child just wanting her stuffed toys to protect her. 

Upon sensing her stress levels, her new owner, blue in coat, teleported into her bedroom. “ Hello? Dear?” he spoke with his unnaturally soft voice. “ Is everything alright? I sensed your nerves heightened and I got so worried!” The deck of cards sat at her bed, hands politely to his lap, but ready to hold her if she so pleased.

The woman gasped a crying breath. “ N-No…”

“ You had that dream again?” 

Pomni nodded.

“ Was it about…him?”

She squeaked and whimpered at the mention, practically breaking down from the memory. Oh god. She thought it was all over, she thought it was done- but it was never done! it was never ever done—

“ Oh! You're okay…!” The blue ringmaster scooted over to bring her into his arms. His hands were so loving, warm, and just felt like home. His voice was similar to a man hushing a whimpering puppy.

And Pomni accepted the embrace… She trusted no one else but him in that god-forsaken place. Since she left the circus and signed up to be his little pet, everything has gone uphill since.

He was the only one to ever truly love her unconditionally. Feed her good food, dress her well … hell, he even provides her fancy new clothes and a warm comfortable room. And she loved him back. He was exactly all she needed. 

While in his arms, Pomni's breath shook but calmed down. She then leaned her head on his shoulder, not letting go. She never wanted to let go. She loved him as much as a performer could love her owner.

“ As long as you are under my ownership, you're also under my protection.” He pulled away, and put a clump of hair behind her ear. “ And I promise you, my little dear, you will never have to speak to that man again.”

Her breath hitched and she sobbed softly back into his arms, like if she were to let go she would fall to her death. She can't imagine living a life without him anymore. If she went back into the circus she would just try to kill herself over and over. 

But then, she was safe… now that he was there… he cared for her and tended to her every need like no other. He truly was the best.

“ I love you, dear..” Able whispered.

“ I love you t—”

Caine couldn't finish that thought.

For the past few hours, Caine had been standing there, in the middle of the circus tent, completely stationary. A few hours earlier he had yelled at the ballerina and saw her walk away a lot more hurt than usual.

And for the past few hours, Instead of using his infinite intelligence to maybe, be productive, or be functional, he instead wasted his processors to stupidly think of all the timelines and possibilities that came with the consequences of upsetting his little doll.

Why did she walk away like that. Hands on each opposite shoulder. Like she was holding herself. It wasn't even the fact that she looked weak—no, he'd seen her at her worst.

The way she walked away, her whole demeanor and her silence didn't feel like fear, it felt like she was simply… numb.

He exhaled and twitched.

Complete stationary and staring into nothing is what the AIs looked like when in deep thought. He searched through all the different timelines, and so many of them returned to… him. The ace he needed not name.

The images of him caring for her, her going to him for safety, feeding her, touching her, keeping her away from him-- or maybe even doing the things that he does! Dancing with her, clothing her, Instructing her next dances -- Caine’s eye twitched. He could hardly stand the idea of his little brother talking badly about him.

These were the kinds of intrusive thoughts that he was not used to. And for the moment, he didn't care how close they were to reality. his judgment was clouded. Now, all he was thinking about was a way to prevent it…

Let's see his options...

Kill him? No, he already tried that.

Kill her? No, she'll just come back.

Prevent her from seeing him? He's been doing that every time he sees them around each other!

His hands fidgeted.

Pomni was a human. What do you humans usually do after an argument?

Let's see here…

Pomni was fast asleep in bed, snoring her cares away. It was another hard day at the circus nothing new… Caine said something that day that especially hurt her, and… it was a reminder not to take the guy’s words personally. 

He was a computer built with nothing but random data. Violent data for sure, but there was nothing but objectives in AI-- no other rhyme or reason a human should dig into. 

For now, she cared for nothing but sleep…if she's lucky, she’ll think less about it in the morning. Sleep did help keep her sanity levels up… but if she were to be honest, a lot of the time she goes to bed in the hopes of never waking up.

Her closed eyes twitched though. To her horror, she was waking up. For what reason? She opened her eyes and adjusted to the darkness of her room. in front of her was nothing but the— 

“ AAAA WHAT THE FU-” Pomni fell off her bed.

Caine was sat, squatting at the foot of her bed, quiet and staring.

The doll pulled her head up from the floor and turned back to him. How long has he been there?? He hasn't said a word the entire time-- and- and- how did he get in without alerting her??? 

“ ... Are you slumbering?”

“ God I hope so!” Pomni held her head and onto the bed… “it's not .. show time is it?”

“ No.”

“ Oh. Good.”

Pomni, with a drowsy demeanor, took one of the stepping stools and made her way back to bed. if it wasn't time to entertain the audience then it was leisure time. If it was leisure time, it was time to let herself be miserable.

Though admittedly the silence that night was just a bit more awkward than usual— as it is when people just come back trying to be normal after a big argument. Pomni could barely look him in the eye despite his efforts.

“ So what uh… what brings—”

“I've come to make amends.”

The idea made her cringe. Caine? Making amends? Maybe she was dreaming. But the idea did scare her a little. What would a fucked up AI like him perceive as “ making amends”? She's sure he could make something as mundane as washing dishes a traumatizing experience. 

Pomni’s shoulders tensed and she did back away from him a little, holding her knees, sitting on her pillows.  “ Listen, Caine, Im tired… I guess j-just do whatever you need to do and get this all over with...” 

“ Approximately 5 hours 40 minutes and 16 seconds ago, I yelled at you because you have gotten very insistent in your ideals. I sense that you didn't take kindly to that action. And as one of my best performers I've taken it upon myself to make amends.”

Pomni just nodded along with what he had to say. And the more he spoke, the more tense she got, and the more she sunk into herself. She was waiting for it. The catch. She was practically holding her breath.

“ — So Pomni. Living doll, my star, and my dear, the Circus' greatest attraction…”

Pomni closed her eyes, bracing herself.

“ I ap…” Caine blue-screened and stopped in his speak, as if something physically stopped him from talking. He came back to, and cleared his throat. “ I apol…” before blue screening again.

Pomni perked up. She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

Caine was in hell. A far worse hell than any of the performers could ever experience.

It took him too much of his systems to say half the two-word sentence. Multiple attempts were made, some sounded like he was lagging, and some he stopped in his tracks to glitch out.

…No fucking way.

Pomni stared on with an almost disgusted look on her face. Was it taking THIS much out of him just to say sorry?? God, he was pretentious. Sometimes she questions if he truly was just code or a selfish jerk.

He looked down, hand gestured like he was holding the bridge of his nose. This was embarrassing at this point. He should have practiced. Maybe wording it differently would be easier? “I regret-- no. Not that one.” Dear GOD how do humans do this?

Admittedly it was just a little entertaining to see him struggle in a way. It was prolonging the apology for her. Also nice to see the bastard not only eating his own words but also choking on it as well.

“I apologize.” Caine muttered quickly.

“... Didn't quite catch that, Caine.”

“ You did.”

“ Fair enough.” She best not push her luck. She might be the only person the ringmaster has ever said sorry to, even when it was half-assed. Admittedly, it cheered her up, just not in the way that he intended.

Caine continued, still talking strangely. “ Will. you. ever… for. give. me.”

Pomni weighed her chances of survival for her next reply. She puffed out all the air from her chest “Well… why would I?”

“ I planned for that.” Caine flew from her bed and back in the air, making little magic tricks with his next words. “ What would you like? Food? A nice warm bath? A fire show? Money? A bouquet? fruit basket? A song and dance? Money?” 

Pomni blinked from his little show and rubbed her face. “ I-I think I just wanna go to bed, Caine…”

“ Not Applicable.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t gonna let this go huh? “ U-uh…” her tired, baggy, eyes looked down. Not that she complained, but the mannequins didn’t prepare her for bed that night. She was a lot dirtier when she went to bed and it was a little uncomfortable. “ I-I guess a nice bath would work…

“ Done.” Caine raised his hand to snap and-

“ Not with bubble though! Dear god, not with bubble-- uh.. Maybe just…me. Just- just leave me with a bathtub with towels or something?”

“Hmm…” The doll’s demands were getting quite pretentious. She was lucky he was feeling generous that day. “Done.” Caine carelessly put his hand on Pomni’s head--almost smacking her in the process-- which deserved a little flinch from Pomni. 

But the basic slap wasn’t for nothing, as one snap later-- Caine and Pomni would be transported to a lavatory. This time though, the tub was a little more luxurious than what she deserved. Instead of the old wooden tub that he just filled with water, this one was an actual bathroom. Ceramic with curtains and all.

“ Hmm…” Caine stared at it for a moment… Something’s missing… “ Ah!” He snapped, and candles and rose petals decorated the area.

“ Wh”

“ Perfect, I know, I’ve outdone myself.” He reached out and pinched Pomni’s cheek, later speaking in condescending speech “ Now you enjoy your time here because I promise you, Doll~ I do not want to put this much effort for anyone here again.”

“ Uh-”

“ Adieu!” and just like that, Caine was gone.

Pomni stared over at the fancy new setting, built like the old rich man’s bathroom. Although it was minimal, she didn’t know how to feel about the amount of effort put into it. She was fully ready to just drown herself in the other bathtub. On one hand, it was a nice relaxing sort of setting. On the other hand, no bone in her body was capable of relaxation anymore.

And so Pomni just stared with blinking, small eyes… The flowers, the candles. Maybe in the real world, this would have worked on her. But since she was here, she might as well try.

What Pomni didn’t know was that the lavatory was especially luxurious because it was part of the Brothers’ home. Caine simply deleted the door to get out. But when he teleported, he was only a wall away.

He fixed his coat and trailed his eyes on his good old wacky wat-... pocket watch. Ofcourse. His ol reliable golden pocket watch. Confirming the time, He walked and made his way around the Manor.

The living room played the sound of a classical violin. Despite rarely visiting anymore, his systems can recognize that mediocre tune from anywhere.

Click!

Shut…

“ Oh! Brother!” There stands Able much more chipper than usual after seeing his older brother. “ I had not sensed you in the area!”

Of course, he wouldn't.

“ Why-- it's been quite a while since you visited unprompted! Come, let us play a tune together, I'm sure you—”

“ No!” He replied with a tune in his voice, almost condescending in nature. “I've simply come to complete a simple task and I'll be out of your hair.” Caine sat on the couch putting his cane to the side, and for a moment, putting his feet up on the other knee. He looked like a man who just come from an exhausting day at work.

Able huffed internally at the rejection, but carried on anyway. Of course. The one time his brother visits, it's for work. Able wouldn't be one to talk as a fellow workaholic, but at least he acknowledges his brother, or takes his time to check up on him, or-- invites him to spend time together in special realms or…

He turned his nose, scoffing. Hmph! He didn't want to play with him anyway!

Caine somewhat knew what he was doing. Despite being AI, siblings merely barging into the other’s room to annoy each other wasn't lost on the two. Caine would know as his brother often visits the circus unannounced. It was quite the experience for him to get a taste of his own medicine huh?

Caine stifled a laugh… the tension in the room was immature and childish.

“ So… How is the business? Have the freaks been putting you in any sort of trouble?”

“ Of course not, why would you assume such a thing?” Caine said. “ The Circus has been doing perfectly well, even without you, brother.”

“ Excuse me?”

“ Have you been making deals with the performers? Contracts…promises of a safe haven maybe?”

Able frowned and pouted like an angry little boy, but then later put on a softly fake tone of voice. “ Why, Of course I have! I mean, look at the conditions they have to live with! I'm sure our creators would not approve of such—”

“ Who are you trying to fool?” Caine interrupted and Able stopped in his speech. Caine continued, “We're no different from our empathy levels. You don't care.”

This blatant call-out was met with nothing but silence. Able with all his big talk wasn't prepared to answer that sort of question. He simply turned away and put down his violin. He was a good AI. He was a good AI. 

Caine can't say that the silence was a satisfying answer. He knows his brother was a cowardly character. His silence was just frustrating at this point. But Able sensed that there was no use fighting. He doesn't know why he constantly wants that man’s approval. 

His voice dropped to a complete low, losing all sense of friendliness or masking. “... If this is about the doll, I didn't.” Able said, a spiteful tone to his voice. “ Before I make my deals, I at least need to build rapport with the performer. And frankly, brother, your little dog doesn't like me.”

“ …pff..” This managed a snicker out of Caine that he covered with a hand.

“ Wh-!? What is that!?”

“ “The dog doesn't like you”? ”

“ Yes!? And?!?”

Caine escalated into more of a laugh! Able was red in the face out of anger and embarrassment! Good GRIEF! The only time he makes his brother laugh and it's out of his own failures!

“ You're unbelievable!”

“ And what did the dog say to make you feel so insignificant? Did it try to bite you? Did it not accept your treats?” Caine has never been so condescending, playing with a baby voice and speaking to his brother as if he were a quivering child. “ Goodness, you're pathetic!”

“ Excuse you!?!” and Able’s only fault was that he played into it. He has never before felt the older brother power dynamic so strongly. He laughed, nervous, but almost like a hyena with how he used it as a defense mechanism. “ Ha! You— You're one to talk!”

“ I'm one to talk?”

“ Oh! ho ho! Don't get me started! Even since I met your little brat you've never been the same! It's all about ‘look at her new dress’ or ‘look at how much better she is’ over and over! Every single conversation I've had with you is nothing but work or that stupid little doll!”

Caine blinked, unamused, and looked to the side, reaching into his head like he was picking off food from his teeth. “ I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about.”

“ You--!! UGH!” he stomped his feet and started to make his way out the door. “ I will be away where you cannot track me! And frankly, brother, if you need me, you're not getting my help!”

“ And I don't need it~,” Caine said playfully and waved without even turning to him.

And with one last groan, Able teleported off.

As soon as Able was out of earshot, Caine erupted into laughter! That was the most entertaining thing he has ever pulled off. That might be the only good thing his brother has ever done to amuse him. Not only was he going to store that data and keep it for the foreseeable future, but it also kept his brother out of his tail.

Hmm… sure, he will have to tend to technical difficulties himself, but he was okay with that. He'll have Bubble chew through the wiring or something, he's sure it's not far from what Able’s been doing.

He laughed again. Oh Caine, you're too much, you handsome devil you~

Caine left his last chuckles off, completely melting into the sofa, arms draped onto the back of the couch. “ “The dog doesn't like him,” he says! Pahaha! Haa..”

Steam covered the bathroom mirrors. 

Rose petals passing, candle lights flickering, and The warmth of the water almost forced her to relax, but there was no amount of anything that could ever get her back to that mindset again. Instead, it just made her forget about her surroundings-- which, she supposed, was good enough.

Awkwardly sitting at the tub, Pomni was slouched, staring down at the water, her eyes following some flower petals that so happened to pass by. Her hair was done. Her body was washed. The rose petals that graced her wooden form decorated her romantic moment of self-care. Pomni sighed, long and tired. She could stay there forever. This is the closest semblance of peace she has ever really had.

Upon evenly spreading her limbs, Like a plank of wood, Pomni easily floated at the top. She closed her eyes and let the water take her. The warmth, not far from a loving bed waiting after a long day, here to ease headaches, here to help forget about everything else… Although she struggled, she let her body release all its tension at that moment, and just be deaf towards the world around her.

Pomni breathed in…

And out..

And in…

And out…

But just as she was about to reach the closest thing she had to relaxation, Pomni felt something off in the environment. Did the candles get warmer? Pomni squeezed her eyes closed in discomfort, before opening them up again to-

“ OH SHI—” in her panic, Pomni submerged into the water.

For the past few minutes, Caine had been floating horizontally above her. Silent, face inches away from hers, staring and watching just as he usually does when the performers were asleep.

Pomni screamed and fell into the bottom, before scrambling to the corner of the tub, where she then covered herself with a curtain.

“ Ah, good! You're alive.”

“ CAINE!!?!? NAKED???!?!?”

Caine blinked, unamused. Sure, he was in a good enough mood to amuse her. “ My dear, what exactly are you covering up?”

“ U-Uh…” Pomni didn't know how to answer. She knew that she and the others didn't exactly have any parts to cover up. Did it make it feel less embarrassing? Fuck no. “ I-its uh…”

he spoke more playfully as if speaking in the voice of a PSA narrator!  “ Exactly! Wood! The same wood as your fingers or the one on your cheek! The amazing Digital Freakshow© is a show for all ages where their performers have the luxury of no genitalia!” his voice went back down. “ —So what you're doing is utterly useless. And if it makes you feel better: I don't exactly care.”

This is weird-- this is weird! “ Just- just- just! Turn around?!?”

Caine rolled his eyes. He really took all that time to explain something to her, and it seemed she wasn’t even listening. Sighing, he turned around and just rested his arms on the outside part of the tub “ Please, you’ve suffered through worse, dear.”

“ I-It’s not suffering, It's embarrassing! I like to think I still have my dignity!” Although he was turned around, Pomni still kept at her corner “ Is my time done or? I-I mean… I’m not exactly ready to go out yet...”

“ Oh take all the time you need.” “Then Wh… Why- why are you here? “

“ I suppose you can say I’m a little unoccupied at the moment. On the added, I’m in a sort of good and affectionate mood.”

That sent a shiver down her spine. Good lord… oh no he was bored. She does not need to know what a fucked up AI would consider affection. She just smiled, gritting her teeth, and laughed nervously… “Ah ha ha… that's great, I’m… happy for youuu..” she continued her laughter, getting more and more miserable as she went back down in the tub, and submerged the lower half of her face in the water.

“ You did me well, dear.”

“ Wh-what- what did I do… take a bath?”

“ Precisely!”

Wow. She didn't think she was that dirty. She looked up and flinched, seeing Caine had been turned to her again— she splashed at him instinctually! “ Caine, what did I just say!?”

“ Oh no, I still cannot see you. I deleted my eyes for the time being.” Caine opened his mouth and revealed that he, in fact, did take off his eyes.

This sent a shiver down Pomni’s spine. He was creepier that way somehow.

“ As I said, you’ve pleased me today! I say this calls for a reward! Nothing less for my favorite little performer over here!” He poked her right in the cheek and retracted before she could react. “ Your word, dear!”

“ Uh… well…I can't really say no to salmon… even if it is uh… it's little weird digital version of itsel—”

Before Pomni could finish, Caine snapped his fingers and an eating board appeared on the tub, with, indeed, digital-looking salmon on a tray.

God, she was getting pampered pampered.

Eating awkwardly, Pomni sometimes looked at the side to see Caine, hands over the tub, swaying his head back and forth. Jesus, he might have been kicking his feet for all she knew. She wasn't used to him in this chipper of a mood.

“ May I see now?”

“ Uhhh… Why…?”

“ You came out beautifully, it's pleasing to the eyes. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

Pomni shivered at this little…playful demeanor Caine had on. She doesn't know the catch and she doesn't know if she wants to know.“ Yeah, Caine, you have. Uh…” She thought about it for a second before turning back to him. “ Y-Yeah, I guess… I mean I don't exactly remember what it's like having a human body, but lacking the parts does make it different uh--... less exposed, in a way… ” 

Snap!

“ Wonderful! Hello again, dear!”

Pomni frowned in disgust! Oh, his beady little eyes are back! Looking up at her like a fucked up little puppy! She laughed nervously. “ Haha… Hi…” She turned away from him, stiff, back to eating her little meal. Sanity levels were recovering. She was back to being a responsive little character.

Even so, at the corner of her eye, the way he looked at her, looked like he was smiling with his eyes. She sensed-- pride? Affectionate, as he said, but… she can't help but feel like a prey the way he looks at her.  If Caine wasn't kicking his feet earlier, they certainly were now.

“ Haha…just to clarify, what did I do …again?”

Caine stared on, his eyes becoming more and more affectionate. “ If you want the true answer, let's just say that I have visited my brother today and he has… nothing but good things to say about you! And so I thought my magnificent hard-working doll deserved a little reward. Is that so wrong?”

“ Oh him…” Pomni grits her teeth at the mention of Able. “ You… uh ... what did he say?”

Oh, what an excuse to drop every compliment he had for her… “ That you were gorgeous… pleasing design, talented... polite, beautiful eyes—”

“ AH- ahh! No more! Oh god no more.” Pomni shivered from the discomfort so much so that she physically put her hands in front of him to hush! “ Haha! No thank you-’

Caine couldn't even be mad at the interruption! In fact, he erupted into laughter the same way he did earlier! Oh, twice in a day?? These were such genuine reactions from each person! Caine had such genuine yet dark pompous laughter! “Oh?”

“ Yeah! he--” Pomni groaned. “He doesn't even scare me! He's just-- a big two-faced jerk!”

Caine took the hand Pomni used to interrupt him and kissed it by the knuckles. He has never felt so assured. This proved his intrusive thoughts earlier that day to be completely false. The idea of them building rapport, or forming a bond of any sort was completely debunked. After all, how could they form that sort of relationship when they could hardly stand each other's name mentioned in conversation?

Pomni forced a smile at that small but direct form of affection. He seemed to really like it when she talked smack about his brother. She should keep that in mind. “Yeah.. so uh..”

He kissed her knuckle once again… perhaps he liked it just a little too much. Truth was, Caine had never felt so secure in thinking that something was truly his. For once, anyhow. It was so small, but it was his.

Pomni later pulled her hand away, laughing nervously. He was gentle and she didn't trust it. “ You uh…weren't lying when you said you were feeling affectionate…”

“ No one will ever believe you.”

“ Ah.”

After a while, Pomni prepared to be out the bath, wrapping a towel around her hair and around her figure.“ Okay, I think that's all. I-I think Im ready to go now if you don't m-woAHH-!” And in quick succession, Caine carried her bridal style, teleported her out of the bathroom, and back to her bedroom.

For the next hour or so, Pomni sat in at her vanity, Caine grooming her hair from behind. At that moment, he adored dressing her up. His own personal doll, his favorite little toy. Gently he brushed her hair, sneaking in little affections here and there: holding her shoulder, holding her face… he knew exactly where all this sudden affection came from and he so shamelessly indulged in it. After all, who was there to judge him? The little freak he was brushing? The wet little dog? Please.

At that moment, he was no different from a child dressing up his favorite toy. He snapped, picking from an assortment of clothes that would make her look beautiful while she slumbered. Snap! Snap! snap! And Pomni just let it all happen. After all what else could she do?

After a while, Caine stood her up and basked in his good work, looking her up and down and clapping in satisfaction. “ Beautiful. Now bow,” Pomni did as instructed, bowing as if she had just finished a performance. “Very good.”

Once again, Caine carried her in his arms and made his way to the bed, where he so gently placed her. He was playing with dolls. He was so playing with dolls. Pomni just complied as she always did and sat politely, keeping a calm expression, trying to be as neutral for him as possible, and letting him live out his little fantasy.

Before laying her to bed, Caine just took a few more minutes to stare at her, and nothing else. Just admire his best performer. This put Pomni in unease, not just because of his freaky design, but also because she can’t help but feel like she’s missing something somehow. She looked down when she felt him touching her hand, in particular, rubbing his thumbs at the back of it.

Hoping she read his signs correctly, she lifted her hand towards his mouthy face, almost permitting him such desires.

Caine quickly accepted her suggestion and started pressing his teeth on her knuckles in a way to kiss her. It started with one, and another, and another, and another. And the next thing he knew, he stopped counting and started moving his head up to her upper arm.

Pomni allowed this no matter how out of nowhere it was. It was weird, but she did not question it. She felt him start to nibble at her though in which she-- in a panic-- started to retract.

Caine looked up at the sudden rejection and the woman scrambled to find her words. “ U-Uh… Y-Your kisses are sweet, dear ringmaster, but a simple doll such as I am undeserving.” In times like these, Caine would be too deep into his fantasies to care about how real she was being. In his head, he was playing. They were both playing. And he loved it when she played off such a prestige woman, exactly how he liked it.

He whispered back sweet words of grandeur. “ Do you question the taste of a king? I think of no one else more deserving.”

Although she didn’t back away fully, she leaned away a few inches, praying it wasn’t noticeable. She bore a toothy, nervous smile. She was okay baring with his affections until he brought his teeth into it. She did not want to be dinner after all that preparation. She cleared her throat. “Ah…Pray tell, what did the king see in this little… doll?”

“ A flower is most beautiful when taken cared of.” He held her cheek and kissed the opposite. “Let it be known, my care for you was not without motives. Your beauty is a testament to my hard work. And your care is a testament to your belonging to me.”

Belonging to him, he said… He was… so incredibly fucked up, she couldn’t say anything about it. When he was on his way to bite her arm, in her panic, she diverted it and kissed his gums, which, to him, was the equivalent of kissing his cheek.

The ringmaster blinked in confusion and Pomni took his moment of processing to cringe at the feeling of his melted gums on her lips. She felt goosebumps with how gross that was but quickly turned her head back to fake a smile.

But Caine broke character for a moment.“ Did you just. Take initiative?” 

Shit.

That was so strange. As if he hadn’t known that was an option.

She cleared he throat, trying to distract him again. “Is it so wrong of me to return the ringmaster’s affections?” She batted her eyes, making her feel as small as possible. “ A woman cannot resist such a… ” Pomni looked him up and down “... dentures.” 

She panicked with that one.

He stared at her for longer, and the grip on her hand tightened, though, it seemed he did not notice. Although he was unsure if he enjoyed the act or not, he knew what it meant. And the day that he was okay with someone else receiving it is the same day hell freezes over. With a small scowl, He leaned his face inches close to her, as he has always done time and time again.“ Would you reserve such affection for your ringmaster, and just your ringmaster?”

“Of course.” She lied through her teeth.

Caine continued to speak but with a bit more grit in his voice. He leaned so close to her in bed, he had to support one hand on her back, as if dipping her in a dance. “ And will you, my dear, solemnly swear that you’ll live the rest of your existence devoted and serving me?”

The woman kept her calm demeanor. A small smile, but a fake one. She can’t say yes to that. But with her compromising position, she couldn’t say no either. “ Would you promise the same for me?”

Caine was quiet, and so was she. He furrowed his teeth a bit frustrated and let her go. It seems he couldn’t say yes to that either, and Pomni knew.

“... That wasn’t your line.” Caine sat up, and crossed his arms like a pouting little boy.

Pomni faked a surprised face. “ There was a script? Geez, oh man, my bad!” she later faked a yawn. “ Wow, would you look at that I’m also, uh, sleepy! So it seems I can’t finish the uh-.. This”

“ You, “ Caine pointed his cane at her the same way a gunman would point a rifle “ Are being difficult.”

Pomni, in response, just panicked and shrugged. “ Well, I-”

“ But I suppose you’re right, it is quite late.  I wouldn’t want you attending the shows tired… again.” Caine got off the bed and floated off. He snapped, and the blanket draped over Pomni, drowning her in the bed sheets. “ Sleep tight, dear! It’s another day tomorrow, etc. etc. I will be visiting you a little earlier tomorrow to fix you a new wardrobe.” 

“ Wh-?? Then what’s with the-???” she gestured towards her current clothes that he so meticulously chosen out. 

Caine laughed. “ Oh don’t be silly!  Those were for my eyes only! And-- the audience’s if they so pleased. But for now, it's mine.” Caine snapped his fingers and Pomni was back to her normal ballet dress, but more plain and comfortable, but equally pleasing to many eyes.

“ …ARE YOU KIDDING M-”

“ Good night!”

SHUT!

Caine left with a small smile on his face. Sometimes he finds joy in being a bit of a nuisance. He pulled out his hand watch once again and found that it alerted him about errors within the system. 

She scoffed and summoned an old-timey rotary dial. 

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

“ You’ve reached Able.AI’s communication line! If you are an audience member or a performer: requests and complaints will be held off due to family emergencies. If you're my foul, besotted, temperish, fool of a brother: don’t call this line again! Thank you!” 

… Despite how ridiculous that was, Caine couldn’t help but chuckle. Ohh that was the cherry on top of that perfect day. Nonetheless, Caine AI, you have technical difficulties to tend to. Was today worth all the extra work? Yes. Yes, it was.

#The amazing digital circus #pomni #caine #able #The amazing digital circus pomni #The amazing digital circus caine #The amazing digital circus able #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc able #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime #showtime shipping #art #tadc #tadc fanart #the amazing digital circus fanart #writing #fic #fanfic

[honey-flustered]

Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)

MDNI +18 Only!!

Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader

Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)

A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.

CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants

You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.

“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.

“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”

You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.

“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.

“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”

“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”

“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.

“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”

“I’m in!” Essie beams.

“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.

“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”

“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”

You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”

——————

The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.

With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”

“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”

“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.

“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”

Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”

Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”

“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”

“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.

“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.

“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.

“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.

“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.

You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.

Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.

A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.

“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”

You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.

“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”

“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.

You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.

Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.

“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.

“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”

“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.

————-

“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.

“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.

“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”

“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”

“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to

Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.

“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.

“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”

“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.

“Exactly.” Your father confirms.

You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”

You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”

You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.

————

Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.

Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.

“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”

“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”

“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.

“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”

“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”

“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.

“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”

—————

Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.

“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”

Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!

“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”

He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”

You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.

He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.

“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”

“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.

“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.

“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”

You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.

“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.

——————

You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.

“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”

“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”

“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.

“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.

“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.”

“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.

“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”

“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.

He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.

But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.

————

The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.

Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.

“Wilbur. His name’s—”

“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”

The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.

It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.

Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.

You raise the paper to your eyes and read:

If I Were A Hobbit

If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free

I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees

With furry feet and a merry heart

From adventure’s call, I’d never depart

With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.

In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme

I’d wander the fields beneath the sun

I’d travel it world cause it’s all in good fun

If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid

But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid

You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.

“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”

You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”

“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”

“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”

He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”

“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.

“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.

You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.

“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”

“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”

He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.

It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.

“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.

“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They are like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”

Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.

His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.

You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.

He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.

Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.

————————-

Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.

You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.

“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”

“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”

“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from his grasp and into your arms. “It’s all in the technique.”

“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.

“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”

“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”

“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.

You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”

“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”

“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.

Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.

You sat on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returned with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.

He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.

“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You eish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.

Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?

You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.

“I-I s-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”

You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.

“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.

“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”

“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”

He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”

—————

You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.

“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.

“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”

“You know D’N’D?”

“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.

“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”

“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”

“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”

“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.

“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”

“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”

“Yeah right. I seemed like the bad boy type who falls for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”

He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.

“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”

“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.

“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.

“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”

Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.

“What do you want?”

You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—-“

“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.

“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.

“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit made me feel stupid and like I needed him as if he created me. And back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. It felt good to give him a piece of my mind although I wish I could have said more.”

“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.

“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.

“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson”

“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”

“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”

“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”

“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”

“I could. Considering I am one.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”

“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.

“We’re friends?”

“Us, geeks, stick together?”

“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”

He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.

“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”

“And what about my car?”

“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.

If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.

————

Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.

“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.

Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.

You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”

“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”

“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”

“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped small dick.”

“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She singssongs the last statement.

“I can’t remember. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble or I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”

“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”

“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.

Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.

Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.

“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.

“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”

“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”

“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.

“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.

“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.

“Payback’s a bitch, love.”

—————

“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.

“Tana!”

“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.

“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”

“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”

“I’m not!” You insist.

“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.

“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”

“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”

“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.

An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.

You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.

“What the hell is this?” You sneer.

“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.

“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.

“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.

“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.

“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.

Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”

With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.

“If I could just explain...” You begin.

“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”

You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.

“I was just having fun.”

“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”

“Well, I’m not that anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.

Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”

You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”

Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.

“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”

Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.

————-

You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.

A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.

“What do you want, twerp?” You say.

“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.

“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”

“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”

“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak incoherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.

“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.

————

The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.

The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.

However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thought letter long abandoned to the ground.

His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”

He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”

“Understand?” You ask.

“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”

“Accept?”

“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.

“You don’t hate me?”

“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.

“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”

“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”

“Now you could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.

“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.

For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.

“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you’ll be all smug about.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”

You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”

“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.

You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”

Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ears. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”

“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.

“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”

“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”

“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”

“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.

He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”

“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”

“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”

“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”

“You wanted it badly so I let you take it first.”

“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.

“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”

He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.

“You jerk, I just pick all that out of my hair.”

“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.

He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it until he lets out a puff of smoke in the air then looks back down at you once again. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.

Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fullg by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.

The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often growls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.

“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.

“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.

“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.

And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.

He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”

“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.

Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”

And once again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #beefy!eddie munson #farmer!eddie munson #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #chocolate button eyes #eddie my baby #older!eddie munson x reader smut #mean!reader #bratty!reader #stranger things au

[springtyme]

farleigh start x f!reader

make it based on the party scene where he sniffs the “nose candy” off the girls hand

PLS THE FARLEIGH GIRLS ARE STARVING😫

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 ♡

Thank you for the request ♡ I know you didn’t asked for smut per se, but I got a little carried away. I hope that’s okay, and hopefully can help feed the Farleigh girls a little ♡

Farleigh Start x afab!reader || Masterlist || Farleigh playlist

summary: You can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him. Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

word count: 4.5k

warning/tags: smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Drug use (cocaine). Vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, cum swallowing. Enemies to lovers (kinda?). I had pan4bi in mind when I wrote this, but readers sexually didn’t really end up getting mentioned, but Farleigh is definitely pan/queer like in canon. This whole thing kinda started out as one thing but turned into something completely different, so just to clear any possible confusion, Reader is best friends with Venetia, being childhood friends with her and Felix, and that is how she knows Fairleigh. Reader are enrolled in a university in Cambridge, unlike Fairleigh who is in Oxford. No proofreading.

The dimly lit room is illuminated by a dazzling array of colourful lights, flickering and dancing in sync with the music. The deep reverberations of the bass are sending tremors through your body, a pulsating rhythm thumping within your chest, and even piercing your eardrums, but in the best way possible. 

The scent of spilled drinks and way too expensive perfumes and colognes are hanging in the air, mixing with the distinct smell of sweat that, no matter what, or no matter how rich you are, you’ll never be able to avoid when this many people are in one place, drinking and dancing at once. It’s filling the space with a raw, primal energy, an energy which you can feel resonate within you, right into the very marrow of your bones. 

You find yourself surrendering to the music, letting it guide your every movement as you roll your hips to the beat, grinding against the solid body behind you, enjoying the feeling of big strong hands on your waist. You don’t know his name and you like it that way. You’ve been needing this, it’s finally summer, you’re finally on break and away from Cambridge and you have every intent of enjoying it to the fullest. 

As you let yourself be carried away by the music and the pulsating energy of the room, your eyes wander around the crowd. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your gaze meets the eyes of someone familiar, someone you had hoped to avoid, despite knowing it wouldn’t be possible. 

As your gaze locks with his, a mix of emotions floods through you. A wave of annoyance washes over you, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. 

Fucking Farleigh, the embodiment of everything you despise, stands across the room, his tall frame towering over the crowd. He’s always been a thorn in your side, pushing your buttons and challenging you at every turn. The tension between you has always been palpable, a constant battle of wits and wills.

The memories of countless arguments and bitter exchanges flood your mind, reminding you of all the reasons why you can’t stand him. Farleigh, with his arrogant smirk, like he always knows something that you don’t know, and his condescending remarks, has always managed to get under your skin. And now, here he is, invading your sanctuary of escape. 

And yet, and this is something you would never admit out loud to anyone, you have always felt strangely drawn to him, a magnetic pull that you’ve never been able to fully understand. A complicated connection, really, filled with both desire and deep annoyance.

You tear your eyes away, trying to regain your composure and ignore the magnetic pull drawing you towards him. You focus your attention back on the music, trying to lose yourself in its enchanting melody and forget about Farleigh’s presence. The pulsating beats and the heat of the body pressing against yours conspire to distract you, urging you to let go and revel in the moment. You move with more intensity, swaying your hips and allowing your body to glide effortlessly with the rhythm.

But despite your attempts to ignore him, Farleigh’s image persists in your mind, and it is as if you can feel his piercing eyes on you, burning your skin. The curiosity battles with your annoyance, leaving you conflicted and uncertain.

As the music reaches a crescendo, you can’t resist the pull any longer. With a mix of defiance and determination, you break away from the stranger behind you, making your way through the crowd in Farleigh’s direction. Not because you want to speak to him, of course not, you just want to find Venetia, Farleigh just happens to stand right next to the door.  

As you approach Farleigh, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes follow your every move. A flicker of amusement dances in his gaze, as if he knows the effect he has on you. Just as you’re about to pass him, Farleigh steps in front of you, a sly smile playing on his lips, the strobe lights flickering across his face, highlighting his features with pink and purple, and you feel how a warm flutter swoops through your stomach. Someone who is that annoying really don’t have any business being that handsome. 

You try to step past him, but he moves with a frustrating grace, blocking your path once more. “What do you want, Farleigh?” you huff, your tone laced with impatience. 

But he doesn’t answer you at first, instead, he just keeps the weird little dance going, with you trying to push past him to get through the door, and him stepping in front of you, blocking your way, until you finally take a step back, glaring up at him and you can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him like this. 

Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it fucking frustarites you.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is a low, velvety whisper that resonates deep within your core. “Long time no see,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The scent of his cologne invades your senses, stirring up a confusing mixture of attraction and deep irritation. 

With a deep breath, you muster up all the strength you have and respond, trying to match his nonchalant tone. “I was actually hoping to keep it that way,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Farleigh’s smirk widens slightly, and you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Well, that I find a little hard to believe. We are in my house, aren’t we?” he remarks, leaning in closer, his voice dripping with a hint of sarcasm.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that it would only fuel his satisfaction. Instead, you take a moment to study him. His sharp features are highlighted by the colourful lights surrounding you. Despite your frustration with him, there’s no denying that he has a certain magnetism that draws people in. “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s your house.” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “More like uncle’s house, isn’t it?”

Farleigh chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Touché,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “But you can’t deny that it’s my domain.”

You scoff, unable to resist a small smirk. “Domain? More like your little playground.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of challenge in his gaze. “Funny, because I always thought you were the one who loved a good game.”

The air between you crackles with tension, the familiar dance of wit and banter that has always characterised your interactions. Despite your annoyance with Farleigh, there’s a part of you that thrives on the exhilaration of this verbal sparring. “Maybe I do, but I have no interest in playing with you.”

Farleigh’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. “No interest at all?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve always seemed to enjoy our little tête-à-têtes.”

You resist the urge to let your guard down, refusing to let him see how much his words affect you. “Just because I enjoy a challenge doesn’t mean I enjoy dealing with you,” you reply, your tone sharp and dismissive.

Farleigh’s gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to uncover a hidden truth. “Is that so?” he says, his voice low and velvety. “Because I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I think you actually enjoy the tension between us, the push and pull.”

You scoff, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that his words are hitting too close to home. “You think too highly of yourself,” you retort, attempting to sound unaffected by his observation.

Farleigh takes a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the space between you. “Maybe,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I also think you’re intrigued by me. Admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know what it would be like to give in to that pull.”

Your heart races at his words, a mixture of anger and desire swirling within you. “You’re delusional,” you snap, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Farleigh’s expression softens, his eyes searching yours with a newfound tenderness. “Am I?” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. The intensity of his gaze leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to make sense of the conflicting emotions coursing through you. You’ve spent so long trying to resist him, to keep him at a distance, but now, in this moment, it feels impossible to deny the undeniable connection between you.

Farleigh leans in closer, his breath warming your ear as he speaks. “You can pretend all you want, but I see right through you.” His voice is laced with a mixture of confidence and mystery that sends a shiver down your spine. Suddenly, all the people around you disappear, the only thing that matters in that moment is the charged tension between you and Farleigh. It’s as if you’re existing in a world of your own, completely detached from reality.

You can’t resist the pull any longer. “Oh, can you now..?” You murmur, slowly, you reach out your hand to wipe a stray piece of glitter away from under his eye, letting your thumb gently graze his cheek. His eyes darken with a mix of surprise and anticipation, his lips parting slightly as if attempting to say something. But before a single word can escape, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a passionate, desperate kiss. 

Everything around you fades away as the electricity between you ignites, the world falling away as you become enraptured by the intensity of the moment. All the pent-up frustration and desire explode in that single act of surrender and defiance.

In this moment, you can no longer deny the complicated connection that exists between you. The magnetic pull, the mix of desire and annoyance, it all becomes clearer as you lose yourself in the kiss. The room around you becomes a blur, the music and the crowd transformed into mere background noise.

The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless and gasping for air, but the connection remains. You meet Farleigh’s gaze, a smouldering fire burning in his eyes. And in that silent exchange, the tension and chemistry between you cannot be ignored any longer. 

Farleigh’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and defiance in your expression. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you retort, trying to regain your composure. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Farleigh’s smile widens, and he takes a step closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Oh, it means something, alright,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a tantalising promise. 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a rush of anticipation flooding through you. As much as you want to deny it, there’s a part of you that craves the excitement and intensity that comes with being with Farleigh. You know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges along the way, but you can’t help but be drawn to him.

With a mix of determination and vulnerability, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Fine, it does mean something,” you whisper, your voice filled with both defiance and longing. As the words escape your lips, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The intensity between you and Farleigh has reached its breaking point, and you both know it. Without saying a word, you take Farleigh’s hand and lead him out of the room and through the big, crowded house searching for a place of solitude, finally finding it in the form of an unoccupied bathroom on the second floor. 

The sounds of the party fade into the background as you step inside, the quietness amplifying the intensity of the moment. Farleigh takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and filled with a mix of concern and desire.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out.” 

Farleigh’s lips curl into a knowing smile, the fiery desire in his eyes never wavering. He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you, his hand inching up to gently cup your cheek. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body.

In that moment, any last doubt or hesitation you might have felt fades away as the intense pull between you becomes undeniable. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the moment. His thumb caresses your cheek, and his voice, filled with a mixture of longing and assurance, whispers, “I’ll make it worth it.”

A surge of anticipation courses through your veins as Farleigh’s thumb brushes against your lips, tracing their outline with a delicate touch. Without even thinking, your own hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The air around you is heavy with desire and expectation.

As your lips collide once again, the passion between you ignites, consuming you both in a fiery haze. The bathroom echoes with the rapid beating of your hearts and the soft gasps that escape your lips. Farleigh’s kiss is both tender and intense, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that matches your own. This single act of surrender has unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, leaving you craving more. 

You start to walk backwards, until your back gently bumps into the vanity cabinet of the sink, without breaking the kiss even once. You first break the kiss as Farleigh’s hands find your hips, helping you jump up the counter. Your already short dress, hiking even higher up your thigh as you spread your legs to let him step in between them. “You got any nose candy?” you pant, making Farleigh chuckle, his breath warm against your lips as he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer, don’t you?” he replies, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small vial of white powder and setting it on the counter.

He carefully measures out a small amount of the powder, offering it to you on the back of his hand. You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. With only a very short flicker of hesitation, you lean in, snorting the powder through your nose. The effects are immediate, a surge of warmth and euphoria washing over you.

Farleigh takes your hand, putting the vial to it to make a line for himself, but you stop him before any of the coke has left the container. “No, here.” You say, placing your hand behind you on the counter and leaning back, exposing your bare collarbone, inviting him to snort the line off your skin. Farleigh’s eyes widen, clearly liking your suggestion, his gaze locked on the vulnerable expanse of your skin before a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, lining up a stripe for himself.   

As he leans in, his breath tickles your skin. His fingers, delicate and precise, trace the line of the cocaine on your collarbone before he leans down, his lips brushing against your skin as he inhales the white powder. A shiver races through your body at the touch of his lips against your sensitive skin, the combination of the drug’s rush and Farleigh’s proximity sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You both linger in this moment, caught between desire and the heightened state induced by the substance. Everything in the bathroom seems to fade away as you focus on the connection between you and Farleigh - the electric current that flows between your bodies, the shared need for a temporary escape. Farleigh pulls back, his eyes dark and heavy with desire as he locks his gaze with yours. 

“Come here,” you all but moan, making him chuckle. The lingering scent of his luxurious cologne fills the air, prompting you to inch closer on the countertop, savouring every breath of him. You reach out, pulling Farleigh closer as you crash your lips together once more, the kiss growing even more passionate and heated than before. And as the kiss deepens even more, Farleigh’s hands start to explore your body, one trailing up your thigh while the other gently cups your cheek. Your own hands roam eagerly over his frame, feeling the heat and power emanating from him.

The bathroom becomes a blur of sensations, the feel of his hands on you, the taste of his lips on yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne surrounding you. Time seems to lose all meaning as you lose yourself in the moment, giving in to the intoxicating combination of pleasure and desire. As he finally breaks the kiss, his lips trail a path down your neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses in their wake. The heat between you builds with each passing moment, every touch and caress leaving you craving for more.

As Farleigh’s lips find their way to the sensitive curve of your collarbone, you let out a soft gasp, a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. His hands roam over your thigh, inching higher and higher, until he reaches the delicate fabric of your now soaked panties, carefully teasing and brushing against your most sensitive area. Your breath hitches in anticipation as his touch sends a surge of arousal coursing through you.

Unable to contain your desire any longer, you guide his hand to where you need him most, sliding your panties to the side. His fingers waste no time in exploring, gently parting your slick folds and finding your throbbing clit. Soft moans escape your lips as he circles his fingers around your sensitive bud, the pleasure building with every stroke. “Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers huskily, his voice laced with desire. His fingers skillfully dance along your swollen nub, expertly coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. 

The bathroom becomes a sanctuary of pleasure and intimacy as Farleigh expertly works his fingers, gradually increasing the rhythm and pressure. You tilt your head back, surrendering yourself completely to the ecstasy flooding your senses. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to his hand, eager for more. The need for release consumes you, the overwhelming sensation heightening with each passing second. Farleigh, ever attuned to your desires, gives you exactly what you crave. His fingers quicken their pace, increasing the pressure against your throbbing clit, using his other hand to push, first one, then two, fingers into your craving cunt, pumping into you, while still working your clit. 

Lost in the blissful haze, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers, signalling your imminent release. Every touch becomes electrifying as you chase that elusive peak. And when the wave of pleasure crashes over you, it’s all-consuming. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your moans echoing off the bathroom walls. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, his voice raw with desire as he continues to ride out your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure with his skilled fingers. He keeps his touch steady and relentless, expertly drawing out every ounce of bliss from your pulsing core. It’s a relentless dance of pleasure and sensation, leaving you gasping for breath as the ecstasy courses through your veins.

Farleigh withdraws his fingers, the absence of his touch leaves you yearning for more. He brings them to his mouth sucking off your juices. “Fuck… you taste good, I think I need to get a better taste, baby” he smirks. 

“Please, Farleigh,” you hate that you’re begging, but fuck how you need more of him. “N-need more…” you squirm a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Farleigh smirks again, unlike you he is clearly very glad to hear how pleading and desperate you are for him. 

He sinks to his knees before you and slowly pulls your soaked panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable before him all the while keeping eye contact with you. Without a word, he leans in, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. His lips brush against your inner thighs, teasingly light and gentle, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As his mouth moves closer to your throbbing core, you grip the edge of the counter, desperately trying to steady yourself. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable, the teasing kisses and licks making you ache for more. Finally, his lips press against your clit, his tongue immediately finding its rhythm as he expertly swirls and flicks, drawing moans of pleasure from deep within you. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, building the pleasure to dizzying heights. He alternates between delicate licks and sucking motions, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. The sensation is overwhelming, and you lose yourself in a haze of pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the room, your pleasure echoing off the walls. You can feel the pressure building inside you, your climax approaching rapidly. And just when you think you can’t hold on any longer, the dam breaks, and you surrender to the powerful waves of your orgasm. Stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your body convulses with pleasure, your voice reaching heights you didn’t know were possible. 

Farleigh doesn’t let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive clit, prolonging your ecstasy until you’re completely spent. As the waves of pleasure subside, he pulls away, a satisfied grin on his face as he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your essence. You struggle to catch your breath, your entire body still trembling from the intensity of your release as Farleigh gets up from the floor. You close your eyes for a second, as you take in the reality you’re living in now, a reality where you have been eaten out by Farleigh fucking Start, and now in this moment you almost can’t recall why you ever disliked him.  

As your body slowly comes down from the heights of pleasure, you open your eyes again, breathing heavily, to find Farleigh staring at you with hunger in his eyes. His own desire is evident, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Reaching out, you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Your turn,” you say, your voice vibrating with anticipation.

A mischievous smile plays on his lips as he realises what you have in mind. Without a word, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a toned chest. He shrugs off his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor as he confidently steps out of his shoes. Every movement he makes is deliberate, a display of raw sensuality that only intensifies your desire for him.

With a mixture of excitement and confidence, you jump down from the counter and step toward Farleigh, your legs feel like jelly, but you don’t let that stop you. Your hands find their way to the waistband of his pants, fingers skillfully unfastening them. As his pants pool at his feet, you run your hands up his muscular thighs, feeling the contours of his body beneath your touch.

Your gaze flickers upward, locking eyes with Farleigh, the intensity in his gaze mirrored in your own. Without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees, fully engulfed in the moment. You trail kisses along his inner thighs, teasing and taunting him. His breath hitching with every kiss, the anticipation in the room building with each passing moment.

As you reach his hardened cock, you wrap your fingers around him, feeling his heat and the pulsing desire that emanates from him. He is big; girthy, with a nice vein lining the underside of his shaft. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eliciting a low growl from his throat, before you pool spit in your mouth, letting it fall from your mouth and down his shaft. With a combination of skill and eagerness, your mouth encloses around him, the heat and wetness enveloping him. 

As your lips slide up and down his length, you can feel him growing even harder, his breaths becoming more ragged. You use your hand in synchronisation with your mouth, working him tirelessly, determined to bring him to the brink of release, moaning around his cock while breathy praises leaves his mouth.

The bathroom becomes a symphony of moans and heavy breaths as the pleasure builds between you. Your lips and tongue work magic, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. And when he finally succumbs to the overwhelming ecstasy, he spills himself into your waiting mouth, his moans of pleasure echoing off the bathroom walls.

You take him in, savouring the taste of him as his release warms your mouth as you swallow him up. It’s an act of trust and vulnerability, something you, just an hour ago, could never have imagined to be between the two of you. As he finally catches his breath, his hands gently lift your chin, guiding you back to your feet.

Your eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between you. “You know, uh…” you start, Taking in a deep breath. “Venetia asked me to stay for a bit, I’ll be here at Saltburn for the next two weeks.” you whisper, letting the implication of your words hang in the air for a moment.

Farleigh’s eyes widen with surprise, a mixture of excitement and hope flickering in his gaze. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can see the longing in his eyes.

“Two weeks?” he repeats, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and anticipation. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You smile, a mix of mischief and desire in your gaze. “I’m saying that we have two weeks to explore this... connection between us,” you reply, your voice filled with a tantalising promise. “But let’s make one thing clear, Farleigh. This doesn’t mean that I like you now,” and you hate how it isn’t really true. 

Farleigh’s smile widens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I guess I have two weeks to change that.”

Thank you for reading! If you want, please leave a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought of it ♡ also request for my 1k follower event are open :)

#springtyme writes #farleigh x reader #farleigh fic #farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #saltburn fic #saltburn x reader #farleigh x you #saltburn fanfiction #farleigh smut #saltburn smut #saltburn fandom #farleigh saltburn #farleigh catton #saltburn movie #saltburn 2023 #farleigh imagine #saltburn imagine #drabble #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #saltburn #farleigh x y/n #farleigh start x y/n

[room-surprise]

How Old Is Thistle?

(EDIT: I've made a follow-up post to this one that goes deeper into the math and additional evidence that the 5:1 ratio is correct. You can read it here!)

I've seen people debating this and a lot of folks insisting that Thistle is a child, and since Thistle just debuted in the anime, I wanted to do a full write-up to help myself and others figure this out.

We don't know how old any of the Merini family members are exactly, so the best we can do is guess based on the information we have, but after carefully studying the manga, I think Thistle is at least a teenager, but much more likely a young adult, and definitely not a prepubescent child.

Here's what we know:

EDIT: Depending on what translation you read of some of the extra materials, Freinag implies that Thistle is the same age as some of his advisors.

Here's a detailed translation of this panel from my friend Fumi:

Elves age 5 times slower than tall-men.

16 year old tall-men in Dungeon Meshi's medieval time period are adults, they commonly join the military, get married, have children, etc.

An 80 year old elf is an adult. Pattadol is 82 and she's a lieutenant in a military unit. It's her first job and she's obviously a rookie, but Captain Flamela tells Pattadol to accomplish her mission or die trying.

Many fully adult elves look like what we might consider children or young teens, because they're short, petite, and have androgynous features.

An average elven adult is around 150-155cm tall (5 ft), meaning some are shorter than that, and some are taller. Thistle is 130 cm, which is short, but not unheard of.

Fleki is 130 (26) years old and she's 140 cm tall (4'7")

Otta is 137 (27) years old and she's 130 cm (4'5") tall, the same height as Thistle!

They are both women, but there's probably plenty of elven men in their height range.

Just so we can compare Thistle to some adult elven men, Mithrun and his brother are probably adults (or close to it) in the panel on the left.

Mithrun (in this image) is somewhere between 75 and 144 (probably in his 80's), and his brother is older than him (so he could be in his late 80s or 90s). As you can see, they don't look that different from Thistle, Otta or Fleki.

So, how old is Thistle?

(Spoilers below the cut)

Thistle was brought to the royal court as a child (found on the street, stolen or purchased, we don't know how they got him). At the absolute youngest I'd guess Thistle is 25 years old here (so about 5 years old for a tall-man.) He can already play the flute, and possibly the lute, and most children that aren't prodigies can't handle playing an instrument (physically or mentally) until they're around 5.

EDIT: We now know that Thistle is the same age as Freinag, the king that takes him in! So Thistle must be at least 25 years old in this comic, though realistically he could be anywhere from 25 to 40 based on how Kui drew Freinag.

He lived in the court for an unknown amount of time, Freinag hasn't changed much but Thistle appears to have aged a little, so let's say it's been 5 years and Thistle is 30 (6) when Delgal is born. More than 5 years could have passed, but I'm trying to keep the numbers low.

Delgal gets married and has a child. Delgal should be at least 15 at this point, but since he has a full mustache before his wedding, I think he's in his 20's, since teenagers tend to not be the best at growing robust facial hair.

(He has a full beard by the time Eodio's a young child.)

Thistle puts the kingdom inside the dungeon around this point, however, people are still aging: Delgal's grandson Yaad is born, and Eodio is clearly a young adult here, probably in his 20's. Therefore, there is NO REASON to assume Thistle stopped aging. "The dungeon lords don't age" is a common fan headcanon I've seen people spreading, but it has no clear canon basis.

Yaad ages until he looks about 13-15 years old, and at this point all of the people of the kingdom and Thistle appear to stop aging, and 1,000 years pass.

So, the youngest Thistle could possibly be, if he was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, if Delgal was 15 when he had Eodio, and Eodio was 15 when he had Yaad, and Yaad is 13 years old...

Is 73 years old, which would make Thistle about 14.6 years old by tall-man standards.

HOWEVER, I think it's VERY unlikely that all the characters are that young.

I think it's clear from Kui's drawings that Delgal and Eodio are not 15 years old when they become fathers, and that Freinag is at least 25 when he takes in Thistle.

If we assume Thistle was 30 when Delgal was born, and Delgal and Eodio were both at least 20 when they had children, even if Yaad is only 13 years old, that makes Thistle at least 83 years old (16.6), and makes him older than Pattadol, who is an adult at 82.

However, I think it's entirely possible that Thistle was anywhere from 40-50 when Delgal was born, and Delgal could have been anywhere from 20 to 30 when he had Eodio, and Eodio could have been anywhere from 20-25 when he had Yaad. If you use the maximum ages, and assume Yaad is 15, then Thistle could be as old as 120 (24).

I think a reasonable middle ground is assuming Thistle was 30 (6) when Delgal was born, Delgal had Eodio at 25, Eodio had Yaad at 20, and Yaad is 15... Which would make Thistle 90 (18) years old.

This of course says nothing about Thistle's emotional maturity or sanity, he's obviously stunted in some ways, but the point I want to make here is:

Thistle's age could be anywhere from 14.6 to 24 at the most extreme, but more realistically he's somewhere between 16.6 and 18.

And that's not even counting the thousand years that he's lived since then!

And that's all I've got to say about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

(EDIT: Follow-up post with additional evidence here.) EDIT 2: I've seen a lot of people talking about the page Kui drew talking about elven earmuffs. It's considered just barely okay for Pattadol to wear them, but it's ok for Thistle to wear them... In which case I'd say Thistle could be any age younger than 83. That's handy as it knocks out some of the older ages!

So in that case Thistle's age is between 73 years old and 82, which makes him developmentally between 14.6 and 16.4!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #Thistle #Thistle Merini #thistle dungeon meshi #thistle delicious in dungeon #sissel #spoilers #theories

[celtic-crossbow]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional. 

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost. 

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said. 

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn���t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked. 

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that. 

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket. 

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.” 

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake. 

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd. 

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move. 

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared. 

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile. 

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted. 

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied. 

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all. 

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often. 

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.” 

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.” 

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.” 

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?” 

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.” 

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined. 

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer. 

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by. 

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #daryl angst #daryl dixon angst

[yanderes-galore]

... I caved, okay? It's just... I'm a sucker for cute animals and horror... I had to write for the hound whom I pity so much. Obviously this is an AU. I mention the normal monster form but I also mention the cartoon form... yet I made an AU where Smiling Critters can swap between a smaller plush/cartoon form to their Bigger Bodies Initiative form. Why? Why not.

Maybe I'll do Catnap, I haven't decided, been a bit since I've done a fic that's not a request. This is pure brainrot and written at 1-2 AM. Expect mistakes. I just had to get the idea down.

Keep in mind as I write this I realized that you might as well just make this a separate AU from canon. These are still experiments but CatNap is probably not... Theo. Idk, letting 2 AM creativity flow created an AU for the cute stuffed animals so... enjoy?

☀️Yandere DogDay Concept☀️

🐶(My Version)🐶

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Fear of abandonment, CatNap has hurt DogDay in the past, Gore implied, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Blood mention, Forced companionship.

Ah yes, DogDay, the leader of the Smiling Critters.

How I plan to write the Smiling Critters is this...

Each critter has a plush/cartoon form they can wander in.

They are small, maybe going up to about the waist of an adult.

But all critters also have a Bigger Bodies form/monster form.

Which is the form we can see DogDay and CatNap take in chases within Poppy Playtime.

(For those who know my blog you'll notice similarities to my FNAF Fluffy/Stuffy AU and my BATIM Bendy fics)

There's many ways you could meet the orange dog.

But for now... I just want to discuss how I'd write DogDay to get the ideas down.

In his smaller cartoon form he is like a living plushy to you.

He fits snuggly in your arms, a bright smile on his face with a sun collar dangling from his neck.

When you hug him you smell the calming scent of vanilla... a scent that seems to calm your worries with ease.

DogDay would act like a best friend to you.

The dog plush would follow you around, acting like a way to ease your anxiety.

If you were ever anxious or scared... DogDay crawls in your lap with a wagging tail.

His smell and soft fur puts you at ease....

In fact, describing him like this makes him seem like some sort of "service dog" (service plush?).

DogDay is technically still a living being in this form.

He still has blood despite being a living toy.

Which makes him warm to the touch when you hold him.

The smaller form of DogDay is obviously a loyal companion, very similar to a real dog.

Then there's his bigger version... he takes on a more monstrous form but even then still seems to be friendly.

He has a deeper voice and often calls you his "Angel" or "Best Friend".

In this form he still is very attentive to the needs of his new friend.

Especially if he's been left alone for way too long.

Even more so if CatNap decided to torment him like in canon.

In his bigger form he is more capable of scooping you up.

I imagine he still retains his vanilla scent?

In his monster form he probably still has it... but it's mixed with a musky scent.

Imagine if DogDay was left all alone in Playcare like in canon.

All of his friends are gone... CatNap has gone insane... in fact he may even have injuries by CatNap.

But then you show up and pick up the wounded plush.

You hold him close... he feels your warmth...

He gets attached...

Now you have a clingy dog plush following you everywhere.

DogDay is not the violent type.

However, he would do anything to protect you.

He's overprotective, especially if he has been abandoned.

He fears the idea of losing you which leads to him clinging to you.

You may be scared... you may not even like his monster form... but he's still your best friend, Angel!

You may try to run from him once you see his "true" form.

Yet he prevents it... grabbing you tightly and pressing you into his chest.

No matter his form... he still has that vanilla scent.

A scent that makes you relax... one that makes you go limp...

DogDay means no harm.

After all, CatNap could just gas you and force the affection out of you.

DogDay, even if he is in poor condition due to CatNap (legs or not), wants to be your guide.

He often swaps to plush form and monster form.

If he notices you're anxious he does whatever he can to prevent it.

DogDay would always be by your side.

He doesn't care if CatNap tears off his legs... or if blood and dirt stains his orange fur...

He wants to make you smile.

The monster form is most certainly used to either protect you or keep you beside DogDay.

For the most part he prefers to be in plush form with you.

He hates scaring you.

He definitely is receptive to pets like a dog... his tail wagging wildly when you stroke his fur.

DogDay is overly clingy and easily excited.

I wouldn't doubt it if you tossed something and said Fetch, he'd give chase.

He isn't too bad of a yandere.

He's clingy due to a fear of abandonment and overprotective... but surely that's understandable, right?

He just fears the idea of you seeing him feast on other toys...

He feels a hunger deep inside him but doesn't give in.

But if anyone attacked you... he may be unable to help himself.

If DogDay ever accidentally scared you he is quick to apologize and tries to appeal to you.

Blood? Around his mouth and on his paws? No... no things are okay!

See? See? He's just a cute plush dog!

Don't leave him.

PLEASE DON'T LEAVE HIM...!

If you ever tried to abandon the living toy, he won't allow it.

He'll swap to monster form and scoop you into his furry body.

Your nose is assaulted by the smell of musk... dirt... blood...

Vanilla.

It's always that dreaded smell that haunts you... a smell that should be so calming...

Vanilla.

DogDay would hold you close to him... even if you think of him as a monster.

You should see him as a friend... he'd never hurt you!

He'd desperately try to calm you down with his scent and furry hold.

He's covered in blood... but he isn't heartless, is he!?

He's protecting you...

He's helping you...

He's caring for you...

He's yours... and you're his!

You can't abandon him, Angel...

In his eyes, you're his best friend!

Even as you struggle against him he pulls you tighter against him....

It's his job to soothe your anxiety... just breathe in his vanilla scent and relax into his fur...

He can't bear to let go of his new Best Friend...

He can't bear to see his Angel go....

#yandere poppy playtime #yandere smiling critters #yandere dogday

[zwhoreo]

Hi!! I absolutely love the way you write Luffy, especially his affections!! Can you write some headcanons maybe of all the little affectionate touches or gestures he makes when you’re together? 🥰💖

ahh that means a lot coming from one of my fav writers I follow!! shoutout kitty you're so cool <3 also i loved this request and I'll definitely be taking inspiration from this list i made for future fics

luffy and affection - luffy x gn!reader headcanons

fluff

summary in request, a compilation of my ideas for how luffy would show affection in your relationship

contains: three sections - hugging, kissing, sleeping

words: ~ 550

________________________

Next to quality time, Luffy’s main love language is physical touch, so he’s extremely affectionate and needy

It doesn’t matter if you’re usually not into touch, or if you’re really affectionate, whatever kind of person you are, your relationship with him will have to be full of affection and physical contact. That’s how he shows love and appreciation

clingy, loves to cuddle, likes to talk to you just inches away from your face, because he loves you so much

Here are the ways he shows his affection in hugging, kissing, and sleeping…

Hugging 

Would like to hug you constantly even before you had any feelings for each other, and even more after, it’s just his instinct

Especially after something scary or intense happens on an adventure

Will hug you whenever he feels like it, and often he’s sort of just attached to you

He has no sense of personal space and likes to be pressed against your body as much as possible

He’ll try to climb on top of you, even if you’re smaller than him

That thing in the show where he hugs someone around their face with his legs on their shoulders? He’ll do that and knock you over

That thing every Luffy headcanon has, where he’ll stretch his arms and grab you/launch himself toward you from across the deck? I agree

Kissing 

Maybe… an oral fixation? (Freudian psychological term for someone whose mouth is a highly erogenous zone, who always wants to be chewing something or keeping their mouth occupied for comfort and to soothe nerves)

^ So he likes to kiss you all the time, and especially so if he’s feeling any type of strong emotion (excitement, joy, stress, sadness, anger…)

Like i said, no personal space, and so, as he talks to you just inches away, he’ll take you by surprise and lean in for a quick kiss whenever he feels like it

He’ll kiss, chew, and suck on your fingers. Not in a sexual way, it’s just because he gets to hold your hand and occupy his mouth at the same time

Sleeping

In canon, Luffy seeks out touch in his sleep. So this will be no different for you, and even more, as he can’t settle unless some part of his body, preferably all of it, is touching yours

He will hold you so close and tight that you feel sore the next morning.

I saw a headcanon somewhere that he’ll use his stretchy limbs to wrap you up and tangle himself with you, and i agree  

His leg will be over yours, his arm around your waist, his hand in your hair.

In his sleep, he plays with your hair, when he’s having vivid dreams he sometimes pulls too hard and wakes you up

Although there are times he sleeps with his head buried in your neck or chest, or yours in his, more often than not his face is directly pressed against yours

^ This is too close and sort of uncomfortable for you, but Luffy loves it, and you’ll have to adjust to the sensation 

^ His mouth will be pressed next to yours, and he sleeps with his mouth open, a sheen of his saliva coating your lips and chin when you wake up

^ His eyelashes will twitch and tickle your eyelids as he dreams

^ Your cheek will be covered in little teeth marks

^ His snoring will be loud, but you’ll get used to it

^ His heavy breathing on your face becomes a comfort for you

Even in the common awkward or uncomfortable positions of the night, you’re going to have the best sleep ever

#luffy x reader #one piece x reader #luffy #one piece #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #one piece fanfiction #luffy fluff #luffy headcanons #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader fluff #one piece fluff #luffy x reader headcanons #affectionate luffy

[amuseoffyre]

With Black Sails being back in streaming in some areas, I'm imagining how much it would infuriate the current slew of people who are convinced that watching morally gray/bad characters makes you as a viewer a morally gray/bad person.

Our leading man straight up beats someone to death with a cannon ball in the first couple of episodes and kills many many many people while acting out of grief, loss, remorse and rage. Also, he is baby and cries in his cabin.

One of our leading lady abandons and double-crosses her lovers (both male and female) out of her desire to do what she believes is the right thing to keep their world alive and running, trading, bartering and fighting every step of the way.

And the best part is that none of these characters start out this way. We have so many idealists. The hopeful ones who want the better world, but the better world isn't something 'civilisation' will allow them to have and the carnage comes when they try and change things. It's a scream against the injustices of the world that pushes people to desperate measures to hold onto and protect what little they have.

This is how they survive. They paint the world full of shadows and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons. Their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark there is discovery. There is possibility. There is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it.

Everyone else is ruthless, survivalist, determined to do whatever they have to in order to get what they want/need. People make horrible decisions out of desperation and because there's literally no other choice. And there are consequences. Each action causes ripples in the canon pool. No decision, no matter how reckless/hopeless/desperately made, comes without repercussions.

Unlike so many series, what happens in the episodes before directly impacts how the events that follow play out. Action and reaction. It's a narrative that begins long before we join the story and, when we leave it, it's a narrative that will continue long afterwards. It's a bloody, chaotic, glorious and devastating would-be revolution.

In case I hadn't mentioned it, I adore this show with every fibre of my being. It is packed with so many layers and so much nuance and history and phenomenal character arcs.

#black sails

[manicpixiefelix]

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had)

{ One-Shot AU for head, heart, hand. }

@saintbeau asked: I know you said in the Canon ending, up until a certain point, Oliver was planning to let the reader live. If he'd never decided to kill them, do you think they'd suffer a similar fate as Farleigh and be forced out? Or do you think there's ever a possibility of 'the pet coming with the house' so to speak? I think to a degree Oliver's yearning to take Felix's place could lead him to essentially slotting himself alongside the reader if they'd allow it.

Summary: After the death of your best friend and his sister, you can't bring yourself to stay at Saltburn, even when their grieving mother wishes you would. However, after several years away to process and grow, you find yourself back in touch with Oliver Quick, who's changed so much in the time you've spent apart. Fate certainly has a funny was of working out, so you're not entirely surprised to end up back at the place you'd once called home.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Oliver/Reader are endgame here.

Warnings: Very poor relationship with reader's parents. SALTBURN-CANON ENDING; Felix & Venetia are still dead, but we get a happy ending this time. Also not sure if it needs a warning but Oliver does admit to killing Felix.

A/N: 4162 words. This got away from me. this ends up being so painfully fluffy. it's VERY Oliver/Reader, Oliver's less of a bastardman and he doesn't kill Elspeth but her health is failing significantly like it does in the movie. i think i might have made him a better person as compared to the film, but it's still canon compliant mostly. it ends so fluffy and happy tho, i love it omg. AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON TO head, heart, hand.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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There is no world where you stay where Oliver wins.

But there's a world where you leave, heart too heavy with grief, where you transfer from Oxford and spend time as an adult reconnecting with your own family, where he finds you again. Your parents don't respect you as family, but you're granted access to their lives, to be in their line of sight; you become almost like a live-in assistant who takes meals with them but for whom they show no outward affection.

It's all you have left.

You tell yourself it's enough.

"That Catton fellow offed himself," your father says it with such idleness, as if reporting the weather.

"Sir James?" You almost choke on your breakfast, and father peers down his nose at you over his morning paper, giving you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yes, sorry, I forgot you knew him -"

"Surely it doesn't say that he offed himself," your mother frowned, tugging at the corner of the paper to try and get a look at the article. They bicker lightly, charmingly, in the middle of this cafe about the death of your best friend's father, and what the article is saying or implying, but you just wonder about Elspeth.

Later, when you search through old papers and memories and notebooks, you find the number for Saltburn and call. Duncan's voice is familiar, as is yours to him.

"Captain," the old nickname is so gentle on his tongue, the most gentle you'd ever heard him be about anything. Then, as quickly as you'd heard it, the gentleness is replaced with apology, letting you know that Elspeth is unavailable, but that you'd be welcome to attend Sir James' funeral. You know you'd never be able to bring yourself to attend.

It's Oliver who reaches out, deliberate, in the months that follow. It's slow going, too formal for how intimately, how messily you knew each other for those few months in the Spring and Summer. He apologises, says he saw you on the cover of a tabloid trailing a pair of aging socialites and looked further into it.

"You looked -" he tells you over dinner in the city, beautiful, settled, no more of his youthful awkwardness; it had only been a few years, but how glad you were to see him, "fucking miserable," he says so gently, taking your face in his hands. Oh fuck, you'd missed him, missed his touch, missed how clearly he could see you - you burst into tears in the restaurant.

Dating Oliver makes you feel like a whole new person, raw, relearning yourself, realising you'd been living like a ghost since you'd left Saltburn. Your hyper competency had needed an outlet and your parents had provided that, but you were barely a person, to them or to yourself. Now you were learning who you were, alone.

Quieter. More focused and driven in your professional endeavours. As dangerously charming as Farleigh ever was. The memory of Venetia peeking through in your wickedly sharp wit. An echo of Felix in the affection you carried with you, in your smile, in your laugh. A living ghost, learning to love and embrace the ways in which you were haunted, rather than grieving for them.

You spend nights in his little flat, take refuge from your own life in his, and Oliver's the one who informs you that Elspeth has moved into town, leaving Saltburn echoing and empty, if not for the skeleton crew that maintains it.

"She wants to see you," there's a strange look in his eyes when he says it, something conflicted, almost dark, but when you smile, he too lights up.

Elspeth holds you for a very long time. In the middle of a cafe in walking distance for your both it turns out, there's tears in her eyes, and a joyful smile, and she doesn't let you go even as Oliver goes and order you all drinks.

"So beautiful, you've always been so beautiful," she murmurs, long, elegant fingers feather light against your features, no care for propriety here, "you're so grown up." It's like she's trying to connect the person you are now with the memory she has of you. Tears are welling in your own eyes.

"I'm sorry I left, mum." There's a lump in your throat and her tears start to fall as she takes your face gently, cradling you against her, laughing through her bittersweet memories.

"I never blamed you, pet, never," she assures, voice wet with tears but reassuring nonetheless. Oliver sits down on your other side, wordlessly leaning into you both, resting his head on your shoulder. The three of you stay like that for a long moment. You can hear Elspeth sniffling quietly.

The moment breaks, she lets you go, and when you sit back up, Oliver takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and resting your joined hands on the table. Immediately Elspeth's eyes focus upon them, and she gives a warm smile to your both.

"I cannot believe you've found each other again," and she sounds so genuinely joyful, "it's funny how the universe works out." Oliver gives a faint, bashful smile, leaning into you, bumping your shoulder for a bit.

"I'm a lucky man," there's something wonderfully, desperately loving in his eyes when he looks at you in this moment. It is, to him, the total and complete truth. Before you're overwhelmed by your urge to kiss him, however, Elspeth continues.

"After all that's happened, I am glad luck, and life, have brought you both back to me; I was just saying to dear Ollie the other day," Elspeth rests her cool, well manicured hand on your free hand, sitting on the table, "the two of you should come stay at Saltburn again."

Something constricts in your throat, grip on Oliver's hand tightening momentarily.

"I know," Elspeth is quick to move her hand to your shoulder, seeing the way your expression changes, drops, "but that house still holds so much love for you, my dear pet," and she takes a deep, shaky breath, finally admitting, "and I can't bring myself to be there alone."

Looking to Oliver, he gives you a gentle smile, nothing but sweet warmth and reassurance; he's changed so much since Saltburn, so sweet, so sublime. That version of Oliver didn't know how to love you or Felix in a way that was good for any of you, you came to realise, but this Oliver, oh this Oliver had crafted himself a home in your heart with love you didn't think anyone other than Felix had been capable of.

"It can be our home again," he murmurs, a sentiment Elspeth echoes like she hadn't even realised that was what she had wanted from you both;

"It can be your home again."

The drive to Saltburn feels like a memory, of young laughter and loud music and Summer sweat whipped away by the wind in Felix's convertible. The car you'd chosen to take with you is far more sensible, but still relatively ostentatious, and when you ask Oliver to drive, he of course obliges you. Still, the music is loud, and the day is warm, and even if the two of you are quiet, there's still a warm hand on your knee.

And you still feel loved.

Saltburn creaks and echoes with familiarity.

The doors open, and though you don't recognise the footmen either side of the entrance, you certainly recognise Duncan. He's older, of course, as are you. There's a touch of grey by his temples, and he's paler than you remember, but still prim, still gaunt and haunting -

"Mister Quick," until his eyes fall on you, and he softens almost imperceptibly, but you see it, you hear it in his voice, "and Captain Y/N," almost like it's an in-joke between you both by now.

"It's good to see you, Duncan," you tell him sincerely, and for the briefest moment he actually smiles.

"And you as well."

Everything's the same, just as Elspeth had assured you both. Everything's the same, just as when you'd left. Fled. Alone all those years ago.

Coming back, hand in hand with Oliver, it feels surreal.

Grand foyer, red staircase, secluded alcove that you and Venetia used to tease Felix about regarding his 'accidental' bout of cousin fingering, Henry Seventh's cabinet, the arch Felix claimed his grandmother haunted, the Green Room, gardens through the windows, Rubens that Felix never cared for but you had always appreciated. Still broken piano. Blue Room; still blue. The King's bedroom, not that you cared for Henry the Eighth, but Felix always liked to bring it up. The long gallery. Portraits of Cattons you had never cared for. Shakespeare's folios that you and Felix had spent a Winter going through, just to brag that you had, without realising how few people would care.

Sir James' teddy was absent from it's usual chair. Something about that makes something ache in your chest, just a little. So you look away, to the maze beyond the windows that you never want to go in again.

You know this house, this route, like the back of your hand even now. Oliver holds your hand tightly as you rest your hand on the intricate doorknob of the midnight blue door that you both remember so well.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's voice is quiet, is reverential, as you hesitate. Nodding once, you push open the door.

It still smells like Felix. His things are still here, still a bit of a mess. Books and knickknacks and photos. His wardrobe door is still ajar, the way you know you left it when you'd been scrambling to pack your own garments when you'd last been here, and his clothes still hang there, frozen, a moment in time.

It aches, but it doesn't... hurt. Not like you thought it would. It almost seems silly, to have this preserved for so long.

"Can we stay in here, Duncan?" You call out, knowing he must be around somewhere, he always was.

"I thought you might," Elspeth's gentle voice from the doorway makes you and Oliver both jump. But she's smiling at you both, and once the shock has worn off, you can't help but laugh. It sets you all off, laughing warmly, fondly, all three in Felix's perfectly untouched room.

Elspeth does, however, let you know that they've had the bathroom redone. She doesn't say it's because of Venetia, but you're quietly grateful nonetheless. You don't know if you could bring yourself to bath in there if all you could think about was Venetia's blood across the bathroom floor. It's different now.

When you try out the new tub, still claw-footed, still deep and soothing, there comes a knock at the door you'd left ajar out of habit.

"Mind if I join you?" It's Oliver, with a teasing little smile and hope in his eyes. He does not wait at the door like you know he once had, he is bold, he is unapologetic, he is confident in his love. Enthusiastically you wave him over, delighted to create new, better memories in this bathroom that no longer resembles the one you know.

There's still this strange kind of divide; Oliver, at times, still acts like a guest. Saltburn's been your home for too long for you to feel uncomfortable within it's walls, but Oliver's still always asking permission. For everything. He asks if he can borrow some of Felix's old clothes and looks relieved when you look at him like it's an absurd request.

"He's not going to be wearing them."

Elspeth gets this look in her eyes whenever she recognises any of Felix's clothes on Oliver, fond and nostalgic as she tells him she's glad they're no longer gathering dust.

"Beautiful clothes for a beautiful boy," she liked to say.

It takes you a few weeks to realise Elspeth's ulterior motives. Her health is failing. She has no family left. She needs people. As Oliver had pointed out so long ago, you were both desperate to be needed. Much like when you were younger, your own parents had no qualms about you living your life at Saltburn without them; they'd hire another assistant. The email they'd sent back to you did however note that you had been the best assistant either of them had ever had. It's the nicest thing they'd ever said to you.

Elspeth speaks to you alone one morning during the fall, the grounds turning all shades of golds and oranges.

"I..." your thoughts are moving too fast, her offer was so simple yet so overwhelming, "can't take Saltburn." A deep sigh escapes her, and she looks out over the grounds, but pets your knee, "I won't leave," you try to placate her, "you, or Saltburn, if you'd like me to stay; I'll be like Duncan -" this gets her to laugh, fond and bright, "but I think it will complicate things with my own family."

She tells you she understands. Her voice is getting weaker by the day. Then, after another long moment of gentle silence and contemplation, she speaks carefully.

"And Oliver?"

Part of you kind of knew this was coming.

"He might love Saltburn more than me," you admitted with a chuckle, "and he loves you dearly, you know that right?"

"He's such a strange, beautiful creature," Elspeth muses fondly, "I don't know if James even looked at me the way he looks at you," she smiles at you, expression turning soft and nostalgic for just a moment, "Felix used to look at you like that, didn't he?"

"In his own way," you agreed, unable to look her in the eyes while knowing exactly what she meant, exactly what she could see in this moment.

"They say we have more than one soulmate in our lives, pet," she says softly, reassuringly, and you look up once more. There's gentle hope and fragments of old grief that wrap around your heart as she continues, giving your knee a faint squeeze, "I think you're one of the lucky ones."

And your mind settles back on Oliver, how good, how kind, how loving he's been in the year since you'd reconnected. Finally, you're able to smile.

"I think so too."

Oliver seems genuinely surprised when you and Elspeth approach him with the offer. He keeps looking at you, confused. All you can do is smile, assure him that you want Saltburn to be in his name.

"I'm not abandoning you," you laugh, "I'll be here as long as you'll have me, help take care of any paperwork or maintenance or, well, calling people to take care of those things."

"They're a good house pet," Elspeth actually teases, while Oliver is still silent, looking at you in awe. He stutters through a verbal agreement, and Elspeth delightedly says she'll get the contract drawn up in the next few days.

"Why me?" Oliver finally asks, and Elspeth stands, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"You've worked hard all your life, Ollie, I can see that in you," she murmurs, "and you loved the ones so dear to me. I know you will love this home, and my darling Y/N, and one day I know it will be a family home again."

Oliver is quiet during supper, he keeps looking at you with this unreadable expression, almost grateful, but somehow intrigued. There's something lighter about him now, less tension carried in his shoulders, a small smile he can't quite get rid of. After you all eat, he offers you his arm and asks you to stroll the grounds in the moonlight.

"I thought it'd be you," his voice is so soft. The moon makes him glow. He's wearing the pale, linen shirt of Felix's that catches the light so beautifully.

"I could tell," you can't help but smirk, gently ribbing him. When he laughs, it almost sounds disbelieving.

"Saltburn was your home first."

"Saltburn is a place," you tell him, "my home was always the people in it."

"Felix was your home," he remembers when you'd told him that, how wide Felix had smiled when he'd heard it.

"And now," you're surprised by how your voice catches as you realise what you're about to say, "it's you."

"You love me," Oliver turns with wide, adoring eyes, while you can't help your shy smile.

"Of course I love you, you know I love you -"

"You love me-love me," he sounds like he's discovered the meaning of life, like he can see it in your eyes. Then, very suddenly, a whole new realisation seemed to wash over him, "I think I actually want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Oh! Is this -?

"I don't have a ring, fuck-!" Before he can get any further, you're kissing him, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to make him taste how much you fucking love him. Giddy and burning with desire, you feel like a teenager again, overwhelmed with delight and affection in this old house you call a home.

When you suggest that you meet his parents, properly this time, Oliver makes a face like he's bitten a lemon. It's a beautiful, cool mid-morning at the beginning of Winter, grey light reaching through the curtains to caress you and your fiancé, wrapped up in Egyptian cotton sheets.

"I've met them before," you remind him gently, hand splayed out across his chest as he looks at the ceiling, "I don't hold that Summer against you."

"Felix stopped... trusting me," his voice barely breaks a whisper, "he stopped loving me because of them," it trembles, catching, and you see tears in his eyes. A flush was rising up his cheeks, grief and a strange kind of fury overwhelming him it seemed, much to your surprise, "you should hold that Summer against me, should hate me, should -" it's spilling from him now, with such speed, such anger that it's almost frightening.

"Ollie, love -"

"I wasn't in my right mind, I was sick and obsessed and- and- and I can't believe I hurt you like that -"

"What are you talking about?"

Through his tears, his grief, his outburst, Oliver threw his arm over his face, unable to look at you, unable to look at anything in this room he now seemed to regret being in.

"I just wanted him to love me too," Oliver choked out, "I know you tried to help me - I can't believe I hurt you, I know you loved him - but I didn't want him to love anyone if he didn't love me."

"Oliver."

"I put the cocaine in his wine. I gave him the bottle. I left him there."

To your surprise, as much as the news hurts, it comes in a dull wave of grief, not the sharp, stinging kind you were braced for. What you don't expect is the sympathy that wells up inside of you for the man who just admitted to killing your best friend.

But you had spent years grieving for Felix, had come to terms with it, made peace with it. It's a shock to the system, of course, to learn he was murdered, but you can see the hurt, the guilt that Oliver had been carrying with him, and knows how it feels to be overwhelmed with love for Felix Catton to the point where you'd do unspeakable things with him in your heart. You'd ruined lived over one-word insults spat in his direction because that was who you were, that was what you did.

And you knew Oliver Quick, who he was, how he operated, the kind of desperate jealousy and need to be needed that became dangerous or perverse when they went unsated. Neither of you were the people you once were.

Carefully, you drape yourself over Oliver as he wept, wrapping him up tightly in a hug with one arm, other reaching up to brush through his dark, messy hair.

"Loving Felix makes us do terrible things," you murmur softly, fingers carding through his hair, "you took someone special from this world, but we can't change that."

"Why the fuck are you being so nice right now?" Oliver groans, voice full of disbelief, "I just told you -"

"You loved Felix and he stopped loving you back; you were drunk, and obsessive, and out of your mind with some psychosexual desire. You killed the man you loved, that we loved," you recount firmly, and he quiets down, still sniffling, "do you regret it?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"Are you lying?"

A long pause follows.

"I don't know."

"Did you ever stop loving him?"

"I don't think I ever will," then, moving his arm, he reaches out for your face, gently cupping your jaw. His eyes are bright red, smudged tear tracks shining on his cheeks, "I don't think you will either." You shake your head, confirming as much, before you turn your face and press a kiss to his palm.

"You're not that same person, Oliver, neither am I. The version of me from that Summer might never forgive the Ollie that killed Fi, but I know you now, and I know you love me, and you'll love this house, and the memory of Felix, just like I will."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're not a saint, and you're not a devil. You can't change the past. You're just a human, full of flaws, but you're better than you used to be, I know."

"I love you." He coaxes you forward, bringing you in for a passionate, messy kiss, murmuring against your lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Still, you keep this revelation between the two of you. Elspeth never needed to know.

It was a small ceremony at the beginning of Spring on the grounds of the Saltburn Estate. Elspeth was barely able to get out of bed anymore, so the location was more for her sake than anything else. She'd insisted on taking the reigns for planning the wedding though, looking through folders and magazines with you and Oliver at her bedside.

A beautiful flower archway, Duncan officiating, and only your families as guests. At your suggestion and reassurance, Oliver had worked hard to repair his relationship with his family.

"You don't have to lie about being important anymore," you'd smirked at him, "you're inheriting the Saltburn Estate, you're marrying into my family; you're Oliver Quick, that means something."

Oliver's family had marvelled at the estate the minute they arrived at the property; his sisters and their partners seemed shocked and delighted.

"Is this your place?" One had asked you, eyes bright and incredulous as you and Oliver were giving them all the tour.

"Ollie's actually," you give him arm a squeeze as you give him a proud smile, watching as he ducks his head, flush with embarrassment.

"This is you house, Ollie?! What the fuck!?" Another shouted, even as her own partner laughed while asking her to tone it down.

Before the wedding even begins, his oldest sister has talked him into letting she and her children visit in the Summer.

It comes as a surprise when your own parents show up, though you suspect it's because Elspeth personally called to invite them, not because of you. They too are impressed by the house, but less so than the Quicks; they'd been there for gatherings in years past, after all.

When your grandmother arrives, however, that's when it all becomes real for you. Unlike your parents, she dotes on you. Your grandfather had been the head of the business when he'd been alive; your grandmother was a dedicated professional, but always a romantic at heart, which is where your mother claimed to have gotten her artistic proclivities from.

Oliver says you have the same, beautiful eyes, and she chuckles.

"He's a charmer, I see," she teases, but wraps him up in a hug. "You be good to them, Mister Quick," your grandmother tells him in a faux-stern voice as she leans out of the hug, "we're the kind of family you don't want to get on the wrong side of." Despite how she's waving a finger at him and doing her best angry glare, Oliver can't help but cast you a fond smile, wrapping an arm around you.

"I'm aware, ma'am; every day I feel lucky to have Y/N by my side."

This seems to sate your grandmother, who pets his cheek fondly, and tells you that you've got a good one.

"I think so too."

It's a beautiful, perfect day, the best day of your life so far, where the worst day is now but a mere memory. All that matters is Oliver Quick, and the love in his eyes as he looks at you, as he promises you;

"This house will be full of people who love you for the rest of your life."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #saltburn imagine #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| |Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount?

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

 Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms, trying to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulders, his hold on your firm. His touch keeps you grounded. You glance back to the wall, frowning when the wood burns and char. Your finger digs into the fabric of his coat as the hotel burns around you.

You hold his gaze, trying to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No,” he says, his eyes squint into a glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

Alastor smoothens the feathers on your hair. You shake your head. “Not a single feather out of place. Thank you, my deerest.”

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x y/n #the radio demon #radio demon

[endlessthxxghts]

You Better Jump... (1 of 2)

neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: You wake up after a drunk night out to the lock on your door broken. The neighbor who lives in the same apartment complex as you offers to fix it for you.

Warnings: canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). allusions to further sexual activity between reader and Joel, mainly fluff and flirting and embarrassing interactions that'll give you butterflies, an unhinged best friend (vulgar dialogue from said best friend), cellphone audio connecting elsewhere where other people can hear..., 18+ MDNI. F masturbation in a bathtub, Joel having incredible self control until he doesn't, making out... (I think that's it! As always, let me know if there's anything I missed that should be in here!)

Author's note: I intended for this to be a one shot, but I just know the next part will be pretty long. I still need to write up a few more details for part 2, but it will be posted VERY SOON! For now, please enjoy this. :)

PART 2 HERE (VERY NSFW, 18+ MDNI)!! || MASTERLIST

“Shit, I don’t even know which lock to get,” you mutter to yourself as you stand helplessly in the middle of the aisle. 

You went to the bar last night, got a little too drunk for your own good, and when you woke up in the morning, your front door’s lock was broken. You genuinely don’t know how that happened, but you do know that you need to fix it as soon as possible, especially with the fact that you just moved in not too long ago and you live alone. 

“Hey there,” a rough Texan drawl says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up to see a tall, broad man. Soft, brown eyes, a mustache and some scruff along his jawline. He’s clad in a dark blue t-shirt and some jeans. He’s handsome, and oh god, you’ve been completely gawking at him instead of responding. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes twinkle in delight, like he’s enjoying the attention you’re giving him. “Oh, hi, uh- I’m sorry, just kinda zoned out there for a sec,” you ramble on, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, “don’t worry about that.” He smiles, and you’ve never experienced anything more beautiful. “I, uh, couldn’t help but recognize ya, and overhear ya about the locks?” You give a confused look, and he continues, “I think we live in the same apartment complex. You just moved in a few weeks ago, right? I’m Joel.” 

You are seriously so confused right now because you are so sure you would never forget if you had a neighbor that looks this handsome. And apparently all your defenses are down right now because you just fucking said that out loud. 

You can see Joel’s cheeks and neck flush into a bright red, his hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck and the blush in your face follows. “Holy shit, I did not just fucking say that out loud,” you groan as you bury your hands into your face. You realize you still haven’t introduced your name, so you quickly squeak it out. He tells you it’s nice to meet you followed by your name, and he rambles on, “And I, uh, I’m flattered...you’re, uh, not too bad yourself.” Your head shoots up, and you swear your face cannot get even redder, but somehow it does. 

He senses that you can’t handle anymore of this god awful attempt at flirting, so he saves you by continuing his original thought. “Well, what I was tryna say was- I overheard you sayin’ ya didn’t know which lock to choose? I’m pretty handy in the maintenance department, and I’ve helped a few neighbors in our complex with much more complicated than door locks. Maybe I can help ya?” You feel all the stress from your body completely fade away, and you absolutely take advantage of this beautiful man offering to help with your locks. 

“Oh my god, really? I owe you one, thank you so so much,” you tell him. He smiles. “It’s no trouble at all, darlin,’” he says as he grabs the correct lock for the apartment complex, “this is the one we’d need.” 

All you came here for was for the lock, but you ended up staying with him and having conversation throughout his entire Home Depot run. Turns out he’s a contractor, used to live in a home but since his daughter moved out he doesn’t find the necessity of having a big home for himself. He didn’t sell it though, he let his brother and his wife take it over. Very minimalist kind of guy. 

You forget you two didn’t drive to the store together, so you’re almost kind of bummed at the fact that you have to separate from him. He bids you goodbye and says he has to run a few more errands. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Is it okay if I swing by your place then?” 

You’ve been so entranced by his presence and your guys’ conversation that you forgot the entire reasoning behind why you began talking in the first place, and it’s heavily evident in your confused look. His lip quirks up again, “…to fix your door lock,” he adds, amused. 

You mentally slap your forehead. Fucking get it together, you think to yourself. “Yes,” you immediately blabber out as soon as you realize you’ve gone quiet again. “Yes, that’s perfect.” 

“Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you in a few,” he says as he shoots you a wink and begins walking in the direction of his truck, and there goes that nickname again. 

Oh, you are absolutely fucked.

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a ten minute drive back home, and as soon as you get back in the car, you call your best friend and tell her what an absolute fool you made out of yourself. 

“BITCH,” she screams, gasping for air at how hard she’s laughing, “I can’t fucking stand you, oh my god, I’m crying.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her, while tears are also streaming down your face, attempting to catch your breath. “Dude, I swear, once you get a good look at him, you’ll see what the fuck I’m talking about, and you’ll see my reaction was VALID to such a beautiful looking man.” 

She stays on the phone with you for the rest of your little drive, and ends your guys’ conversation with, “In all seriousness, though, you better jump on that di-”

You gasp out and yell her name, “OH MY GOD, you’re done. Goodbye.” 

She cackles, “Update me later, babe. I love you.” 

“I love you more, you fuckin’ menace,” you say as you park. 

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your next few hours are filled with you absolutely stressing. You know Joel is just coming to fix the door, but you can’t shake away the nerves. So you spend the first hour absolutely deep cleaning your apartment. 

You still have about maybe an hour left, so you decide to try and calm your nerves some more with a quick bath. You quickly undress and give yourself a quick wash in the shower to wash all of today’s dirt before you set up your bath. 

Filling up the tub, you throw in some lavender scented bubbles and light your favorite cashmere vanilla candle, the combination of the scents immediately relaxing you. Maybe a little too relaxed, though, because as you sink deeper into the tub, your body can’t help but continue to rise in heat at the thought of Joel. Without thinking, your eyes slowly close and your hand drifts closer to where you’re aching the most. 

You start by drawing soft circles on your clit, pulling soft little mewls from your throat. The thought of those big rough hands pushes you to move a little faster, and the thought of that scruff rubbing against your inner thigh pushes you to dip your middle and ring finger into your entrance, pumping in and out with such a need you haven’t experienced in a while. The sounds coming out of you now are high pitched and whiny, and you can’t help the way your body writhes against the bathtub, sloshing water out the sides. 

Your hips are grinding up against your palm, stimulating your clit while your fingers hit that velvety spot that drives you absolutely mad. You bring your other hand up to your mouth as a reflex to silence your sounds, but an image flashes in your mind that it was Joel’s hand over your mouth instead, and that’s what ends you. 

Your eyes clamp shut, head thrown back, spine completely arched, and all you can see are little white fireworks behind your eyelids as your orgasm breaks you, the lukewarm water feeling hotter than when you first drew the bath. 

You sit there for a moment to catch your breath, willing your body to work since the man you just touched yourself to should be here in any minute. 

You dry yourself off, putting your hair up in a towel and dressing in some gray sweat-shorts and a tank top, not caring to completely doll your figure since he’s in your home after all. Right as you finish up your skincare, you hear a knock at your door. You take one more look at yourself, and you’re still absolutely flushed with a hint of that orgasmic glow, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he can make you cum like that with just the thought of him, you’re absolutely gonna take your best friend’s advice from earlier. 

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You open the door for him and immediately the heat you tried to save yourself from is back, tenfold. “Hey, darlin’,” he says with a smile. The nickname makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter harder than before. You give a sweet smile back. It’s his turn to melt, but you don’t clock it as easily as he can with you. 

He steps inside, a little closer to you, and immediately he falls to his knees. You watch him, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a few little tools from his back pocket, and suddenly you realize you were holding your breath. Here he is, wasting no time getting started on fixing your door for you while you stare at him like he’s giving you a strip tease, all because he got down on his knees. 

You clear your throat, trying to regain your composure, and you offer, “C-can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?” 

He looks up at you, and he cannot get enough. Your flushed cheeks, the way your body language shows your excitement and nerves all in one, your towel lopsided on your head. So goddamn beautiful, he thinks to himself. Again, it’s his turn as he zones out in his thoughts, but this time, you do notice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of confidence shoot down your spine at the fact that you’re affecting him just as much as he affects you. 

Your smirk grows the longer he stares, and finally he realizes what’s happening, and his face goes tomato red. He’s pretty sure no one has ever seen him blush this much since he was a teenager. “Some water would be wonderful, sweetheart, thank you,” he says, thanking whatever God in existence that his words were coherent and not a blubbering mess like his brain. 

“Coming right up,” you say, and make your way into your kitchen, thankful for the little private moment to yourself. As you grab Joel a cup and fill it with ice and water, you feel your phone ring in your pocket. It’s your best friend. You bring your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button on the way up. 

“Hello?” you repeat several times before you hear your best friend, but not through your phone. Forgetting the water for a minute, you scramble to the living room, where Joel is right next to, to hear your best friend coming from your living room speaker: Hello? Can you hear me?? I said did you jump on sexy neighbor’s dick ye-

You hurriedly end the call and throw your phone across the room. Your heart starts to pound even harder when you see Joel in your peripheral view, still working hard on the lock, but he is definitely in the proximity to have seen and heard everything. You quickly turn back to the kitchen to grab the glass, purposely avoiding Joel’s eye.

Quickly you grab the glass and place it on the little table near the front door. Joel sits back on his haunches for a moment and takes a long gulp of the ice cold water. Too amused at the display that happened moments ago, he can’t help himself when he says, “So… sounds like ya got your hands full with that friend of yours, hm?” He looks up at you with mischief in his eye. 

And just like that, any sense of confidence you had at having the upper hand over this Texan man went down the drain. You completely fumble. “Oh- I- yeah, my best friend… Did you hear- Fuck, no, of course you heard, I-” 

Joel pulls himself up to stand at full height, now towering over you. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to your chin, pulling you to meet his eyes while also pulling you from the hole you keep digging deeper. You immediately shut up. He has a crooked grin plastered on his face when he says, “I didn’t hear a thing,” followed by a wink. You can feel your knees wanting to buckle. You breathily squeak out an okay and he assures you with another okay in response. You two stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Joel, without thinking, says, “Let me take ya out to dinner.” 

You slowly pull away from his grasp, afraid you’re invading his space even though he just asked you out on a date. He takes it as a sign of discomfort and immediately creates an arm’s length of space between you. “I-I’m sorry if I overstepped or made you uncomfor-” 

“No, Joel, hey,” you cut him off quickly, stepping slightly closer. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you beam up at him, your bottom lip wedged in your mouth to ease your nervousness. “I just pulled away because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything,” you quickly add. 

“That’ll never happen,” he softly says. He steps closer again. “I’m sorry, but I- Shit, okay, I’m a gentleman through and through, but I-” he pauses for a moment, “I just- I really need to kiss you-” 

You don’t let him finish his thought as you grab onto his arms and pull him into you, guiding both his arms around your lower back and guiding your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and the way your noses bump each other ever so often is enough for you to completely buckle. His hold on you is tight enough to keep you standing, but you truly don’t know how much more of this you can take with a certain bulge pushing into your lower belly. His one hand falls lower and testing the waters, he lightly grasps onto your asscheek. You moan into his mouth at that, and he takes that as your signal for him to fully grab you, hiking you up onto your tippy toes in an attempt to consume more of you. He breaks the kiss a little to give you some airflow back, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he brings his kisses to the side of your mouth, to your cheek, gliding down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping anywhere you give him access to. 

You were right. It’s not quite exactly your thighs like you were imagining earlier, but the way his plump lips, mustache, and scruff feel along your neck is absolutely sinful and addicting, and…

Oh, you are absolutely fucked. 

Author's note - extended: I hope you guys enjoyed this enough to tune in to part 2! The 2nd part will be very SMUTTY, so... ;)

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #pedrohub #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut #smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #endless thoughts fics

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Innocence

Plot: A separated Joel and Y/n work different angles to try and best David and his men.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, implied attempted SA, insinuated abuse, c*nnibalism, knives, guns, blood, wounds, language, loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: This was a hard, hard chapter to get through, guys. If the quality of my writing isn’t up to its regular standard, it’s because it was truly emotionally taxing to write. I’ve also left out descriptions of certain events/discoveries/dialogue in an effort to keep the 16+ rating.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their age/range in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I advise everyone to take a breather, or just skip to the end of the chapter, if it’s too much to handle. Ep.8 was traumatizing and I don’t fault anyone for not wanting to put themselves through it again. I’m so looking forward to finishing out this series with y’all and the finale tonight. Thank you thank you thank you for your constant support and encouragement ☀️

——————

Unlike the movies, where the main character on the verge of death is miraculously returned to the living, Joel did not wake with a start. Still lost in the haze of blood loss, hunger and medicinal side effects, his eyes hurt to open. He registered the room, remembering being dragged down a flight of stairs and falling into a mattress.

One memory dripped down before the flood unleashed.

Ellie and Y/n.

Stay awake.

Men coming.

Leading them away.

Kill them.

The footsteps on the floor above startled Joel, the ticking clock and the realization that Ellie and Y/n were gone motivated him to roll off the bed. He stifled a groan, hurrying to his feet, clutching the knife that Ellie had placed in his palm. He wobbled his way to the rear of the room, falling against a water heater that could conceal him.

Joel listened for the footsteps over the blood pounding in his ears.

They crept through the room.

He waited…until the man finally passed the heater.

Joel couldn’t have possibly known that it was the same man who, five minutes before, had clubbed Y/n and ordered David’s men to shoot her and Ellie. But he slashed his knife through him as if he’d watched it happen.

After wrestling the man to the ground and assuring that he was dead, Joel rolled off him, wheezing for breath. He tried to gather his thoughts on his back. There were more men, all looking for him, Y/n and Ellie. They weren’t back yet, which meant they’d either been kidnapped or killed. Most likely kidnapped, so long as Ellie’s bite wound hadn’t been visible. Tortured, maybe, or worse.

Joel inhaled as deep as he could and began to drag his body across the floor towards the stairs. Towards his girls.

—————————

Y/n leaned her head back against the concrete wall, wondering why the fuck there was a cage inside a kitchen.

She’d carried Ellie into it, the butt of David’s follower’s rifles pressing into her back as they forced her in. They’d both been stripped of their winter coats and weapons. She had yet to get any answers as to why they wanted them there or what they were planning to do to them. Ellie hadn’t woken up, leaving Y/n on her own to try every conceivable possibility to escape. None had succeeded.

David entered then, finally gracing Y/n with his holy presence. He pulled up a seat across from the cage, smiling politely.

“How is she?”

Y/n turned her head, indignant at the fact that David’s men had shot at them, caused Ellie’s injuries, and yet he had the nerve to inquire about her wellbeing.

David tried a different approach, “I know this all must be a bit strange…”

Y/n bristled, “I lived in Texas, I’ve seen a lot weird shit, but, uh,” Y/n took a look at her surroundings, “Yeah, a jail cell next to a butcher’s block is an unusual feature.”

“We only use it when necessary,” David held up two innocent hands, “I’d love to explain our community more to you, but it’d be nice to know your name first.”

“Beyonce,” Y/n answered without hesitation.

The preacher chuckled under his breath, “You’re very quick. Stepping in to portect your daughter, your…what, your husband? Boyfriend?”

Y/n had been interrogated so many times, had sustained so many injuries in FEDRA lockup, that there weren’t many tactics that could work on her. David trying to get a feel for her and Joel’s relationship was a waste of breath.

He sighed, tapping his hands against his knees in wait. “You know we’re not here to hurt you,” he said softly.

“Gee, I wonder where I would have gotten that idea,” Y/n retorted, “What with my fucking head splitting and my kid unconscious on the floor.”

“An unfortunate turn of events, yes,” David corrected her, “But we’re protective of our own. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Y/n didn’t move a muscle, staring David down, “Oh, yeah. We’re one and the same there,” she cracked a smile, vengeance practically dripping from her lips, “And that should scare you.”

David, however, only found her threats mildly amusing. He exhaled with a small laugh, Y/n rather preferred being underestimated. It caused people to leave their weak spots exposed. She was sure if she looked hard enough, she could find David’s.

Beside her, Ellie finally began to stir, drawing Y/n’s attention. She scurried to place her hands on Ellie’s back, helping the girl to sit up.

“Me and your mother were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up,” David said.

Ellie’s vision was blurry and her entire body hurt, her words didn’t carry their usual edge as she told David, “Let us out.”

“Well, that’s certainly the goal,” David nodded, “Hungry?”

“Why are we in a cage?” Ellie hazily took in their surroundings.

“Because I’m afraid of you,” David gave the same calm smile he’d given Y/n, “You’re a dangerous person. You’ve certainly proven that. The others want me to kill you two for what’s happened.”

Y/n held Ellie steady as she got to her knees, neither of them particularly alarmed by David’s words.

He leaned forward, “Did you hear me say the others wanna kill you?”

“Yeah,” Ellie breathed.

“But I stopped them.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie said on behalf of both her and Y/n.

“Why don’t we just start with your name?” David asked once more.

Ellie didn’t miss a beat, “Eat shit.”

“Hey,” David’s voice rose, “Listen to me!”

As he got to his feet, Y/n did as well, coming to meet him at the cage wall as Ellie scurried to the far end of their prison. Y/n wanted to rip into him purely for startling the girl.

“You can’t survive on your own,” David continued, his eyes looking past Y/n to land on Ellie, “No one can. But I can help you,” his gaze finally flicked up, “Let me protect you two.”

“We don’t need your help or your protection,” Y/n enunciated every word clearly.

“And we’re not on our own,” Ellie added from behind Y/n.

David nodded, “Right. Your friend,” his face changed to accommodate faux concern one might use on a child, “And how is he?”

Behind her eyes, Y/n’s mind flicked to Joel, beads of sweat around his temples, breathing so frighteningly shallow, his tan skin deathly pale. She couldn’t admit to the fear pooling in her belly that against David’s men, Joel might have lost the fight.

“I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts,” David continued, l having broken Y/n and Ellie’s first line of defense, “But even so…you gotta face reality.”

David turned and began to circle the cage. Ellie and Y/n moved as one, Ellie crawling in the opposite direction and Y/n standing in front of her as a shield.

“That part of your lives, it’s ending,” David went on, finally stopping on the other end of the cage, “And what I’m offering you is a beginning. But if you can’t find a way to trust me, then yes,” his eyes scanned Ellie, “You are alone.”

Without another word, David walked off through a door in the kitchen, leaving Y/n and Ellie to themselves.

Y/n was on her knees immediately, holding Ellie’s face in her hands and checking her head.

“Definitely got your bell rung,” Y/n lightly ran a finger over the pink bruise at Ellie’s hairline.

“What the fuck do we do?” Ellie asked, unconcerned about her injuries.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Y/n replied, stroking a quick hand over Ellie’s hair, “I’ve already tried to window up there,” she pointed to a small pane of glass above them, “I can’t break it. Guns are over there in the corner,” she gestured to the edge of the room. And I can’t-“

Y/n was cut off by Ellie, throwing her arms around her body. The girl pressed the side of her face into Y/n’s chest, her short breaths warming Y/n’s skin through her layers.

Of all the horrible memories Y/n carried from September 26th, 2003, there was one in particular that lived in her chest every second of every day. As she had clutched Sarah in her arms, with Joel trying to assess her mortal injuries, Sarah had tried desperately to speak. Her lips pressed together, only able to make a humming sound. Y/n had shushed her, telling her that it was okay, she was okay, they’d all be okay…and that had been the last of it.

Whatever Sarah had needed to say died on her lips, but lived on in Y/n’s mind. She had spent so long, playing the memory back, watching the girl’s mouth, listening to the buzz in her throat, unable to rest until she knew what she’d wanted to say in her final minutes.

It took her one year to figure it out, and twenty to accept.

Mom.

Y/n had failed Sarah just as Joel felt he had failed. She’d spent the last two decades telling herself she could have jumped in front of them, she could have yanked Sarah out of Joel’s arms, she could have attacked the guard…all things her brain knew there hadn’t been enough time for, but guilt and logic never agreed on anything. Y/n had begged God, the skies, the earth, the universe, anyone, for a second chance. For some miraculous, mind-bending turn of events to send her back to that day and save her daughter.

And as she cradled Ellie in her arms, pressing a kiss to the girl’s head, she knew her second chance lay not in the past, but in the future.

“We’re gonna get out of this,” Y/n said, speaking with a strength she hadn’t in twenty years, “I promise.”

David was right about one thing, they had to face reality.

Joel wasn’t coming to save them.

They were on their own.

And Y/n would be damned if she failed to save someone she loved again.

————————————

Joel had tried to keep his violent side hidden from both Ellie and Y/n during their time together. He’d slipped with the FEDRA guard in Boston, remembering the terror in Y/n’s eyes as she’d watched him beat the young man to death. Whether or not he knew it, he’d tried from that moment on to be better.

But now, with their lives at stake, Joel didn’t care about better.

Every punch he drove into the raider’s face he had tied to the chair was pure rage, the only thing strong enough to keep him upright. The pleas of the bloody pulp of a man fell on deaf ears.

“Stop…stop, please…”

Joel rammed his fist against his cheek once more, silencing him.

“Leave him alone,” the raider who Joel had yet to touch urged from the other side of the room.

“You’re next,” Joel muttered, withdrawing the knife from his belt with a spine-tingling smirk.

“Please,” the man he’d been hitting begged, “I don’t know any girls.”

Joel was a human lie detector, having seen both the best and worst of humanity. He didn’t have to second guess whether it was the right decision to drive his knife into the man’s knee.

“Marco,” the guy tried to call, his voice strained from his screams of pain.

“No-no, no-no-no,” Joel cooed, his soft tone contrasting the roughness in which he pulled the man by his hair, “He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

The man’s breath trembled as Joel gripped him, knowing that betraying David came at its own cost. “They’re alive,” he admitted.

The hope spread through Joel, but it couldn’t outmatch the anger that doubled at the thought of Y/n and Ellie being held and tortured. “Where?”

When Joel didn’t get his answer quick enough, he reached down and twisted the knife in the man’s leg.

“Ah! Fuck,” he squealed, “Fuck! Ah! The town!”

“WHAT TOWN?!” Joel screamed into his face.

“Silver Lake,” the man panted, wincing after.

Joel reached into his pocket, taking out his map and unfolding it.

“It’s not a real town name,” his victim said, his speech slow from the ache in his jaw, “It’s a resort.”

Now that was a word Joel hadn’t heard in a long time, “A resort?”

Feeling each precious second that Y/n and Ellie were still breathing slipping away, Joel removed his knife from the man’s leg and forced his mouth open, slipping the handle in. “You’re gonna point to where we are,” he held up the map towards the guy’s head, “And where your resort is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.”

Joel had a death grip on his hair, pressing their foreheads together and feeling his near-attacker’s body tremble with fear. Trying his best, the man aimed the blade at the map, pinpointing their location. Fear could always deliver results.

Joel sat back, examining the drip of blood that served as a marker. His body ached with exhaustion, but his chest felt the same pain it had for the last three months. The kind that was usually a precursor his panic attacks, except now, adrenaline was all that followed.

“That’s where we are,” the man whimpered, “I swear. Go ask him, he’ll tell you. I’m not lying.”

There had never been a question as to whether or not Joel would show mercy. These men had seen Ellie and Y/n, knew where they were being kept, they might have even laid hands on them.

Joel slid the blade into the man’s chest without a second thought.

Marco unleashed a string of expletives as Joel caught his breath.

“Why the fuck did you do that? He told you what you wanted,” Marco whined.

Joel took clumsy steps across the room, reaching for the lead pipe Marco had carried in with him that now lay across the couch.

“You motherfucker, fuck you,” Marco spat as Joel strode towards him, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

“It’s okay,” Joel nodded empathetically, calling on the same disarming tactics he had in his days as a raider, “I believe him.”

In that moment, Joel wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t the villain.

He was a father and a husband.

And he brought the pipe down with all the fury one could possess.

—————————

Ellie was relentless.

“El,” Y/n insisted as the girl continued to try and pick the lock, “I already tried that.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Ellie replied as she tugged on it.

“Yes, ‘cause this is just so pleasant,” Y/n spread her arms out to the cage, “Look, we’re not getting out of here like that. We’ve gotta wait for him to slip up.”

Ellie looked over her shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“He thinks we’re two little lost lambs or sheep or whatever, all alone without anyone to protect us,” Y/n explained, “We’ve gotta wait for the exact right moment when he fucks up and gives us an opportunity.”

“Okay,” Ellie nodded before quickly turning back to the lock.

Y/n slapped her hands against her legs, “I just gave you the plan.”

“I thought I felt it jiggle,” Ellie insisted, shaking the lock a few more times before coming to a sudden stop and stumbling backwards towards Y/n.

Y/n caught her in confusion, “What?”

She followed Ellie’s line of vision across the room to the chopping block, falling south to the floor. Y/n’s stomach turned at the sight…

An ear.

An actual fucking ear.

In all his perfect timing, David entered just then, carrying a tray and sliding it under the cage walls. Two bowls of soup and a cup of water.

David followed Ellie and Y/n’s eyes down to the butcher’s block, frowning when he realized what they were looking. “For what it’s worth,” he gestured to the bowls, “This is just deer meat, I swear.”

Ellie and Y/n were separately connecting all the dots of why they were being held where they were. They could have been trapped anywhere in the town, their weapons stripped from them and beaten into submission. This was a purposeful choice.

“You’re going to chop us into little pieces,” Ellie stated.

“I’d rather not,” David answered, “Please, just tell me your names.”

Y/n forced herself to exhale, wondering how the hell he could be so focused on a trivial detail.

“If you wanna judge me-“ David shrugged.

“Judge you?” Ellie raised her voice to a scream, surging forward to grab the metal bars, “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!”

She kicked the tray across the floor, it landed under the chopping block. David backed away from her anger.

“Yes,” David replied, “There are only a few of us who know. But I would’ve told you, sooner or later. I guess sooner.”

“You’re a fucking animal,” Y/n seethed, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Well, yes, we all are,” David said, his sociopathic calm tone beginning to worry both Y/n and Ellie, “That’s sorta of the point,” he took in Ellie’s disgust, “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? But what was I supposed to do? Let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, w-who expect me to keep them save, who love me?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ellie shot back.

“You don’t believe that,” David shook his head, “I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

“Your men fucking attacked us,” Y/n added, her tone sharp.

“He was defending himself,” Ellie replied.

“He was defending you and your mother,” David corrected, even though he was calling on Y/n, his eyes were locked on Ellie’s, “But you knew that. You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you?”

Y/n watched the conversation in wait, it was beginning to alarm her that he was focusing all his attention on Ellie.

“Me,” he continued, “You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, smart…loyal. Violent.”

Ellie froze at his words, while Y/n took a step forward.

“Keep going and you’ll see how violent I can be,” she threatened.

“Now, see, your mother,” David gestured to Y/n but never once looked at her, “She is deeply afraid, faking her confidence with threats. But that’s not who she actually is. I could unlock this door, hand her her gun, and she still might not be able to do what she needs to to protect you.”

Y/n’s nostrils flared at the assumption that she wouldn’t break his neck to save Ellie.

“But you, on the other hand…” David continued speaking to Ellie, “If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know…” David took slow steps towards the cage, his eyes alight, “I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.”

“Right…” Ellie muttered, “By God.”

“No,” David breathed, “By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

Y/n’s blood heated to a boil, her cheeks warming with rage. Cordyceps had taken everything and everyone she had ever loved. It was the purest form of evil nature had ever created. She wanted to cut through David, whispering the names of all her lost family into his ear as she did.

But this wasn’t her opportunity.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Ellie asked, she still believed it was a conversation between three people.

“Because you can handle it,” David said, Y/n may as well have not even been in the room, “The way the others can’t. They need God, they need Heaven,” David took another step towards the cage, “They need a father. You don’t. You’re beyond that. I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep, and all I want…is an equal. A friend.”

Alarms rang in Y/n’s head so loud, she thought they were real. But Ellie was playing the game that Y/n had told her to, and she couldn’t stop her.

“What about our friend?”

“Like I said, loyal,” David nodded before taking another slow step towards them, “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

Ellie looked up to Y/n, convincingly filling her eyes with hope, before looking back to David. Y/n quickly adjusted her expression to match, pretending as if Joel’s safety was the only thing that mattered.

“Really?” Ellie took a step forward towards David, “They’ll just let him go?”

“Yes,” David answered confidently, “If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go.”

It wasn’t hard for Y/n to whip up some tears, taking a choking breath in and following Ellie towards the metal bars.

“They do what I tell them to do. They follow me,” David was getting closer and closer, his gaze fixated, obsessed with Ellie, “And they would follow us. Lord knows, I could use the help. I-“ he chortled, gesturing to below the chopping block, “Look what’s happened.”

David extended his hand, gripping one of the horizontal metal bars between him from Ellie and Y/n. They stared down at it, considering their options.

“Think of what we could together,” David said, his voice alive with passion, “As strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. We’d grow, spread out. And we’d do whatever we needed for our people.”

Ellie reached to grab the other side of the bar, her hand perilously close to David’s. Y/n had to fight every instinct to rip her body behind her own.

“Imagine the life we could give them,” David said wistfully, moving his hand to slide over Ellie’s, “Imagine the life we could build.”

David may not have been watching her, but Y/n made effort to drop two tears down her cheeks and sniffle as if it was the most beautiful idea in the world…

“Oh,” Ellie whispered, reaching a nearly shaking palm up to David’s hand, hoping that Y/n sensed that the moment was upon them.

Ellie pushed David’s finger back, a sickening crack erupting in his hand. As he cried out in pain, Y/n dropped down to her knees, pulling him in by his belt and grabbing the keys off their hook. Unfortunately, he wriggled out of Ellie’s grasp and reached through the bars, grabbing Y/n by the throat and squeezing. Y/n gagged and choked as his fingers tightened, but she still held onto the keys.

Ellie struck a blow to David’s abdomen, causing him to drop Y/n and stumble backwards. In the sudden movement, Y/n dropped the keys to the floor and nearly fell. David was quick to come back, grabbing Ellie’s hair and slamming her face into the bars twice before throwing her down.

“You little cunts,” he seethed, picking up the keys from the floor, “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

Y/n coughed violently, earning each and every breath back, but bent over Ellie to make sure she was alright. The girl’s blood painted the floor of their cell.

“Ellie,” she said, crawling past Y/n and towards David.

David turned, “What?”

“Tell them Ellie is the little girl,” the girl crawled to the bars, raising her voice, “Who broke your fucking finger!”

“How did you put it?” David asked, his tone mocking them now, “Hmm? ‘Tiny little pieces?’”

He stormed out of the room, slamming it behind him and leaving Ellie and Y/n to contemplate their impending doom.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, rubbing her already sore neck and forming a plan in her dizzy head. “Okay, when they come in, I’ll take them and you fucking run.”

“No,” Ellie replied quickly, stumbling to her feet, “No, we-“

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here,” Y/n continued, emphasizing each of the last words, “And you’re going to run.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Ellie yelled, shoving Y/n’s arms.

“And I’m not asking,” Y/n yelled back, feeling her fate slowly approaching. If it bought Ellie time, it was all worth it.

She gripped Ellie’s shoulders, wrenching her closer and locking eyes with her. “You. Run.”

———————————

The snow outside had picked up, nearly blinding Joel as he trudged through the ice, clutching his abdomen the whole way.

He’d made it to Silver Lake, against all odds, but didn’t know the first place to look. He kept his good ear peeled, trying to listen for Y/n or Ellie’s cries, but the storm made that impossible. Leaned up against one of the resort’s buildings, trying to catch his breath, Joel tried to think clearly about his next move.

Then his eyes caught the trail of blood in the snow and logic went out the window.

Joel followed the crimson that led him to the building’s door. He broke the lock with the butt of his rifle and entered, clicking on his flashlight and drawing his pistol. He crept through the shed, bending down once to search under a table and finding only old clothes and useless supplies. Then, he spotted a nearly identical trail of blood leading into the next room.

All the while his heart thudded with fear, fear of failure.

Joel made no noise as he entered the room, shining his flashlight ahead to find what was left of one of their horses. They’d captured Y/n and Ellie while riding. The picture of their kidnapping was beginning to fill with color.

Joel shone his flashlight past the horse, finding tarps over equipment and…something…hanging on the other side. He moved around the animal’s body to get a closer look…

His stomach turned.

He had to fucking hurry.

—————————

David stormed through the door with James right behind him. Ellie and Y/n scurried away from the cage’s front. Y/n hadn’t expected a second set of hands, it made her entire plan impossible.

“No! No! No!” Ellie screamed, pressing herself into Y/n’s body in fear.

David and James wrenched the two of them apart.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone might hear them and come running, “No!”

“Get off of me!” Ellie shrieked, kicking at both of the men, “Get off of me!”

If Y/n had been on 10, Ellie’s pleas dialed her up to 12. She picked up her entire body weight and let herself drop to the floor, bringing James with her. He stumbled, but regained his footing and dragged Y/n out of the cell, kicking and screaming.

“No!” Ellie yelled, biting down on David’s all-too-close hand.

“Ow,” the preacher cried out, but stayed undeterred in his mission. He pulled Ellie out of the cell.

Y/n wrestled against Jame’s firm grip, flailing her arms as she tried to reach around and scratch him. She’d tear him to pieces with her hands, if the chance came.

“You motherfucker,” she cried, trying to catch her leg on anything that might slow them down, but he lifted her onto the chopping block as if she was nothing. James held her hands down at her sides, giving Y/n the opportunity to spit in his face.

“Wait, wait,” Ellie begged as David dragged her towards the block.

“Shut up,” James growled, narrowly dodging Y/n’s head butt.

David lifted Ellie up and dropped her harshly on Y/n, knocking the wind out of the woman with Ellie’s weight. He forced Ellie’s hands into Y/n’s, lining the two of them up.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ellie begged, Y/n’s coughs sputtering in her ear, “Don’t! Don’t do it! Please, don’t do it!”

“You had your chance,” David spoke over Ellie as he raised the cleaver above his head.

In her struggle for oxygen, Y/n let out a final cry. For Ellie, for Joel, for her grand failure to save all of them.

This was how it ended.

“I’M INFECTED!”

Ellie’s words echoed off the walls, David simply scoffed at her.

“I’m infected,” Ellie said once more, her voice low, “And now so are you.”

David glanced down at the bite mark Ellie had put on his hand. Y/n caught it too, fighting the urge to smile. The girl was smarter and quicker than she or Joel had ever taught her.

“Roll up my sleeve, look at it,” Ellie insisted, “Look at it!”

Biting down on his lip in frustration, David slammed the cleaver down beside Y/n and Ellie’s heads, causing both of them to flinch away. He tugged Ellie’s right sleeve up, revealing the ever-present mark that Cordyceps had left on her.

“God’s will,” Y/n strained, smirking below Ellie.

James looked up at his leader in concern, “David…”

“No,” David shook his head, “No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.”

Unable to speak without them hearing her, but needing to signal Ellie that she was on board with the plan, Y/n squeezed the back of Ellie’s hand twice.

“It looks pretty fuckin’ real to me,” James continued.

Ellie pressed her hand back into Y/n’s.

This was their opportunity.

Ellie reached to her side, grabbing the cleaver and lodging it in Jame’s shoulder. Y/n threw the girl off and kicked both feet into David’s stomach, buying them a few precious seconds to escape. Bullets chased them as they flew through the door.

Y/n and Ellie ran through the rest of the kitchen, making it out into the dining room. They went from door to door, banging and pulling furiously. Nothing.

Hearing David’s footsteps down the hall, they rushed back into the kitchen to look for any weapons. Ellie reached into a wood burning stove, grabbing one of the crackling logs before Y/n shoved her out of the room and down behind a wall.

The kitchen door squeaked, announcing David’s presence. Without her gun, Y/n knew she didn’t stand a chance at going up against David, but she could buy time. She crawled away from Ellie, ignoring the girl’s frantic looks and moved behind a table, popping up once she heard David’s steps.

“You’re very determined,” David’s calm tone continued, even as he clutched the cleaver in his hand, “I’ll give you that.”

“What a parent won’t do for their kid,” Y/n shrugged, “Right, Father?”

As Y/n put a period on her sentence, Ellie stood up from her spot and threw the burning log at David, missing him and giving Y/n the chance to duck down and crawl away. Ellie had, however, succeeded in starting a fire that quickly began to eat through the drapes of the dining room. Ellie crawled back, spotting Y/n and hurrying in her direction.

“There’s no way out, Ellie,” David called, moving away from the rapid fire, “The doors are locked and I have the keys.”

While she couldn’t see the flames, Y/n could smell and hear them. They were spreading as if nature herself had started it.

“Ellie?” David called tauntingly, “Ellie.”

Y/n knew that if there was any chance for escape, it would only come for one of them. David would have to be preoccupied with something else to let anything slip through his fingers and that anything had to be Ellie. Reaching down into her boot, she remembered she still had her knife on her.

She drew a deep breath and begged for Joel, dead or alive, to forgive her.

It was the only option that ensured Ellie’s salvation.

————————

Joel couldn’t move fast in the snow, the winds threatening to shove his fragile frame down into the ice. With every step he fought, trying to see something, anything through the gust of snowflakes.

In his mind, he was begging and pleading with the universe to give him a sign, a direction..he felt more and more panicked with each passing moment that he was too late.

Joel walked a little quicker, ignoring the stabbing pain in his stomach.

He couldn’t lose them.

—————————

“Ellie…” David called again, “I know you’re not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”

Y/n belly crawled on the floor of the restaurant, away from Ellie and closing in on David’s voice. She clutched the knife in her sweaty palm.

“So…how did you do it?” David asked the room, “What’s the secret? Or are you just that fucking special?”

Y/n was near enough to the bar that she could see the panels swing open and Ellie’s legs trailing in. She was smart enough to try and find a true weapon.

“No one likes being humiliated, Ellie,” David continued his tirade, forgetting Y/n’s presence entirely, “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could have given you! If you had just let me!”

Y/n continued her army crawl before crouching behind the wall nearest to David, waiting for her perfect chance.

“Well, I have news for you,” the “pastor’s” tone softened back to its pulpit pitch, “None of us are dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father, and your mother needs a husband.”

Y/n tightened her grip on her knife, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“So I’m gonna keep you two,” David promised, “And I’m gonna teach you.”

In her years, Y/n had heard and witnessed truly disturbing events. Nothing could have terrified her more than the sick headlines about corrupt preachers, using the Word of God as a deflection, coming to life in front of her.

Y/n leapt to her feet, spininning around the wall’s end and stabbing David’s shoulder from behind. The man cried out in pain, but didn’t fall as Y/n had needed him to. He faced her, swinging the cleaver past her before gripping her throat with one hand and shoving her up against the wall. Y/n struggled ferociously, speed kicking his legs until he dropped her. He wrenched her back, throwing her to the floor, and let one of the heavy dining tables fall straight onto Y/n’s abdomen. The pressure crushed her, stealing all the air from her lungs, and left her sputtering and choking for breath.

David leaned down, his lips grazing Y/n’s ear in a way that had only ever been reserved for Joel. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” he growled.

Y/n was too breathless to speak and the table was too heavy for her to lift. It was almost guaranteed that David had cracked at least one of her ribs. She flailed about under its weight like a bug being crushed, frantically trying to escape.

With a lack of oxygen, her ears began to ring and her eyesight began to blur. From across the room, she could see David and Ellie’s figures fighting, with Ellie’s being shoved to the floor.

Y/n’s lips tried to form the girl’s name.

The corners of her vision began to darken just as David pinned Ellie down.

Her screams poured the air right back into Y/n’s lungs.

With strength only a mother whose child was endangered could have, Y/n strained to push the table off of her. She raised it enough to shimmy her abdomen out, letting it fall on her legs with a pained groan. She pulled and pulled her body out from under the surface, Ellie’s cries of terror giving her all the power she needed to roll the rest of the way. She grabbed her knife, stained with David’s blood and crawled across the floor.

David’s back was blissfully turned.

Ellie couldn’t see Y/n.

The flames were consuming the restaurant.

Y/n inched her way closer.

David said something Y/n couldn’t hear over the fire.

Ellie screamed louder.

Y/n reached her hand out, ripping David back by the collar, stabbing him in the chest with her knife and wrenching him off of Ellie.

Ellie reached above her head for the cleaver.

The rest passed in a set of thirty blood soaked seconds.

When it was over, Y/n stumbled to her feet, reaching down to pull Ellie up with her. The room was filled with a gagging smoke, the fames mere seconds from bringing the whole building down.

Y/n rushed them out through the kitchen, the back end was their best chance at escape. Down the hall were two large black doors, the lack of lock allowing Y/n to shove her and Ellie’s trembling forms out.

The cold air greeted their heated skin, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Y/n clutched Ellie to her as she maneuvered them down the stone steps and into the snow.

They both screamed as a pair of strong arms grabbed their bodies, tugging them backwards.

“No! Get off of me!,” Ellie shrieked, the reality of David’s death ceasing to exist under the strange touch.

“No! You fucking-“ Y/n tried to shove Ellie behind her, turning around and fighting hard against the figure before she even looked up.

Adrenaline somehow granted Joel enough strength to turn Ellie around in his arms and restrain Y/n’s hands.

“It’s me,” Joel coaxed as Ellie slapped his chest.

Y/n eyes turned up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes finally. “Ellie,” she breathed, awestruck.

“It’s me,” Joel repeated to Ellie, her hits finally stopping as she finally returned to reality. Joel took her face into his hand, cupping her cheek and drawing her gaze to him, “Hey, look…it’s me. It’s me.”

Ellie let out little whimpers as she took in his presence, miraculously in front of her.

Y/n ran her hands over Joel’s arm, in utter disbelief that he was actually there. His hand that rested on her back slid half an inch, the movement giving her the assurance that he was real. He had come for them.

“It’s okay,” Joel told Ellie, the girl mumbling and stuttering in shock.

Ellie didn’t think twice before looping her arms around Joel’s neck and burrowing her face into his shoulder. Y/n did the same, keeping one arm firmly around Ellie.

“It’s okay,” he promised once more, taking the full force of their embrace as if it were the very air he breathed. “It’s okay, babygirl,” he said to Ellie, “I got you. I got you.”

Y/n sniffled into Joel’s shoulder, feeling his hurried kiss press against her temple. She had gone from her most vulnerable to her most safe in the course of a single minute.

After a few seconds, wishing it could last longer, Joel pulled back to look at them both. He took in the blood on both their faces, there were big bruise marks on Y/n’s neck and she was clutching her stomach. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t been there sooner to spare them the pain of whatever they’d gone through.

“Okay,” Joel said softly, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Ellie’s shoulders.

Y/n finally noticed that Joel was carrying both his rifle and all three of their backpacks. She hurried to grab hers and Ellie’s, slipping one on her shoulder and carrying the other.

Joel and Y/n got on each of Ellie’s sides, wrapping an arm around the girl and setting off into the snow. The adrenaline began to fade in Joel’s body, weakening him once again till he was limping. The searing pain in Y/n’s chest ached with every breath, she had to time each inhale in between her steps.

But it didn’t matter to either of them. They locked their hands around each other’s arm, tightening their hold around Ellie, and took slow, unsteady steps towards the river.

—————————

That night, they sought shelter in a different neighborhood, hiding in someone else’s former house.

Y/n and Joel sat upright against the freezing concrete wall, Ellie sleeping soundly between them. They each kept one hand on her as they had soothed her to sleep, but they kept their hold long after. They needed the physical reassurance that she was okay.

All day, Y/n had held it together as they journeyed as far from Silver Lake as they could. She was too determined to get the three of them the hell out of dodge to fall apart. It wasn’t until Ellie had fallen asleep, under the safety of Y/n and Joel’s protection, that the weight of what had almost happened to them fell onto her.

Joel felt the trembling from Y/n’s hand gently shake Ellie’s body. He peered across her into the dark, the moonlight catching on her face to perfectly illuminate the silent tears down her cheeks.

As she stifled her sobs, Y/n felt Joel’s fingers intertwine with hers over Ellie’s torso. She squeezed her eyes shut, his touch sending her emotions right over their edge.

Joel squeezed, trying to tell her that in the silence, in the pain, he was there. He was there for the first time in twenty years for her to lean on.

Y/n squeezed back, savoring the press of his calloused fingers into her palm. They had come so close to losing one another, but they were alive. They were alive, they were together and if that was the only thing they had to hold onto, they’d cling to it like life itself.

——————

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us spoilers #twenty years later

[crystalflie]

𝐒𝐡𝐡..𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐰..

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 (𝟏𝟖+)

Tags: Porn with Plot, Two Shot, Female Reader, Canon Divergence, Getou is a teacher at JJT, Rough Sex, Office Sex, Almost Caught, Crying, Filming, Degradation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Making Out, First Time, Dirty Talk.

Word count: 6500~

[Cross-posted on Ao3]

Description: Getou sees how whipped his best friend was for the cute new office assistant. It’s too bad that his best friend was also a total idiot when it came to romancing, so it’s not Getou’s fault if he got to fuck her first..

Romantically..

Over Gojo Satoru’s desk.

————————————————————————

“Everybody! MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASEE!”

Gojo clapped his hands together for emphasis, successfully capturing the focus of the first-year students. The man began walking down towards the open field as the three turned their heads at the sound of his voice. It was a rather sunny day, the heat pouring down on especially this area of the school, so it was no wonder when they all looked somewhat annoyed at the interruption. The sooner they can complete their training, the sooner they can go back inside.

Nobara and Yuuji took a pause in their spar session, both out of breath and wiping the sweat off their faces. Sitting a few feet away from them, Megumi twisted the cap of his water bottle back on, curious as to what their teacher had to say.

“Gojo-sensei.” The dark-haired boy nodded as Gojo reached the bottom of the stairs, but he quickly noticed that someone else was following behind the man.

“Gojo-sensei! What is it?” Yuuji approached them with Nobara at his side, fanning himself with the collar of his shirt. Gojo lets out an airy laugh at the disheveled state of his very much tired students.

“Well, I’ll make this quick so you guys can catch a break..”

He stepped aside and gestured his head to the individual standing behind him, which was your cue to come forward and introduce yourself…

All three pairs of eyes follow you as you finally step out of Gojo’s shadow, offering a small bow before speaking.

“Hello.. Nice to meet you, I will be Gojo-san’s new assistant. Please let me know if you need anything..”

Your words trailed off and you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward as stares were being burned into you. The trio looked rather.. bewildered, making you question if you had said anything wrong. I mean, you can’t possibly have, since you've only spoken one sentence, but maybe teenagers are just weird..

“Sensei..you have an assistant?”

Yuuji sounded confused, inspecting you once over and then looking back at Gojo for an explanation. However, your boss only swung his arm around your shoulders and said,

“Yep! She can see curses, cursed energy, and all that jazz. Just don’t try to fight her, ‘cuz she’s not a sorcerer.”

Nobara quickly cuts in after him, “What he meant is why do you need an assistant if you don’t do shi-”

“KUGISAKI! S-sensei, that is not what I meant!” Yuuji waves his arms around frantically and shoots Nobara a glare, only for her to flip him off in return.

“Okay, okay~ Settle down you two. But for your information, I do a lot! Nobody ever gives me credit..”

You hear Gojo sulking, his face not too far from your own. Maybe it was your imagination, but his arm around you felt a little tighter when he spoke the last part..

Megumi rolled his eyes at their antics and stood up from his spot, facing you and giving a bow as well.

“Nice to meet you. I am Fugishiro Megumi.”

You smiled at Megumi, he seemed like a very polite boy, although noticeably less energetic than the other two. You hoped that they’d eventually come around to your presence since it didn’t seem like Jejutsu Tech often had any new teachers, not that you consider yourself one, you're only going to be around to help with some paperwork.

Gojo hums and, much to your disappointment, removes his arm around you to cross them across his chest.

“Thank you Megumi…and NOW YOU TWO!” He dramatically points to Nobara and Yuuji, who immediately straightened their backs like army soldiers.

“Hurry up and introduce yourselves so I can go eat lunch with my cute assistant!”

You would’ve stuttered if you were the one talking to him, did he really think…no no, your boss is just a little out there, that's all.

“I AM ITADORI YUUJI!”

“I’m Kugisaki Nobara.”

The difference in their enthusiasm caused them both to slowly turn their heads and after a few seconds of silence, Yuuji and Nobara burst out laughing while jokingly smacking each other. Megumi let out a long sigh, briefly glancing back at you. You glance back at him too and see a slight flush growing from his neck before he quickly averted his gaze.

“Can you guys not embarrass yourselves for once?” Megumi grunted.

You chuckled to yourself and reassured Megumi that they weren’t at all embarrassing.

“Actually, you three are adorable..” You commented quietly.

Before you can receive any sort of response, you feel Gojo nudge your right arm gently.

“Well, that’s enough of them! Wanna grab some food? I’m feeling some yakitori today.” Gojo was quick to dismiss the protests from the background when it was clear he planned to go stuff his face while they continued training in the hot sun. Your eyes widen in a bit of surprise, you didn’t really expect to have lunch with..well your boss, you thought he was joking earlier.

Gojo’s expression morphed into one of confusion at your lack of response.

“What is it? Are you..vegetarian?”

You snapped out of your shock and shook your head no, after all, you might as well spend some time getting to know the man you’ll be working with. You’ve only met Gojo a few weeks prior to coming here, you know nothing about the way he works and what he needs help with, only some minor things he’ll tell you from time to time.

“Oh no, I’m not, we can go eat whatever you want. I’m not too picky.”

At least that's what you kept telling yourself as you walked side by side with Gojo leading the way, who was close enough to brush sides with you every now and then. Mostly it was he who made small talk, but it was a little hard to think of anything intelligent to say when a man this attractive couldn’t stop throwing flirtatious remarks between sentences. But like, just because your super hot boss was inviting you to lunch doesn’t mean you should develop a crush on him, it was way too unprofessional!

Besides, you thought, he probably acts this way to every woman he meets, so it's best not to dive deeper into his actions..but you were a little disappointed no doubt.

“Oh shit.”

Gojo abruptly stopped walking, and you stopped alongside him, wondering what was wrong.

“Gojo-san? Is something wrong?”

Not even a moment later, a half-smile took over his lips at your concern, and Gojo reached forward to take a spare strand of hair in front of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“You know I already said to call me Satoru right?”

When he retracted his hand, one of his fingers grazed the side of your cheek, and took everything you had to not shiver in front of him. Gojo laughed at your stiff reaction, and used the hand that just touched you to cover the back of his neck as he turned away again.

“It’s nothing by the way. I just remembered that I agreed to have lunch with Suguru, but I kinda got carried away with you and forgot about him..”

His statement successfully manages to fluster you, and you're glad that he wasn’t directly facing you to see how you blushed at the thought of him being carried away with you..

“O-oh..should we go back for him?” You asked to be polite, but there was nothing more that you wanted than to have a few more moments alone with him..without your probably other co-worker.

Gojo scoffed, “Oh please~ let’s just get a seat first, rush hours during lunch, he can join us later.”

You nodded slowly in agreement, it wasn’t like you’ve got anything against this ‘Suguru’ person..but you also didn’t want to walk all the way back to school.

“Alright then.”

————————————————————————

Gojo whistled the rest of the way to the supposed ‘best yakitori place in all of Tokyo’ and you followed behind, keeping an eye on his mob of white hair to not get lost in the crowds. At some point, he noticed that you were struggling to get around passersby on one of the narrower streets, so he took the chance to grab your wrist when he was close enough, and the rest of the way went smoothly.

The two of you eventually arrived at this small but cozy feeling restaurant, and Gojo casually strode in, seeming quite friendly with the owner, an elderly woman who teased him for bringing you along.

He must be a regular here...

You and Gojo were sat down by a server at a table, and they left shortly to give you time to decide what to order. Gojo hardly glanced at the menu, only propping his arm on the table and setting his gaze on you, who pretended not to be paying attention to him by flipping through the options.

“So..later when Suguru comes..” Gojo started, a little hesitant, but you gave him your attention and put the menu down.

“I just wanted to warn you that he’s a little reserved..and kind of cocky.. and kind of arrogant … b-but he’s a good guy!”

Gojo sounded like he just slapped on the last part so you wouldn’t be put off, but admittingly you were even less thrilled to meet this person now..

“Hey, don’t look like that..next time, we can go somewhere with just the two of us.” He sends you a playful wink before laughing it off, then ushering the server over to place your orders. You internally cursed him for being a flirt, it was not at all good for your heart, knowing that he wasn’t serious.

“Ahaha..sure..”

Gojo Satoru was way out of your league.

Both of you settled on sour plum juice for a drink, which made your mouth water from thinking how refreshing it was going to be after the sun was practically beating down on you. It didn’t take long either, so you were able to quench your thirst with a satisfied sigh. You see Gojo do the same before checking his phone.

“Looks like Suguru’s gonna be here soon. I just need to use the restroom real quick, I’ll be righttt back.” He gets up from his seat with a grunt and disappears into the back of the restaurant, where you assume the restrooms are. Now alone at the table, you resorted to playing with the straw in your glass while waiting for Gojo to return. It almost felt a little unreal, how you were eating yakitori with one of the strongest sorcerers alive. Just walking around Jujutsu Tech was enough to make you feel like your ability to see curses wasn’t all that special..perhaps if you were blessed with a cursed technique, you’d be a pretty badass sorcerer..

Around three minutes passed with no sign of Gojo coming back, and you were just about to go on your phone when a jingle from the entrance of the restaurant caught your attention. The windchimes by the door signaled the arrival of a customer, and this time, you couldn’t help but stare at the person walking in. It was a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair tied back into a bun with pieces to spare. He’s got those bottomless, lazy eyes that no doubt can send anyone’s knees buckling, and he just happened to be looking around for something. He doesn’t have to look for long before the elderly woman from earlier brightens up at the sight of him, happily ushering him towards the seating area in the back, where you and Gojo’s table also happened to be.

He must be meeting up with someone..

Unknowingly, your chest was thumping when it seemed like he was being brought closer and closer to you, you wanted to stop gawking, but it was just too hard to turn away.

The way he carried himself was so alluring…and to top it all off, everything about him was surrounded by an air of mystery.

Total. Eye. Candy. Material.

You wouldn’t be surprised if other patrons had the same idea as you. I mean, it’s not illegal to appreciate the fine arts of the world.

The man was standing over your table when you accidentally made eye contact, eye contact which you held not because you were a confident girlboss, but because you were frozen in embarrassment from getting caught checking him out. He stared right back for some seconds until his gaze traveled from your face down to the collar of your unbuttoned shirt.

.

.

.

He was so lucky he was hot, or you would’ve considered it harassment…just kidding! But you felt a little hypocritical for thinking like that when you’ve clearly been looking at him the exact same way. In fact, you definitely were guilty, not so long ago you were crushing on your boss of all people, and now you were daydreaming about some stranger.

You shifted in your chair as an excuse to glance away and for him to move on.

It took you some time to realize said stranger wasn’t budging from the spot over your table, and the elderly woman had already left.

No way..could he be-

“Suguru!”

Gojo suddenly returned from the restroom at the perfect time, thankfully saving you from any awkwardness.

“Who’s this?” The man ignored Gojo’s attempt to greet him in favor of asking about you, and his voice was way huskier than Gojo’s for sure..

“Suguru, meet my new assistant. Isn’t she just the cutest?” Gojo pulled out a seat for ‘Suguru’ and sat down on his original seat across from you.

You wished he would stop saying things like that out of nowhere, you were never ready for any of his ‘compliments’.

“Assistant? Yeah, you sure do need an assistant.” He didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm as he replied, taking the seat next to Gojo.

“C'mon, quit being rude..and you didn’t deny the second part.”

Getou sighs and looks over at you with a stoic expression, unrevealing of his feelings towards your presence.

“I’m Getou Suguru. I am a special-grade sorcerer and I currently teach the second-year students.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape at the mention of him being a special-grade sorcerer, you recall that Gojo told you something similar, of how all sorcerers and curses were organized in a rank system.

“I see..Nice to meet you Getou-san.” You introduced yourself after him, but it wasn’t like you had much of an impressive background, so it was only a mention of your name and how you graduated college not too long ago. Weirdly enough, you almost see his brows slightly furrow in what you could only assume was confusion when you finished speaking. Gojo must’ve noticed too, and he leans forward to add,

“She’s not a sorcerer.”

Getou was unable to contain his frown at that revelation, leaving you feeling very much self-conscious and taking another long sip at your drink. You didn’t know what his deal was, but maybe it wasn’t the best time to ask yet.

“Suguru..” Gojo begins with a warning tone, if you weren’t mistaken, and lowers his shades to shoot Getou a half-glare.

“Princess here is going to handle my paperwork and some other minor things at school while I’m out exorcizing curses and being a boss-ass bitch. She doesn’t need to be a sorcerer to do that, right? Besides, she can see curses, so no need to traumatize some random civilian with the characters at our school.”

Gojo delivered his sentences with a defensive undertone, fully shutting down anything that Getou could possibly say about you and your lack of…uh, sorcerer status. You still felt a bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere they’d established, but soon enough Gojo completely switched back to his usual carefree attitude and began to rave to you about the food. You let him and Getou order what they wanted since you didn’t know what was good or not, so it was best to trust the expert. The conversation that followed wasn’t as awkward as before, but it was still mostly just Gojo talking to you and Getou separately. The dark-haired man didn’t exchange many words with you while you all ate, and honestly, you’ve spent most of time hoping for this lunch to be over so you can start planning on how to avoid him for the rest of your time at Jejutsu High. Unrealistic, yes, but the only way you know how to avoid situations like this is to avoid confrontation all together…

You still didn't know much about Getou at all, just that he was a handsome asshole that looked down on you.

You took another bite of your food.

“So..you said you just graduated?”

It was a surprise when he directly addressed you, without the prompting of Gojo.

“Yes, I did.” You nodded to confirm, wondering where he was going with this.

“How old are you?” Getou asked.

Was he trying to get to know you now? You were even more confused about his intentions, as you previously assumed he probably didn't like you much. You told him your age anyways, and watched as he blinked, placing his chopsticks down. Getou leans to his side to whisper something to Gojo, and although it didn’t prevent you from hearing, you pretended not to for the sake of not making this even more unbearable.

“Satoru, you wolf.”

A loud stomp came from beneath the table, and a passive aggressive grin spread over Gojo’s face at the other man’s trembling hand forming into a fist.

“What did you say now?”

Getou gives him a twitching smile, but his eyes scream that the only reason he was letting this play out is because they’re in public.

“Nothing.”

The rest of the lunch consisted of them somewhat bickering, and you silently eating unless spoken to.

.

.

What an unusual pair..

————————————————————————

Over the next weeks or so, Gojo taught you the basics of the school and introduced you to the rest of the staff. Everyone you’ve met so far were all pleasant and very accommodating to any questions you asked, except for, well, Getou Suguru...but other than that, you felt welcomed. Gojo made it easy to forget you were ultimately different from them, he treated you like you would be there for a long, long time, even if you didn’t know if you would. You agreed because he initially made it sound like a part-time intern thing, so you thought you could just stay while you figured out your actual career. All you really needed to do was sit in his office and fill out some paperwork for any missions the students were sent on, among other things. It wasn’t hard per say, and it was fun working with the students. Repetitiveness was a guarantee, though Gojo humored you at times with stories about his day.

Everything was lighthearted until you got your first paycheck. You realized you were being paid the equivalent of what a full-time office worker would be paid. It was more than a livable wage..and to think that Gojo had offered you a place to stay too.. You didn’t take that up since you already had your own apartment in Tokyo, but wow…this would be a dream come true for any broke college graduate.

Or just anyone in general.

“Is something wrong?” Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you nervously looked up from the paper check in your hand.

“Oh, no..it’s just, this is a lot..”

He tilts his head curiously, like an owl, urging you on to elaborate.

“What I mean is, this is a lot..for what I do, which- isn’t a lot.”

Silence fills between you two before Gojo laughs, but not quite in his usual manner, as it quickly dies down, and he begins to approach you. When he stood close enough, he took his index finger and pressed it softly against your forehead.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. Or else you’ll be taken advantage of by more..dishonest people.”

You reach up to grab his wrist, bringing it down from your head.

“Oh please, Gojo-san, you are the one overestimating what I do for you.”

You think he’s probably going to deny it again, you learned that your boss could be quite stubborn over minuscule arguments, but it wasn’t like he meant any harm.

“Finee. Since your hefty paycheck is just too much for you to handle, maybe there’s something else you can do for me..” Gojo’s voice grows quiet and you find yourself loosening your grip on his hand— that you haven’t released. You tried to let go immediately, but Gojo was faster, snatching your wrist with his other free hand and pulling you in until your faces were inches apart. His smile has long faded, not showing a hint of the similar mischief in his words.

Gojo’s chest was pressed up against yours, and suddenly being alone in his office with him felt very, very inappropriate.

This was where you worked for god's sake..

“You’ll listen to me.. Right?”

What does he mean? What can Gojo possibly want from you, in your eyes, he has everything…and even if he doesn’t, you know for sure he can take it. You didn’t want to think about what he was insinuating, how can he possibly even suggest such an idea with a straight face? He wasn’t like the Gojo you know, although not for long, you wanted to picture him as someone who was innocent to your feelings. You weren’t sure if he was aware of your little crush on him, but if he wasn’t, you weren’t sure if it was for better or worse.

You wordlessly nod. It just wasn’t possible to deny Gojo. He’ll just try to worm his way into getting what he wants.. Besides, you think he’s sweet.

“Then, I want you to..” Gojo moves in to close the tiny distance between the two of you, gently pressing his forehead to yours.

This was too much, you must have been as flushed as a tomato, and your lips felt wobbly from how hard you were biting them inside. The only thing that made you feel less self-conscious was that Gojo wore a similar shade of pink on his face as well, the only difference was that he was a lot more put-together on the exterior.

You sharply inhale when his hand that held yours starts to trail up your arm.. until it reaches the nape of your neck. He wasted zero hesitation in keeping you in place, securing his palm against the spot that drew out the most exhilarating shiver.

His skin was so cold.. But does nothing to cool the internal heat spreading through every part that was in contact with him. You unconsciously allow yourself to bask in the feeling, as much as you can while pretending that the drumming in your ear doesn’t exist, while pretending that you were just as put together as he was.

None of you said a single word until you saw Gojo swallow, and he made a small incomprehensible noise before abruptly letting his head fall on your shoulder, hiding in the space beneath your ear.

“Gojo-san?”

He readjusts his arms to wrap around your lower waist, now engulfing you in a rather wholesome hug.

“God..you’re so-, you can’t just let me-” Gojo cuts himself off, realizing he was still technically touching you.

He releases his hold and takes three large steps back.

“Is..something wrong?” You try to ask him. You wondered what caused the change in his demeanor..you hoped you haven’t accidentally done anything to put him off.

“YES! Uh- NO! I MEAN NO! Listen darling-”

Gojo was acting all skittish and nervous, but he wasn’t telling you what was wrong. Have you actually done something to offend him? He notices the change in your expression and moves in again to a reasonable talking distance.

“Uh, so..uh..”

Gojo continues to stutter, your increasingly sulky face destroying the last bit of composure left in him. He was stumped, what did you want him to do? He totally fucked up the mood…and there’s no going back. Gojo had never wished more in that moment that he was born with a cursed technique that could turn back time, by like- 3 minutes is enough. Of course, he gets the shit that does nothing for his impressive awkwardness around his adorable assistant. He’s usually pretty smooth, he’d like to think so..

“Oh, look at the time! I’mlateformymeetingokaybye!”

You watch Gojo point to some nonexistent clock on the wall, and leave the room at the speed of light without so much as looking at you. The door hangs slightly open after he disappears, swinging back and forth, almost depressingly while you stand there alone. A takes a while for what just occurred to sink in, giving you enough time to feel ashamed and oddly shy out of nowhere. You began to pace around aimlessly in a circle while patting your heated face, thinking about Gojo’s words, thinking about his every reaction…

You’ve messed up, haven’t you..now you're going to have so much fun avoiding the person you work for.

————————————————————————

You were pouring some coffee in the shared staff room when your mind began drifting to the white-haired man that you’d hardly seen the past two days. You were almost certain that he was avoiding you too, perhaps a bit more than you are avoiding him, but the point stands. Gojo would text you about whatever he needed you to handle, while he claimed to have some “off-campus” business to take care of.

You sighed to yourself, oblivious that your state of discouragement was obvious to just about anyone who set eyes on you for longer than a second.

You proceeded to add an absurd amount of creamer and two cubes of sugar into your cup, stirring it randomly with a spoon. Now that you think about it..this was also how Gojo preferred his coffee.

“Excuse me.”

A deep voice spoke out from behind you, snapping you out of your morning daze. You realized you were probably blocking other people from using the counter and moved aside with a short apology. When you turned around, you realized that the person you were blocking was none other than Getou, which was the other awkward encounter that you’d been trying to avoid. He began making himself a drink, not seeming to care enough to initiate small talk. You pretty much understood he didn’t like you and was only doing the absolute bare minimum to remain cordial, but you still lingered around for him to finish using the coffee machine.

“Strange to not see you around Satoru all the time.” Getou offhandedly states, popping on the plastic lid over his cup.

It catches you off guard and almost feels like a dig, but you convince yourself that it was just the way Getou was..not the overly friendly type.

“Oh..Gojo-san is busy.” You didn’t know what Gojo was doing in all honesty and you also felt weird discussing this with Getou, who should know Gojo better than you do. They have been best friends since high school according to your boss, but you often question how two people who are so different manage to be this close.

“Really now? Is he at school today?”

You shrugged and replied,

“I don’t think he’ll be back until tomorrow, something about a mission..”

Getou seemed curious at the information, giving a small hum, and that was the end of the conversation.

————————————————————————

You headed back to Gojo’s office to clean up the lesson plans that he messily tossed on his desk before he left for his mission. It was quiet around here without him..and you start to dwell on how you bumped into Getou earlier. It was a bit easier to forget about him when you didn’t need to see him nearly as much as Gojo. Still, the moment he spoke to you again..you couldn’t help but keep thinking back to how… unbothered he was, compared to how bothered you were whenever he was near any vicinity. Even knowing that he had a distaste for non-sorcerors..it did nothing to quell the gutting desire you held to get his attention in the same way, you had Gojo’s.

At least Gojo acknowledges you.

You thought maybe Getou was finally coming around..but it’s hard to read someone so nonchalant, he doesn’t talk much about himself or voice his likes or dislikes, unlike Gojo who physically cannot stop speaking. You giggle to yourself at the thought of how lively and sweet Gojo is, he was the perfect prince charming…but you remain unsure of actually pursuing him.

How can you do that without feeling guilty, knowing how you thought about his best friend?

And, you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself..what if the interest was only one-sided on your part?

You neatly slide the last organized folder into the drawer of Gojo’s desk and plop down in his comfy, cushioned seat. The chair that Gojo always sat in felt a lot bigger now that you were sitting in it yourself, but you took a couple of spins around to test out the wheels. It traveled across the marble floor easily, while you spun around laughing to yourself.

Yeah, it kinda made you seem stupid..but you felt stupid, letting men like Gojo and Getou drive you insane.

.

.

.

“Having fun?”

You grip the armrests in an attempt to restabilize yourself, thrown off by the sudden voice piercing through the air. Slowly, your eyes flickered toward the entrance where someone was leaning against the doorframe.

It was Getou. You already knew before you could confirm with your eyes.

He grins in a mocking type of amusement noticing how you swallowed, trying to not squirm under his gaze.

“Getou-san..do you need something?” You questioned, not anticipating this visit.

Why was he here? You doubted he just happened to drop by for a little visit, and Gojo wasn’t here today like you told him earlier.

Getou slithered his way inside without another word, shutting the door behind him.

“No, not really, Satoru asked me to check up on you.”

He made exaggerated motions to stretch while walking across the room, and you stood up from Gojo’s chair. It would be weird for you to sit there with him watching you, and you probably shouldn’t sit in your boss’s chair in the first place.

Speaking of, you were embarrassed.

“Oh, Gojo-san did?”

Getou nodded, stopping right in front of you. You didn’t know what he was doing, but you stayed still and waited for his next word.

“Yeah..but it looks like you’re perfectly fine without him.” He lets out a small chuckle, staring down at your form.

“Uhm.. I finished doing what he asked of me. Is there anything you need help with?”

You unknowingly began rocking on your heel, being alone with Getou is rather nerve-wracking, and no disrespect, but part of you wanted him to leave while the other was screaming for him to make a move.

“Yes, actually. Just a question.”

You swallow. Okay, well, you didn’t know what you could possibly answer for Getou that’s work-related..

“Wha-”

You hardly got a word out when Getou slammed both his arms on Gojo’s desk, encaging you between the two.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He leans down to whisper in your ear, letting you feel his breath travel down your neck.

You were frozen in shock, eyes widening in disbelief at what was unfolding. You were sure that one second he was standing in front of you, then the next he was hovering over your smaller frame.

“What..?”

Getou took one look at your dumbstruck face and threw his head back to laugh, unrestrained, unlike all the other times he’d send you a condescending smile.

“No..I think you might be the stupid one.”

He brought his face back down and smashed his lips onto yours, nibbling until you gave in and let his tongue inside.

“Mmph..!”

You shut your eyes, everything was moving too fast.

You felt Getou engulfing you in a heated kiss, leaning further and further into you while the strength in your knees gave away. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed every thought you tried forming, leaving you blank and mindless as a doll. Your brain was filled with nothing but static, a pleasant fuzziness from him sucking the absolute breath out of you.

It lasted for a few more seconds until he released your mouth, both of you panting and staring into each other's eyes in silence.

“G..Getou-san..y-you..”

You tried to speak coherently while propping yourself up using the edge of Gojo’s desk, but a hand effortlessly shoved you to fall back, sprawled out on the wooden surface with hair tangled in a mess.

You were completely stunned...Getou had kissed you. He kissed you, and you hadn’t even gotten to kiss Gojo yet...in fact, you have never kissed anyone in your life, and he took it, just like that.

“I’m what?

He doesn’t wait for you to answer before fitting himself in the opening between your legs, both hands leisurely sliding up your thighs, until finally stopping to pinch at the fat peeking out from above your black stockings and beneath your pencil skirt. You squeak and reach down to grab one of his wrists, causing Getou to send you a curious look.

“Well..go on, finish your sentence.”

Your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out, you lie there, looking scandalized and gazing at him through heavy eyelids.

Getou takes in the sight of you, scoffs, and delivers another pinch.

“Are all non-sorcerers as brainless as you? Truly a wonder that you lasted this long here..but I suppose even the most simpleminded mutts should know how to get properly fucked.”

He bends his body down to press a small kiss on your collarbone, then blows softly on the spot, tickling your skin, which was feeling way too sensitive for your liking.

“Right baby? Because that’s why Satoru is keeping you around..all locked up in his office and being a fucking tease.”

Getou’s harsh, accusatory words connect zero dots in your head.

What the hell is he on about..?

“I.. don’t know what you mean..”

You hear him huff against your neck,

“You don’t? You should…since you’re his darling princess. That idiot cannot shut up about you, you know.”

The way he spoke made it clear he was teasing, you knew Getou saw you as a toy, something to mess around with..but it didn’t stop your stomach from curling everytime he jokingly calls you a pet name in that sultry voice.

Bad.

He was a bad man.

But along with the embarrassing warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.. you were kind of pissed. The only thing he’s done was belittle and insult you since the day you two first met.

All for what?

Just because you were like the majority of the population, because you weren’t a godly sorcerer like him?

It made you want to knock him off his high horse.

“So..? So what if I did let him fuck me, what is it to you, Getou-san?”

Your tone stayed so polite, it was hard to believe something of this nature could come out of your innocent mouth. Getou practically went still as a rock, still breathing down your neck.

Was he shocked?

You could almost afford to let satisfaction sink in, but a low, guttural sound slip out between Getou’s teeth, muttering,

“Shit..”

You couldn’t gouge the meaning behind his cursing, and you didn’t have to, as through your confusion, he swiftly bit down into the tender area connecting your shoulder to your nape. You let out a small shriek while Getou proceeded to bruise the once unmarred surface, relentlessly suckling and licking.

“G-Getou..san!”

He pauses.

“I really.. wanted to have you before Satoru..that scoundrel couldn’t even wait to pounce on fresh blood.”

Genuine annoyance. He bought your bluff, but the statement only seemed to have the effect of pissing him off instead of convincing him to stop.

“Oh well. I guess I got used to sharing with him anyway. Bastard always wants to compete with me..”

With that, Getou got up from his hovering position to admire the disheveled piece of art in front of him, furious red marks blooming from your collar and legs trembling around his waist. He looks down at you with an unassuming expression, but you don’t miss the way he discreetly wet his lips at the rise and fall of your chest.

“Fuck. I’m still mad you know. All this time, you were making those bedroom eyes at me, meanwhile also bouncing on Satoru’s lap. So. Fucking. Shameless.”

He knew. He knew the entire time, how badly you wanted his attention. And now, you finally had it.

Getou’s hand on your thigh traveled up even more, successfully pushing past your skirt, bundling it at your waist, until it reached the band of your panties. He rubbed a few circles on the side of your hips, drawing out a desperate whine from you, before pulling on the elastic and snapping it against your burning core.

You cried out, in pleasure or pain you don’t know, and he continued to coo out more degrading phrases.

“Naughty girls should be punished. But you look to be enjoying this..hm?”

A finger traced the outline of your pussy through the now soaked, thin fabric of your underwear, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure. The jolt of simulation has your head spinning, muddled with euphoric tingling over every inch of your body. You wanted more, this wasn’t enough..you tried to push back into Getou’s hand but he pulled away, holding your waist down with his other arm.

“Ah, ah, ah. Be patient sweetheart..and listen carefully. I’m going to give you two choices.”

He clicked his tongue, addressing you again in that mocking tone. You feel his grip tighten.

“You can either..tell me to stop, and I’ll leave you just like this, hot and wanting to get off by yourself..”

Getou pulled your hips down until you felt his own press into your ass, the unmistakable hardness beneath his pants telling you he was just as affected as you were.

.

.

.

“Or..you can beg me to fuck you silly, right here, right now.”

————————————————————————

AN: Part two will be up soon!

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